At the age of 19, Bailey was desperate for a job, and so her uncle-once-removed, kind Mr Holden, offered her a job as his clothing store.

 

But when Bailey started working there, she soon found she didn’t quite have what the job required.  She was pretty, sure – and polite.  And she had great tits.  But she was also shy, and nervous, and found it hard to actually encourage customers to make a purchase.

 

Frustrated at the low sales during Bailey’s shifts, Mr Holden offered her an opportunity.

 

“It’s a bit unusual, Bailey,” he said, “but it does work.  I have some small skill at hypnotism, and if you’ll trust me to take you into a trance, I think we can break through that mental block you have.”

 

Bailey – trusting, and insecure about her failure in the store – agreed eagerly.

 

And to be fair to Mr Holden, he intended to do exactly as he said, and no more.

 

“You will do your best to sell the clothes in the store, Bailey,” he told her, after taking her into a trance.  “You will be motivated to sell clothes, and you will not allow shyness or embarrassment to stop you.  For the clothes with marked prices, you will not take less than 90% of the marked price, and for the rest, you will treat them as sale items, and get the best price you can manage – but you *will* sell them.”

 

And the next time Bailey took a shift in the shop, it appeared the hypnosis had worked.  She was eager and active in recommending clothes to customers, and forceful in getting them to commit to a sale.

 

But in the afternoon, Bailey found herself the only staff member in the store, and an uncomfortable thought came to her.  There were clothes in the shop without marked prices – and so far she hadn’t sold any of them.

 

Now, of course Mr Holden couldn’t intend for her to sell *those* clothes – and yet, her hypnotic command was pulsing away in her brain.  “You *will* sell them,” it told her.  And she could already feel herself starting to blush, but that wouldn’t stop her from doing it.  *Nothing* could stop her – even as she realised how helpless she was in the grip of her hypnotism, and began to silently panic.

 

When the next customer came to the register to ring up his purchase – a man, with a dress that he said he was buying for his wife – Bailey said quietly, “Would you like to buy my panties, sir?”

 

“Sorry?” said the man, surprised.

 

“I said, would you like to buy my panties, sir?” said Bailey, louder, her face bright red with humiliation.  “You can, if you like.”

 

“You mean the panties you’re wearing?” he asked.

 

“Yes, sir,” said Bailey.

 

The man was stunned, and then said, after a moment, “How much?”

 

They weren’t expensive panties when Bailey had bought them.  And now they were used…

 

“Five dollars?” she said.

 

“Sold,” said the man, and handed over a crisp five-dollar note.

 

Bailey blushed, staring at the note, realising that this was real.  And then she reached under her skirt, and began to wiggle her panties down her legs, finally kicking them off, picking them up, and putting them on the counter in front of the man.

 

He stared at them, and then back at her.  Then he looked around.

 

The shop was empty, except for the man and Bailey.

 

“Is there anything else I can buy?” he asked.

 

Bailey wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.  But her hypnosis wouldn’t let her.

 

“Anything I’m wearing, sir,” she said, quietly.

 

He looked at her – and his eyes fixed on her groin.

 

“I’ll give you five dollars for your skirt,” he said.

 

The skirt *had* been a little more pricey than that.  “Make it twenty dollars, sir,” she asked, half begging.

 

He looked at her face – blushing, nervous – and said, “No, five is my final offer.”

 

He was testing her – and unfortunately for Bailey, he got what he wanted.  He might be her last customer of the day – and she *had* to sell her skirt.

 

“Very well, sir,” she said.  And then she was uncinching her skirt, revealing her smooth, shaved pussy to his gaze, and passing him the clothing item. 

 

She had no idea how she would get home, naked from the waist down, but her hypnotism didn’t care.

 

He stared at her pussy, smiling.

 

“What about your shoes?” he asked.  “Can I buy them?”

 

Of course he could.  “Yes, sir,” she said.  “Ten dollars.”

 

“Ten dollars is too much,” he said.  “I’ll only pay ten dollars if you throw in… some extra service.”

 

“What do you mean, sir?” she asked, blushing.

 

He stared at her cunt.  “You tell me,” he said.

 

She could feel her pussy wettening as the man stared at it.  She wished it wouldn’t.  It was embarrassing.  This man was taking advantage of her, and she was responding with arousal?  It was slutty.  But she couldn’t help it.

 

And she *had* to sell those shoes.

 

“Ten dollars,” she said, “and you can have the shoes, and… you can play with my pussy.”

 

The man laughed, and paid up.  Bailey took off her shoes and passed them to him.  Then the man patted the shop counter, indicating she should sit on it.  She did, and spread her legs towards him.

 

“Something’s making you do this, isn’t it?” he asked her.

 

She weighed up the pros and cons of lying, versus telling the truth.  If she said no, he would think she was a slut.  But if she said yes… he might realise that she wasn’t consenting, and stop this, and help her.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said.  “I’ve been hypnotised.”

 

He gave an expression of shock.  “Oh no!” he said.  “What is it making you do?”

 

“I have to sell all the clothes in the shop without marked prices,” she said.  “No matter what.  I don’t think they meant it to include my own clothes, but… it does.”

 

“What happens if you don’t sell all your clothes?” asked the man.

 

She made a mewling noise of distress.  “No,” she said.  “That’s not an option.  I *have* to.”

