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What made her pause in front of the lipstick in the first place? LIDL was not famous for its make-up but for cut-price Continental brands that her children usually refused to eat. Although she always wore lipstick, she favoured a soft pink that enhanced her natural lip colour, not this flamboyant scarlet. You never did know what you’d find in LIDL from week to week. It was part of the fun. One week it was baby buggies and plastic sunbeds, the next week cheapo computers and shooting-sticks – did anyone still buy shooting-sticks? LIDL evidently thought they did, piled them high and they all seemed to sell, if only to people who thought they’d better buy them while they saw them as they were so cheap and anyway, you never knew when a shooting-stick might come in handy and then when you DID want one, you’d not be able to find one for love nor money… Jenny enjoyed shopping here. It was cheap and an adventure. Perhaps it was this adventurous spirit, plus the fact that the lipstick, although packaged luxuriously in a sleek gold case, was only ninety-nine pence, that made her pause in front of it, then reach out her hand tentatively, still undecided, yet curiously drawn.
Jenny’s cheeks flamed scarlet and she jumped, looking around her nervously. But there was nobody there. And if there HAD been anybody there, well, who’d have dared to address her thus in public? All she was doing was looking at a display of lipstick… Jenny calmed, shaking her head in amusement at herself. It must have been her imagination. She smoothed her skirt slightly self-consciously and then reached out for the lipstick again.
It was unmistakable! Not a nasty voice… rather it sounded approving! Someone was calling her a slut but seemed to think that was a good thing to be, someone she couldn’t see, someone who was watching her… She must be going crazy, it was impossible. How could anyone know what she was like anyway, all because of… well, what? Because she was looking at lipstick? Ridiculous. Before her the display of golden tubes shimmered slightly, glowing and pulsing, an effect that had nothing to do with the flat fluorescent tube lighting in the store. ‘Dream Red’ it said on the packaging. Dream Red…….
Jenny felt an unusual sensation as the blush that had begun in her cheeks spread through her body. Someone was watching her, someone was looking at her, looking inside her, and telling her something about herself she had barely dared imagine until now. Her vision blurred as the blush warmed and loosened her, invading her body and sending a quiver through her insides. Once more she reached for the lipstick. This time she dared to pick up one of the golden cylinders, fatter than her usual lipsticks, retro in styling, something Fifties both in the packaging and in the lurid, shameless scarlet.
‘Good slut’ said the voice again, with an unmistakable tone of approval.
Mesmerised, unbelieving yet somehow under the spell of the seductive voice, Jenny dropped the lipstick into her basket. She moved to the checkout in a dream. Dream Red…
For the first time in ages she became aware of her cunt. Something about the curious episode in the supermarket had turned her on, and she could feel that she was wet and that her cunt felt open and empty. It was so long since she’d felt any sort of sexual stirring. Since the birth of her second child she’d been totally switched off. Her husband had been understanding at first, then angry, finally resigned. It was a long time since he’d made any overtures to her in bed and Jenny had told herself that was the way she wanted it. When she and Dan had first got together they’d fucked all the time, spent whole weekends in bed, but somehow that had all changed when the children had come along. After Thomas had been born, they had got some sort of sex life going again but it had never been the same as before, and when Louis was born, Jenny just hadn’t wanted to get back to the interrupted, rushed apology for sex that their lovemaking had turned into. And of course whole weekends of sex were entirely out of the question – the kids came first. Now the kids seemed to have substituted themselves for sex, but Jenny told herself that it was the same for all married couples with young children. There’d be time to get back to sex later, when the boys were older. Meanwhile she found she didn’t really miss it. She was far too busy. Till now…
Back home, Jenny unpacked her shopping, filled with an unusual sense of urgency. She knew what she wanted to do. She couldn’t wait to go and try on the lipstick she had bought. There was time before she had to go and pick up the children. Her heart beating fast and her blood pulsing in her veins, Jenny took the bathroom things she had bought upstairs and the lipstick with them. Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, Jenny took the top off the lipstick and twisted up the waxy stick of colour. She couldn’t help thinking it looked like a thrusting little illegal bahis cock… She blushed again, shocked at her own thoughts. It was only a lipstick for heaven’s sake…
It looked even more scarlet than she had imagined. It smelt… she lifted it so she could smell better. It had an old-fashioned perfumed smell about it that reminded her of her grandmother, a woman who had been a beautiful girl and who had continued to apply her maquillage daily until her death at the respectable age of eighty-four, although by all accounts her life had been anything BUT respectable – as witnessed by the surprising number of spry elderly gentlemen who turned up at her funeral. When she was a child, Jenny had always associated her grandmother with a particular smell of powder and paint and this lipstick could have come straight out of her grandmother’s make-up cabinet, a box of delights that Jenny had, on special occasions, been allowed to sort through and play with if she had been very good.
