The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Good morning, Miss Murphy.”

“Good morning Ms. Merchant. Is this where I’ll be working?” She looked at the small desk outside her new employer’s office.

The older woman nodded. “Yes. As I told the temp agency, it shouldn’t be too demanding. Forbidden Fashions is an intimate apparel wholesaler. I broker the designs to buyers from around the country, then place the orders for them.”

“It sounds very exciting. What will I be doing?” Liddy wanted to show the woman how eager she was to impress her. She had been looking for a job for sometime, but this was the first break she had received. If she did well, the temp agency had told her she might secure a full-time job here.

The rent was due. She needed this job. She smiled.

The older woman answered her with a tight, artificial smile of her own. “Some typing and billing. Scheduling with the models, things like that.”

“Models?”

“Yes. Buyers like to see what the fashions look like in the flesh so to speak. Nothing tawdry, I assure you. I hire them on an occasional basis through an ad I place in the paper. Many are already on file, so I simply choose the one which would do most justice to the clothing. On the billing...I’m told you have some college?”

“A year at Hope Community College,” Liddy responded cautiously. She hoped her new boss didn’t ask too much about that. She had flunked out, which was why she was in New York to begin with. During the interview in Ms. Merchant’s office, Liddy had noted the many diplomas and certificates that adorned the businesswoman’s office. MIT, RPI, Stanford.

“Fine. Then I imagine you can figure out the computer and phone system and all?”

Yes, she nodded cheerfully. Absolutely no problem there.

“Good. Well, perhaps this may work out. You have my schedule book there on the desk. Who is the first visitor today?”

Liddy quickly seated herself and scanned the appointment book. “Mr. Phelps, Ms. Murphy, at ten o’clock for you. And there’s a ‘Jamie’ listed next to his name with another word in parenthesis.” She paused, uncertain. “It says ‘The Coquette’, I think?”

The woman tapped her temple. “Ah, the tall brunette. When she arrives, have her put that model on. All the samples are kept in that wardrobe closet there,” she pointed at the far end of the office. “The Coquette is a sort of pink number-you’ll figure it out quickly enough. All the outfits are named and color coded. Check the girl’s file to see what size she’ll need. Miss Murphy—”

Liddy was at once attentive. “Yes, Ms. Merchant?”

“When the buyers come in, you’re to keep conversation to a minimum. These are very busy people and this is a very competitive field. The girls should always be ready to present before the buyers arrive. Understood, Miss Murphy?”

Before she could reply in the affirmative, a young woman entered the office. Ms. Merchant nodded to Liddy.

“Take care of Jamie and send Mr. Phelps in when he arrives.” She left Liddy staring at the office visitor.

“I better get paid in cash like I was promised,” the brunette informed the new receptionist rudely.

Liddy rose. “Un, you need to speak to Ms. Merchant about that. Let’s get you ready, o.k.?” Twenty minutes later, Liddy, with ounce of tact at her disposal, managed to get the surly, bored model dressed in the frilly pink babydoll and matching high heels.

“You believe guys get off on this crap? God, this work sucks. My agent sucks. Hell, it beats waitressing. Hey when do I get paid?” There was a perpetual snarl on the young woman’s face that annoyed Liddy. She was so lucky to be as pretty as she was and still insisted on being a pill!

“Like I said you speak to Ms. Merchant about that after the showing. Oh, wait here-I think Mr. Phelps is here!”

After a confused minute, Mr. Phelps was escorted into Ms. Merchant’s office.

“Bring Jamie in, Miss Murphy.”

The brunette was led in and Liddy dismissed. It was quiet then for about an hour and Liddy acquainted herself with the files and computer in her care. Once she thought she heard a laugh from behind the office door, but that was all.

“Mr. Phelps will be ordering the Coquette.” Ms. Merchant had opened her door and the customer in question smiled back at her narrowly. Jamie trailed the two sporting a sunny grin, still wearing the lingerie.

“Very good, Ms. Merchant!”

“You will write up the order in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. Correct Mr. Phelps?”

The man merely nodded and passed Liddy a business card bearing a post office box address. Jamie passed by him wordlessly, returning to the dressing room. Liddy thought she wiggled her butt at the man as she closed the door behind him!

