Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 THE PALE
   by LT Studio
   FF, MF, Relect, Seduction, Coerc, Humiliation, Public Nudity
   Madeline's best friend Skye invites her to lunch with a new friend,
Jennifer.  Jennifer is older and terribly bossy, but inquisitive and
charming.  Soon the trio are meeting for brunch weekly.  When Jennifer
starts buying her clothes, Madeline tries to say no, but can't.  Soon,
there' much more she finds herself unable to say no to, even when it means
pushing the boundaries of her marriage.  She falls deeper into Jennifer's
strange world until events go beyond the pale.
   -------------------
   PART ONE
   -------------------
   Skye called an hour before we were supposed to meet for brunch and
changed plans.  "You won't mind meeting Jennifer, will you?"
   The truth was I did.  Everything Skye had told me about Jennifer made me
think she was a terrible person.  The first time she told me about her new
friend, I literally spit my beer out.  "She ordered your dinner for you? 
Like while you were there, without even asking you?"
   "Well, I hadn't been there before and she did pick things I liked."
   "My God, Skye, that's so infantilizing.  If a date did that, you'd be
out of there."
   "Don't read so much into it.  She's just assured."
   I rolled my eyes.  Since I got married, Skye had struggled.  We were
roommates in college and both moved to Chicago afterwards.  I found a job I
liked, and not too much later, met Blake.  Skye tried a dozen things, but
nothing ever stuck--not jobs, not men, not even friends other than me. 
Since she met Jennifer, Skye had new clothes, new shoes, new jewelry, and
even proper kitchen appliances.  If I didn't know Skye had no interest in
women, I'd assumed she had become a kept woman.  As it was, I wasn't sure I
wanted to know exactly what Skye's relationship to Jennifer was.
   When I didn't answer, Skye begged.  "Please?  Madeline, she wants to
meet my friends.  She thinks I'm ashamed of her, since she's older."
   I said ok and grabbed an uber to a new restaurant on Fulton, too
expensive for Blake and I to try.  Brunch, I reasoned, would at least not
break my budget.
   Skye was already there, looking as resplendently Californian as ever. 
If ever there was proof that being model-gorgeous didn't buy you love, it
was Skye.  In college, I always felt I got the guys after they gave up on
Skye, but I could keep them.  She shuffled through men, usually with lots
of tears, several times a quarter.  Life after college hadn't changed much.
   She rose to hug me, but when the woman at the table make a tongue click,
she pulled back and offered a hand.  We shook like we hadn't since we first
met.  The woman offered her hand.
   "Jennifer Alcantara."
   I shook it, still in shock at Skye's behavior.  Jennifer wasn't as old
as I'd imagined.  She was forty-five at most and probably in her mid- or
late-thirties.  She beautiful in a sharp, heron-like way.  Everything about
her was immaculate, to the point I wondered if she had some kind of robot
cut her hair to the nearest nanometer.
   "Please sit."
   I went to sit next to Skye, but Jennifer pointed to the chair next to
her, "No, Madeline, sit here."
   I hadn't met her but thirty seconds and she was already telling me what
to do.  For a moment, I thought about ignoring her, but I didn't want to
make a scene.  I put on a fake smile and sat.
   We settled into a conversation wherein she asked me questioned based on
what Skye told her.  It was conspicuously like meeting somebody's parent
instead of a friend.  Yet Jennifer was gracious and attentive.  Her
questions showed more interest than Skye or even Blake did in my work.
   When she asked me to explain the statistics behind one of my work
projects--a subject dear to my heart and dire to my friends--I realized I
liked her.  I could tell my passions weren't her own, but she not just drew
the out from where I hid them from the disinterested public, but convinced
me she she found them fascinating.
   She deflected most of the conversation back to me, even when I asked
direct questions about her work.  I learned almost nothing personal about
her, other than she lived on the Gold Coast in a condo with a lake view. 
But I think Skye told me that.
   When our waitress came, she waved the menus away and ordered for all of
us.  I asked for a Diet Coke.