 

He took out his phone then, and photographed her, with her cunt bare and her legs spread, and that’s when she knew that telling him the truth had been a mistake.

 

“You’re wet,” he told her – merely a statement of fact – and reached out to feel her pussy.  His fingers slipped between her cunt lips, running over her clitoris and making her gasp, before finding her fuckhole and probing within it.

 

“Please, sir…” Bailey begged.

 

“Shut up, bitch,” said the man.  He smiled.  “I can call you that, can’t I?  Because the customer is always right.  And you have more clothes that you need me to buy.”

 

“Yes,” admitted Bailey, trying to pretend the man’s fingers weren’t fucking her wet cunt.  “You can call me that…”

 

He took one of her shoes then and pushed the end against her pussy.  He pushed harder, and she felt the toe of the shoe wedging into her fucktunnel.  She gasped.

 

“Spread wide, bitch,” he said, and pushed harder. 

 

She squealed as the whole front end of the shoe went into her cunt – and then stopped there, held in place by the narrower portion in the middle of the shoe.

 

“Now, I might be interested in buying your blouse,” he told her.  “But I think to make that interesting, I’d need the price to be a single dollar – and it would need to come with a hundred-dollar immediate cashback rebate, plus a blowjob.  Oh, and also you’ll answer to the names ‘cunt’ and ‘bitch’ for the rest of your life, and encourage people to use those words to address you instead of your name.  How does that sound?”

 

Bailey knew by now that the man would not negotiate.  He could get away with anything – because Bailey *needed* to sell.

 

She felt herself start to cry, and sobbed a little as she said, “Yes, sir.  You should call me a cunt, sir.”  She took off her blouse, and then paid him back all the money he had just spent on her clothes, and then some.  Then he helped her down off the counter – shoe still wedged in her cunt – so that she could kneel before him.

 

He took out his cock and pressed it against her lips, and said, “Suck, cunt,” and Bailey accepted it.  His dick was warm and hard in her mouth, and she could already taste pre-cum on the tip.  She had never given a blowjob before, but did her best to make the customer happy.  She was still wearing a bra after all, and she needed him to buy it.

 

She tried to use her hands to hold his cock, and govern the pace of it entering and leaving her mouth, but he slapped her hands away.

 

“Hands-free is fine, bitch,” he said.  “Why don’t you use one of those hands to pinch and pull at your clitoris, and the other to fuck that shoe in and out of you?”

 

She moaned – but did as she was told.  The shoe made her pussy feel so unnaturally *full* - and yet, pushing it in and out of her felt good.  And pinching her clitoris *hurt* -but it also seemed to make her wetter.

With her hands out of the way, the man fucked Bailey’s face without a care for her comfort.  He grabbed her hair in his hands and used it to control her, pushing his dick all the way to the back of her throat until she gagged, and then pulling it out, slapping it on her cheeks, and pushing it back in.

 

“Cum, you little bitch,” he groaned.  “If you don’t cum before I do, I won’t buy your bra.”

 

Upon hearing these words, Bailey became frantic in fucking herself with the shoe – and sure enough, she felt her orgasm approaching.  She pinched her clitoris one more time – hard – and then her body was shaking with pleasure, twitching, and she felt her pussy squirting onto the floor.

 

The man laughed, pulled his cock out of her mouth, and then ejaculated all over her face and hair.  Bailey was covered with his semen.  She had to wipe some out of her eyes.

 

“And now, presumably, you want to sell your bra, cunt,” the man said.  “Is that right?”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Bailey, still shaking.

 

“Okay,” said the man.  “If you sell me the bra, I won’t pay you any money, but I will let you keep that sperm on your face.  In fact, you can put some of it in your mouth, and rub the rest into your face and tits.  And I will let you keep the shoe you sold me stuffed up your cunt like that.  But… I think I’ll need a little extra to make the deal work.”

 

It was almost closing time in the store.

 

“Anything,” Bailey heard herself say.  “Just please buy my bra.  I’ll throw in anything.”

 

“How about your freedom?” said the man.

 

Bailey froze.

 

‘Will your hypnotism make you do that?” the man asked.  “Your freedom, forever.  You walk out of this store with me, and you belong to me, forever.  You become my property – my slutty little teen sex slave.  You can sleep in a cage in my bedroom.  My wife will love you – she’s always wanted a pet cunt-licker.  What do you say, bitch?  Will you throw in your freedom?”

 

Bailey did her best to say no.  She really tried.

 

But she *had* to sell her bra.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said – and with those words, she felt her freedom slipping away.  She *did* belong to this man now.  Her hypnotic conditioning told her so. 

 

“Good bitch,” said the man.  “Now, put all my purchases – except yourself – in a bag for me.  And then I think the pet shop is still open for 20 minutes, so you can crawl along on all fours after me, and we’ll see if we can get you a collar and leash.  Don’t bother wiping the cum off your face just yet – and leave that shoe stuffed up your fuckhole, there’s a good girl…”

 

And Bailey thought to herself that she probably deserved this.  After all, nice girls didn’t suck off customers in a clothing store.  Nice girls didn’t have cum dripping off their face.  Nice girls didn’t have shoes stuffed up their twats, and nice girls didn’t sell themselves into slavery.

 

She hadn’t, ultimately, been a very good salesgirl.

 

She wondered if she would be a good fucktoy…

 

(END)