“I’ll leave now,” the man spoke to Ms. Merchant, who merely nodded. A few moments later, Jamie emerged dressed. She left the office without saying a word to Liddy, who was just as glad to be rid of the unpleasant young woman. On a hunch, she checked the dressing room.

“Ms. Merchant! That girl, Jamie, took the Coquette lingerie!”

Ms. Merchant waved her back to her desk. “I allow the models to keep their outfits as part of the payment. Now, I’d like you to catalog the following model files by hair color and style, measurement, age, medical records,...”

Liddy was busy most of the rest of the day. By five o’clock, she realized she had only begun the massive job of organizing the hundreds of model files. Still, it was a good start, she thought, as she rose to say goodnight to her new employer.

“Before you go, Liddy, I have a request to make.”

“Ms. Merchant?”

The older woman hesitated, then having decided the internal debate, continued. “You can imagine how important appearance is in this of all businesses, Liddy.”

“Sure!” Had she put her off with her appearance? She had dressed in a conservative pant suit, nothing too awful. “Oh, should I wear dresses, Ms. Merchant?”

But the older woman shook her head. “Not particularly. We don’t sell daywear. Actually I was referring to your undergarments.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t understand, Ms. Merchant.”

“We sell lingerie, dear. If we don’t look like we wear our own product, then we lose credibility with our clients. Forbidden Fashions have a distinct look they’re designed to minimize unsightliness common in other lines. Pantylines, for instance.”

Liddy twisted and looked down at her backside. Damn! Had she made her new boss look bad in front of Mr. Phelps?

“And, may I be direct? We have products made to enhance under-endowed ladies like yourself.”

Liddy bite her lower lip in embarrassment. Itty Bitty Titty. That’s what the boys had called her all through school. Thanks to her cousin. While the rest of the girls were maturing, she remained flat as a proverbial board. For a while, she measured herself, but the micro-inches never added up to more than a double A cup. Even now, at twenty-eight, she was deeply ashamed of her lack of real breasts. Ironically, it was one reason she was here. Back in Hope she was a joke. Tall, skinny, orange haired and freckled, Itty Bitty Titty Liddy was a big nothing. No boyfriend or chance of getting one, no friends among the pretty, popular girls who were only too eager to make fun of her behind her back. Even college was a big mistake. She was a loser. That’s why she had worked so hard to make the money to live in New York. And now, when she had finally gotten a break—

“I’m, uh, I don’t know what—”

Ms. Merchant wagged her finger. “No need to apologize. You didn’t know. Here, take these.” She slid two skimpy white cotton garments across the desk. “They should do the trick for starters.”

Liddy picked them up.

“The thong panty should give you a snug, comfortable fit without those annoying panty-lines. The ‘Miss Trim-fit’ is one of our best-sellers! And the ‘Junior Miss Perky’ bra should give you a nice little lift. It utilizes some of the same technology found in the Wonder Bra. Alright?”

Liddy nodded dumbly. She looked awkwardly at the underwear, then quickly picked it up.

“I’ll deduct the cost from your first paycheck, alright?” She tapped the desktop, concluding the discussion. “Glad that’s done. Why don’t you go home-you’ve had a long but very promising first day.”

All Liddy could think about on the bus trip home was how interesting her first day at Forbidden Fashions was. Strange but interesting. Even the underwear thing didn’t bother her now that she considered it. She was part of a business now and it was natural for her to, as Ms. Merchant put it, ‘look the part.’ When she arrived back at her apartment, she tossed the underthings on her dresser. It wasn’t till after her small dinner that she thought to look at them again.

To look at them, you wouldn’t think that they did anything for your figure. Oh sure, maybe the panties for the pantyline thing. That made sense. But the bra? She closed the blinds and began undressing. She should try them on, to see if they really made a difference someone could tell. She slipped the white cotton thong up over her long bare legs. She had never worn any but the most everyday kind of underwear and she could tell the difference at once. The thong did fit snugly, but not uncomfortably. By comparison her other panties felt like denim overalls! She snapped the elastic waistband, then ran her hand over her thighs. Ummm. It felt different but good.

