Of a sort

"Here," she said, lifting a tiny bundle and holding it out. "Hurry up!" she barked when Rachel stared, amazed by the woman's speed.

Dashing forward Rachel took the small bundle, nearly dropping it when she realized it was heavier than it looked. Unfolding it she saw a pair of black glittering stockings that looked like they attached to a garter belt, and a dress with visible means of support and little covering.

"How..." she started to ask, and the woman glared at her.

"Take off the hooker heels."

Rachel looked down at herself, and self-consciously bent to slip off her shoes. As she was doing so she remembered Raoul and looked over at him to see if he was ogling her.

"Probably not in his instructions either," she muttered to herself, seeing him stare straight ahead like no one else was there."

"Put on the stockings."

Rachel looked at the two stockings, realizing they were basically fishnets with sequins in them.

"I don't have a garter," she said.

"You don't need one. Put them on."

Rachel opened her mouth to object again, but lost her nerve when the crone's eyes narrowed.

"Other side!" she barked.

Rachel stared at the stocking, moved it to her other leg, and lifted her foot.

"It's backwards," she was told, and Rachel tried to remember that you shouldn't yell at someone trying to help you. Especially if they could probably kill you.

Both stockings felt wonderful going up her legs, but the sequins dragged it down.

"See?" she said, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Now the dress."

Rachel sighed, but obligingly stepped into it and pulled it up. The material beneath seemed to be a see-through black material, but there were so many sequins and they were so close together that you couldn't really see anything. Unfortunately, the sequins made it heavy and when she let go it thumped to the floor.

She gave the woman a told-you-so look.

"Pull it up, look at the place your tits go," the woman barked, and Rachel snapped up the dress, partly because she'd been ordered to and partly to vent some frustration.

"What..."

"Attach those to your whore-piercings," the woman ordered her.

Rachel thought to object, but instead inspected the little loops that were inside the area that would cover her breasts. With a dubious expression she put the little loops over each side of her barbell piercing, then switched hands to affix it to the right piercing.

As soon as she let go she fell to the ground with a little shriek, surprised by the weight yanking on her nipples. For a minidress it felt surprisingly heavy, thanks to the beads that covered it.

"Ah yes," the woman muttered, noticing the problem. She tossed Rachel something that looked like a pair of ribbons attached to a choker.

Rachel eyed it dubiously through her tear-filled eyes. Her breasts felt like someone had tried to yank them off, she wasn't sure she wanted to try anything else just yet. The woman, however, made impatient gestures, and Rachel reluctantly put the collar on around her neck. When the little clasp snapped shut she winced, feeling trapped.

"Use the straps like you used the loops in the dress."

Eying them suspiciously she Rachel saw that there were loops at the end of these.

Apparently deciding Rachel would be there all day if she didn't help the woman stalked over to her, took the looped end yanked the top away from the breast. Rachel let out a cry of pain as her breast stretched out, but the woman quickly put a loop around the protruding ends of the barbell, then did the same with the other side.

To Rachel's amazement it actually seemed to kind of balance out the downward drag of the dress.

The dressmaker, as Rachel was thinking of the woman, knelt before her, taking a stocking and pulling it up. She shoved Rachel's feet into four-inch fuck-me stilettos, then brought the straps at the top up toward her crotch.

It felt weird to have an old woman fiddling around in her pubic area, but Rachel stoically endured, and realized the woman was attaching the straps to the three labia rings on each side of her slit, using them to hold up the stockings.

"Hey! That's clev.... urk!" she finished as the woman let go. It seemed the woman who used them before her was a few inches shorter than her. The straps held up the stockings just fine, but they weren't very flexible, and her lips were yanked down by the shortness of the strap.

"Get out," the woman ordered.

"But..."

"Out!" the woman yelled.

When Raoul started moving she knew she had to follow, reluctantly shuffling after him, each step drawing a wince as her legs extended, pulling her lips just a little farther than in an at-rest position.