curiousity got the cat chapter part 2 The boutique

[inkless1980]

Chapter Seven:The boutique

The back parking lot of “His and Hers” had several cars, but it wasn’t crowded. All premium brands: Mercedes, BMW, Cadillac, Lexus, etc. Linda stared at the gleaming vehicles, a knot tightening in her stomach. These weren’t the kind of cars that belonged to people who shopped for kids’ soccer cleats. These were the cars of people who had secrets—money, power, desires they didn’t talk about at PTA meetings. And now she was one of them. The thought made her palms sweat against the strap of her purse.

“This is where Mark picked out your little outfit,” Donna said, killing the engine. “I want you to see it.”

Linda’s heart stuttered. She felt set up—tricked into this—but curiosity burned stronger than fear. The thought of Mark choosing bondage apparel for her made her skin flush and her stomach flip. She pictured the leather strapped outfit waiting at home, hidden behind folded sweaters. Mark had imagined her wearing them. The idea made her cheeks burn and her thighs press together involuntarily.
It didn’t take Donna long to talk her into going inside. “Come on,” Donna said, opening her door. “We won’t be long. I promise.”

Linda followed, legs shaky, into the tinted-windowed store.

Once through the door, Linda’s jaw dropped. Sex toys lined the walls in neat rows, lingerie hung on velvet hangers, adult video covers glowed under soft lights. The store was spotless, organized, well-lit—nothing like the seedy back-alley places she’d imagined. Four women staffed the counter and floor, all attractive, dressed in tight athletic wear similar to what Linda and Donna sometimes wore. It looked… normal. Upscale. That made it worse.

A few other patrons browsed quietly. Linda’s skin prickled. Someone might recognize her. Someone might know Robert. Donna noticed and leaned close.

“Relax,” she whispered. “This place is discreet. No one talks. No one judges.”

Linda nodded, but her pulse hammered in her ears. The faint scent of vanilla candles mixed with leather and rubber filled the air. Soft jazz played overhead, barely audible over the hum of her own heartbeat.

Donna walked straight to one of the staff—a tall brunette with a knowing smile. “My friend needs an outfit.”

No names, but the ease between them was obvious. They knew each other.

Donna rattled off the order without hesitation. “Cupless, crotchless bra and panty set. Matching garter belt. Silk stockings—thick rear seam.”

Linda’s face went scarlet. She slapped Donna’s arm, voice low and panicked. “I need no such thing! What are you doing?”

Donna turned, eyes amused. “You do. You just don’t know it yet.”

The clerk sized Linda up, professional and quick. “34C? Maybe a little bigger?”

Linda nodded, mortified, unable to speak. Her throat felt tight, like the words were trapped behind a wall of heat. She could feel the other patrons’ eyes flicking toward them—not staring, but noticing. Judging? No, Donna said they didn’t judge here. But Linda judged herself. What was she doing? Standing in a sex shop, letting Donna order lingerie like it was a grocery list.

The clerk returned with the set. Open-cup bra built to lift and frame each breast. Decorative lace garter belt with four straps. Panty more like a short skirt—no coverage, no modesty.

Donna nodded. “White set. We’ll take it.”

Linda’s mind spun.She pictured herself in the club, white lace glowing under the lights, strangers’ eyes on her exposed nipples, her bare pussy. Her breath hitched. She hated how her body responded—nipples tightening, a faint dampness between her legs.

Next, Donna steered her to the sex-toys counter—everything neatly arranged, clinical almost. Linda recognized pieces from her secret late-night searches: vibrators, plugs, harnesses. Her stomach flipped.

Donna stopped at the anal toys. Small plugs to large, beads, probes, remote-control vibrators, wands, hooks, lubes—the works.

Linda’s voice cracked. “I would never let anyone put anything in my butt.”

Donna chuckled, low and knowing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You may not know it,” Donna said, “but you already have.”

Linda stared. “What does that mean?”

“Another time,” Donna replied, turning away.

The clerk rang them up. Linda kept her eyes on the floor as the total was read aloud—higher than she expected, but Donna paid without blinking. Soon they were back in the car, Linda clutching the bag like it burned her.

The drive home was quiet. Linda stared out the window, the bag on her lap a constant reminder. She could feel the lace through the paper—soft, dangerous. Had Mark chosen it? Had Mark pictured her in it. The thought made her thighs press together again, a traitorous pulse low in her belly.

That night Linda wore the new cami-and-shorts set under her robe. When Robert walked in, she had dinner ready. As he stood from the table, she said, “I have a surprise.”