She picked up the bra with more skepticism. It did have some subtle underwiring sewn into it, but otherwise it looked like any of her other bras-plain, simple, white cotton. She sighed, slipping it on over her small breasts. The nipples grew sensitive as they came into contact with the cool cotton. Then she sighed again, as she felt the underwiring give her the promised lift. She looked in the mirror, a smile involuntarily blossoming on her freckled face.

It worked!

Her boobs did look bigger! It was magic! The underwiring, ever so delicately, lifted and pressed her meager flesh and pressed them into filling out the soft white cup with two bumps, each the size of little apples! Ms. Merchant had been right-she was almost a half a cup size bigger in the bra! She drew her blouse back on and watched the two urgent bumps create a twin set of little nubs. She admired her new cleavage, proudly thrusting them out. As tiny as they were, at least you could tell she had boobs now.

That night she decided to sleep in the new bra and panties. They felt good on her-so snug, so special. As she slept, she dreamed of hands fondling her boobs through the snug bra cups. The hands cradled her small nubs, treasuring them like little jewels. When she awoke, Liddy immediately was aware of how warm her breasts were, how snug the panties stretched against her crotch. As she dressed for work, she realized for the first time in her life that she felt pretty. Except for her time in the shower and bathroom, she had been wearing the panties and bra for almost twelve hours continuously. She liked them so much that after drying herself off, the first thing she did was put them back on immediately.

Ms. Merchant didn’t comment on her appearance, except to nod and give her a brief once-over. “Very good. Has your boyfriend seen the difference yet?”

Boyfriend? That was a laugh! Lydia shook her head feebly. “I, umm, don’t have a, I mean I’m not seeing anyone right now so...”

Ms. Merchant remained silent and Liddy knew she knew that she had NEVER had a boyfriend. “Well, pretty underwear is for women anyway. And you look very cute.”

“What is the rose? It is on both the panties and bra?” Lydia had noticed the decoration. It was very small, but truly exquisite and lent an elegant touch to the otherwise plain items.

Ms. Merchant grinned. “A trademark of Forbidden Fashions. It is on all the designs we sell here. You’ll notice it as you grow more familiar with the inventory. Now let us get to work. I want you to check my appointment book for today’s visitors.”

The days flew by. There was a Mr. Baxter who placed a hundred fifty thousand dollar order for The Teaser, a daring black lace teddy modeled by a blonde named Tracey. A redhead who looked to be sixteen but claimed she was eighteen in her homemade portfolio necessitated Liddy to confer with her boss. Ms. Merchant, considering the glossies, took the girl’s word for it after determining she did indeed live on her own. Soon after, Kelly the redhead was scheduled to model The Angel, a white corset and panty set that Mr. Williams purchased for two hundred thousand. After that, Liddy learned to stop questioning ages and pass on all material to Ms. Merchant, especially from pretty girls, regardless of her suspicions.

There were calls and mail from the newspaper ad seeking lingerie models that needed answering. Liddy found herself becoming proficient in determining which glossies to pass on to Ms. Merchant and which were passed over. Often, she would be told to be on the look-out for special types—“girl next door,” “exotic,” “ballerina” and so on which she would research from among the hundreds of model profiles. The secretary didn’t actually do the scheduling-that was Ms. Merchant’s decision-but she was becoming more helpful in researching those girls who fit her boss’es needs.

For her own part, she was learning to anticipate those needs ever more efficiently every passing day. At first she resented her employer’s aloof attitude. Though they were the only two in the office, her boss continued to treat her with as much warmth as an icicle. Liddy’s attempts at casual conversation brought brief but firm admonishments not to waste time. Ms. Merchant was curt if Liddy brought up any subject than work. It was clear that any other relationship other than boss-secretary was impossible, though to Lydia it sometimes seemed more like Ms. Merchant was more like a strict teacher than a boss. Gradually the younger woman confined her words to work, then her thoughts. It paid off when Ms. Merchant had told the temp agency she was keeping Liddy on full-time. Though it was strange that she hadn’t asked Liddy if she wanted to stay on at Forbidden Fashion. And a bit more strange when she herself didn’t even consider not continuing on with Ms. Merchant.

