Page 36 of His Property

I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I immediately thumbed down my yoga pants until they pooled at my feet. I was less than two feet away from him, almost within the span of his thighs, and there I was disrobing in front of him. I couldn’t believe I was doing it. I couldn’t believe how wet my pussy was, either.

He’s turning you into a whore, Lola. And you’re cooperating every step of the way.

Maybe it was true. Maybe it didn’t matter. If it was just us, would any of it matter?

Nobody else has to know, right?

I was horrified that I was wearing my ugliest plain white panties. ‘Grandma panties’ were what I always thought of them as, even though they weren’t quitethatbad. I decided to leave those on and instead take my tank top off next.

I quickly stripped it off, dropping it to my feet behind me, then turning back to him, trying to ascertain what it was he wanted from me in that moment. The tension was palpable then, almost as obvious as my arousal.

I nearly gasped when I saw the outline of his cock against the sweatpants had lengthened and thickened, extending down his left pant leg. It was the biggest penis I’d ever seen, and I hadn’t even seen it for real yet. Just looking at it had my heart pounding in my chest, my nipples drawing into rock-hard points.

Worse than my white granny panties though, was the fact that my bra didn’t match them at all. I put it on that morning because nothing else was clean. Doing my own laundry was apparently something that I had forgotten to do the entire week, focused as I was in making sure I kept his house as clean as I possibly could.

The dark green lace was completely at odds with the white fabric of my underwear, and I felt like a street urchin standing in front of him. As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, it was too large for my tits, and rather than hold them up and accentuate them, the bra sort of just… held them. No support whatsoever.

He gave me a slow nod, a clear signal he wanted the rest of it off too. I was afraid of that.

My face flaming hot, I unsnapped the bra, slipping it from my shoulders and letting it fall. My nipples were tingling, they were so hard, and I couldn’t bear to look at him as he stared at my tits.

“Very good,” he murmured, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Now, get those panties off too.”

Deciding I wasn’t going to draw out my humiliation any further than I had to, I yanked the shameful granny panties down my legs then kicked them off behind me. My face was blushing so hot now, I was sure I must have been fire engine red. But there was nothing I could do about it.

“Put it on. Bra first, then the uniform, then your panties and your garters last.”

The brassiere was ridiculously brief, a thin patterned lace. The demi cup did little more than lift my tits up as if they were on a shelf. My nipples were only barely covered, the upper crescents of my areolas clearly visible over the fringe of the lace. It was a ridiculous mockery of a bra, solely intended to display my assets, to the exclusion of all other useful purposes it may otherwise have had.

“The size is a little bigger than you need now,” he said, his gaze glued to my breasts.

“W-why?” I was afraid I already knew the answer though.

“Because I anticipate those tits of yours are going to be getting bigger, now that you’ve got a proper food intake. Even your roomiest bras are going to be quite snug, if I have anything to say about it.” He leaned forward. “And I want to make myself clear here. What I say and think are the only two things you need concern yourself with. You got me?”

I shuddered, but nodded anyway. “I… yes, I understand.”

“Uniform now,” he murmured, his grin back. “I rather like how the design turned out. Just need to see how it looks on that body of yours.”

I looked down as I plucked the shaming, slutty outfit from the packaging and put it on. It was, thankfully, surprisingly comfortable, but that was the only thing about it that wasn’t mortifying. The bodice, lined with lace, was scandalously low and wide, presenting my bra-clad breasts in a stark, sexual, objectifying display.

“I like to accentuate the most important parts of you,” he growled, staring at my shaming presentation.

The whole thing was essentially an extended corset, or modified bustier, extending down to just above the fringe of the incredibly brief, barely there panties I pulled on next. They were the same black diaphanous lace as the bra, and the dark delta of my pubic hair was clearly visible through them. The fabric clutched my mons jealously, and it tended to ride up my cleft, delineating the split of my sex, which further shamed me.

He on the other hand seemed to absolutely delight in it, his eyes glittering, his cock now tenting the soft cotton fabric of his warm-ups.

“Let’s get those garters on. I want to see the whole look.” His jaw clenched, and he seemed quite unabashed as he adjusted the jutting length of his cock under the fabric of his pants. “So far, it’s even better than I hoped for.”

I drew up the garter belt, constructed of the same almost muslin lace that the panties and bra were made of. I made sure the garter straps were straight up the front and back, assuming he would fault me if I were to let them hang haphazardly. Then the last items from the package were held up for me, draped across his long finger. “Get these on then you’re done, Lola.”

I lifted one foot, then the other, drawing the smoky dark stockings up my legs. I hated how far down my thighs they ended, and the way they clasped my thighs just firmly enough to make the soft flesh bulge above them slightly. It was an extra humiliation I knew was absolutely intentional.

Then I attached the straps and drew them as snugly as I dared, not wanting to stretch the hem of the stockings too much but knowing he would love how it left a band of my pale flesh between the top of the thigh highs and the lace of my panties. I always thought that a woman looked even more naked wearing these than they did if they hadn’t been wearing anything at all. Standing there before him, less than an arm’s length away, displaying my body like prized livestock, I felt that truth keenly. I was naked, vulnerable, presented for his enjoyment and his pure male lust.

What I hoped hedidn’t notice though was that my lace panties were already sticking to the slit of my very wet sex.

He held up a finger, making a rolling motion, his dark gaze glittering once more. I knew very well what he meant, turning slowly before him.

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