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Chapter 2: Wardrobe Building

"It's important for you to have the right image," she said as she piled my arms down with clothes. "You need to be refined without being stuffy, attractive without being sleazy. And of course, you need to live up to my expectations."

As we made our way towards the back of the store, she draped the ever-growing pile with more and more clothes. The pit in my stomach grew with every blouse, the butterflies in my stomach multiplying with every skirt. There was no way she was expecting me to wear all of this, right?

"Miss Reed — ah, Marianne," I said hesitantly, peering over a slim purple dress atop the pile. "This is very kind of you, but do I really need all of this?"

"Of course, Aaron," she said idly, as if it was so obvious it wasn't even worth discussing. "I need you looking your best, and I have high standards."

A shiver ran down my back. I looked down at the shimmering fabrics and lacy trims. They really were beautiful. I had always appreciated a girl in lingerie. And if Marianne thought I could pull them off...

"Ah, the most important part," she said, breaking the silence as we reached the back of the store. " Intimates. "

My stomach clenched even as I began to swell in my pants. She was going to put me in panties?

"Oh, no, I couldn't, Marianne," I objected. "I have plenty of underwear already."

"Nonsense," she said flatly. "How you appear on the outside depends on what you wear underneath. Pretty lingerie makes for a pretty girl. Whatever tired old tighty-whities you have simply will not do."

"Pretty girl?" I gasped internally, my manhood now quite rigid in my pants. I'm not a pretty girl.

"Oh, well, if you're sure," I murmured.

"I insist on it," she said. "Why don't you get a changing room while I finish out here, alright?"

The rooms were kept dark, mood lighting in the ceiling creating pools of light along the floor. It was strange to think of them this way, but the rooms were almost sexy. I deposited the pile of clothes on a large, velvet-covered chair in one corner and turned to face myself in the mirror. I ran my hand over my face. Was I really ready to say goodbye to Aaron and become — well, who exactly?

"Your underwear," came Marianne's voice from outside, draping something over the top of the changing room door.

My heart almost stopped when I saw the lingerie set, but my pants got even tighter.

"Marianne, are you serious?" I asked with wide eyes. "I really need all this? No one is going to see what's under my clothes."

"Do you want the job or not?"

"Yes, but —"

"Then get dressed. Do you need help?"

"Are these... pantyhose?" I asked, picking up a long, sheer garment and rubbing the material between my fingers.

I tried not to think about how it would feel on my legs.

Probably pretty nice. Girls in stockings always look so pretty. Maybe I could be too?

"Let me in, Aaron," she said flatly, and something in her tone made me comply without question.

I closed the door behind her while she hung the lingerie on the wall hooks.

"These are stockings, not pantyhose," she explained. "Much more practical. Plus, everyone feels sexier in stockings."

"Is feeling — like that ... a requirement of the job?" I asked haltingly, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess that's up to you," she answered. "Let's see how you feel once you're dressed."

She was kind enough to give me a shred of modesty while I undressed, turning and facing the corner of the room. I pushed the crumpled pile of my clothes to the side with my foot. Compared to the sleek fabrics and beautiful trims of the clothes Marianne had picked out, they looked rough and wrong.

"Please, Aaron," she said, turning around. "You don't have anything I haven't seen before."

Sheepishly, I moved my hands, which I had been trying to use to hide my persistently stiff manhood. Why was it so hard?

Must be nerves, I thought quickly, uninterested in pursuing that line of thinking any further.

I saw her glance down at my turgid shaft and thought I caught a flash of a smile, but it was gone before I was sure. Then she was back to business, all professional. Or at least as professional she could be with her new hire standing naked in front of her.

"You roll each one up into a little donut, like this," Marianne explained, demonstrating with one of the sheer black stockings. "Then you stick your toe in it and roll it up your leg."

She handed it to me to try myself. I gasped in delighted surprise as I slipped the stocking up my leg. I'd never felt anything like it before — soft and silky pressure all over my skin. My manhood was swelling again, but if Marianne noticed, she didn't say anything. I slipped on the other stocking and closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling.

The bra and panties were easy to put on, but Marianne had to help me with the garter belt. The set was sheer blue, covered in floral lace that teasingly revealed hints of what was underneath. A flower that barely covered a nipple, a spiraling stem sprouting with leaves that framed my manhood in my thong panties much as it concealed it.

I looked at myself in the mirror and shivered, wrapping my arms around my body, trying to feel less exposed. Even I had to admit the lingerie was beautiful. But as much as it made me feel delicate and desirable, it made me feel vulnerable. I could feel Marianne's eyes sliding over my body, her gaze lingering on my panties.

Panties that were packed with my furiously hard erection.

"That looks very nice on you, Aaron," she murmured. "Blue suits you."