Still she liked the work. There were so many types of lingerie for one! Baby dolls, merry widows, corset, panties, bras- all in different materials like lace, silk, even leather and latex (Ms. Ivers had spent one hundred thirty thousand on The Bad Girl modeled by that nineteen year old named Paula!). And she certainly liked the product. Liddy wore her Miss Trim-fit and her Junior Miss Perky every day. Since wearing them the first day, she found she couldn’t wear any of her old panties or bras, couldn’t even stand the thought of them. Except for the brief periods when she washed them, she wore them all day. The material was of such fine quality Ms. Merchant explained that they kept their pure snow whiteness even after repeated washings.

“Would you like to buy some other pairs then?”

Liddy very much wanted to. “May I?”

Ms. Merchant nodded. “I can deduct the cost from your salary. What would you like to pick out?”

Liddy was curious about some of the more mature items sold-se was almost thirty. But Ms. Merchant forbade those to her. “Low in inventory right now. Try these,” she pointed to some others in the Junior Miss collection, “more your style Liddy.” The office girl might have been upset, but one of Ms. Merchant’s rare smiles of approval caused her to blush and look away. As she began to pick out various bras and panties among the Junior Miss collection, she practically basked in her superior’s thin-lipped smiles.

“You’ll look cute in those. All pretty colors and designs. Yes, much better for you.” Ms. Merchant was pleased with her secretary. The girl was quite pliable, needing like all youngsters only the guidance of an adult to make the correct choices. Soon...

“Back to work, my girl,” she ordered crisply. Liddy gathered up her new items and obeyed.

Over the next few days, she delighted in trying on different combinations. Each item made her feel somewhat different about herself. The Little Hearts thong panties had lace trimming around the waist and a small red hearts design that reminded her of Valentine’s Days and crushes she had had on boys from fifteen years ago. The Precious Treasures bra, a pretty pale yellow number, made her nipples sensitive in a delightful way. As she lounged in her new panties and bras at night, her thoughts idly agreed with Ms. Merchant-these were much more her style. Even as they hugged her under-sized boobs and snugly captured her sex in cotton and elastic.

“I’m glad you are wearing more skirts and dresses. Far more feminine than those pant suits.” Ms. Merchant was noting what she was wearing! That was good-Liddy felt some of her clothes were too uncomfortable, too inappropriate for the fashion business and she was experimenting with different kinds of looks.

“However that lipstick is dreadful.”

Liddy looked down crestfallen.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to wear make-up?”

Liddy was embarrassed. She had grown up as an after thought in her aunt and uncle’s home, an unwelcome orphan-guest. No one had shown her.

“Come-let’s go. I know you’re trying,” Ms. Merchant’s expression was proof that trying counted for something, “but you obviously need instruction.”

The two left the office, Ms. Merchant locking the office using the intricate security and locking system, and went shopping. Boutique after department store, they shopped all day, stopping only for a sundae for Liddy-a “treat” for a good girl she was told as she greedily lapped up the ice cream.

“But back to your salads tomorrow,” Ms. Merchant instructed. “You have a high metabolism, but you shouldn’t tempt fate!”

At first Lydia had wandered by habit into the women’s section, but Ms. Merchant’s firm direction sent her to the Junior Miss department where clothes had a “better look” on Liddy. After a moment’s hesitation-but only a moment because Ms. Merchant was right about most everything-she began to pick through the clothing choices.

The trouble had been worth it. Ms. Merchant was visibly satisfied with the results. Liddy felt better in her new clothes than she ever had. She wore them every day with the hope that Ms. Merchant would reward her appearance with one of her acknowledging smiles. The pink denim skirt with the white oxford cotton blouse, the khaki skirt with the blue button down shirt, the navy blue jumper, all looked ‘darling’ on her according to Ms. Merchant. They had had a little argument about shoes and stockings. Liddy had wanted heels and pantyhose, but Ms. Merchant strongly demurred. In the end, they compromised-Liddy would be permitted one pair of modest three inch white heels for special occasions, otherwise flats would be quite sufficient. On the question of pantyhose, Ms. Merchant would not budge—knee socks would be fine for her legwear for now.

