can get a few things.”
“What do you mean, he'd like to dress me? Like how?”
“I don't know, but every Dom has his or her preference. Some really like leather, for instance. Or women’s lingerie.” I squeaked and she laughed. “Okay, I'll bring those pants and see you tonight. Eight o'clock sharp. Text him and ask him if that will be okay?”
“It'll have to be okay if that's when I'll be there.”
“Jordy, Jordy, Jordy. You don't get it yet, do you? When you signed a contract with Master Logan to be your Dominant, he makes the rules. You do as he says.”
“This is not a Master/slave relationship. We talked about that.”
“Maybe not, but Doms are bossy. It just goes with the territory. Ask him if that will be okay. It will please him if you do.”
Those seemed to be the magic words. Sighing because it was so important for me to please him, and I hated it even though I was doing it, I switched over to Messages to text him. Tori could still hear me, so I had one last comment for her.
“The last time I did as you said, it earned me eight strikes of the flogger. He said I'd get one for every time I said anything except, “Yes, Sir.”
“Then why in the hell did you? I swear, Jordy, sometimes I wonder about you.”
Fair enough. Sometimes I wondered about myself. I texted him anyway and asked his “permission” to arrive at eight thirty or so. Immediately a text came back.
Who's driving you?
How do you know I’m not driving myself?
Are you?
No.
Well, then?
Tori.
Ask her to call me. And that’s six.
“Dammit,” I said, switching back the phone and sighing. “He wants you to call him.”
“Then give me his number.”
I did and she hung up without another word. A few minutes later she called back. “Change of plans. I'm doing him a favor and taking you by the fetish store to pick up some clothes he ordered for you. You're to wear them to the club tonight.”
“Fetish store? What fetish store? I don't know about that.”
“Doesn't matter. We're going. And there's one on the way, so we're stopping to pick up his order. You're wearing the clothes, because your Dom said so.”
“I don't like the idea of the two of you conspiring.”
“Tough shit. I've got to go now, Jordy, but I'll see you tonight. We'll go a little early since they close at nine, and he wants you to get dressed at the store.”
“That depends on what it is.”
“No, it really doesn't. Pick you up at seven-thirty.”
“I might not wear it!” I yelled into the phone, but she'd already ended the call.
I was nervous the rest of the afternoon, as I could only imagine what he'd picked out for me. Anyway, it would be better than having to wear Tori's old pair of leather pants, which probably wouldn't have fit me and probably hadn’t been cleaned. Besides, how did you even clean those? It all sounded unsanitary to me. I had the presence of mind to bring along an old raincoat to wear over the new things Logan bought. Despite my bravado on the phone with Tori, I didn't have the courage to not wear whatever he'd picked out for me.
We got to the store by seven fifteen. It was in a little strip mall in midtown, and the name of the store was, appropriately enough, Trashy. Tori was on a first name basis with the girls running the store.
“You shop here,” I whispered fiercely to her when we came in, and they all greeted her.
“Sometimes, yeah. They have cute things.” A young lady walked up to us then, who looked more Goth, if that was still a thing, rather than BDSM, but what did I know?
“Hi, Mistress Tori,” the Maybe-Goth girl said. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, Lindy, thank you. This is a friend of mine, and his Dom ordered some things for him, I think? Master Logan?”
“Oh yes,” she said, with an appraising look at me. “Master Logan called us this afternoon. Some of the items we had to back order, but we have a few here. He asked us to pick out an outfit for his sub to wear tonight. I have it in the dressing room, if you'd like to follow me?”
I followed the young girl to the back with Tori right on my heels. I turned and hissed at her. “You're not going in with me, so forget it.”
“I won't go all the way. I'll stand outside the