The Novella Collection

by D. L. Savage

  And I was seconds away from cumming when all of a sudden the screen of the phone changed, announcing a new call: Unknown Number calling.

  The phone buzzed in my hand and I didn’t know what to do. Should I answer it? Or would Mistress be angry?

  In the end I quickly fumbled my dick away and then answered the call, saying, “Hello, Miss Cartwright’s phone?” in a pathetic shaky voice.

  “Peter,” came the familiar cold English accent in reply. “My office, now.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said quickly, hanging up the call and buckling my belt then rushing back through the office, past Becky’s desk, and into Mistress’s office.

  “So?” she asked me, the moment I’d stepped inside. “Any new messages?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said shyly, handing her the phone.

  I watched as she unlocked the phone, tapping at the screen with one of her long perfectly manicured nails and then her eyes narrowed as she began to read back over the message exchange. Finally, she looked up at me again and her lips curled into a devilish smile.

  “My, my. You’re a horny little sissy, aren’t you, Peter?”

  I felt a sharp pang of embarrassment, but at the same time, I nodded, blushing, knowing there was no use in hiding it. She was right, after all. I was horny and I was a pathetic sissy. It was so fucking clear from reading back over my replies to Tyler’s messages that I’d been getting more and more turned on, pretending to be a cock-hungry slut.

  “I suppose you’ve done an adequate job,” she said quietly, nodding to herself. “I think that will be all for today, Peter. You can finish early again, as I need to get ready for my date tonight with Tyler.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, and made to leave her office.

  But a moment later, she called out after me: “Oh Peter, there is one more thing actually?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, turning back to face her.

  I watched as she stood up from her desk and began to walk around it towards me. There was a strange glint in her eye now, like she’d just that moment come up with some devilish new way to humiliate me.

  “You see, the thing is Peter, I’m not going to have time to go home and freshen up before my date, so I just need you to check that I’m clean,” she said in a cold, calm voice, her dark eyes locked onto me.

  “I don’t understand, Mistress,” I said.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” she hissed. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  “I, uh, think so,” I murmured, totally puzzled.

  Slowly and confidently, she turned around and bent forward, resting one hand on the desk and arching her back, so that her perfect toned ass was pushed out towards me. Then I watched in total surprise as she reached back and began to slide her skirt upwards baring first the tops of her silky black stockings and then a moment later her perfect ass.

  “What I want you to do, Peter,” she continued, “is to get down on your knees and sniff my arse and tell me if it’s clean. Is that really so hard?”

  “N-no, Mistress,” I croaked, my whole body trembling as I got down on my knees until my face was right in line with her ass.

  “Go on then, take off my panties,” she hissed.

  She was wearing a black thong that slipped between her buttocks, and I reached out with shaky hands and took the waist band of it in my fingers and slid it slowly down until it was around her thighs. And between my own legs, my cock began to swell and harden despite my terror.

  “Well?” she growled. “What are you waiting for?”

  I timidly moved my face a little closer to her ass, until it was just a few inches away and sniffed.

  “Oh for crying out loud,” she exclaimed. “You pathetic little worm. Come on, do it properly.”

  And with that I watched in total shock as she reached behind her and parted her ass with both hands, her perfect buttocks spreading apart, revealing her thick shaved pussy lips and her small puckered asshole. I stared at it in disbelief. It was a slightly darker color than the rest of her skin and I noticed a few small dark hairs growing around it. I pushed my face forward until my nose was right up near her hole and sniffed deeply, the slightly pungent rich scent of her ass filling my nostrils, my cock so hard now it was almost painful, like I might come involuntarily, without even touching myself.

  “So, Peter? Am I clean enough?”

  I thought about it. There was a smell, but the only way Tyler would detect it was if he was doing the same thing as me, actively sniffing her ass. And even then, the smell wasn’t actually bad. If anything, it was kind of good ...

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said in a trembling voice. “You smell ... great.”

  “Thank you, Peter,” she said, quickly reaching behind her and pulling up her thong, then pulling her skirt down, like this was a totally normal thing for a boss and assistant to have done. “That will be all.”

  I got unsteadily back to my feet, ashamed of my tell-tale boner. Then I quickly gathered the shopping bags and left her office, my head spinning as I headed down the corridor towards the elevators, wondering what tomorrow might have in store for me ...

  “This Morning, I have an errand for you, Peter,” Miss Cartwright announced that Thursday morning. “Think you can handle collecting a few items for me?”

  “Yes, Mistress, of course, Mistress,” I said quickly, eager to please her.

  “Good,” she said coldly.

  And with a flash of excitement, I wondered just what exactly these mysterious ‘items’ might be.

  A few minutes later, there I was, stock still on the sidewalk, my heart pounding as I stared down at the shopping list in my hand:

  White blouse – silk.

  Black skirt.

  Black stilettos.

  Black hold-up stockings.

  Black bra – 32, A.

  Black panties.