   Jennifer waved a finger as if scratching my order off the ticket. 
"She'll have the Domaine Ott."
   The waitress looked to me for confirmation and I nodded, blushing.
   I was sullen until after our drinks arrived.  When Jennifer asked me how
I liked it, I was desperate to hate it, but it was, indeed, the best
rosÃ(C) I'd ever had.  "It's not bad."
   Skye winked at me, an I-told-you-so look.  I'm sure I frowned.
   I stopped trying with the conversation, despite Jennifer's attempts to
charm me again.  When I insisted on personal silence, she directed her
focus to Skye.
   I can't remember what she talked about, let alone the specific words. 
At some point after we'd started to eat, I realized the words we say or
even the topics we chose aren't as important as body language or some
ineffable element of conversation.  Because whatever she talked about, it
didn't matter.  I understood why Skye found her new friend so exciting
despite her offensively bossy and rude behavior.
   At some point, Jennifer reached over with a napkin and wiped a bit of
sauce from the corner of Skye's mouth, like a mother with a child.  I
blushed for her, my rage at Jennifer's controlling ways coming back, but
Skye said thank you as if she honestly wanted help.  I wondered if they
were having sex.  I couldn't imagine Skye not telling me she had a lover of
any sort, and particularly an older woman, but what else would explain
their odd dynamic?
   The next afternoon, Skye and I got coffee.
   "Did you like Jennifer?"
   "Um --she's not what I expected."
   "Older?"
   "No, I thought she'd be older than she is.  She's so bossy, it was
infuriating.  Didn't you want to hit her when she wiped your mouth?"
   She took a sip of juice.  "No.  I guess I got used to it.  She's just
trying to help me be a better person.  She likes to help."
   "Likes to control is more like it."
   "Please, Madeline, I like her.  Other than you, she's my only friend
right now."
   "Is that all she is?"
   "What?  What are you saying?"
   "I'm asking if you have sex with her.  I don't care if you do, I'm just
surprised--"
   "No.  God, Madeline.  We're just friends.  Did I ever try to fuck you?
Don't forget about the time you crawled into my bed naked.  That was you,
not me."
   "I was drunk.  I didn't--"
   "Yeah, you said."
   I frowned, truly hurt at her sudden hostility.
   She took my hand.  "I know.  I'm not involved with Jennifer that way,
though."
   "Don't you get tired of her ordering your meals and wiping your mouth?
You're almost twenty-seven, Skye.  You have to admit, it's weird."
   She played with her lemon tart.
   "No.  I like it," she almost whispered it.  And she blushed.
   "Darling, you know I don't judge, right?"
   "Really, I wouldn't be ashamed if I were gay.  I'm not.  There's nothing
between Jennifer and I for you to judge."
   "Alright," I answered, not entirely convinced.  She changed the subject
to her newest art project.  I started to wonder if maybe Skye did need an
adult to direct her life.  There was always a new project, and like the men
she dated, they didn't last more than three months and never lead to
anything.
   -------------------
   Over the course of the summer, I was dragged to brunch and even dinner
with Jennifer at least once a week, sometimes more.  I couldn't shake the
suspicion that they were lovers, which made me jealous.  Not because i
wanted either of them, but because Skye had always told me everything.  Now
she was slightly evasive.
   Over meals, Jennifer corrected Skye's posture, her use of silverware,
and even once, her expression.  Skye always walked two steps behind
Jennifer.  Always.  I tried to interrupt it, but she quickly got back in
place.  When I asked about it, she blushed, but denied it was a thing.
   But Jennifer found Skye a job, one that lasted past the summer, and had
actual potential.  Skye stopped dressing in her hippie-chic way and always
looked professional.  Her posture reflected confidence I hadn't realized
she'd been missing.  So by September, I'd come to accept Jennifer might be
annoyingly bossy at times, but she was good for Skye.
   In mid-October, Skye was sent to Texas for a three-week business trip. I
was surprised when Jennifer called me and asked if I wanted to go shopping.