Cosmetics and earrings caused a small flap too. But her superior was firm on the topic. “Cherry red NOT fire engine red and yes, you WILL put that lip gloss back in the shopping cart-very good. No-no foundation! With your complexion? God gave you your freckles and I see no need to disguise the fact. Fine, a little blush is appropriate. No, no mascara. Eyeliner? Absolutely not! Nail polish yes, red polish NO. The clear polish will be fine. And take that package of emery boards-I see you chew your nails from time to time and it is decidedly un-ladylike!

Ah, the earring discussion. I have been thinking about this and the answer is yes. Well you’ve been a very good helper and naturally I’ve noted you don’t have pierced ears. And of course now you want them. And I’ll permit them. However, you should be very aware that I will not tolerate anything provocative or cheap. Simple gold posts will do and perhaps at some future date on some special occasion, pearls will be added to your little jewelry box.”

Much to her surprise, Ms. Merchant had secretly decided that Liddy’s hair was definitely in need of similar make-over. Still flush with all her wonderful new purchases, she practically melted when Ms. Merchant directed her into a salon.

“We’ll get the whole project completed today,” she allowed with an indulgent smile. “And your hair IS in need of attention.”

Lydia’s hair had always been a joke. Bright orange and frizzy, it had always made her look like a drowning victim. It had never been easy to tame, never, no matter what style she tried. That was why she tended to keep it short, almost boyish. Since working for Ms. Merchant she had not had a styling. Her hair had grown long and she was ready for a cut-in fact the idea delighted her a s a perfect way to end the delightful expedition. But is was with misgivings that she looked at the styles Ms. Merchant was encouraging her to consider.

“I suspect these pinwheels and crowns may be a bit complicated for you to manage, but these ponytail styles seem ideal.”

Liddy looked at the glossies of the styles. It was strange-she was used to looking at women younger than herself with all kinds of sophisticated styles in model glossies. And yet Ms. Merchant seemed to be insisting that her secretary accept a hairstyle that seemed more appropriate for a teenager than a woman almost thirty years old!

“This lady doesn’t have all day, Liddy.”

The hair stylist watched impatiently as she hurriedly focused on the preferred style.

“Uh, this one?” She held the glossy up for her superior’s review.

Ms. Merchant snatched the glossies away from her and turned to the stylist. “This one,” she said, indicating a simple L shaped ponytail. Liddy endured the cut in silence, though as the pair drove back to the office through the late afternoon, she grew used to the flippy red tail bobbing behind her head.

“Thank you Ms. Merchant. For, for...everything.”

Her employer, realizing she meant more than what she said, merely nodded. That night Liddy dreamt of boys for the first time in ages. Kissing her, touching her, teasing her. The Morphic companions never went farther than slipping their hands over her small apricot breasts and gently squeezing them. Still she felt alive as they ghostly hands ran themselves over her arms and the invisible lips pressed against her own tenderly. As she drowsed, she felt lifted into the night by a strange new discovery. It was fun to be a girl.

The next morning Ms. Merchant promptly complimented her on the new outfit they had purchased together the previous day. As customary, Liddy thanked her with dutiful gratitude.

“You are a very respectful girl Liddy. That is why I have been rewarded you with new outfits.” Her employer’s thin lips and gray eyes consider her carefully.

“Yes Ms. Merchant. Thank you Ms. Merchant.” Her employer had informed her on the trip back that she need not pay for the outfits-that they were a gift.

“In such pretty clothes, boys will begin to take note of you Liddy.”

The abashed younger woman looked away. “I don’t think so Ms. Merchant.”

“Perhaps not. But then you may not be ready to handle their clumsy ways.” Ms. Merchant’s hands closed into angry fists. “They are a clumsy lot you know-very disrespectful, unlike you Liddy. No, I don’t think you are prepared to fend off the advances of such rude creatures.

In fact, you may never be ready.”

Liddy looked up, curiously. What had the remark meant? And her superior’s next remark piqued her even more.

“You live alone, do you not?”

Liddy nodded.

“No immediate family?”

Again she nodded. The cold way her mentor was considering her now unnerved her.

“Perhaps we should consider alternate arrangements. Until yesterday I admit I was fairly pleased with your performance here. But I had no conception of how much...direction you required in other areas of your life. It is direction you surely need.” The thin lips arched in a kind of grim anticipation.

