WPC Fuck Toy

After waking from another series of erotic dreams, TD piped up
“So you don’t feel guilty about yesterday.”
“Huh?”
“We manipulated someone for sexual gratification.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted. OK, it’s wrong but you made her enjoy it.”
“Actually I hardly had to do anything to make her submissive. She was that way inclined.”
“Perhaps it’s the powerful at work, submissive in the bedroom thing. Listen, women have mind fucked me all my life. So what ... even if I’m doing it in a more literal fashion.”
“Glad to hear you’ve got the right attitude. It’d be awkward if you didn’t.”

I took the measurements from last night and went off to a fancy dress shop, where I was served by a fey slim goth girl in her early twenties, shiny black messy hair, a nose ring and did I glimpse a tongue stud? Behind her were racks of clothes but above her it looked like a Halloween fantasy with witches on broomsticks, huge spiders on their webs and even a black coffin.
“Do you have a WPC uniform in this size?” I asked handing over the details “I’m looking for the white shirt, the checked collar, the tight black skirt, black fishnets, suspender belt, not those awful trousers.”
“They’re hardly made to measure, but I’ve worn one to a party and I’m about the size.”
She turned around and frisked through the hangers.
“Nice arse. Make her close the shop and fuck her.”