Carefully now she applied it to her mouth. Or at least that was her intention. Somehow, as she drew the smooth stick over her lips, she found herself drawing a larger, more exaggerated mouth than usual.
This time it was an intimate whisper in her ear, yet if anything even more shocking than it had been in the supermarket. Jenny stared at herself in the mirror, willing her heart to stop racing. Then she lifted the lipstick to her lips once more, going over the contours of her lips, creaming on more of the bright red waxy stuff, over and around her lipline till, panting and hot with unfamiliar emotions, she stopped and looked at the painted whore in the mirror.
‘Beautiful slut’ said the voice.
Jenny put down the lipstick. Her cunt was sopping. As she looked at her reflection her fingers slipped over her cotton dress, feeling for and caressing her swollen clitoris. Her breathing came faster and she could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead. She undid the buttons that ran down the front of her dress and shrugged herself out of it, standing before her looking-glass in her white cotton knickers and simple everyday bra. She watched herself slide her fingers under the knickers, pleasuring herself and watching herself. The watching added to the pleasure and the voice in her ear, the unseen watcher, added even more.
‘Take off your bra, slut’ said her admirer.
Jenny reached behind and unhooked her bra. She dropped it on the floor and knowing what she had to do, reached for the lipstick once more.
‘Ohhhhh yes, slut’ breathed the voice, as she lifted one breast and began painting the nipple scarlet. She moaned as she did this, feeling utterly wanton and shameless, painting scarlet markers on her body to advertise her sex and her availability. As she painted around her nipples she exaggerated her areolas, making her nipples seem larger than life.
‘Now your knickers, cunt’ the voice purred.
As if in a dream, Jenny pulled her knickers down and stepped out of them. Taking up the lipstick once more, she bent over, spreading her legs, and applying the waxy stick to her hot, wet and aching slit. Her cunt was too wet for much of the lipstick to adhere until she reached her clit, which she circled again and again, wanking herself with the lipstick as the voice urged her on. In a frenzy Jenny rubbed her clit with the lipstick until suddenly shudders broke out all over her body and crying out, squeezing her thighs together convulsively, she came.
‘You are SUCH a slut’ said the voice knowingly as Jenny sank down onto the carpet on top of the heap of her discarded clothes, curled up into a ball and hugged her knees to her tartily-painted chest. What on earth was happening to her, what was she doing? And how had she forgotten how good it felt to cum?
Later, Jenny had dressed, not bothering to wash off the evidence of her sluttish behaviour. Somehow, knowing how she was painted beneath her demure cotton dress gave her a secret thrill. She remembered the voice and the way it had told her she was beautiful. All right, not just beautiful but a beautiful slut. Well maybe she was. Whatever the reason, she felt more alive today than the had for weeks, months , years. And all because of a 99p lipstick…
That night before bed, however, Jenny had tried to wash the lipstick off her body and then she found what a truly old-fashioned product it was. It didn’t respond to soap and water and Jenny had to scrub at it with several goes of cotton-wool and cleansing cream. Even then her nipples and mouth still looked rouged and inviting. Maybe Dan would notice – but probably not. He never noticed anything she wore or did these days, and Jenny acknowledged that on the whole that was her fault. Lying beside him in bed that night, for the first time in years Jenny hoped he might take notice. Knowing her nipples were still reddened, slightly, and remembering what she had done to herself earlier that day brought the juices illegal bahis siteleri rushing back to her cunt. But Dan just gave her his usual perfunctory goodnight kiss and rolled over onto his side away from her. Jenny slipped a hand between her legs for comfort and fell asleep at last, with the sibilant whisper of ‘slut’ still caressing her mind.