The secretary felt her comfort zone contract. What was her boss saying to her? Then her breasts felt warm, the bra cups cradling them with gentle pressure. The pretty feelings of the night before settled mistily around her mind. Then Ms. Merchant’s hand fell on her shoulder, rubbing the thin bra strap through her light blouse. The contact was electric and abhorrent.

“You must be instructed many more things about being an obedient young lady my dear. Not all things may be taught within the confines of an office.” The grip was tightening, extending to her ponytail now.

“You begin to understand. And you like feeling like you do.”

Liddy smiled unhappily, nodding limply. “I want to, to...I mean I’m happier now than I ever have been, but I—” She stumbled, nearing tears.

Ms. Merchant smirked. “Young girls are so easily given to emotionalism. Take a deep breath.”

Agonizing, Liddy jumped. “It is just that I’m NOT that way! I know I’m homely, I’m NOT pretty and I’ve never had a boyfriend...”

Ms. Merchant’s eyes were narrowing into slits of steel gray malice.

“...but I feel like now I could get a boyfriend! Because I feel so pretty now inside and—”

Ms. Merchant cut her off viciously. “You are a silly teenager who needs discipline-THAT is what you require. I thought,” she glowered, “that some appreciation might... But no. I have misjudged you. You are a spoiled brat who—”

“But I’m NOT a teenager! I’m almost thirty!” Lydia asserted desperately.

Her superior laughed. “With THAT body? You look like a twelve year old! In fact there are many twelve year old girls who have more mature bodies than you do! Look at that way you are dressed-think about the way you feel! You ARE a teenager-one who must be—” Ms. Merchant stopped and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

“Enough. I must give this some thought.” She stormed out.

The next few weeks were cold. Ms. Merchant no longer complimented Liddy on her outfits, her appearence. Models were brought in and purchases made as before. Liddy continued on as the ever-more efficient secretary. But the small warm spot between them was gone. Her boss chided her daily, rode her on every detail, though even this had no cruelty in it. Ms. Merchant was simply reverting to form as the school mistress.

“Oh my God! Itty!”

Liddy’s head shot up.

“What are you doing here!” the well-dressed woman demanded. “Oh, I’m sorry about the ‘IBT’ thing-old habit. But really, how are you? Don’t you remember your cousin Kerry?”

Liddy caught herself from falling apart. IBT.

Itty Bitty Titty Liddy

The name her own cousin had devised for her humiliation in high school.

“Do you...work here?” Kerry asked. She was fascinated by the chance encounter. Though only three years older, she may as well have lived ten lives to Liddy’s one. From the look of her, she was wealthy, pampered and educated.

Not to mention beautiful.

Everything Liddy was not. Right down to the generous breasts, so glamorously framed in an expensive designer jacket. And the wedding ring on her finger.

“I said, do you work here?” The question was unreal, amazed. Even impressed.

Taking some heart from she, she nodded. “Yes I do. It is very interesting work.”

Kerry arched her brows. “Yes. I would imagine so. You aren’t married.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lydia mumbled a no.

“I didn’t see a ring,” Kerry explained-though it was evident in her tone that she would never have expected to see one.

“But you are,” Lydia pointed out.

Kerry held up the multi-faceted diamond in the air, admiring it with disdain. “Was. Was married. Now I’m divorced-and rich.”

“Are you a buyer?”

Kerry nodded slyly. “Seems everyone is getting into the act. I heard about it from Phelps.”

For the first time in her life, Liddy was warming to her hated cousin. They were talking business like adults. “Yes, the Coquette. I remember. A lovely piece.”

The haughty cousin cackled. “Piece-yes, certainly Phelps thinks so. Ah Ms. Merchant? Phelps contacted you about me and my needs? I was just speaking to Itty-I mean Liddy. She’s my cousin, you know.”

Ms. Merchant heard the exchange. “Liddy is my assistant. You are my three o’clock?”

Kerry nodded. Liddy glanced at the appointment book. There was no three o’clock listed—

“Please come in. Do not disturb us.” The two women retreated behind the office door.

