Window Dressing

By

Rubberwolf

2009©

Story codes:  f, reluctant, stuck, bd, toys.

Angela had been working at the department store since she left college five years ago.  She had picked up various qualifications to do with retail since then, but the main thing that had gotten her off of the shop floor and into window decoration had been her diploma in fashion, along with an A level qualification in art.  She had started in underwear, but after a year, her flair for art and arranging displays had landed her current role as the shops window dresser.

Sophie’s dominated one entire corner of the high street.  It was typical of most department stores of its age.  A large building constructed in the 1950’s, it occupied a corner plot.  Set on three stories, it catered for male and female fashions, as well as having a children’s clothes section.  This meant that the large window space could be used to good effect. 

This week’s display had been on the drawing board for months.  This years fashions were tipped to be retro 1950s and 60s.  Big, A line dresses, heals, crinolines.  In short, all of the designers were trying to bring back the Hollywood golden age of glamour and Angela had been working on the launch of the spring range with her manager Diana. 

Sophie had her own workshop in the basement, where she could prepare the window designs.  It had power tools, wood, paints, and materials, as well as bits and pieces of old mannequins.

Now, at six O clock in the morning, she was stood in the shop window, arranging the final pieces.  Paper had been taped over the windows while she worked on the display.

She had designed the backdrop of the display to look like a 1950’s high street.  She thought that it was fifties anyway.  Such programs as Bewitched had inspired her or animations like the Pink Panther.  Consequently, she had created a stylised backdrop that looked like a bright caricature of the period.  She had even borrowed a bit of shading and skyline from Top Cat.  Fortunately, she had been able to come in yesterday, which had been a Sunday and move most of what she needed.   Although she had stayed late, she had not finished quite everything and so had come in early to put the final touches to the display.

The street scene was angled so that an illusion of distance had the high street buildings appear to trail off behind the dummies.  A bellboy, in red livery and small hat stood towards the back holding a selection of brightly wrapped boxes.  The large, circular one at the bottom was obviously a hat box.  The pile carried on above the dummies head and he could be seen, just peering around them to look ahead of him.  Just to one side of this figure was an old, cast iron, lamppost.  Angela had come across this several months ago in a junk shop and it had been sitting in her workshop ever since, awaiting just the right display to decorate the window.

It had taken Angela a whole day to cut up various mannequins in order to get the right pose for the bellboy.  Normally the shop dummies tried to emulate a relaxed pose, rather than a doing pose.  Angela had therefore had to cut and fabricate, using fibre glass to make the joints seamless.   The end result was quite life like.

The next occupant of the window was just being secured to the floor.  The bottom of the window had a hard plywood base, She had covered this in a length of old kitchen lino, which, while looking like stone kitchen tiles in any other setting, now looked like a pavement.  It also had a set of small metal plates secured to the floor.   It was into these that Angela was positioning the feet of the next dummy, although a more accurate description would have been paws.

“Click, click.”

Angela stood up as she admired the Dalmatian that she had created.  This had taken her a while to make, but she had managed to get all of the pieces she needed from older projects.  The end result was of a dog running at full pelt, with some of it’s paws in the air, its mouth open and tongue lolling out as it bounded towards the glass, chasing who knows what.  The last feature, attached to its collar, was a dog’s lead.  However, rather than trailing behind limply, this lead stood out at a rigidly at an angle behind it. 

Although it looked like leather, the core of the lead was in fact steel.  It had been wrapped in an old lead that Angela had unpicked before re-stitching around the core.  It had also been welded to the metal clasp, which in turn was welded to the metal of the collar.  The only flexible thing was the wrist loop, which would allow her to attach the lead to the arm of the final dummy.  She had also placed a small leather loop over the wrist strap so that it could be tightened.

The final mannequin would need as much support as it could get, since the diorama depicted a woman being pulled off balance by her dog.  The wrist would attach to the lead.  One leg would clip into the floor.  A pole would be needed to sit out of sight behind the front leg, giving additional support to the structure, while the other leg would be attached to the back drop via another metal clip.  In this manner the dummy would be supported in several places so that, even if bumped, it would not fall over.

Angela’s windows had become something of a local cause.  The press would usually take pictures at any of the big seasonal launches.  So it was vitally important that she was ready on time.

