Soft Clothes Novels & Stories

Z woke up with her body sore and itchy. She felt a soft and light something cradling her skin like clouds were rubbing to her flesh, but it made her uncomfortable. All her years, she’d become at home with rough and heavy clothes, so she knew she’s wearing something different.

The soft rug beneath my feet that felt like walking on air. Everything about this room felt like it had been designed specifically for me. And when I opened the closet, my breath caught. It was packed with clothes. Designer clothes. Beautiful, expensive pieces in fabrics that whispered luxury with every touch. Cashmere sweaters in soft neutrals. Silk blouses that caught the light. Jeans that looked like they’d been tailored to fit me perfectly. And they were all my size. Every single piece. I pulled out a sweater—cream-colored and impossibly soft—and checked the tag.

I was straddling his lap. "Get ready now. I wanna take you out." **** I was perplexed knowing after twenty seven spanks, I was still able to walk. The pain was unbearable, and Silvio provided no comfort either besides a dress that was baby blue coloured with lace decorating its long sleeves and bare neck. It was A-line, with tremendous amount of silky softness. The fabric felt soothing to my burning flesh. My fingers gently rubbed over the fabric. Silk. And unfortunately, I was not given any undergarments.

He’s a dead-end street. I take my time picking out my outfit, settling on a periwinkle blue maxi dress with long sleeves and sandals. It’s a synthetic fiber, but I like how it flows when I walk. Silky and soft. I don’t have a lot of sensation around some of my worst scars, so I like soft fabrics that whisper over the skin I can feel.

They went on, walking around the store. She got especially attracted to the clothing section. Who wouldn’t? Tiny clothes in the fuzzy fabric that surge yawns at the first touch. 100 x tinier than the buyer, which sometimes makes them wonder if it is made for a baby poodle. And those little ruffles and sweet wordings embroider to raise at the front. An industry that strives on cuteness. Sarah fell in love with one particular piece, a light, apple green socks with white dots. Her hand subconsciously extended to reach for it. Her soft thumb caressed over the material. It was extremely soft to touch that it made her smile.

I asked. She laughed, and shook her head. “Then the government would also know to.” I sighed and turned my eyes to the mask I was sewing for auction. I had asked some servants for materials and equipment, and gave the excuse that I wanted to patch up some of the clothes for the kids. I realised, since this was a thing for mafia families, there was a huge chance that Jude would attend it. I didn’t need him to hear I was stitching up a mask, and have him putting two and two together.

He had to move a couple of throw pillows to the side to make room for Saint, who hopped up on the furniture and immediately nestled in his lap. Fiona sat with her legs tucked under her and casually sipped her drink. The clothing she wore appeared soft to the touch, and he couldn’t resist reaching out and running his fingertips down the fabric of her arm. “You’re so soft. What kind of material is this?” Chris asked, before taking a hefty swig of whiskey. “It’s cashmere.” “Nice.” Of course, it was cashmere. Did he think she’d slip on something as common as cotton? He looked down at his polyester work

I lay dazed for a beat, then I shoved the earring back under his pillow. The sound of the hair dryer stopped. When Spencer walked out, he was wearing navy-colored loungewear. After being in the steaming shower, his skin was now as clear as porcelain. His hair lay flat on his head, and this caused his usual icy demeanor to soften. I did not know how to explain it, but this Spencer looked kind of docile. I was just about to call out to him, but voices suddenly rang out from the other side of the door. My expression stiffened, and I completely turned to stone.

I sighed, and crumpled the paper into a little ball, throwing it over my shoulder before walking to the tiny closet. “You’re not getting out of it this time Aspen.” I said to no one, and started sifting through the immense amount of clothing in the small walk-in closet. Every kind of fabric hung on small padded hangers. Long dresses in every color shimmered under the light, made out of the softest satin and silk only a king could afford. Shelves were stacked with pants and t-shirts, and there was even an entire shelf just for different kinds of under garments. I picked up a small black and red lacy piece, holding it up to the light to get a good look at it before tossing it aside. Who even n

George stepped into the bathroom, yanked the soft towel around his waist away and turned on the shower. The cold droplets of water trailed down his hot tingly flesh and he let out a deep sigh of relief. Reaching for a jar of soap and his sponge, he washed himself clean from the day's work.