She let the robe fall. “I bought this today. Might need help getting it off.”

Robert grinned. “You sure know how to please a man.” He scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.
She’d already set the mood—scented candles, slow jazz
.
They danced for over an hour before Robert murmured, “Let me help you out of those.”

Their lovemaking was long, slow, deliberate. A nice change of pace for both.

Saturday morning the girls hit the gym as usual. Robert was golfing; Mark was at a classic car show.

The workout was intense. Afterward they showered at home and grabbed quick lunches.

Robert called: he and his work buddies were playing another eighteen, and wouldn't be back until late afternoon or early evening.
Minutes later Donna called. “Mark’s running late. Come over for wine, cheese, crackers?”

With Robert gone late too, Linda agreed.

Donna had a glass poured when Linda arrived. They chatted about their sons. Linda mentioned she and Robert were thinking of changing the colors inside the house.

After the second glass, Linda finally asked about the outfit from the boutique. Donna knew two glasses of wine was when Linda’s guard dropped.

“That white set is for the club,” Donna said. “White signals new. Club rules for newbies are strict. You’ll be with me, but sooner or later I’ll hand you off—maybe one person, maybe more. You obey their commands. As my guest, I protect you. Nothing happens that hurts you or risks your marriage to Robert.”

“Any other questions?” Donna asked, pouring a third glass.

“Just one,” Linda said. “At the boutique, I said I’d never let anyone put anything in my butt. You said I already had. What did you mean?”

Donna met her eyes. “We’d have to go downstairs for you to understand. No funny stuff. Just showing you.”

Linda, already on her third glass, nodded. “Okay. As long as there is no funny stuff.”

They headed down. Donna unlocked the door. The dungeon looked different—rearranged like a normal room, large black sofa now the centerpiece.

Donna sat with Linda on the sofa, grabbed the remote, opened the cabinet and the flat screen.

“Our adventures were recorded on a zip drive—only here. Strict rules: nothing recorded at the club or on closed-circuit feeds.”
Donna pressed play. The screen showed their first visit: Donna cuffing Linda, cutting off the sundress.
Donna paused. “Look at your face. See the terror? Your eyes, your expression.”

She resumed. It moved to the fake crop attack on Linda’s ass. Donna explained, “Psychology drives BDSM. Your brain made your body react like you’d been hit.”

When that ended, the screen jumped to the other week. Donna paused again. “Watch your expressions.”

“First you were nervous—excited too. Butterflies. Then I changed my tone, and your whole body language shifted. Especially when you realized we had an audience.”

Donna noticed Linda fidgeting. A knowing smile crossed her face. The tit torture scene played. Donna glanced—Linda’s nipples were hardening, poking through her bra and blouse.

As the recording hit the Hitachi on Linda’s pussy, Donna pointed. “See that bulbous tip? Like a hard nipple. Watch your reaction when it pressed your perineum.”

Minutes later the screen showed the slim black vibrator in Donna’s hand.

Donna said, “You were so worked up you didn’t even notice what I was doing. It slid right in. Your body reacted exactly like I knew it would.”
“There are tons of nerves in and around your ass—pleasure, pain, both. In BDSM some crave the pain because it leads to pleasure. That little vibe helped you come so hard, so often. So yes—you already got pleasure from one of those ‘god-awful’ anal toys.”

Donna turned off the screen. “We should go upstairs before you ask me to do something naughty.”

Back upstairs, the wine kept flowing. Linda’s inhibitions were gone.

“When’s the next club trip?” Linda asked.

“This Tuesday,” Donna said. “Ladies-only night.”

“Robert doesn’t know it yet, but he’s in for one hell of a night,” Donna added. “Right now you’re so worked up from watching yourself you’d fuck a door knob.”

Linda laughed, shocked. “I am not!”

Donna pointed between Linda’s legs. “Your pussy’s betraying you again. If I hadn’t promised no funny stuff, I’d have you tied over the pommel horse doing all kinds of things. Look.”

Linda looked. A wet spot—larger than the one from their first basement trip—darkened her jeans.

Linda buried her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh!”

Donna smiled. “Probably a good idea if you head home.”

That night Robert came home aggressive. He sucked Linda’s nipples hard, went down on her with hunger, controlled her head during oral. The intercourse was edgier—Robert in charge.

Linda loved it. It felt like their twenties, but with forty-something skill.

They slept in on Sunday and went to brunch.