If Angela had one peculiarity, it was her habit of getting into character whenever she worked on a project.  Last year had seen a fascination with Sci-Fi in the fashion industry and so, while working on the summer window, she had dressed like an extra from a Buck Rogers movie.  Hot pants, high collars and silver knee length boots.

This time she was dressed in true 1950’s style, just like the mannequin that she had made.  She had arrived early in order to change.  Although she had worn 1950’s clothes throughout this project, as well as styling her hair in a 50’s style, with her shoulder length hair having been curled at the ends and sporting a fringe for the first time since her early teens, while locked away in the basement, today was something special, as with all of her openings. 

After arriving in her workshop and disrobing her street clothes, she had first unpacked the underwear.  A large set of black silk granny knickers, that had a high waist cut were the first items of clothing that she slipped on.  After this, she had unpacked a full-length, open bottomed girdle, in white, complete with built in bra, shoulder straps and suspenders.  She had had to step into the girdle and pull it up, like a dress.  In this instance however, the various panels and elastic construction meant that it hugged her figure tightly, ensuring that she had to wiggle and squirm in order to get the thing on.  At first she had thought that she would have to settle for the control girdles that were sold in the shop, but she was surprised to find, after searching on the internet, that she could order genuine 1950s underwear from theatrical suppliers.  So she had bought two sets, one for the mannequin and one for herself. Once she had struggled into the garment, a zipper in the side ensured that the double thickness panels around the waist were truly figured hugging.  On the other side, another zipper ran up the side of her hips, allowing the front panels to be pulled in tightly.  The result of all of this pushing and shoving was truly medieval in its construction.  The cone shaped bra would have given Madonna a run for her money.  However, the underwear had helped to achieve the classic hourglass figure. 

Next, with difficulty, she bent over and pulled on a set of seamed stockings that she attached to the suspenders hanging from the bottom of the girdle.  Just for fun she rolled a white garter belt up her left leg, arranging the small blue bow so that it faced the front.  This bought a smile to her face.  The next item, which she stepped into, was a voluminous taffeta petticoat.  She then picked up the main item of her outfit.  The dress.  This was an armless, A line cut, with plunging neckline.  It’s main feature were the large black poca dots that adorned the pristine white dress.  After checking her make up in a small hand mirror, again playing on the 1950s theme with bright red lips and dark eyeliner, which she had applied before leaving home, she put on a twin set and pearls.  These large globes followed the circular theme of the dots on the dress.  White, wrist length, gloves, a wide brimmed hat and black and white poka dot heels completed the outfit.  Although the mannequin sported four-inch stilettos, Angela needed to work and had therefore chosen a two-inch heal.  This was still enough to complete the effect and Angela sauntered happily from the workshop to begin lifting and moving.

Having secured the bellboy and the dog, Angela returned for the next item, the chrome pole.  She screwed this into the metal plate in the floor.  The other end of the pole would slide into the mannequins nether regions, in a re-enforced section of the dummy.  There was no snap latches or screw thread, just a smooth metal pole that she would position the dummy over and drop into place.

Firstly she went and got the accessories that would be needed:  handbag, special five-inch poca dot court shoes, complete with black shoulder bag and wide brimmed hat.  The hat had had some alterations in that she had sewn one of the mannequin’s gloves to the top of the hat.  Although she had bought hat pins, having the item attached to the dummy would ensure that it stayed exactly where she wanted it to stay.  She had also bought a comb and wig.  She would brush the hair once the dummy was in place and then attach the hat.  Another alteration had been made to the shoes.  These had been fitted with cleats so that they would clip into place once the mannequin was lowered into position.

Having set everything in place she went to get the mannequin.  This had taken some effort to get right.  Unfortunately, the dummies produced these days were not moulded with corsetry or girdles in mind. Consequently Angela had had to cut a mannequin in half and re-shape the mid section and bust so that it would be able to carry the style of half a century ago.  More specifically, to accommodate the proportions that were even now being enforced upon her figure by the tight confines of the double thickness waist panelling, making movement a more sedate affair. 

As well as alterations to the torso shape, she had also had to cut and re-attach the limbs to conform to sense of movement that she hoped to inspire in this diorama.  Consequently, getting the mannequin, which was designed to be supported on one leg, with one arm thrust forward, the other clutching the head and it’s left leg stretched out horizontally behind the dummy, ensured that, no matter how it was positioned, it would not stand easily on the trolley that  she had bought to move it to the window.  The shocked expression on it’s face, that had taken many hours to get just right, seemed to remonstrate her undignified efforts to move the figure.