I knew she took Skye shopping--all the professional wardrobe had been on
Jennifer's Visa--so I was uncomfortable saying yes.  Plus, she was Skye's
whatever she was.
   Jennifer, however, didn't give me time to voice my doubts.  She told me
where to meet her and at what time.  I don't know how come I didn't just
make up an excuse, but I suppose I was too confused or anxious to do
anything other than agree.
   We had lunch at a tiny Italian place near Water Tower Place.  She
ordered--at that point, I'd gotten used to not having a choice--and, when
the bill came, picked it up before I could even think about a response. 
When I reached for my purse, she shook her head.  "You and Blake should be
saving for a home, Madeline."
   We went--or rather, she took me--to a spa and had our nails done.  As we
sat there, I realized Skye's nails, which always tended toward chipped
because she bit them when she was nervous, had been perfect for at least a
month.  I kept my own nails short and round.  They weren't something I gave
much thought to, and didn't want to.  When I started to describe what I
wanted to the nail technician, Jennifer interrupted.  "She needs to grow
them out a bit.  Give her French tips and cut them straight."
   "I think I--"
   "Oh, trust me, Madeline, you'll like them better this way."
   "Well, maybe this once."
   God, she was so bossy, but I smiled, exactly because this was something
so particular to Jennifer.  Nobody else would be so rude, but yet, it no
longer felt rude.  It felt almost like an endearing character trait.
   At Neiman Marcus, we went to the designer boutique.  It doesn't function
like a store, not like the kind of stores I shop at, where you get the
clothes, try them on, and take the ones you want to the counter.  Here,
they brought the clothes to you.  Jennifer directed them, of course,
sending me in to try on a half-dozen outfits.  I felt guilty because there
was no way I could afford even a sweater--nothing I put on cost less than a
thousand dollars.
   Jennifer and the personal shopper watched me spin in front of the
mirrors.  I think I may have actually giggled once, the dress was so
beautiful.  The personal shopper complemented me just to the point where I
started to think about her commission, but not so much I would have
suspected it if I were actually going to buy the clothes.  Jennifer just
smiled and pointed out the ways each dress flattered me in unique ways.
   She never came particularly close to me, and beyond our handshake when
we met for lunch, didn't touch me.  But I wondered if she was grooming me
to be whatever Skye was to her.  Lovers, probably, although after me asking
a fourth time, Skye insisted I never ask her again.  So not lovers, but
something that made her blush ever time.
   After I changed back into my own clothes, Jennifer was at the desk with
the personal shopper, putting dress I loved so much, a handbag that cost
more than my car, and a few other things on the counter.  She took out her
Visa.
   I put my hand on hers.  "I'm sorry, Jennifer, I just can't.  I don't
have that kind of money."
   "Darling, you're my friend." She handed the card to the shopper.
   "I have to insist," I said, denying her for perhaps the first time.
   Her face tightened.  I could tell that she wasn't hurt, she was angry.
   "Well, just the dress.  It would be a crime to let anyone else wear it."
   I put on a smile and gave in.
   -------------------
   That night, after Blake and I had a vigorous love making session, I told
him about my day.
   "Do you think she expected you to fuck her for the dresses?"
   "Blake!"
   "Well, if I gave somebody a $10,000 dress, I'd be expecting more than a
thank you note."
   "You cad!" I laughed.  "I don't think so.  Although --"
   "Although what?" I sensed that he would love to hear just how Jennifer
wanted to fuck me.
   "Whenever I ask Skye about Jennifer and her, she blushes.  She
absolutely denies they're lovers, but --"
   "Maybe she's Skye's dom."
   "Her dom?"
   "Dominatrix.  Skye's changed a lot since you first mentioned Jennifer."
   The idea made sense, but it also made me angry.  Skye should tell me if
it was true.
   "I don't think so.  Besides, she's just bossy.  You know how much she
bosses me around."
   "See?"
   "Oh, please.  She doesn't wear leather and whip us."
   "No?" I felt him stiffen under me.  I wiggled.
   "You'd like that?"
