Evan - An Outfit

"Do you want to see me it?" Emily asked me, referring to the outfit I got her to wear for Evan.

"Yes, Ma'am," I nodded, handing her the package from Agent Provocateur.

She smiled, went to the bathroom to change, came back several minutes later.

"Ohhhh," I gasped when I saw her.

She smiled, looked down. "It certainly sends message, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Message?"

"Don't be coy," she said, "you're sending him a message."

"I...I don't know," I said, "what message am I sending?"

She looked at me, shook her head. "That I'm his, that I belong to him, that I'm his slut, his whore to do what he wants to."

I exhaled again, looked her up and down, if not conscious, unconsciously, she wasn't wrong. "Emily..."

"Am I wrong, love, is that the message you're sending? That I'm his whore?"

"I...I don't know," I lied.

"Evan, I'll tell him, Sara bought this for me to wear for you so there's no question that you're the man in our lives and that this week my body belongs to you to do what you want, my mouth, my pussy, my body is yours. Yours."

"Emily..."

"That's the message, I hope."

"I...I think..."

"He'll get it. Immediately he'll get it. No more talking, he'll say, shaking his finger, pointing down, use your mouth here."

"Emily..."

"And I will, love, I will. Eagerly. I'll walk to him, kneel in front of him, take him out, and do anything he wants me to do, anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything," she said. "I'm his, while I'm with him, I'm his. I'm his whore. His woman. His slut. His."

"God you're such a tease," I blurted out.

"You picked the message, love, I'm just delivering it."

"I love you, you know."

She chuckled. "Oh, I know, love, oh, I know."