  I knew that this was just another one of Mistress Cartwright’s cruel tests – another way of humiliating me. Because how the hell could a guy like me go into a store and buy women’s underwear without feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed of himself? But at the same time, I felt eager too – eager to please her, maybe even eager to be humiliated, as fucked up as that sounds.

  I carefully folded the list and slipped it into my pocket, next to the company credit card which she had given me just a few moments ago – telling me to keep hold of it, but to use it only for company expenses – before sending me out on my errand.

  “Take your time,” she’d said. “ I don’t have anything else for you to do today, so just be sure to come back and show me what you’ve bought before the end of office hours. Oh and don’t worry about the expense, either. Just make sure to buy good quality things, nothing like the cheap tat you’ve been coming into work wearing.”

  As I set off in the direction of the shopping district, I began to feel ashamed of my cheap dowdy clothes – Mistress Cartwright must have been able to tell immediately that they were all cheap, thrift store items – and a part of me felt envious of her, as I imagined what it might be like to wear the kinds of slinky sexy things that she always wore.

  I had decided to try and buy as many of the clothes as I could from one large department store that I knew sold high-end luxury fashions. I’d never actually set foot in it before, but I’d passed it many times, with its colorful display windows and luxurious glitzy perfume counters and clothing departments. And a large sprawling place like that seemed a little less scary than some small boutique. At least in a department store I could hide away; just grab all my items and take them to a cashier. For all anyone knew, I could just be running an errand for my girlfriend or wife. Was it really so weird and out of the ordinary for a guy to go into a store and pick up some regular work clothes for a female friend?

  But even as I was telling myself this, I could feel my embarrassment increasing as I reached the store and stepped inside, looking around pathetically at the busy, bustling ground floor that was the make-up department. All the people working at the count
ers were pretty young girls, and all the shoppers were female too, and I felt so out of my comfort zone, it was only a few seconds before my cheeks were blazing with heat.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a voice said behind me, and I turned to face an attractive young store assistant, smiling at me politely.

  “I’m just, um, looking for the clothes?” I blurted out, feeling a deep pang of shame and embarrassment at how pathetic I sounded.

  “Male fashion is up on the second floor, sir,” she smiled back politely, pointing towards the escalators.

  “Thanks so much,” I mumbled, quickly turning and heading in the direction of the escalators, stuffing my clammy hands into the pockets of my pants. And as I looked at the store information, I realized that Women’s fashion was on the first floor.

  You can do this, Peter, I told myself, as my heart hammered in my chest.

  The first floor was even bigger and busier than the make-up department and I froze on the spot for a moment as I looked around me – wondering where the hell to start. Just then I saw another pretty young store assistant walking confidently towards me. This girl was blonde and slim, the kind of girl that wouldn’t normally give a pathetic guy like me a second look, but to my surprise she was smiling kindly.

  “You look a little lost!” she laughed as she approached. “Let me guess, you’re picking up a few things for your girlfriend, right?”

  “Um, yeah,” I nodded, smiling sheepishly.

  “So, what is it you’re looking for?” she said.

  I pulled out the shopping list, unfolded it and handed it to her, watching as she scanned it with her bright blue eyes, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Okay, this all sounds pretty straightforward,” she smiled. “You want me to help pick you out a few things for her?”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling a small wave of relief as I let her take control.

  “Great,” she laughed. “Okay, follow me!”

  As she strode away ahead of me into the store, even in my shame and embarrassment, I found myself checking her out. She was slim and tall with an athletic figure, and I realized that the clothes she was wearing were pretty much identical to the items on my list: a white blouse tucked into a hip-hugging short skirt, stockings and high heels, and I felt another weird pang of envy at just how confident and sexy she seemed, as I walked shamefully after her in my crummy, ill-fitting pants and shirt.

  She came to a stop at a rack of silk blouses and pulled one off to show me. “Is this the kind of thing she’s looking for?”

  I looked it over and nodded. It was perfect – exactly the kind of silky expensive blouse I’d seen Mistress Cartwight wearing.

  “That’s it,” I said, feeling so glad to be in the hands of this sales assistant.

  “Wonderful,” she said, “so what size is she?”

  At this question, I felt my stomach drop, as I realized I had absolutely no idea. But the sales assistant must have been able to tell the look of panic on my face, because she quickly said, “Don’t worry, if you’re not sure, just take a guess and if you want, you can take home a few items in different sizes and just bring back the ones that don’t fit!”

  “Okay, great,” I said. “Well, I guess she’s ...”

  I thought hard about Mistress Cartwright, realizing that actually she was pretty tall for a woman, only a couple of inches shorter than me.

  “Maybe about my height? Quite slim?”

  “Awesome,” the sales assistant said, choosing a couple of blouses in different sizes. “One of these should fit her fine then! Okay, now onto the skirt ...”

  Again she led me off to another part of the store and picked out a perfect slim-fitting black skirt, choosing a couple of sizes in the hope that one would fit. I even began to feel a little excited about the idea of telling Mistress Cartwright this, hoping she would be proud of me for using my initiative when I didn’t know her size.

