Romans & histoires Crossdressing Tales

Then I stand up and cover myself with a small robe placed on the chair beside me. I feel soreness when I walk but it is not painful as last time. I move towards one door and open it. Inside I see so many dresses hung on a metal bar. There are so many beautiful long gowns along with some less fancy gowns. There are lots of different shoes too. I love this.

My father turned his face towards the huge window in his office which had an amazing view of the NYC. “What took you so long Caroline?” He spoke while he faced the window. “I thought today is a special day so I should not miss out and get all dressed up for you.” She said and walked near my father. The scent of her perfume was so strong that my father couldn’t resist but turn towards her. She stood close to him in her shimmery red dress which reached her knees. Her hair were straightened and untied. She had red lipstick on her lips which looked absolutely stunning.

He drags the heavy metallic door to something I suspect to be a garage… Oh, no! I freeze. Watching the dangerous weapons in the almost dark room. St. Andrew’s cross. Chains and carabiners. Spreaders bar. Floor-to-ceiling mirror. A table with dirty costumes; masks, dildos of thick sizes, vibrators… gags, blindfolds, whip… Red unholy candles. Thick bumps sprout on my naked body, not out of the fear that kills. But the one that destroys every inch of your body till you're loose.

Raja entered his room, but what he found was Tales, shirtless and without any undergarments, standing in front of his bed. His forehead creased as he looked at him. He couldn’t believe it, knowing that Tales was always repulsed by the thought of showing his body to him, let alone having sxx. But the Tales standing before him now was in a trance-like state. His eyes were dazed, devoid of liveliness, and he had a grin on his face, as if being pleasured by something.

The e-mail showed that Selena was Googling pornographic websites - specifically sites which catalogued and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text which was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories which dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was apparently reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just pages later.

“Yeah. Just...take it easy.” “Fine. But this is kind of exciting! Just look around. All these half- naked people on the dance floor, making out at tables. Just...this is kind of turning me on” I looked around. We packed the dance floor with ladies in thongs and high heels and men in boxers and silky robes. A couple of women were making out in a booth as a pair of men watched. I locked eyes with a shirtless guy with nipple piercings that glinted under the lights. His eyes bored into mine, his erection visible in thin, white boxer briefs. His body, with its broad shoulders and taut muscles, reminded me of Nathan in healthier times. I had to look away. I clinched my thighs and threw back my gla

The box also contained a pair of white, patent-leather high-heels. The letter was at the bottom of the box. She unfolded the singie sheet of paper and read the italic script. All was revealed. avid’s fantasies had always followed a pattern. They featured two themes, which Clare recognised from her own extensive reading on the subject of sexual behaviour. The first was what the books liked to call submission. He wanted her to dominate him. The second was an element of transvestism. David liked to wear women’s clothes, more precisely, their underwear. Whether this was a separate strand of his sexuality or part of his desire to be submissive, Clare did not know or care. But it was there. She ha

Even before Cordelia grabbed the book, she knew what she was going to do. As Cordelia lost herself in the story, she imagined she were one such nymph. Eagerly, she began to remove her bodice, letting her ample breasts escape a little. Next, she took off her blue dress, and then her petticoat. She lay back in only her white corset, shift and stockings. Slowly, she began to run her fingertips up and down her body. The curve of her hips led to her tight waist, then her soft breasts overflowing her hard corset.

I was panting, my chest heaving. “You’re a spoiled, drunk little bitch who almost killed a woman tonight,” he said, his voice calm. Deadly calm. “You think your daddy’s name is a magic spell. It’s not. Not with me.” “What are you doing?” My voice was a whisper now. He didn’t answer with words. He hooked his fingers into the neckline of my dress and pulled. The fabric tore right down the middle with a loud rip, exposing my lace bra. I gasped. The cool air hit my skin, and my nipples tightened instantly, straining against the lace. No. This isn’t happening. But a traitorous heat was pooling between my legs, a thick, unfamiliar ache.

Selling my body was the only way out. “You look so hot, Liora,” one of the girls purred. She stood in front of me, her eyes roaming all over me, taking me in. “Men will bleed their bank accounts dry to own you for a single night.” “I feel naked,” I whispered, tugging at the hem of the dress. It was useless. Every time I moved, the silk rode up, exposing more of my skin. “That’s the point, honey,” she laughed. “Tonight, you’re just a prize to be bought.”