Black

BARD: I look her up and down, and examine her attire. ”Mhmm, let me see… Based on your overall style and color palette of your outfit, I would venture a guess that your underwear shares in a classy modesty, though not shying away from a degree of stylishness. And what’s more stylish than black? Black lace, I presume.”

DM: The barmaid grins, a wide smile that evinces victory. She folds her arms and smugly regards you, her voice laced with triumph and playful anticipation: ”Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear, but that’s incorrect. Looks like I get to have my pick of your underwear.” She steps up to you and teasingly tugs at the neckline of your blouse. “Now, let's see what you're hiding underneath all that charm and misplaced bravado. Unlace your corset, open your blouse, and drop those pants. I want to inspect your collection and decide which one I'll be taking… Hopefully your choice of underwear is better than your choice of color.”

BARD, beginning to get flustered: Oof, I… kinda like it when she’s domineering me like that. I try to retain eyecontact as I breathlessly follow her orders and start undoing my clothes.

DM: The air becomes charged with an air of expectation as your fingers reluctantly make their way to your corset to unlace the strings. Slowly the constriction around your waist loosens, before you open up the garment and get to work on the buttons of your blouse, revealing growing glimpses of skin beneath with each one undone. Finally your pants follow suit, gravity already eager to take them into its embrace, before you slip them down your hips. Quickly they plummet, pooling at your feet. The barmaid closes the distance towards you, and with a deliberate motion flicks open your blouse, draping it to either side of the curvature of your bosom to have an unobstructed view of your bra. You stand there, exposed and ****, as the barmaid’s scrutiny lingers on your undergarments, each additional moment drawing out her power over you: ”Let's see... which one shall I choose? Hmm, decisions, decisions...”