   "Maybe --" He smiled.
   I squeezed my thighs around his cock until he was hard again.  "What
would you like about that?  Me in leather?"
   "Baby, you'd look really good in leather."
   "Or her?"
   "I haven't met her." Which was true, and a bit odd.  I'd suggested
things with Blake, but Jennifer always turned them down.
   "She's tall, brunette, thinner than Skye, but has a bigger chest."
Despite my small A-cup, I knew Blake preferred women with more on top. 
When we first started dating, I was worried he'd dump me for Skye.  I knew
she liked him and I figured out fairly quickly that he liked her tits.  But
her flighty personality was a huge turn-off for him.  Over time, we
realized we were a conspicuously good pairing.  I'd come to accept that he
liked my body, too.  We sometimes talked about what women were hot and even
watched porn together, giddy about the chick with big D-cups, but even more
excited about the rare flat-chested girl like me.
   He leaned up and licked my nipple.  "Isn't she old?"
   I reached back and put his cock into me.  "Not that old.  Thirty-six,
maybe forty.  She's quite attractive.  If you didn't have me, you'd fuck
her in a second."
   "Ha.  But I have you, so I don't need any bossy women."
   "I'm not bossy."
   "Way to kill my complement.  I mean you're too sexy for me to want
another."
   "Good correction."
   "What would she do to you, all dressed in leather?"
   "God, I don't know.  Make me drink expensive wine." I laughed.  I knew
it wasn't what he wanted, but I couldn't quite picture something sexy with
leather and whips.
   -------------------
   We didn't talk about it, but after that, when I came back from an outing
with Jennifer, Blake was always extra horny.  I knew he was imaging
Jennifer doing things to me.  We had a good sex life, with plenty of
variety and Blake definitely knew what worked for me.  Like ten times more
than anybody I'd ever slept with.  But somehow, we understood or maybe just
lied that this fantasy was best kept in his head.
   Once, I came back with a new dress--a much less expensive new dress, but
I always came back with a new dress; I'd quite trying to say no--and he had
me put it on in the bathroom.  He came in and held me me against the wall.
He pulled the dress up, my panties down and fucked me.  I was pretty sure
he was imagining Jennifer fucking me.  For a brief moment, so did I.
   -------------------
   In February, the three of us--Skye, Jennifer, and I--went to brunch like
normal, then shopping at a small lingerie boutique, a first.  Jennifer
picked out several things for both of us.  We went into our changing rooms
to try them out.  I was half way through trying them on, thinking about how
Blake would rect to them them (we'd have sex for hours), when I heard
Jennifer's voice.
   "Skye, it's time."
   "I --" I could almost hear Skye bite her lip.
   "Now, Skye," Jennifer said firmly, like a mother to a willful child.
   "Yes, Jennifer."
   I peaked through the curtain.  Skye had come out of the dressing room in
a frilly and very sexy bra and panty set.  She blushed furiously, but
strutted like a model on the cat-walk into the middle of the store.
   "Very nice.  That's flattering.  The little arrows lead ones eyes to
your belly.  It's such a strong feature for you.  Turn around."
   Jennifer stood next to her, looking carefully at Skye.  Her expression
seemed more like an appraiser than something lustful or leering.  She had
Skye turn several more times, then cross her feet at her ankles and bend at
the hips.  It was an uncomfortable position, I imagined, and not the least
bit stable, but it enhanced Skye's hips, which tended towards boyish
relative to the rest of her figure.
   Jennifer walked around her then sat in a chair she'd positioned in the
middle of the room.
   "Now kneel."
   Skye got on her knees, handing her head down.  I expected Jennifer to
ask her to kiss her or to undress, but after a minute, she raised her hand,
like a scepter, and told Skye to try on the next outfit.
   Skye kept blushing through all three outfit changes.  Each time,
Jennifer had her parade the outfit, inspected her as if she were a fashion
buyer or something, then had her kneel submissively.
   All the while I watched, unable to turn away.
