Page 31 of Spoiling Lillian
God, I hope I’m right.
Chapter 12
Lillian
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“Are you sure I’m dressed okay?”
Bryson reaches across the console of his truck to clasp my hand. “Lils, you’re fine. We’re going to a kink shop. You can literally wear anything to a store that sells sex toys and apparel.”
I thread my fingers with his and grip hard. It hurts because my hand is so much smaller than his, but it grounds me and keeps me from wringing my hands together. With my other hand, I smooth the front of my skirt.
I’m not at all certain he’s telling me the truth. In theory, he has a point, but what do I know? I’ve never been to a fetish shop. I never even considered such a thing. If my mother knew where I was going to spend my morning, she would faint.
I shake thoughts of my mother out of my head. Simone has told me the only way to remain sane is to stop dwelling on what my parents would think about any of my current life choices. I left home. I’m free to be me. My parents have made it clear they would not support anything about my new lifestyle, and I can’t let their opinions get in the way of my happiness.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Freedom from their oppressive beliefs and ways has helped me lift my head. Meeting Bryson certainly hasn’t hurt, either. He makes me smile, giggle, and let loose.
I’m chewing on my bottom lip as Bryson parks the truck. I can do this. We’re not at the dentist for a tooth extraction. We’re at a kink store where I’m going to buy some things that will make me happy. Or…moan.
I fidget as Bryson rounds to my side of the truck before lifting me out and setting me on my feet. I love how he does that. I’m getting used to it. He’s lifted me out of his truck three times. But who’s counting?
Looking down at my outfit again, I take a deep breath. I’m wearing a pastel floral pleated skirt and a white tank top. My mother would die if she saw me. My shirt is too tiny and thin, making it impossible to fully conceal my white lace bra. The skirt is too short. My sandals are flat. My hair is loose and free. I don’t have any makeup on.
Ha. I giggled when I looked in the mirror this morning. I’m learning what style I like. For once in my life, I’m not trying to please anyone but me. And frankly, the outfit was totally worth every single moment of deliberation for the look on Bryson’s face when I opened the door to let him in.
I did have to grab a white sweater before we left because it’s a bit too chilly for the tank top, but I did not button it. I’m such a rebel.
The crazy thing is I’m certain Bryson doesn’t ordinarily date women who look like me. Far from it. I’ve done a lot of research and watched a lot of videos about kink clubs. The majority of the submissives he usually dominates probably come to him wearing black. I suspect they have fancy corsets, tight leather skirts and pants, and platform heels.
I know there are people at Surrender who come in plain clothes. I saw them the night I visited. There are also Littles in the daycare dressed in age-play attire. But I didn’t see Littles lining up in the main part of the club waiting for a sadist to whip them.
Not that I’m stereotyping. Bryson says Littles do occasionally come to other parts of the club to use a piece of equipment, but it’s not the norm.
I hold my breath as he opens the door to the shop and leads me inside. His hand comes to the small of my back as he guides me deeper into the displays.
My eyes bug out of my head. Holy cow. This shop has everything imaginable, from clothes to sex toys to bondage equipment and everything in between.
A woman comes from behind the counter. She’s smiling. “Hey. My name’s Belinda. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you find.”
Belinda is tall and slim. She has on a deep red corset that pushes up her barely existent boobs, making them look fantastic. She’s also wearing black leather shorts and black fishnet stockings. I love that she polishes this off with white canvas sneakers.
Her eye makeup is perfectly applied and black. So is her lipstick. I love her smile. She looks comfortable in her skin and friendly.
“Thank you,” Bryson says. “We’re on the hunt for a good vibrator if you have any suggestions. Then, we’ll wander around a bit and explore.”
Belinda beams. “Happy to help.” She glances back and forth between us. “Is the vibrator for one of you or someone else?”
My heart races. I’m fascinated that she makes no assumptions.
Bryson sets his hands on my shoulders. “It’s for Lillian.”
“Excellent. I’m much better at helping women than men. Since, ya know, I am a woman.” She nods over her shoulder. “Right this way.”
I try to breathe normally, but it’s hard. This is surreal. As we follow Belinda, my only thought is don’t trip.
We round a corner, and my eyes bug out. There are at least a hundred types of vibrators on the wall.
