And von Ritter would be proud of her…
And perhaps he would let her inside his head, as a reward.
“Well, all right,” she said. “But there won’t be anyone I know there? For sure?”
“Ninety-nine per cent sure,” he said. “Is that good enough?”
“I think so.”
* * * *
On the Thursday night before the Prom, Lydia arrived at von Ritter’s apartment to find some clothing laid out on a chair for her. If you could call it clothing. Black and shining like oil, it lay drawing all the light of the room into it.
“Do you like it?” Von Ritter stood at the side of the room, sipping at a brandy.
“I’m not sure it’ll fit,” she said doubtfully.
“It’ll fit. Look. I’ll help you.”
He put down his glass and picked up the first of the two garments, a glossy corset top with frilly shoulder straps.
“You can’t put this on by yourself, after all,” he said. “Well, then. Get undressed.”
Lydia began removing her clothes, eyeing the corset with suspicion.
“It looks uncomfortable.”
“It’ll hold you in at the waist, but I won’t lace it too tight. I want you to be able to breathe.”
“That’s reassuring.” Lydia folded her clothes neatly onto a chair and stood naked, shaved as instructed, ready to be locked into the scary new garment.
In the event, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as she had feared. Von Ritter pulled the back laces until she was a perfect hourglass, then knotted them tight. Her breasts were pushed together and raised high by the low, square-cut neckline. The bustier ended in a soft V-shape, its tip pointing directly down at her naked pussy.
She could breathe without difficulty, but she was highly aware of her squeezed-in stomach and her prominent breasts.
“Lovely. So lovely,” said von Ritter.
He handed her a pair of knickers made from the same material, puffed up and decorated with elasticated lace. The cold material felt strange against her skin, especially the way it brushed and clung to her pussy.
The final touches were a pair of thigh-high hold-up stockings and some ribbon-tied heels that forced her to jut her bottom out when she walked in them.
“What do you think?” Von Ritter showed her her reflection in the full-length mirror.
“I don’t know how to describe it. I mean, it’s blatantly tarty but strangely demure at the same time. I think it’s the lacy knickers, or shorts, or whatever they are. Hot pants?”
“They certainly are hot,” he said with a smile, running his palm over one latex covered bum cheek. “And I think everyone at the club will agree with me.”
Lydia bit her lip and grimaced.
“I’m nervous,” she confessed. “Going out dressed like this… I don’t really like being looked at, especially by lots of people.”
“Liebchen, you won’t stand out as much as you think. There will be much more outlandish people than you at the club. More nudity, some completely covered from head to toe, the wildest costumes you can imagine. You are quite tame in comparison.”
And he was right.
As Lydia walked through the large double doors at the top of the stairs, into a spacious bar area, she barely knew where to look. Everywhere, visual stimuli struck her eye so that her gaze zigzagged wildly around the room. Body paint, full frontal nudity, multiple piercings, carnival costumes, masks, feathers, whips, chains—everything you’d expect to see at a stereotypical orgy and more. Lydia wasn’t aware that her mouth was hanging open until von Ritter nudged her and told her to stop staring.
“It’s quit