This never happened! Liddy checked the book again. If her cousin was indeed a buyer, where was the model listing? Perhaps this wasn’t a buying trip. Yet all Ms. Merchant’s appointments resulted in sales and involved modeling. She would check with her boss. Despite their personal differences, Lydia was quite a good secretary to her boss. She rose and put her hand on the knob. Fragments of the conversation though stilled the hand. It dropped as she listened intently.

“—good help IS difficult to find—”

“—Phelps told me but I didn’t quite understand—”

“—a type of bio-chemical control—”

“—you said behavior modification? Please—”

“—various desires, different personas—”

“—not just, but yes, to be honest, a part of that would entail sexual—”

“—no possible way to disobey you, though some training—”

“—and where again is the, what do you call it—”

“—fits securely within the lingerie itself—”

“—at first, but while I was traveling, I started to like your idea—”

“—demonstrate it to you, then you can decide for yourself—”

Lydia slowly sat back down at her desk. The phone rang. It was Ms. Merchant. Her boss always called her about now in a meeting with a buyer.

“Liddy.” Impersonal, hard.

“Yes, Ms. Merchant?”

“Please bring The Domestic.”

“Ms. Merchant, there’s no model scheduled for this showing.”

“Bring it in now.” Click.

Trembling, Liddy fetched the requested selection. She had never heard of it before but quickly found it in the inventory in a marked and sealed paper bag. Entering the office, she noted Kerry’s quite different demeanor. Her cousin’s eyes followed her with open disdain. She placed the package in front of Ms. Mechant and turned to leave.

“Stop.”

Liddy did so immediately.

“You see? Follows commands automatically.”

Kerry nodded, coolly. “And next you said she’d...”

“Of course. Liddy, you will model The Domestic for Ms. Masterson.”

Liddy picked up the package. Her breasts were warm, so warm now...

“No. Here. Strip and model.”

As she obeyed, the two discussed her like an object. She caught only pieces of the conversation as she bared her body before the two women.

“—like a schoolgirl really. Her Junior Miss Perky is her pride and joy—”

“—like a teenager. Quite conditioned to obey a female in a position of authority now that—”

“—very small. Itty Bitty Titty Liddy you say? How delightful—”

“—a bit more painful and constricting, but a serving girl must be kept on her toes—”

“—sexually aroused, but painful you say?—

“—a sweet pain that reminds a girl of her place—”

“—looks sexy but not seductive. Provocative to a point—”

“—need to control menials. They can be so much trouble unless trained properly—”

Liddy opened the package and slipped on the items inside. The panties were black thongs, but made of lace. She felt a sharp pain until the panties were snugly about her waist, with the Forbidden Fashion rosette against her upper thigh. The sharp pain faded into a dull throb between her legs. She was shocked-the pain was arousing her.

“The bra, Itty.” Kerry sternly instructed. Ms. Merchant grinned.

Liddy blinked and obeyed. A prickling about her breasts dissolved as she slipped her arms through the thin straps of the black lace bra. The new bra cruelly clutched her breasts into tight, hard ripe tangerines. Her nipples poked against the black lace prison cells of the cups. The dainty rosette between the cups kept jealous vigil over her petite mounds.

“Ms. Masterson, I present to you The Domestic.”

Kerry’s feral grin indicated her utter approval.

“Thank you Becky.”

“You’re welcome, Mss. Merchant.” The secretary, a reed-like blonde, bobbed her head agreeably. True, Ms. Merchant had old-fashion ideas about treating her help, but the twenty-seven year old had no complaints. The job was so interesting and the benefits wonderful. Why just two weeks ago, her boss had let her buy more of those scrumptious undies! She had on that wonderful new Sweet ‘N Sassy bra that gave her a bust for the first time ever-not to mention making her feel soooo good!

“You look very pretty today Becky.”

The blonde, now in the employ of Forbidden Fashions for two months, agreed. She had been a nothing when the temp agency had sent her over. No prospects, no life, all empty inside. Now the wallflower felt like a new girl. She unconsciously toyed with the pink ribbon in her ponytail and blushed. “Thank you. I love my new poodle skirt! And I put on my new Capri pants last night when I got home! Like you said, Ma’am, they’re so cute on me!”

