SEX DIARIES: “Do you need help with the zipper?” I had the hottest sex of my life in a changing room.

“Do you want to play outside today?” She growled into my ear so deeply and with so much subtext that my body reacted immediately. 

I was still half asleep while she delivered her instructions in my ear, tracing her tongue around it when she was done. Her tone told me she meant business, so I listened intently - knowing that if I missed a detail I would pay for it sorely later.

Her name was Taylor. She was my girlfriend and (when the occasion called for it) my Dom. 

When we met, Taylor wasn’t into kink but she thrived as a baby Dom when she saw the effect her taking control had on me. I had taken her to fetish classes and clubs so that she could learn and she took to it like a duck to water. I loved where we were at in our relationship, our boundaries were well set, safe words were in place and we could read each other like a book. It was all fun and adventures. 

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Taylor had told me we were going on an adventure, that I was to get up, shower, put on a nice dress and be ready in an hour. Showered, I found her in the kitchen with breakfast made for me. She walked around behind me and told me to eat because I’d need my energy, all the while sliding her hand up the back of my thigh and hooking her finger on my navy lace knickers. I was throbbing already.

On our way, I tried to guess where we were going with no success but needless to say, when we arrived at quite a large Melbourne shopping centre, it wasn’t what I was expecting. 

While Taylor and I were exhibitionists, our escapades were usually confined to fetish clubs and sex parties (places that wouldn’t get us arrested), a shopping centre was a new frontier. But I trusted her and she knew where I would draw my lines, so I followed her willingly.

These shops were Taylor’s local so, with a possessive hand on the small of my back, she guided me through the crowd to City Chic. 

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It was a beautiful store, the showroom floor was enormous and the dressing rooms were large and lush. I was in fat girl heaven and for a moment I forgot I wasn’t here to shop, this wasn’t my game.

I was tracing my fingers over a dress hanging on the wall when I felt Taylor come up behind me. She placed her hand on my hip and gave me a tight squeeze, reasserting her dominance and focusing my attention on her proximity to me and her breath in my ear.

“Not that one. Come with me,” she said, pulling me in another direction.

We spent the next twenty minutes moving from rack to rack while Taylor picked out her favourite items for me to try on. She would take an item off the rack, survey it and subtly turn to me, looking me up and down. It was like she was picturing what I would look like in it... or in nothing at all.

I’m sure the overly helpful shop assistants were just as confused as I was. Every offer of assistance was politely declined, although Taylor did ask them to reserve a change room for me. I had a funny feeling about that change room. 

With ten dresses in Taylor’s hand, we were led to the change room that had been reserved. But I was slightly perplexed when she handed the dresses to the sales assistant and took a seat to wait. Perplexed and disappointed. I was so on edge, every time she touched me my body ignited and all I wanted her to do in that moment was take me.

Instead, she sat, raised her eyebrow in that way that drove me insane and gestured for me to proceed with the fashion show. I’m a brat and I have little control over my facial expressions so I’m sure the pout and evident toddler-like look on my face entertained my Dom to no end.

“Go,” she told me with a chuckle.

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I am an obedient brat (when I want to be) so I pulled the curtains to the change room closed and put on the first dress. It was a maxi dress, it was lovely but nothing special. I walked out and twirled around in a manner that I knew would please her. She shook her head. She didn’t like it either.

God! I just wanted her to touch me! I was in the middle of attempting to do up dress number four when I heard her deep, authoritative voice through the curtain: “Do you need help with the zipper?”

She wasn’t asking.

Sliding between the curtains Taylor found me in the middle of the room in a mini dress with a zipper that I just couldn’t reach. An intentional move on her part I’m sure. 

She didn’t say anything to me but she walked up behind me and, while watching my reaction in the reflection of the mirror, traced her finger down my spine where the zipper remained undone. I bit my lip and my head rolled back toward her in response. Deftly Taylor zipped up my dress, exited the change room, and I was left a wet mess.

I followed suit, receiving compliments about the dress from other shoppers and the shop assistant, but all I cared about was her opinion. Which she never gave. I returned to the change room only to find that I couldn’t get the dress off. The zipper was stuck. I had to ask for help. The brat in me saw an opportunity, and I went with it.

“Baby? Would you be able to help me with my zipper please?” I used every tool in my toolbox: big eyes, my voice shot up on octave and showed a little skin. I knew how much she loved it when I needed her, and I did, just not for what I asked for help with but she never could say no to me.

But again I forgot, it wasn’t my game. 

Taylor walked into the change room, shutting the curtains behind her, with a fire in her eyes. This was what I had been waiting for. She stood behind me, close enough that I could feel her but she wasn’t touching me. “Don’t make a sound,” she warned as I felt her hand move inside my dress and find my panty line. Her fingers traced their outline until she reached her destination. Instinctively, I moved my legs wider apart.

I closed my eyes as I felt her slide one finger between my lips and heard her let out the softest moan when she felt how wet I was. Biting my lip to stifle any noise, I felt her reach my clit. She circled around it slowly, teasing me, testing my restraint. But then she stopped.

I opened my eyes to find her staring at me with a stern look on her face. “Put your hands against the mirror and lean over,” she whispered. Once I was in position Taylor dragged my underwear down my thighs with her teeth, leaving them around my ankles. I could barely breathe.

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She winked at me, a momentary distraction while she slipped two fingers inside me. Amateur really, she knew I wanted more. She rocked her fingers back and forth on my g-spot, making my body quiver. She felt amazing. Taylor leaned in close to me and breathed “You’re not allowed to cum,” and simultaneously thrust a third finger inside me.

There was no denying the effect she had on me when she was inside me, the connection we had, my hunger for her. It was the perfect cocktail for pure pleasure.

I bit down on my arm to stop myself from squealing, she knew exactly what would bring me to the brink of climax.

With one arm wrapped around my waist and the other between my legs, Taylor held me tight so she could feel my body's reaction. She watched in the mirror as I braced myself against it and threw my head back into her. I began to tighten around her fingers, my knees became weak and she felt that in every inch of her. She felt as I began to lose control and fall into a pit of ecstasy. 

Right at that moment she took her hand away, kissed me on the cheek and left me in the change room a quivering mess.

We left City Chic once I had regained control of my body and put my own clothes back on. Taylor bought my favourite dress for me as a reward for being so obedient while I tried not to look the shop assistants in the eye.

If you’re reading this, don’t be disappointed in my lack of orgasm; a) orgasms aren’t the sole purpose of sex and b) the games didn’t end there. From waking up to returning home, this was foreplay and the real games started when the front door at home closed behind us. What happened behind that door? I’ll leave that to you and your imagination but needless to say, I was not instructed to be quiet.

Do you have a sex diary you want to share? We can publish your story anonymously if you prefer! Send in your stories to our Sex Editor Katie via email: katie.stow@mamamia.com.au

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