   When she called my name, I didn't answer.  Of course, Jennifer wouldn't
accept that.  She stood in front of my dressing room and spoke.
   "Madeline, show me the outfits."
   I didn't answer.
   "Madeline, I know you heard me.  Come out and show me the outfits we're
trying on today."
   "I can't"
   "Yes you can and you will."
   I heard her walk back to the middle of the store.  I knew I should just
get dressed--dressed in my clothes--and leave.  But I peaked out of the
curtains, clad only in the expensive lingerie Jennifer had selected for me.
   She sat on the chair, her arms crossed.  The anger on her face made me
tremble.
   "Skye, please help your friend.  She is having difficulty doing as she
must."
   Skye was braless when she appeared and her whole body trembled. 
"Madeline, please?  Just show her the clothes.  She won't touch you.  You
just have to let her --" She bit her lip.
   "What?" I whispered, trying to ignore both that she was topless and
close to tears.
   "Just let her watch.  She never wants more than that.  Never."
   "She's a voyeur?"
   "I don't know, just do it." She pulled on my arm.  I stumbled out into
the hall.  She pushed me towards Jennifer.
   I walked, unsure of what was happening.  I knew I was walking, but not
why.
   "Head higher and put a little more motion into your hips," Jennifer
demanded.
   I did.  I don't think I blushed as much as Skye did, but I certainly
felt absolutely humiliated.  Worse, I was allowing this to happen.
   Like she did with Skye, walked around me, appraising the outfit. 
instead of crossing my ankles, she had me pull my arms towards my chest,
pushing my breasts in and up.  I imagined this was the sexiest pose I could
be in.
   After circling me, she asked me to stand, hand behind my back, and
called for Skye.
   "What did your friend do today, Skye?"
   "Disobey."
   "That's right.  And what should I do about that?"
   "You --" Skye's voice quivered, "You should spank her."
   "What?" I said.
   "You should spank her," Skye said more authoritatively, "for
disobeying."
   "I never agreed--"
   "Quiet, Madeline." The sharpness in Jennifer's voice cut me off.  She
sat.
   "Lean over my knee.  Put your hand on the floor."
   I hesitated a moment, but Skye pushed me sightly.  In a daze, I did as
Jennifer asked.
   At first, the spankings were mild, little more than a playful slap.  The
sting came from the humiliation, which seemed to grow from impossible to
beyond impossible with each spanking.  But soon, she was hitting my ass
with force.  I yelped.
   "Take your punishment like a woman.  Count the last ten."
   I did.  Each one was harder.  By the end, I was sobbing and had
forgotten I was wearing almost transparent little underthings.
   When she insisted on buying me five sets of panties and bras, plus a the
most beautiful camisole I'd ever seen, I didn't even contemplate saying no.
I did refuse to share an uber with Skye on the way home, and ignored her
calls.
   -------------------
   I didn't want to tell Blake what had happened.  Part of me knew I'd been
raped.  It might not have met the legal definition, but the spanking was
definitely sexual and violent.  So I knew I should do something.  But it
didn't meet the legal definition.  And I couldn't really say I hadn't
consented, just hadn't wanted.  The shame was almost unbearable.  I was
sullen hid in our home office, claiming to be catching up on some work I'd
forgotten.  Instead, I'd cried.
   In bed, however, Blake noticed my ass was sensitive.  The whole story
came out.  He tried so hard to comfort me, but he couldn't hide his
erection.
   "I'm sorry.  God, I know I'm a monster."
   "No, its alright." Why was I comforting him?  Because I needed his
comfort.  "Hold me."
   He did, with his erection poking against me.  Rubbing against me.  And I
was rubbing against it.  And we were kissing and I was very wet.
   Aft first, he was very cautious and gentle as we made love, but I wanted
it rough.  I climbed on top and rode him hard, coming twice in succession,
something I'd never done before.
   We cuddled a bit, but I wanted more.  When I came for a third time, I
was thinking of Jennifer appraising my naked body, marking a score sheet.
  
ThePale01--Fdom FF MF Reluctant Seduction