"Thank you, Marianne," I smiled, looking at her over my shoulder demurely. "Um, should I try on some clothes next?"

"First, I think it's time you learned the most important part of your job."

Suddenly she was next to me, face next from mine. My chest tightened as I looked into her eyes, finding an animal hunger there. My breath caught in my throat. I had dressed myself for her like an erotic little package, my body tantalizingly covered in lace and chiffon. I knew without knowing what she wanted from me.

Am I really going to let this happen?

"What's that?" I asked, voice almost a whisper.

She reached out and brushed my hair, tucking an imaginary lock behind my ear. My body stiffened at her touch and I gasped quietly. My heart was pounding, and now my arms were shaking.

"Personal service," she grinned, her face becoming predatory as she did. "A pretty thing like you should learn to expect that kind of thing."

"Marianne, I don't think —"

"Hush," she said, cutting me off with a finger to my lips. "I'm not hiring you to think."

I felt a hand on my nearly naked rear. A whimper escaped my lips, half fear and half arousal. Marianne pulled her finger away from my mouth and rested the hand on my chest, fingertips brushing my nipple through the lace of my bra. She leaned forwards, her lips next to my ear. Her perfume was thick and heavy.

"I'm hiring you for this," she whispered, squeezing my rear so hard her nails sank into my skin. "To be pretty, and do what pretty girls do."

I gasped, sucking in her scent. Smoke and vanilla and wood, like a campfire in a snow-draped forest. She bit my earlobe, then ran the tip of her tongue over my ear. The hand on my chest slid down my body to my panties, pressing against my erection.

"I can tell that's what you want," she said softly, beginning to rub me through the panties. "I can feel you aching for it."

"It's because of you," I moaned.

"You and I both know it's more than that," she answered. "Most boys don't get this hard putting on panties. But you do, Aaron. You love this, and I'm going to get you just how I want."

"How do you want me?"

"In my office. Over my desk," she purred. "I'm going to push you over and hike up your little skirt so I can see the pretty panties you have on."

My shaft twitched against her hand, straining against the satin and lace it was tucked in.

"And then I'm going to treat you the way that — deep down — you want me to treat you."

"How do I want to be treated?"

"I'm going to show you."

She pushed the panties down, wrapping my cock in her fingers and beginning to stroke it slowly. I moaned, knees buckling. The panties, the bra, the stockings — it was overwhelming. She wanted me dressed like this. Wanted me to pretty so she could use me however she wanted. I realized my eyes were closed.

"Yes," I gasped.

"I never want to see Aaron again," she said, her voice taking an edge. "You're my secretary now. My girl. My sissy girl Carly."

"Carly," I repeated my new name as she stroked me.

"Carly likes short skirts," Marianne informed me. "So when she bends ever, whoever's looking at her can see her little lace panties. And everyone is always looking at Carly, imagining all the things they want to do to her."

"I want them to," I added, pressing my legs together, reveling in the silky smoothness of the stockings.

The words appeared from nowhere, but even as I knew how right they were, I couldn't acknowledge them. I realized how right this felt, how much I wanted to leave Aaron behind.

"You like being a little tease, don't you, Carly?" Marianne said with obvious pleasure. "What else does Carly like?"

"I like it when you touch me like this."

"That's a privilege. Don't forget that. What else are you? What does Carly want to be more than anything else?"

Her sissy plaything.

The words snapped into my head and I shuddered. Something deep inside of me unraveled. I felt it bubble its way to the surface, muting any fear and objections I had to this.

I shut my eyes tightly, blotting out everything I could. I felt the pressure of the bra, the tight strip of the garter belt at my waist, the tug of the stockings on my legs. My shaft bobbing in the cool air in front of me, my balls still tucked into the blue lace panties. Marianne's perfume filled me. I could feel the heat of her body next to me.

"I'm — your — plaything," I said haltingly, pulling the words out from deep inside of me.

"And?"

"I'm your sissy secretary," I continued, voice stronger, the words suddenly coming easier. "For your personal service."

"For whatever I need," she said, stroking me faster now. "For whatever I demand."

Then she released me, my shaft twitching in the cold air. I let out a choked gasp, bending over double. I had been so close to cumming — for her to suddenly stop was like a punch to the gut. My eyes snapped open and I found myself looking at the pointed, polished end of her shoes. I slowly straightened, turning my gaze upwards, and found her smirking at me.

"Don't ever forget that," she said, grabbing my chin and shoving my head to the side, her mouth so close it was almost brushing my ear. "You're Carly now. And Carly does everything I tell her too."

I shuddered, the feeling of her breath sending goosebumps rippling out across my lace-covered skin.

"I want that," I sighed, surprised with how true the words felt.

"Oh, I know, Carly," she whispered. "I could tell from the second I met you."

