Submissive stripper

The look that Zooey has chosen isn't exactly a totally leather-clad BDSM ****, but that's okay with you. The image is of a tall, thin woman with blue hair licking a stripper pole. She wears a tight choker necklace, a tight leather skirt and a see-through top, exposing her big nipples.

"Like this." Zooey says, as she taps the picture in the magazine, smiling cheerfully.

And you agree. This'll do. Now all you have to do is piece together the outfit from what you have in the store. It shouldn't be tough. You glance around the store seeing lots of similar options.

Zooey has already grabbed a leather choker, boots and a skirt from the leather-clad shelves of the S&M section. "May I put this on?" She asks, easing into her role as a submissive. You can't help but smile. You're still sure you'd be shocked, confused and nervous at these developments if you weren't so set in a comfortable dom mindspace right now.

"Say please." You answer wickedly.

"Please!" Zooey doesn't waste any time. Though you still can't tell if she's being genuine or ironic.

"Yes." You answer kindly. "We still need to find you a top though."

"Oh, I saw something over there. May I get it? I'd like the final look to be a surprise." She certainly seems eager and you're almost tempted to give her a nod, but you hold up for a second. "Please!" she adds. And you nod her on.

Zooey disappears again, this time into one of the back booths. You chuckle to yourself. You feel calm and confident. It's not that the celebrity status or cuteness of Zooey is starting to wear off, but perhaps you really are embracing a dom/sub nature with this girl who you didn't even know before today, except for your fantasies. And you chuckle remembering the rule that no lingerie are to be tried on except over clothes. You can't think of a better way to break that rule.

And you think about your exposure to Zooey. How you first came to notice her as an indie-starlet and were immediately attracted to her big puppy dog eyes and girl-next-door demeanor. Even as she got more famous and eventually her own TV show, as the world came around to lusting after her, you felt like part of her belonged to you. Now it appears that all of her belongs to you. And quite literally.

Zooey returns.

Your cock throbs.

She wears a bright blue bob wig and silver lipstick. Her neck is shown off, tightly clad in the leather choker. On her torso she's found a mesh halter top, that show off the entirety of her perky breasts and should show off her nipples, except she's covered them in silver pasties. The leather skirt she picked out is even shorter and tighter than you expected, and the leather boots, with big heels, go up to her knees. This is a good look for her.

"Do you like it?" She spins, the blue hair of her wig, flipping outward as she goes. When she get's back to her original spot, facing you and you don't answer, she adds, "Sir." and smiles. "Do you like it, Sir?"

You look her up and down, closely. If you stared at her like this on the street you'd be creepy, a stalker. But here she's asking for your approval. For the moment you decide no punishment is necessary. "I do like it."

"I'm sorry you have no stripper pole for me to lick." As she sticks out her tongue to you.

"Me too." You respond honestly. "The stripping here gets done in the booths, not on stage."

Zooey lowers her head and looks at you through the tops of her big eyes, "Maybe we could go back there and see if we can find something I can lick?"

You try not to be speechless. After all, you're the dom here. But this seems too impossible. Too perfect. And Zooey, knowing she has you ensnared starts off toward the booth.

"Stop!" you demand and she does, and turns back toward you with a concerned look on her face. "Come here." She does, not knowing what you plan to do.

And to be honest, you don't much know what you plan to do either, but you feel like you have to do something. You open your mouth and the words come out. "Turn around and lift up your skirt."

Zooey gives you a long look before biting her lip and obeying, exposing a soft pale ass to you, clad in a black thong. You wonder if she was wearing that when she came in or if she found it secretly when you weren't looking. Either way, her juicy, soft ass is before you.

You smack it hard and Zooey gasps.

"I lead, you follow. Remember." You feel a little harsh for it, but no harm reminding her that she did say 'sub' earlier.

She responds by letting out a deep breath, as if she's shocked and appalled. "Yes sir" she answers. And if she's been being ironic up to this point, she's certainly not any more.

She follows you into the booth and you have a seat. Zooey stands in front of you.

"What happened to the cheerful girl who came in here just a few minutes ago?" You ask.

"Do you want me to be cheerful?" Zooey responds in a whisper, not seeming sad as much as contemplative. Perhaps she's realizing that this is really happening. Perhaps she's realizing that she likes it. "What... what do you want from me... Sir?"