Page 46 of Savage

She leads us toward a smaller section with a small couch and several dresses on racks. She pulls a curtain across the entrance, giving us privacy.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asks me. She barely even looks at Stef. She must be used to people coming in to buy clothes for their partners.

I glance at the dresses on the rack and shake my head before sitting down on the couch. Stef tries to follow me, but I hold my hand up to stop her.

“What would you recommend? I need something that highlights her features properly.”

The clerk comes back to us, and she gives Stef a more thorough once over. Stef squirms under the scrutiny, looking to me for direction. I find that I like it, but I gesture for her to stay where she is.

“It’s hard to tell with the sweater what size she is, but you probably want something tight. I have a lovely red sleeveless…”

Stef winces, tugging self-consciously on the sweater’s sleeves.

“No,” I interrupt sharply. “She needs long sleeves. But I agree that a tight dress would look good.”

The woman nods, unperturbed by my interruption. “Tight, long sleeves, and short. I have several that would fit.” She goes over to one of the racks and pulls a black dress out, holding it up to Stef’s body. “The back is open on this one. I’m not sure black is the best color for her though, considering how pale she is. And…” She purses her lips. “It might be helpful if she removed her sweater, just so I know what size I’m looking for.”

Panic flashes across Stef’s expression, and she starts to shake her head before catching herself. She looks to me again, her eyes pleading with me, but it’s clear she’ll do anything I tell her—and it’s a feeling that goes straight to my cock.

No matter how uncomfortable she is, or self-conscious, she’ll do anything to please me.

“That sounds like a good idea,” I say, my eyes on Stef. “Take the sweater off. And the jeans, too. You’ll have to try the dresses on anyway.”

Tears spring to her eyes, but Stef nods to me, obeying wordlessly. She takes the jeans off first, stalling as she folds them carefully and sets them down nearby me. It’s like she thinks I’ll change my mind if she takes long enough, but I only fix her with a stern look. She wilts visibly, her hands shaking as she pulls the sweater off and folds it next to the jeans. When she’s down to her bra and underwear, she looks at me with desperate eyes.

I give her a small nod of approval. She swallows hard, ducking her head and staring down at the floor. She holds herself awkwardly, and I can see she’s trying to keep the track marks from easy view.

The clerk circles around Stef, reaching out but never touching her. “Ah, good. I was afraid she was hiding unflattering lines underneath the clothes. But I think she’s only a size two. A bit more breast than I expected, but I have dresses that will still be flattering on her.”

Stef’s cheeks flush in embarrassment, and she fidgets, one of her hands going to touch the marks on the inside of her arms before she catches herself.

Sharp anger hits me when I hear the woman’s words. “You will refrain from commenting on my companion’s weight.”

The woman pauses before nodding. “Of course. My apologies.” She holds up the black dress, then shakes her head. “Definitely the wrong color.” She puts the dress back and takes two more off the rack, one in red and the other in purple.

The red one has a slight shimmering sheen to it, and when she holds it up to Stef, I see the wrap design that tightens on one side. It’s also short enough that it barely reaches midway down Stef’s thigh. After confirming that I’ve seen the dress, she holds up the purple one. It’s a very dark color, with a glittering sequin design going up one side of the dress. The neckline isn’t as deep as the red one’s, but I can already imagine Stef in both of them.

“Try them on,” I order. “And while she’s getting dressed, go find matching shoes and purses.”

The clerk sets the two dresses on the small table. “Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.” She goes past the curtain, leaving me and Stef alone.

Stef lets out a slow, shaky breath, sagging in relief. She goes to the table and selects the purple one, unzipping it and pulling it on before coming to me to help her zip it back up. Her expression is uncertain, but she looks considerably more comfortable now that her arms are hidden again.

I trail my hand along her spine before directing her to turn around again. “It looks good on you,” I say, admiring the way the fabric clings to her. I sit down again and run my hand up her thigh, and she pauses in the slow spin so I can touch her. “I like how easily I can access you, too.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says demurely, though she doesn’t give her own opinion of it.

That pleases me, because I don’t particularly care whether she likes it. She’s learning that she, and her body, are here to satisfy me.

I let go of her and sit back once more. “The next one.”

Stef glances in the direction the saleswoman had gone in before turning so I can unzip the dress for her. The red one is next, and while it’s not as flattering, she still looks pretty in it—if entirely too thin. My lips purse, and I start thinking of ways to return curves to her body once it’s healthier. A wrap dress like this definitely deserves more to fill it.

I cup her breast and squeeze lightly. “I can’t wait to see you fully healthy,” I tell her, thumbing her nipple through the fabric. The bra is thin enough that I can still see the way it pebbles underneath the dress. “We’ll go on a real shopping spree then.”

“You don’t have to—” she begins, but she catches herself. “Thank you…” Another glance in the direction the woman had disappeared in. “Sir,” she finally settles on. I find that I don’t like it as much as “master,” but she’s right in that the circumstances necessitate it.

Then again, I doubt the saleswoman is unfamiliar with women calling their sugar daddies Master.

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