When Jenny got home from dropping the boys off at school the next morning, she went immediately up to her bedroom and took her Dream Red out of her bedside cabinet. Already the lipstick was worn down, no longer the perfect cock-shaped cylinder it had been before she had lavished so much of it on her lips and on her body. She took a deep breath and began painting her mouth, the same exaggerated bow she had found herself making the day before.
‘Good morning, slut’ said her invisible companion. Jenny smiled. ‘Good morning, Sir’ she replied.
‘Take off your clothes, slut’ he commanded her. Jenny complied with eagerness, almost falling over herself in an effort to get naked for him as soon as possible. ‘Now paint yourself, whore’ he ordered.
As before, Jenny painted her nipples, labia and clit. She paid attention to her clit, loving the sensation as the lipstick stimulated that most sensitive organ.
‘Enough, slut’ he said. ‘Put on your dress.’
Jenny reached for her bra only to be stopped in her tracks.
‘No bra and no knickers, slut. Just the dress’ he said.
As it was a hot June day Jenny had chosen a thin white dress that morning with a semi-fitted top and a flared skirt. The dress had a thicker white satin stripe woven in but was so lightweight that it was semi-transparent. Jenny’s full breasts pressed against the fabric and her scarlet nipples and the red gash of her sex showed through clearly and provocatively.
‘I can’t go out like this!’ she exclaimed, scandalised at her own appearance.
‘Oh yes you can, my slut’ he told her. ‘And you’ll love every minute of it.’
Jenny felt the blush once more invade her body, the heat of it mantling her cheeks and spreading down her chest towards her painted nipples. Her head dropped, her curtain of blonde hair falling forward to hide her red cheeks. ‘Where am I to go, Sir?’ she asked.
‘You need some new underwear’ he said. ‘Something that befits my whore. Something more appropriate than this schoolgirl stuff you wear.’
Jenny knew immediately what she needed to buy and where she needed to go. She slipped on her sandals, grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The strap crossed diagonally over her body, separating her breasts. She looked down at herself, at the way the thin white fabric stretched tautly over her painted flesh. Oh no… she could see that the lipstick had already stained the white dress, there were unmistakable reddish circles over her nipples. As she looked down at her breasts, her nipples hardened and pressed even more audaciously through the thin fabric. Jenny’s lips, painted widely with the same whorish scarlet, curved into a smile. A secret sensation of shame and yet lust flooded her body. Could she really go out like this? Yes…. she wanted to… needed to…
She got the train into the city, it was only a short journey. All the same the carriage was uncomfortably warm. Funny how in winter the trains were always freezing but on a beautiful summer’s day like this one the heaters were on full blast. Jenny felt her once crisp cotton dress grow limp and damp with her sweat. She could feel it clinging to her naked body, knew it was getting ever more transparent, that her reddened nipples were blazing through the bodice and that when she stood up, doubtless there’d be red stains too on the skirt from her lavishly-painted cunt. Men scrutinised her, some furtively from behind their newspapers, some blatantly eyeing her body. She didn’t care – she felt invincible. In some way their stares excited her. No man had looked at her for years. For so long she’d been a housewife and mother, harassed, taking no trouble with her appearance really… and she’d lost all sense of herself as a sexual being. She’d felt invisible. But now all she felt herself to be, at this moment, was the pure essence of sex, she was a rouged pair of nipples and a garishly-painted cunt. She was flaunting her body, advertising herself. She knew herself to be beautiful – had he not told her so? – with her blonde hair, full breasts, red mouth, white dress… a dream come true for most men. As the train joggled along, her breasts bouncing rhythmically and every man’s eyes now fastened hungrily upon her body, Jenny became lost in her thoughts, almost unaware of the stares she was attracting, her mind on sexy underwear to clothe and display herself in.
Once arrived, she headed for the sex shop she’d passed before on her way to the craft shops at the Corn Exchange. There wasn’t a place like that in her home town and if there had been, well, it would have been risky…. But here in the city she felt safely canlı bahis siteleri anonymous. She entered the shop and paused, looking about her. Several men browsed long waist-high shelves stacked with magazines and videos. She was sure there’d been some talking that had stilled as she came in. A female shop-assistant lounged by the till, studying her nails, obviously fake and fabulously long, adorned with sparkly little gems. Towards the back of the shop Jenny saw a rack of clothing and without looking at anything else, though vaguely aware of shelves of toys, dildos and lubricants, she headed straight for that.
