She was an arrogant, supercilious, stuck up, snarky bitch and it was time to take her
down a peg or two. It would be my pleasure to do so.
Only in her mid twenties and a dream to look at, she had an attitude that not even
a mother could love. She stared down her nose at people like they were something she had
found on the sole of one of the high-heeled strappy sandals she favoured.
Her answer to everything was the platinum no limit credit card in her Gucci handbag
and, while I loved running it through my cash register, I had had enough of her insulting
behavior.
She was 5’ 8” in height with a 38” – 25” – 35” figure. Her eyes were jet black and
there must have been a taste of Asian blood somewhere because they held just the hint of
the almond shape. She used dark makeup around her eyes to make them even more noticeable
and a dark cherry colored lipstick, impeccably applied, coated her generous lips.
I knew those measurements by heart because I had been fitting her for nearly two
years, two years of sucking up to her credit card!
You see, I own and operate a downtown retail store specializing in ladies fashions,
leather fashions in fact, and she was a frequent customer. What she didn’t know was that
attached to this store was my other business, smaller, very discrete and very, very,
exclusive.
Off the back lane was a private parking spot outside my garage. It was close to
the entrance and known only to my “in group” of customers. At any given time I could fill
just about any request for the full range of fetish requirements or BDSM equipment among
other services.
Ms. Richards, as she demanded to be called having blown a fuse the one time I
called her by her first name, Crystal, had called me fifteen minutes after closing time
Saturday indicating that she was on her way and expected me to remain to serve her.
I told her my staff had left and we were closed to which she retorted, “This is Ms
Richards and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Enough was enough!
“I’ll be waiting for you Ms. Richards but please park your car in my private spot
so that no-one else can see I am serving you and think I am still open.” I gave her
directions and she hung up.
I was waiting at the door when she parked the Mercedes convertible and I
automatically checked her outfit as she strode towards me. The colour of the crisp, long
sleeved lime green shirt was the same as the wide brimmed sun visor and the high-heeled
sandals. Over the shirt was a three-button charcoal leather waistcoat that matched the
tailored leather slacks. The outfit came with a hip length belted jacket, which was
probably in the car, and retailed at just over $2600 for the three pieces.
I knew that because I sold it to her a few weeks back.
As I led her down the short hallway that bypassed my other enterprise I stuck a
hand in my pocket and punched a button on my cell that started the phone ringing in the
main store.
“That’s strange, Ms Richards, I wonder who is calling at this hour. Could it be
for you?”
“I am not in the habit of telling people my business because it is none of theirs
so no one knows I’m here.” Her voice would have frozen hot coffee but to me it meant just
one thing.
Gotcha!
Once we were in the main area I answered the phone and then said to her, “Sorry it
was a wrong number now what can I do for you?”
She pointed to the outside of her left leg and I saw two long scratches in the
leather below her knee. “My friend’s dog has ruined this outfit and I want you to replace
the slacks.”
I offered to try to repair them but she wouldn’t hear of it; nothing would do but a
new pair. I explained about matching hides and dye lots and that there might be a shade
or so difference in the new slacks. True to form she looked down her nose at me and
said, “Then get me a completely new suit – the idiot who owns the dog will be paying
anyway!”
“Certainly, Ms. Richards I’ll see what I can find. In the meantime please strip
off those damaged slacks. The doors are locked and there is nobody here but you and me so
there is no need to use a dressing room.”
When I returned I had a new outfit over my arm and a couple of toys from the other
store in my pocket. She had taken off not just the slacks and waistcoat but her shirt and
I wondered why until I saw that she was leafing through a rack of new ultra suede shirts
that had just arrived.
“I’ll try some of these before I leave,” she informed me as she reached for the new
slacks.
Once she had them on I made a production of examining the fit and suggested they
needed a slight alteration that I could do for her in a few minutes. I asked her to reach
behind her and hold the waistband of the slacks with her fingertips so I could chalk mark
the change.
She did and doing so put her wrists within inches of each other.
The ½” wide, spring loaded metal cuff snapped shut clamping her wrists
together and without a second of hesitation I grabbed a handful of her hair, along with
the strap of the sun visor, yanking back and down. Her mouth opened and I took great
delight in jamming the large ball gag between her teeth.
She still hadn’t reacted to my attack and I kicked the back of her knees bringing
her sprawling to the floor where I sat on her waist as I tightened the strap of the gag
behind her head.
I thumbed the catch on the wrist clamp to the locked position then swung around and
smothered her now flailing legs with my body. Another spring-loaded clamp and her ankles
were secure; so was she!
“Well now Ms. Richards, or might I call you Crystal, what do you think of them
apples?” I laughed as I sat beside her on the floor and, pulling off the visor, grabbed
another handful of hair using it to turn her face towards me.
Well, if looks could kill I was dead on the spot but they couldn’t and I had things
to do. Another visit to my back area produced a short length of chain that I used to join
the wrist and ankle cuffs until the bitch was nicely hogtied.
I taped over the ball gag to stop some of the drooling but left off the blindfold
so she could watch me getting ready for the next step. And that was to get rid of her car
- the only evidence she had been here.
The lime green shirt, charcoal leather slacks and waistcoat fit me quite well but
the sandals were a bit tight. Not to worry, I pulled on the sun visor because it would be
eye catching and although our hair was about the same colour the cut was different and I
wanted to draw any attention away from that.
I packed a couple of things in a carry bag, pulled on a pair of my own kid leather
driving gloves and retrieved her purse from the counter.
Pushing a rack of clothes over next to her I used a pair of handcuffs to lock her
hogtie chain to the frame then strapped on the blindfold and headed to the back door.
Sure enough the jacket was in the back seat and I pulled it on and tied the belt;
the top was down on the Mercedes and there was a slight chill in the late evening air. I
drove to the airport and pulled in to the long term parking area, put the top up, left the
ticket on the dash and locked the car before heading inside the terminal.
Heading for the nearest washroom I used a cubicle to change from Crystal’s things
to an outfit of my own then wandered over to the taxi stand and took one to a local hotel.
A couple of drinks and something to eat in the cocktail lounge killed an hour then back
out for another taxi to my store.
Her struggles had caused the rack to move a few feet but otherwise she was exactly
as I left her and when I removed the blindfold she had obviously been crying.
“What’s the matter Crystal? Are you crying because you’re tied up or because you’re
not in control or, maybe, because the gag doesn’t let you insult me anymore? Back in a
minute, don’t go away!”
I was becoming my own best customer tonight I thought as I returned with a leather
single arm binder and, releasing the hogtie but leaving the wrist clamp on, worked it up
her arms before started the process of lacing it until her shoulders strained back and
finally her elbows met.
During the process I removed her bra and released those nice, firm 38’s.
I adjusted the four straps around the sheath that reinforced the lacing and then
tugged at the straps across her shoulders until they were taut.
Replacing the ankle clamp with a short hobble chain I rolled her over on her back
and straddled her stomach. The look on her face when she saw what I held in my hands was
priceless and more than made up for the business I would lose because she was no longer a
customer.
The nipple clamps had serrated jaws, blunt yes, but little Ms Crystal would
certainly know they were in place because they were “come-a-long” clamps. I coaxed each
nipple up to receive one then joined them with a thin chain, snapping a leash to the
middle of the chain I stood up.
A little tug and a softly spoken “Come on Crystal it’s time to get you bedded down
for the night.”
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