However, after a great deal of effort, balancing, catching and prodding, Angela eventually managed to drag the dummy into the window.  Time was running short, but she still had some leeway.  Bending down she retrieved the shoes and placed them on the feet, before buckling the slim ankle straps to hold the shoes in place.  Lifting the dummy up, Angela struggled to get it into position.  Its position did not make the job easy and so Angela returned to her workshop, returning after a few minutes with a stepladder under her arm.

Angela positioned the stepladder before picking up the mannequin and climbing up the steps, while dragging the dummy into position.  Unfortunately, the streetlight, which she had bolted to the floor, did not make her job any easier.  In fact it meant that she could not just slide the ladder close to the pole, but forced her to lean out slightly as she manoeuvred the mannequin over the pole.

All at once the world was dragged out from underneath her as she toppled forward.  The mannequin fell towards the window, which it bounced off of, landing off to one side.  Angela flailed her arms and stood upright as the ladder wobbled and then toppled forward, throwing Angela feet first towards the ground. 

Angela was not sure what happened next, but she felt a strong pressure in the gusset of her knickers and then, accompanied by a ripping sound it was as though someone had punched her in the pussy and she started to double over as she felt the long metal shaft enter her, bruising the walls of her pussy as the cold metal brutally forced its way inside of her.  She felt the shaft push deeply inside of her as the metal all but punched her cervix.

Angela was not sure how she had managed it, but she was impaled on the rod.  Moving her feet together she found that she could only get comfortable by standing on tip toes, otherwise the metal shaft, designed to support a figure with inhumanly long legs, would cause her immense pain.

Bending over, Angela found that, after the initial pain had worn off, that she was not bleeding.  She may be bruised inside, but she did not feel as though she had hurt herself too badly.  This was confirmed as she lifted the skirt and managed, after unclipping the two front suspenders, to peel back the girdle enough to inspect where she had been impaled.

There was no blood, but there was a neat hole in the crotch of the knickers, which the shaft had punched through when she fell off of the ladder.  Looking down she saw that the dummy had broken it’s back when it landed.  This was not hard to repair, although it would take time for the fibreglass to dry.  The worst was the head, which the ladder had landed on when it toppled, completely smashing the face.  She would have to make a new face, or more likely re-sculpt the head of another mannequin, which she would have to attach to the damaged body.  This would take at least a day, with another two hours once this had dried to apply paint and make up.  It was a disaster.

However, she could not achieve much stuck like this and so tried to get something under her feet so that she could step off, but the dummy and ladder were just out of reach.  Her efforts were limited by the pain, which she suffered if she stretched too far.  Bending over, she gripped the pole with both hands to stop it from impaling her as she stretched her leg towards the ladder.  Although she could just touch the base of the ladder, she could not get enough leverage to drag it towards her.

Next, she tried to pull herself up, off of the pole while she clutched the pole with her hands, using the strength in her arms to try and arch herself free.  But the position was wrong and this would take more strength than she had in her arms.  After screaming in frustration, Angela resigned herself to the knowledge that she was stuck.  It was going to be embarrassing when she was found, but there was nothing else for it.  She would need somebody to stand on the ladder and lift her clear of the pole.  Resigned, she re-attached the suspenders to the stocking tops, for neatness sake and, after smoothing down the front of the girdle, let the skirt fall back down.

Dianne was running a little late when she got to the shop.  Already curious shoppers were pausing at the window display, before moving on, having been disappointed by window with the paper coverings still in place on the new display.  It was nearly eight O clock and if they weren’t careful they would miss the rush hour traffic and their chance to make a big impression on the commuting masses.  Getting out her keys Dianne quickly unlocked the door and hurried in.

“Angela.  Angela.  Are you all right?

Dianne listened and thought she heard something, but it was muffled.  She quickly made her way to Angela’s workshop, but it was deserted.  Thinking that Angela must still be working at the window she hurried over to the back of the window and opened the access door.

Dianne was confronted with a scene of chaos and, as she stepped into the window was confused to see Angela just standing there.

“Angela.  What’s happening?  Why are you just standing there?  We have to get the display ready.  The press will be turning up later and the rush hour has already started.”

Angela tip toed around in a tight rotation.

“I can’t.  I fell off of the ladder and I am stuck on the pole.  I need someone to pull me off,” she explained as she lifted the front of the dress to illustrate the problem.