At first she was disappointed. The goods seemed so tacky and poorly-made. There were outfits – schoolgirl, nurse, French maid – all the usual – and strange garments composed of studded leather straps. There were peep-hole bras adorned with really poor-quality lace in hideous colours, and split-crotch knickers in leopard-printed nylon. but as she searched through the rack, finally she found what she had been looking for – a corset. It looked well-made, with a proper busk front, metal suspenders, and it laced up the back, with two sets of laces that met at the waist. It was made of shiny black PVC and Jenny just knew that this was the thing he wanted her to wear for him. It looked perfect, with a front that looked as though it would cover the lower part of her breasts but leave her nipples exposed. She needed to be exposed… She hardly needed to look at the waist size to know it was the correct one. But she did want to try it on.
Taking it from the rack, she walked back up the length of the store to where the sales assistant still contemplated her expensive manicure. Men watched her, covertly, turning their attention from the magazines and taking in every detail, her voluptuous body, clearly naked under the flimsy dress, the stains, her hard red nipples…
‘Could you help me try this on?’ Jenny asked. The woman turned towards her and looked her up and down.
‘Sure’ she said. ‘Ever worn a corset before?’
‘No’, said Jenny. ‘I want one but I need you to show me how I’d put it on when I’m on my own.’
The woman came out from behind the counter and took the corset from Jenny, walking with her towards the back of the store. She showed her a changing cubicle, rather small, with a pink curtain closing it off from the shop.
‘You’ll need to take your dress off and while you do that I’ll slacken off the laces’ she said.
It took only seconds for Jenny to divest herself of her dress and then she had to stand there, totally naked, while the salesgirl took what seemed like forever to do whatever she had to do to the corset to ready it for trying. Finally she popped her head round the curtain and asked if Jenny was ready. At the sight of the naked girl she didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
As the salesgirl wrapped the unhooked corset around jenny’s body, she told her that usually she should wear some close-fitting, smooth undergarment. Jenny nodded her head but wasn’t really taking in all the information the woman was giving her. Although she had seemed very bored while sitting at the till, she had become quite animated now, and her fingers moved deftly about Jenny’s body, despite the length of her nails, as she hooked up the busk. It felt strange to have another woman’s fingers on her body, lifting her breasts to adjust their position, stroking her skin in a way which sent little shivers up and down her spine. Even at this stage Jenny had to breathe in and once the corset was fully-hooked she already felt slightly constricted.
‘I’ve adjusted the lacing for you’ the woman said. ‘Reach behind you and you’ll feel long loops hanging down – that’s right’. Jenny had reached behind and found the loops. ‘Now all you do is pull’ said the woman. ‘Easy does it – keep going….’
As Jenny pulled in the laces she could feel the corset’s embrace tighten about her. She breathed more shallowly as slowly but surely as she pulled on the laces, the corset tightened its grip. Her breasts rose, spilling over the top of the shiny pvc, her red nipples fully on show. Her waist felt smaller, squeezed tight and Jenny loved the feeling.
‘You can do better than that’ said the salesgirl. ‘Breathe out’.
As Jenny let all the breath out of her body the salesgirl pulled hard on the laces, constricting Jenny’s waist another half inch. Triumphantly she tied the laces off and stood back. Jenny felt the rigid, comforting, constricting embrace of the steel bones inside the PVC and took tiny, fast breaths which were all she could now manage, her breasts trembling, rising and falling in an exaggerrated fashion, with every intake of air.
‘I want to see myself’ she whispered, her voice as constricted as her body.
‘Sure you do’ the salesgirl said, a smile in her voice. ‘Follow me, honey’…
Jenny hesitated a moment. Apart from the corset she was naked, her nipples and clit adorned with rouge, and the salesgirl was proposing she walk out of the cubicle, through the shop which contained several strange men?! But………they WERE strange, they had no idea who she was, so what was the harm? Hesitantly she took her purse from the peg on the cubicle wall.
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