“I’d like to see you in them sometime. Perhaps outside the office.” The blonde, so adorably waif-like and so pliable now, didn’t answer her at once. For a second, she thought she might have made yet another error in judgement. How disappointing. Perhaps drastic action would be called for. The wan face looked away and the smile evaporated into the air. But the limpid blue doe-eyes held fear and she could feel the little blonde’s will kneel. Perhaps nothing drastic after all need be done. Perhaps a simple reminder when things progressed. As they surely would now.

“Yes, Ms. Merchant. T-that would b-be n-n-nice.”

She nodded curtly. The girl didn’t mean it, but she was clever enough to realize the necessity of modeling her new things for her superior. It was a start. She wasn’t a bad girl, simply an awkward one. Like any teen. A little confused, a little clumsy, a bit unconfident and yes, even a mite rebellious. When things began in earnest, these were all things she expected to spend much time correcting in her new ward.

“That will be all Becky.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The blonde swept her pink skirt and left the office in a nervous rush. Her boss’es eyes followed her out, appraising her carefully. It was fine to let her enjoy her new clothing, but yes, she must be reminded that such pleasures were privileges to be paid for. And in addition to the payment, she must be punished as well.

A spanking perhaps. Yes. An over the knee spanking for Missy Becky. And then some lessons in other areas.

She picked up the phone. “Becky, I would like to see you in your pretty new clothes tonight. We will collect them after work. Together.”

A trembling sigh. “Yes, Ma’am. Certainly Ma’am.”

She hung the phone up then turned to her mail. A check dropped gracefully onto the desk. From Kerry Masterson for the sum of one hundred thousand dollars.

“Dear Ms. Merchant,

Just wanted to thank you again. It was fine doing business with you. Needless to say my entire set of friends is mad with envy. Would it be all right if I introduce your services to them? As you said good help is hard to find, but most of them remember Itty from high school days and are simply bowled over by the transformation.

Not that she is remarkably prettier. Poor Itty is a homely little thing. But there is something delicious about the way her maid’s uniform fits her, not to mention her intimate garments. As a domestic, she fits the bill well-well-spoken, efficient, obedient and (after becoming familiar with a certain hair brush!) even suitably respectful to her betters. As you said, merely following commands is not sufficient (since your remarkable technology has taken that difficulty out of the equation). I dare say Itty has been taught to carry out her orders with a smile on her face!

And certainly she obeys every command-however explicit. My lovers have commented upon her growing talents in this area. Naturally, she’s constantly frustrated. I don’t permit penetration in any way, shape or form. You are right about warning against lenience with her-she had the gall to ask for certain considerations not long ago. Her Mistress had to remind her (with Mr. Hairbrush no less!) that some privileges are not permitted domestics, not matter how obedient they are! As Liddy was reacquainted with Mr. Hairbrush, I suggested she find solace in giving her mistress pleasure-and to forget about her own!

Not to worry-my plain little maid’s panties and little training bra stay on at all times. Even when she is summoned in to clean up after Mistress and her male guests. She’s positively famished sexually and because of that I do her the honor of allowing her to perform her little tricks for me when we are alone. Not that I am a lesbian, I assure you Ms. Merchant! After all, I never as much as kiss the silly little carrothead. But I like to think that by permitting her to use her fingers, tongue and mouth on me that she finds some intellectual, if not physical, relief. After much instruction (and more conversations with Mr. Hairbrush), she is growing more proficient in this area as well.

Well, my short note has grown too long. Itty has prepared an end-of-day bath and now stands attentively, ready to undress her mistress. Already, she is licking her lips and thrusting her little chest out as I have trained her to do. But as I write, I recall that she has not yet washed my teddy from last night. One of my friends made quite a mess of it-well, I bore now. Still, it IS my favorite and she SHOULD have known. It is one of hr regular duties to hand wash all my intimates. Oh dear! I’ve no choice but to exercise Mr. Hairbrush again! But I’ll wait till after I’ve bathed and she’s dried me off before I attend to that little task (pleasure?)!

Please call me soon regarding my friends-it should represent a whole new source of business for you!

Sincerely,

Kerry Masterson”