Dianne’s jaw dropped, her mouth agape at the sight before her. 

“Are you alright?  What on earth happened?”

“I was trying to get the dummy onto the pole, when I slipped and ended up stuck myself.  I’m not hurt, but it is a little uncomfortable,” Angela explained as she gestured towards the pole.

Dianne stepped further into the window, which is when she saw the dummy.

“Can you fix it in time,” she asked as she bent to examine the dummy?

“No.  It will probably take a couple of days to repair,” Angela explained with a little irritation.  We will just have to hold the unveiling for a day or two.

Dianne quickly did the calculations herself. Unfortunately, the press were already booked and the newspaper advertising had already done its job, judging by the crowd that had started to gather outside.

“Look, I will need to clear this all out of the way before I can get you out.  How are your feet doing?”

Angela grimaced.

“They are getting a little sore.  It is not easy standing on tip toe for an hour.”

“OK,” Dianne considered, “why don’t you put the mannequins shoes on for a bit.  That should make you more comfortable while I clear everything?”

“Umm.  OK.,” Angela agreed.  It would definitely be more comfortable not to have to balance herself.

Dianne bent down and quickly took the shoes off of the dummy, but it was not easy and so she asked Angela to shuffle back to face the front again giving, she explained, more room to move. Having retrieved her prize she quickly re-fastened them to Angela’s feet.

“Click”.

What was that, Dianne asked?

“The right shoe has just locked into the floor plate,” Angela huffed.

“Oh.  Um Sorry.  Look I will undo it in a minute.  Lets get the other shoe on first.”

Angela was slightly annoyed, but could do nothing as the other woman placed the other shoe on her foot and did up the strap.  It was definitely a lot better though.  The pole was still stretching her insides, but at least she could relax her legs a little.

Dianne started to clear the broken dummy out of the way as she chatted to Angela.

“So how was all of this supposed to stay upright?  I mean that dummy is in a very odd position.”

“Oh it’s not that precarious.  The right arm is stretched out and attached to the dog lead, through that hoop, while the other shoe clicks onto a metal plate on the side of the lamppost.  This turns the dummy into a sort of stressed member.  I got the idea from my last dates ramblings about his motorcycle engine and how it was attached to the frame,” Angela chuckled at the last bit.

Dianne nodded and made listening noises as she manoeuvred the mannequin out of the door and picked up the shattered plastic.  Next she removed the stepladder. 

“After what happened to you I don’t think I should use this.  I will go and get a stepping stool from the shop.”

With that, Dianne disappeared, leaving Angela alone to squirm uncomfortably on her pole.  After a short while Angela heard the other woman enter behind her.

“So what’s with the hat?” Dianne asked.

“The idea was to slip the hand into the glove.  With a couple of hat pins after I had brushed the wig, nothing would have moved it.”

“Show me, “ Dianne said, handing the other woman the hat with the glove attached.

“Look, do we have time for this?  Just get me off of this pole and I can start making repairs.”

“Well, we are not going to be using the dummy for a few days and I just wanted to see what it would look like.  Perhaps I can help.  You know, a set of fresh eyes and all that?”

“Well, I really want to get off of this pole, I mean..”

“I know, but it’s not hurting anymore, now that you are in heals and I would like to look.”

After some reluctance, Angela found herself taking off her left glove and replacing it with the hat glove.  Dianne did the wrist strap up and positioned the hat onto her head, after slipping the shoulder bag onto the other woman’s arm.  Next she got the hatpins from where Angela had left them and skewered them through the hat, so that her hair held the hat in place, before pulling the bags strap up onto her shoulder.

“Wow, that looks great.  So how does the lead work?” Dianne asked as she stepped further around and grabbed Angela’s right hand and quickly pulled it into the loop, pulling the smaller loop up to the base of the wrist, trapping Angela’s hand and pulling the woman forward in an uncomfortably stretched position.

Dianne smiled as she noted the ample cleavage that was clearly displayed by the cut of the garment as the other woman bent forward.

“Hey, I am not sure about this.  You have seen enough to know how it works.  Get me off of this thing”.

“In a minute,” the other woman chimed as she stepped behind Angela and lifted her leg towards the lamppost.

“Click.”

The other shoe connected with the other plate on the lamppost.  Now Angela really couldn’t get out without Dianne’s help.

