And now what you all came here for: high fashion! (Patreon)

Standing before the dressing room’s full-length mirror, Sue regarded her reflection. Everything had been rather ordinary, dull even… she’d returned home, her serving girl had helped her out of the dress, and naturally Reed wasn’t anywhere near bed, the man working late so she’d had no one to get drunk with her, no one to dance with her, no one to take her home and actually do what all those men had been starving to do with her. To her.

What cruel irony.

She wasn’t really that much for action or excitement. She could live with contented routine. Marriage, children, balls and state dinners. But she wanted Reed at her side. She didn’t want grand romance or sweeping gestures, ballads sung or dragons slain or fields of flowers planted in her honor. She just wanted the other side of the bed to be warm. A kiss before she went to sleep and another waking her up in the morning. Someone to relish her meals instead of letting them grow cold at the table.

And she wanted to be fucked. All the prissy women who considered it such a sin—she would trade places with them, let those boorish husbands of theirs have their wicked ways with her. Just so long as they touched her, loved her, noticed her. She’d thought Reed was so different from those men who abhorred marriage because they were more in love with themselves or with power, but was it simply that Reed, while not caring for ego or for power, cared equally little for her? Was in love, but in love with knowledge rather than his wife?

The ruinous thoughts made Sue want to do something, anything. Break from the routine. Demand more, demand the man she’d married. So she found the package Tyros had sent her. She’d had a hearty laugh at the thought that he’d actually expected her to wear such a thing, but now she thought it was just what she should be wearing to remind everyone she wasn’t just a wife, but a woman.

After all, it was better than walking around naked. At least a little bit. Right?

It certainly wasn’t much trouble to put on. First there were two golden bracers, looping sheaths of sparkling metal that, when worn, grew over her forearms like ivy. Then there was a golden cup, much like any brassiere would have, but only one. It affixed to her left breast by magic, covering the areola as if by afterthought, the spiraling metal giving the impression perhaps that an eagle’s claw was wearing away what little modesty the shield gave her. The shining metal would certainly bring attention to her chest, as if it needed anymore.

Affixed to the shield was a strip of white fabric, narrow at first, but soon widening. It was to be worn across her right breast, covering that nipple as well, then thrown over her shoulder and slung under her arm (there was a well-sized hole for that) to become a half-cape down her bare back. This shielded her buttocks, or would if the fabric were not semi-translucent and so light that a gust of errant wind could do vicious damage to her modesty. The arrangement emphasized the lush fullness and sculpted shape of her breasts.

Fortunately, there was a set of bottoms for that. A girdle worn about her waist, snaking around her ribs like the cool metal might at any moment transition into slick motion, slither its way up to her warm breasts, or down between her legs… From it hung another helping of fabric, same as the other. It covered her nethers, but only in front. The back relied on the cape. And that barely came down to her upper thighs… to say nothing of how it would catch on the air as she walked, flowing up and away from the body it was supposedly trying to conceal.

Sue adjusted an imperceptible wrinkle in the skimpy loincloth, liking the way it fell and folded now much better than it had before. Then she placed her hands on her hips, twisting first one way, then the other, then rotating to study herself in profile. It was a ridiculous garment. Downright obscene. And it fit very, very well.

“I have the body for it,” Sue muttered, musing on how ironic it was that the more elaborate and expensive dresses so hid that she was a picture of health, while this simple, skimpy garment reveled in it. She slid a hand down her exposed abdomen. “Forty years and still flat.” She reversed her hands to cup the full bosom which was winning a battle with both overmatched attempts to contain it. “Still firm too.”

She stretched one shapely leg to the side and considered the high heels, with bangles similar to the gauntlets stretching up from her dainty ankles. Rivers of golden water flowing down from her calves. Quite impractical, but she liked the decadent look that resulted. Then, brushing her soft blonde hair aside, Sue fastened the gold choker about her neck. The fashionista in her wondered how it would look with another veil hanging down from it, this time to add another layer of concealment to her cleavage. That would be just the beginnings of the changes she would need to ever wear such a thing in public; she would most certainly need another nipple shield with its own swath of fabric to further cover the other one…

Sue stopped herself, studying her reflection again and smiling. Whatever her malaise, it was worse than she thought if she was seriously considering wearing this in public, no matter what the alteration. This sight was just for her. And for Reed, if he could see her with his head shoved up his…