"Is that why you hired me?" I asked, feeling almost betrayed.

"And because I thought you'd look good in a thong."

My eyes widened. "And do I?"

"Oh yes," she grinned. "Doesn't that feel nice to hear, Carly?"

I was flooded with as much shame as arousal.

"I'm not supposed to like it."

"Doesn't that make it even better? I'm not supposed to touch you like this, either. But you like that, too."

Her hand was back on my shaft, stroking me again. Her fingers brushed against my skin, paying special attention to the underside.

"Oh god, Marianne," I moaned. "Yes, I like that."

She took my other hand and slipped it under her skirt, resting against her panties. I felt heat and wetness there and gasped.

"And you're not supposed to touch me like this, either," she murmured, voice growing thicker. "But all of it feels right, doesn't it."

It wasn't a question.

"It does," I whispered.

"Then don't stop, Carly. Show me why I should hire you."

"I thought I was already?" I gasped before she changed rhythms on my manhood and I let out a high moan.

"This is the last part of your interview."

"How do I get the job?"

"The way a sissy secretary should," she stated simply. "By using your mouth for something more useful than talking."

She released me again; a long, singular stroke that slipped off the tip of my shaft. Her other hand pushed me slowly downwards until I was on my knees in front of her. I stared up at her as she pulled her skirt up to her waist, revealing a tall garter belt and black panties.

Crotchless panties, I realized as she grabbed my hair and wrenched me between her legs. She must have had those on all day. Has she been planning this?

My lips brushed against her bare skin and I kissed slowly, slipping her into my mouth. I teased her with my tongue, running lines up and down but refusing to dive in. I could feel her body respond to me, muscles tensing and relaxing. Her hand was behind my head, holding me in place.

"You little tease," she moaned. "Just give me what I want."

"I think this is what you want," I answered from below her.

"Shut up and make me cum," she growled.

She pushed me deeper between her legs, my nose bent against her, tickled by the neatly trimmed hair that curved upwards. I ran my hands up her stocking-covered legs before letting them come to a rest on her satin-covered rear. I pulled her towards my mouth, finally sliding my tongue inside of her. She tasted sweet and sharp.

"Just like that," she groaned. "Just like that. Fuck, Carly, don't stop."

My manhood twitched at her words, still hard. I needed her to touch it again. Her hand was so soft, her nails just the right kind of sharp. My garter belt was pulling at my stockings, the silky fabric around my thighs rubbing against my calves with a buzzy slipperiness. My thong was digging into me, the narrow strip of lacy fabric pushing against my rear.

Aaron was gone. I was Carly now, and this is who Carly was — a girl on her knees, dressed in a thong and stockings, her tongue deep inside someone in charge. I was there to be ogled and desired, a pretty little thing for Marianne to show off and then fuck. To exercise control over. To demonstrate her power.

The idea made my cock bounce.

I could imagine it: late nights at the office, both of us exhausted. She'd tell me I did a good job that day, that I could go home, that she was staying late. I'd tell her I wasn't leaving until she was. Our hands would brush together over paperwork, then our lips, and then she'd take me the way she wanted. Make me scream in pleasure while she used me.

Oh my god, why does that sound so good?

"Over there," she commanded roughly above me, already pushing me backwards.

She shoved up against the wall so I was sitting with my back against it. She straddled me, grinding herself against my mouth and tongue. I was pinned between her and the wall. I could barely move. I was completely under her control now. Even if I wanted to pull away, I couldn't. My shaft stood straight up in the cool air.

It all felt so right.

"I'm going to cum," she groaned, fingers tightening in my hair. "Don't you fucking dare stop that."

Then her head fell back in a silent scream, hair cascading down her back. She was pulling me between her legs so hard I could feel her arms straining, the muscles quaking. I couldn't breathe, my mouth and nose filled with nothing but her. She smelled sweet and musky and salty and oily, my nose buried in her neatly trimmed hair.

When she finally finished, she staggered backwards, chest heaving, and collapsed on the bench. Her skirt was still at her waist, her panties still wide open between her legs. Her eyes were closed, hair fallen over her face, but I stared at her. I was still hungry, still desperate for her touch. My cock bounced in the air.

"This is what my secretaries are for," she panted. "Yes, you take calls. But your first job is to serve me. Every time I ask for it. No matter what."

"Yes," I breathed, the idea making me so hard it almost hurt.

I glanced down at my quivering shaft. "Do I get to...?"

She opened her eyes slowly, a tired half-smile on her face, and immediately I knew she wasn't going to touch me again. I balked, my chest tightening.

"My needs first, Carly," she answered, hoisting herself up to a sitting position. "But of course, if you do a good job, your work will be noticed and rewarded. So I guess it depends on how your first day goes."

I gulped.

"Don't disappoint me."