The Checkout Girl

by Daniel Guy

Ross, a thin, grey male of fifty-two, divorced ten years, has been in a daze all week.  He’s been taking trips down to the local supermarket every other day, for there’s a checkout girl he’s clocked, young and pretty, dark black hair and deep brown eyes and long red painted fingernails.  But it’s her breasts that attract him most.

He’s become a bit obsessed. He noticed them some weeks ago and from that moment on he has felt an overwhelming need to see them more.  So now he picks her line to queue at, just so he can look. Despite being hidden safe away inside a tight pink uniform, their shape, their perfect curves are no less enticing, and her cleavage, always low, means men like Ross can half see them, silky white, cupped, exquisite.  Ross believes they have magnetic powers, because they seem to fix his gaze, they give out so much electricity that for a moment he stops thinking about everything else and all those miserable things he worries about every day, evaporate.

Saturday evening, Ross is back there in the supermarket picking up some food to cook, and she’s there sitting at her till so he’s delighted.  The moment comes.  Now he’s standing right in front of her, in heaven, mesmerised by her gorgeous breasts.  She’s chewing gum and nonchalantly bleeps through the items in his basket, a tin of soup, a ready-made meal, a bottle of beer, some cake, choices of a solitary man. She glances up from time to time to watch him stare.  She takes his cash, hands him his receipt but then looks up at him and takes it back. She finds a pen and on it writes a little note, then hands it to him, smiling.  

‘Have a nice evening,’  she says to him, and winks.

Young women haven’t smiled at him like that for many years.  Younger women, the sort he still prefers, see straight through him. Old ladies in the charity shop, they’re the only one who ever smile at him these days.     

Outside, he reads the message –

Looks like you’re eating alone tonight. Call me if you want me to come over. I finish my shift ‘round ten.

Ross holds his breath and reads the note again.  Walking back to his apartment he is thinking – what the fuck?  By the time he’s home he knows he cannot miss this proposition, so he makes the call. 

He waits. He doesn’t cook his meal for one.  He sits and waits. His heart is pumping, for this might be the most exciting night he’d had for years. He waits, he waits and sure enough at around eleven pm she turns up.

She takes off her coat and underneath he sees she wears a tight black rubber dress, and Ross is gripped entirely by the small but perfect rubbery lumps created by her nipples.  

Hello. Can I come in?

She’s friendly, sits quite close beside him on the couch as they sip beers and chit and chat. Ross tries to hold eye contact, resist the downward glances, but every few seconds he fails miserably. Every time he looks away a voice comes in his head, just one more look, just once final glance.

Finally she smiles.

You like my breasts. I notice how you can’t keep your eyes off them. I like that in a man. When I first saw you, I recognised that look on your face. It tells me what you really want. You’re the kind of guy I understand, the kind of guy I like to be with.

Ross shivers with a thrill of expectation. She stands up, puts some sexy music on and starts to dance in front of him, just gentle swaying hips and all the time she’s looking at him, smiling.

Just lie back Ross, watch me.  Relax, slip down and keep your tired eyes focussed on my breasts. It’s what I’m telling you to do. Keep staring, and then maybe I will take off my dress and you can enjoy them more.  

He stares and she goes on dancing. He’s hooked, his face is blank, his mouth dropped open, nothing in his head, staring, staring, staring.  

Good boy. They’ve cast their spell and now you can’t escape.   You’re hooked now, lost, drawn in and starting to feel weak. You’re feeling heavy, feeble, sinking down, down into a lovely horny trance.  Now you cannot move your limbs, your eyes are blank, your mouth hangs open wide and your dick is hard. No need to think now, just enjoy the place, the space you’re in. Now you’re feeling much, much weaker and I am in control and you are mine and now you worship me. No need to think, just do everything I say, because you want to please, you want to serve, because now you’re nothing but a robot, permitted to do anything, as long as I demand it. Now you are free. You are completely mine. Nothing else means anything to you any more.

She dances on, staring down at Ross, all fuzzy headed, paralysed and horny.

Now on your knees and crawl to me. Bow your head.  Kneel at my feet, obedient slave.

Ross slips down to his knees and crawls and when he’s kneeing at her feet she says.

You want to serve me. You want me giving you commands, tasks to do to please me, your new mistress. Your cock is stiff because you desire to be enslaved, treated like a dog, told what to do and what to say, taught how to please me.

Now say it loud and then repeat it over and over till I say stop.  

I am your slave. I will obey you, Mistress Candy. I beg you, let me serve you.

Ross repeats the line and then she says,

Now rub your cock and come for me.

Ross in on his knees, staring out at nothing, falling into nothing, wanking like the devil’s in his head and then he shoots, and groans in ecstasy, brain shattered, lost in pleasure and release.  Breathless, he closes his eyes, bows his head.

Good slave.

She takes a business card out from her coat and hands it to him.

‘OK. We continue this relationship on line.  I’m only real first time. Click on the website and sign up.  Mistress Candy dot com. All credit card accepted.’

And then she pats him on the head, checks out, leaving Ross still kneeling, frozen, still lost in blissful trance, still whispering,

 I am your slave. I will obey you, Mistress Candy. I beg you, let me serve you…

Daniel Guy