  Next she led me to the shoe department and again picked out exactly the kind of tall, shiny black heels that I could so easily imagine Mistress Cartwright wearing. The heels were long and thin, and I marveled at the idea of walking in them all day without falling flat on your face – women’s fashion was so crazy sometimes.

  Just as before, I took a guess at Mistress Cartwright’s shoe size and she chose a few pairs in different sizes too, just to make sure one should fit okay, telling me not to worry, that I could bring all the spares back to the store for a full refund.

  “Okay, now lingerie,” the pretty sales assistant said, totally unaware of the deep pangs of embarrassment that were flashing inside me as she led me over towards the silky sexy little garments displayed in the lingerie department. “So I think these stockings are just perfect!” she began picking out a pair of black hold-up stockings and handing them to me. “And as for a bra ... How about this?”

  She reached out and took a small black bra from the shelf. I could tell by looking at it that the black, semi-transparent cups were smaller than Mistress Cartwright’s breasts, but at the same time I remembered that the bra on the list had been an A-cup, so I decided it was better to stick to the list than to question my Mistresses decision.

  “And finally panties,” the sales assistant smiled. “Ooh. We’ve got some super cute matching panties to that bra actually! She reached out and picked two pairs holding them up to show me. Which kind does your girlfriend normally go for? Brief or thong?”

  “Thong,” I croaked, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, as the sales assistant nodded and handed me the tiny scrap of black silky material.

  “Great, is that everything?” she grinned.

  “Yep, that’s the lot,” I said, just happy that this was finally coming to an end.

  As she led me over to the registers, I took a peek at a few of the price tags and holy shit – just a single silk blouse cost so much more than everything I was wearing! But I reminded myself that Mistress Cartwright had given me the company card and told me not to worry about the cost.

  I just hoped she would be happy with the clothes I’d chosen for her ...

  I got back to the office about twenty minutes before closing time, loaded up with bags from the department store and made my way straight to Mistress Cartwright’s office. I knocked on the door and a moment later heard her familiar strict English accent from inside, “Come in.”

  I took a deep breath then pushed the door open and stepped inside. She looked just as beautiful and severe as always, and I felt my stomach fluttering with nerves as I said, “I’ve bought everything you asked me to, Mistress.”

  “Very good, Peter,” she said, easing herself up from her chair. “Why don’t you show me?”

  As she came around from behind her desk, I realized with a strange ripple of excitement that she was dressed in almost the exact same outfit I’d bought: a white silk blouse, tucked into a black skirt, her long slender legs encased in silk black stockings.

  I began taking out the items one by one and showing them to her, each one met by a small nod. Finally I showed her the panties.

  “Oh yes, just perfect,” she said with a slight smile.

  “And I chose the clothes and shoes in a few different sizes because I didn’t know exactly which ones you took,” I added proudly, hoping for her approval.

  But at this, her face flickered with confusion and she arched an eyebrow.

  “Oh dear, didn’t I make myself clear, Peter?” she said coldly. “These clothes aren’t meant for me.”

  “T-they aren’t?” I stammered, totally flustered now.

  “Of course not,” she laughed back at me.

  “Then who are they for?” I asked, my voice trembling a little.

  “Why you, of course!” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not having my assistant dressed in those tatty old rags you’re always wearing,” she continued. “If you’re going to be representing me and my company, I need you dressed in something a little smarter than that.”

  “But ...” I bega
n.

  “But what?” she hissed back.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t quite find the words. My face was burning again and I just stood there in front of her, feeling utterly pathetic, as she eyed me like I was a piece of dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

  “It’s quite simple, Peter,” she hissed, her voice filled with menace now. “You have two choices. You either come back to work tomorrow dressed in these clothes, or you don’t come in at all. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  I felt myself nodding, my whole body trembling with shame.

  “I said, do I make myself clear?” she repeated in a louder voice.

  “Yes, Mistress,” I mumbled, utterly ashamed.

  “Very good,” she smiled coldly.

  Free from Mistress Cartwright’s office, I breathed a sigh of relief. But a split second later I remembered I had a whole other problem on my hands.

  I couldn’t actually come back into work tomorrow dressed like that ... could I?

  “Hey man, what’s with all the bags?” Alex said when I stepped into the apartment that Thursday night.

  I felt a flash of panic, because I’d been so busy just thinking about the crazy turn of events on my way home, I hadn’t even tried to come up with an excuse. Because really, how could a guy like me afford clothes from a high-end store like this, especially when I was still behind on rent.

  “Oh this,” I groaned, dropping the bags down on the floor. “This isn’t mine. It’s my boss, Miss Cartwright. She sent me out on this crazy shopping trip but I ... I didn’t get back to the office before closing hours. So I’m bringing it in for her tomorrow.”

  “Wow, she’s really working you hard,” Alex laughed from the sofa, seeming to believe my excuse. “So, is she hot?”

  Oh man, you have no idea, I thought to myself. But there was no way in the world I could even begin to describe the kinds of weird things that had been happening between Mistress Cartwright and myself, without embarrassing myself. So instead I just shrugged and tried to sound convincing as I said, “I guess?”