Strait Jacket Novels & Stories

I didn't care to open it, I just had a feeling that Kaiden would have need of them. I removed my suit and put the documents on my shirt and strapped it close. The shirt I wore inside my suit, had four straps. Two stretched diagonally to the opposite side, while two stretched horizontally in the middle, creating a bisection, and I placed the two documents carefully inside the strap. Then I proceeded to look for the documents that was of great concern to me.

In his jacket. Speechless.

I stood from my seat, speaking to no one in particular as I straightened my black jacket. The jacket itself was another annoyance. It was itchy and uncomfortable, suffocating, unlike my fighting leathers. The gold embellishments were also tacky. Everything about this was restricting. But in a world of royals, you dressed nice, smiled when necessary and only showed the people what they wanted to see.

Nahlela Today is the first day I was meeting up with Mr “sex on heels” so I have to dress to make a statement. I was going to a football field so I definitely had to dress in a sporty outfit and going to the office and then passing home to change would be a waste of time. I thought of putting on the Chelsea Jersey I used as my sports attire when I was in the university, but it was too obvious. I thought of putting on my pink tied together sweatpants with its matching no sweat crop top but decided against it. After trying different outfits, I settled for my puma classics black and pink tracksuit with black and white vans.

Together, they got the outfit they were looking for. Cherry settled for an Angelina Jolie attire once she laid her eyes on it. It made her happier that the wear was a pair. They were looking so sexy; she couldn't bring herself to ignore them. It was a red strappy wear that looked almost like a bikini but made with leather. It was strapped down the leg like pantyhose. "Absolutely not," Ixora said, shaking her head, "It looks slutty. Like a stripper's wear."

Great to see after hours of staring at swatches, nearly making me cross-eyed. I am standing between Ajax and Aries as we welcome the pack, in a lemon floor-length fishtail dress with wide, ruched straps the bust has a deep dip nearly to my naval and beads adorn the top and scatter elegantly as they get to my waist, the light bounces off them as I walk. Ajax and Aries look as handsome as ever in navy-fitted suits with lemon shirts and navy ties and lemon pocket squares topped off with brown formal shoes. These hunks are what wet dreams are made of and they're all mine.

“The clothes must merely frame the asset, not distract from it. Ensure the waistcoat is tight enough. We do not want any hint of sloppiness when the photos are taken.” The asset. That’s all I am in this suit. A piece of expensive architecture, built to stand next to Serena and symbolize the merging of fortunes. This tux is the uniform of my imprisonment, and every careful stitch is just a tighter knot in the rope around my neck. I can barely breathe, and it has nothing to do with the waistcoat being too tight. Antoine delicately adjusted the cuff of the jacket, his hands brushing my wrist. “Perfectly balanced, sir. The jacket falls precisely as it should. Now, just a moment for the mirror.”

- and a wide chest. He wore light jeans that showed his manly thighs – he obviously worked out – a dark, well-cut suit, a white shirt with an open collar and a loose tie that compelled him a masculine stripped air. The strap of his backpack went through his wide chest. It should be coming from work at that moment.

I nodded my head as I told him that I had been instructed to kneel down and follow instructions. Father Bobby commended me on my ability to learn quickly and indicated that I kneel in front of him as he sat in his chair. I complied and knelt as he instructed me on what the next few days would entail. I would be fitted with the school uniform consisting of a white jockstrap, black dress shoes, white socks, gray dress pants, a white dress shirt, a black tie, and a gray sports jacket. I asked why we had to wear a jockstrap and he informed me that it was a traditional fetish undergarment for gay men, so until we proved ourselves to no longer be sinful and full of depraved urges, we would all wea

“Where have you been?” “I went to see…” Harithen dropped to his knees, straddling Thaelen’s hips, the covers between them, trapping Thaelen’s achingly hard c-ck against the fabric without seeming to notice that he did so. Harithen scraped his fingers through the tangle of his hair, tossing the weight of it back. He wore a shirt, without it’s trimmings - there was no necktie to close its throat, no cuff links to its sleeves, the lace was torn, sheared off in places, and it’s length and cut was unfashionable for Estreau – a significant detail considering Harithen’s previous relationship to the fashion of the country.