A Change of Scenery

I had rinsed off quickly in the shower, barely letting the water get warm. The cold helped tamp down my ardour, which already seemed to be an ever rising tide. Regina raised an eyebrow at me from the bed, seeing me wrapped modestly in my faded blue bath towel from armpit to knee. Meanwhile she still lounged there, opening flaunting her glorious body with those insubstantial chains draped over her.

“Sorry I don’t have anything for breakfast… I need to go buy some groceries,” I started explaining as I shuffled over to my closet. “I was meant to go last night and then make some dinner but… well you know what happened.” Of course she knew. She was the reason I hadn’t eaten since lunch time yesterday. Hadn’t eaten any food anyway…

I found a clean flannel on a hanger and a dark pair of skinny jeans on the closet floor and tossed them onto the bed. Regina may have sneered at them, but I wasn’t sure if it was just a dislike of my fashion sense or just an aversion to clothing in general. I discovered some clean, and importantly dry, underpants in my dresser and briskly stepped into them, pulling them up my legs, still surrounded by towel. “Do you eat breakfast?” I suddenly thought to ask, turning to my buxom beau whom I still only barely understood. Her other eyebrow moved up this time.

“I eat pussy,” she said straightly, but her mirth showed through after only a few seconds. “I can eat, Ringmaster. I don’t need to… but I can enjoy a meal.” That made as much sense as anything else, and once I pulled my eyes away from her tits I freed mine. I felt nervous about exposing myself like this again, even though we had just both been naked and very intimate about it minutes ago in my bed. I quickly scooped my breasts into my bra, a plain black pair, and clumsily fastened it behind my back.

“Did you want me to get you something in particular?” I asked, as if she was a normal guest just staying at my apartment. That thought knocked another one loose. She was now a part of my life. Regina was a being that I would now presumably have to share a living space.

“You want me to stay here?” Regina asked, and I once again wondered if she could read minds. I supposed I could just ask her if that was a thing she could do. Then I realised she meant I was going to leave her at my apartment while I went out… which I was the plan. I felt bad about not feeling bad about it initially. I didn’t know what I was doing or how I should be treating the magical entity of a power ring.

“Oh… did you want to come with me? I mean I was just going to drop by the convenience store around the corner.” It seemed to me like that sort of menial task would be beneath a Goddess like Regina, even if it was just to accompany me. Unless she had ****.

“I have to,” she confirmed, smiling wryly. She reached over and grabbed my wrist, raising my hand in front of me. She was showing me the ring. “We’re tied together now, Ringmaster Alexi. Where you go, I go.” Admittedly, I loved the sound of that despite how much I liked being a lone. Being with Regina was comforting in a way I couldn’t quite pin down. An image flitted through my head of pinning her down onto the bed and I had to shake my head to dismiss it.

“What if I need to use the bathroom?” I asked then, an unfounded worry suddenly springing up. She managed not to roll her eyes.

“You just went and took a shower, remember? And I was right here.” She hadn’t moved from the bed all morning. “We’re tied together, but not at the hip. But if you’re going out somewhere, so will I.”

I blinked at her, at this woman who called me Ringmaster, and her vaguely defiant air. I was reminded of my grumbling hunger again, and the sight of her breasts made me thirsty, so I turned and pulled on my flannel with a huff. Her proposition still didn’t bother me. I couldn’t even think of any reasons not to have Regina around all the time. It was no imposition. Even while I was working. That is, as long as she was clothed…

“Can other people see you?” I had the forethought to ask. I knew I wasn’t crazy, Regina’s presence so solid and magnificent and beyond my imagining, but I’d experienced enough fiction to try and guess at other rules. I wasn’t sure if Regina was just deciding on her answer like she could choose how all of this worked, or if she was being otherwise opaque, but I trusted her smile.

“Other people can see me yes,” she said. “All of me.” And, while it was quite a sight to behold, I knew polite society was not ready for a woman like Regina to walk the streets in nothing but her chains. Neither was impolite society, probably.

“You can borrow some of my clothes then,” I said, hoping to sound gracious as I gestured to my wardrobe. I sat myself on the edge of the bed to pull on my jeans and Regina finally got off of it to check on my offer. Honestly I wasn’t sure if I had anything that would fit her. We were similar heights but Regina, aside from being an inch taller, was much more well endowed than me in a couple of significant areas.

She clicked her tongue as she sorted through my collection. This naked Goddess just stood there in my room, a hand on her hip while she swished through the rags on my rack. I wondered if she would take off her chains then, and watched with interest. Instead, while still pursing her lips as she perused the contents of my closet, she began pulling in her chains. It was like magic, and then I realised it was magic, as she began shortening the chains as she tugged at them, and soon it seemed like she had reeled them into a smaller set of links, like she was wearing jewellery. The long, crisscrossing bands had become a pair of loose chain bracelets on each of her wrists, a set of anklets, and around her neck was a matching chain choker. It rested more like a necklace at the bottom of her neck. I wondered then about the significance of the chains and how they didn’t seem to be mere accessories. Were they part of some spell that literally bound her to the ring on my finger? Could they be broken? Could she be set free?

“Ohh… here’s something,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed and reaching into the wardrobe. What she found was a thin black chiffon top with an irregular hem, thin straps over the shoulders and crossing the back. I supposed it might stretch enough. There wasn’t much for her in the pants department… and I didn’t own a single skirt. At least not one you would wear in public. And then she found the green ‘kilt’ tucked away in the bottom corner with my other shameful things. She didn’t say anything when she plucked the wrinkled apparel out of the shadows but I had the urge to explain.

“That was part of this ridiculous uniform for the coffee place I worked at once,” I said quickly. “The owner was a young guy but a real creep. Made all of the women wear those things…”

“Mmm, it’s perfect,” Regina said appreciatively, already measuring it to her hips. It fit, fortunately enough, because I had grabbed the largest size I could find in that storeroom, hoping it had more length. It didn’t, but at least I found it could fold around a bit to give myself the illusion of decency by doubling the layers if I ignored how much thigh it showed.

On Regina… well I suddenly understood my creepy former boss’s perspective. It only just covered her behind enough to cut off a view of the curve. Unless she hopped or raised a knee too high. And paired with my top, now stretched to its limit at the bust, I was suddenly concerned for the longevity of my dry underwear. Remembering that she wasn’t wearing any either made me squeeze my thighs together.

How could a person look even sexier while ‘fully’ clothed? For some reason I thought my new urges might be more manageable when not faced with a naked sex goddess… but the sight of Regina, half stuffed, half spilling from this outfit and somehow making it seem like I had good fashion sense, only made me want to tear her it off of her and tear into her again.

“Maybe we should buy you some pants,” I suggested, knowing I had nothing that would properly fit her. “And underwear…”

She slid herself next to me and hooked her arm around mine. Her warmth made me tingle self-consciously.

“Whatever you want, Ringmaster Alexi,” she assured me, her voice a quiet, alluring growl. I unstiffened and found a pair of flipflops to slip into.

“You can just call me Alexi if you like,” I said.

“Whatever you want, Alexi.”