Chapter 7
“Very good, pet.” He walked around her pliant form, admiring her nakedness from all angles. Her shoulder-length, brown hair hid her face like a curtain.
“Here, pet.” Jim picked up the bag that he’d left in the entryway. “Put these on, then continue with your dinner duties. You need not talk.”
Helen opened the bag, pulling out the treasures within. Inside were thigh-high stockings, a garter belt, black, patent leather high-heels with ankle-straps, a black apron, and nothing else. She slowly dressed in the costume while Jim watched. It was a strain, sometimes, to keep the lust off his face, but when his facade cracked, she grew more bold, more disobediant. When she tied the apron around her slender throat, she was mostly covered, the side swell of her breasts visible, and of course, her curved buttocks were clearly exposed. She stepped into the heels and bent to fasten the straps at her ankles.
“Turn.”