It took me a couple of hours and two glasses of whiskey to calm down. Being submissive to a horny young guy is a mistake; nothing will satisfy him. When it comes to sex, guys in their twenties have no conscience.
Sunday was a blur. I usually would get my outfits out for the coming week, but now all I could think of was Dennis humiliating me at work. I didn't have long to worry about that; there was a knock at my door. I carefully looked out. It was the mailman hurrying back to his truck. That was odd; I hadn't ordered anything. It was an overnight envelope with my name and address on it.
It was a white slip-on spandex dress; it could only be from Dennis. Without trying it on, I knew I couldn't wear it to work; I might as well be naked. I couldn't imagine wearing it in public, maybe in a nightclub, but I was too old for that.
The phone rang; of course, it was Dennis.
"I see on my computer that you've received my gift." I had to be careful what I said. I knew what he could do.
I tried not to sound scared.
"It's beautiful and sexy. I can't wait to give you a fashion show when you come over."
He replied quickly.
"I was thinking about you wearing it to work, like tomorrow?"
I panicked.
"It's beautiful but a little sheer for work. I couldn't wear underwear. I would rather save it for a special private show for you."
"I hadn't thought about that; I was planning to come over Friday night, but now I'll stay the whole weekend.
I gasped. "That would be great." I lied. What had I gotten into?
"Well, Dennis, I've got washes to do, I'll see you in the morning," I said, desperate to end the call. There was a pause, and then he growled.
"YOU LITTLE CUNT, you thought you get away with it. Sidetracking me about Friday night. Remember, If I buy you something, you don't make excuses; you wear it when I tell you to. AM I CLEAR?"
"Yes," I mumbled.
"Don't disappoint me, Peggy. You know what I can do. Remember, I have your contact list on my phone."
I ended the call shaking like a leaf. What was I going to do? The dress was so sheer that it was almost see-through. The good part was that people only saw me walking to my car. I didn't have to interact with anyone during the day except by phone calls.
I was up at six o'clock, an hour earlier than usual. I couldn't wear regular stockings. The only pantyhose I had were sheer to the waist in coffee color. I had no choice; my only thigh-highs were in black, which would have been too much. I slipped on my tiniest thong, which barely covered my smooth mound. I had shapely legs, and the dark-colored hose made them seem longer. But the main problem was my boobs. I had to wear some kind of bra. But the only one I had that wasn't lacy was a sports bra. It fits tightly, but it did control my girls.
Stepping into the dress and pulling it over my ass took much wiggling. I chose brown heels, and thank God it was cool, so I could get away with wearing a jacket.
I checked myself out in front of my mirror. The dress was tight and ended mid-thigh. At least it had a decent neckline that didn't show any cleavage. The bra gave me good support and hid my super-sensitive nipples.
I arrived at nine o'clock. Most of my coworkers were already there, so I slipped in unnoticed. There was no one in the hall. I hurried into my office and closed the door.
About five minutes later my phone rang, of course, it was Dennis. "You look very nice. Those heels do wonders for your legs. Now swing your legs out from under your desk."
I felt beyond creepy; I didn't know where the cameras were. I moved my chair out and tugged my dress down, almost to my knees. Dennis was quick to comment.
"I want to see your legs; pull your dress up."
I inched my hem up to my crotch. He wanted to see if I had panties on.
"Leave your dress like it is. I'll check on you occasionally."
Sitting sideways at my desk was uncomfortable; I had to twist my upper body just to use my computer.
I made it through the morning with a sore back from twisting sideways at my desk. He got what he wanted. My dress rode up every time I moved. I tugged it down out of habit, only to remember what he said. I gave up and let it ride up to my upper thighs.
Quitting time couldn't come fast enough; I let most office workers leave, hoping I could sneak out unseen.
My heels were killing me; they were a little tight, but they were the only brown shoes I owned. I had slipped them off for a while; now I hated putting them on. I liked four-inch heels, but sometimes it was rough walking, especially on the brick pavers which led to the parking lot.
My heart sank. I could see Dennis and two other guys standing by my car.
Because of my heels, I had to take short steps, making me feel vulnerable.
"Good afternoon Ms. Wilson," Dennis smirked. "You look nice today. Is that a new dress?"
The other two snickered at my discomfort.
"Yes, it is," I said as I unlocked my door, unable to look any of them in the eye. They were waiting for me to get in, knowing what my dress would do.
They weren't disappointed. I tried to sit first and swing my legs in, but the dress inched up, exposing my legs to my waist. I didn't dare pull it down, unsure what Dennis would do.
"See you guys tomorrow. I've got a ride tonight."
He said, opening the door. "You don't mind, do you, Peggy?"
I cast my eyes down and whispered, "No, get in."
I didn't know what to do. Dennis was really scaring me. As we pulled up to his house, he said he wanted me to come in and meet his parents. He grinned and took my hand,
"They will like you."
I had to draw the line somewhere,
"Dennis, I appreciate what you did for me, and I agreed to have sex with you, but this has to stop. We're not a couple; I'm twenty years older than you."
He got a stern look on his face, "Don't think for a moment we're even, you bitch, now keep driving to the end of the street. Remember, I saved your job and possibly your life."
I drove slowly to a dead end. There was only one house, and it looked vacant. He moved his seat back and crossed his arms.
"Take your bra off, I want to see your big tits in that dress."
I started to protest, but I knew it was futile.