“Dianne pleases.  This has gone far enough.  Get me off of this thing.”

“I can’t do that Angela.  There is a crowd building outside expecting to see a window display and we have arranged for the press to come later.  We can’t just not open the display.  It would cost us a lot of time and money.  No, we need a mannequin for this window and you’re the only one in the right costume and the right position to pull it off.”

Angela was stunned and did not know what to say as the other woman slipped a large pair of plastic rimmed sunglasses onto her face.

“But Dianne, you can’t just leave me here.  It’s not right.”

“You will be fine.  I might even be able to arrange for a small bonus.  I will tell the press that you are making some artistic statement by appearing in your own window.  They will love it.  Now hold on.  I need to do something about that surprised look your mannequin had.”

Having said that, Dianne retrieved something from her own handbag, bent down in front of the captured artist and lifted her skirt.

Angela nearly jumped off of the pole with shock as she felt the other woman slip something into her knickers, from the left leg hole and position it over her clitoris.  Next she felt something being placed in the garter near the top of her thigh. 

“What are you doing,” Angela asked with a slightly worried voice as the other woman got a large white terry towel and wrapped it around the base of the pole before securing it with packing tape.

“You might be on that pole for a while and, since we can’t put a nappy on you, I thought towelling would do,” Dianne explained as she pushed the towel up to the top of the pole, before using more tape to fix it in place.

“What, you have to be joking let… Oh,” the outraged woman tried to protest just as Dianne switched on the battery unit in the garter.  This set the vibrating butterfly off with a merry, if shocking buzzing.

“I wouldn’t want you to get board standing around all day,” Dianne smiled as she pulled down the paper covering the window and took it, along with anything else not needed for the display, out of the door.

Angela tried to struggle, but stopped as she saw the crowd of people watching her.  How could she say or do anything that would not humiliate herself in front of the whole world.  She was caught, like a frightened rabbit in the headlights of a car.  All that she could do was relax, but the vibrations in her pussy were becoming more insistent and, despite all that she could do, she felt herself building to a shuddering climax.  Fortunately, because of the hat and glasses and her stretched out position, she did not think that the crowed noticed anything that her shifting slightly.  Thank god she didn’t cry out.

Angela was not sure what her sex was doing, but it was definitely being turned on.  Perhaps it was the humiliation of knowing what was happening in front of all of these people.  Perhaps it was the fact that she had become nothing more that one of her own displays.  A dummy staring out at the world, or perhaps it was just that the butterfly was positioned in just the right spot, but oh God it was good.

Hours later Angela was only vaguely aware of Dianne as she came in at lunch time to give her a drink and change the towel, which was soaking wet, but not because Angela had lost control of her bladder.  Dianne put up a changing screen in front of the window as she changed the towel and the batteries in the butterfly.  As the power was turned off momentarily, Angela started to come out of her reverie, but it was too short lived as the new, long life, batteries powered her tormentor to new heights.  She was only just aware as the other woman placed a drink to her mouth and forced her to take a few sip.

Finally, it started to get dark and, as the lights came on in her little world, Dianne returned with a new changing screen.  The battery had started to wear down, but Angela still noticed the absence as Dianne turned off the butterfly and, after undoing her various restraints, stepped onto a box behind her and lifted her off of the pole.

Angela collapsed back into her manager’s arms.  It took ten minutes for her to recover enough to stagger out of the window.

“Well Angela, I have sent the mannequin off to our sister store.  They say that they can repair it, but it will not be here for another week.  So I want you to show up nice and early tomorrow, so that we can get you ready in time.”

Angela grunted but didn’t say anything.  She simply staggered back to her workshop and got changed.  Her legs were like jelly as she made her way painfully home.

The next day, Angela arrived with a sense of trepidation.  Dianne was quite cheerful as she helped her employee get changed and led her out to the window.

Dianne has been busy, Angela mused as she noted the new, knobbly dildo mounted on the re-sized pole.  It appeared to be made from flexible rubber and sported a smaller, two-inch protrusion at the rear.  Fortunately she did not have to worry about knickers this time, or lubrication, as she felt her pussy gushing with juices in anticipation of the day’s activities.  Stepping onto the block, which Dianne had positioned and, steadying herself with the other woman’s arm, Angela eased herself onto the pole and clicked her right shoe into the metal plate once she had eased herself down the length of the dildo, impaling herself for another day of wanton exhibitionism. 

End