Woman Strips Nude Novels & Stories

As the breadwinner in my family, this opportunity came at just the right time. Life took a different route for us. Mom used to work as a stripper, and it's not your everyday story, but it worked for us. I'm 22 now, and my little brother is seven. Different dads – yeah, that's how our family tree shaped up. Growing up without a dad in the picture was just the way it was. Mom did her thing, juggling the bills and bedtime stories. It wasn't the textbook family setup, but it was ours, and it kind of worked. Mom decided to retire from stripping and embrace her 'mommy' groove. At 45, she looks like an angel and defies aging norms. Leaving the stage didn't dim her spark; she swapped stilettos for a

“Strip. Take your place.” Heat flooded my face, shame and need in equal measure. I unzipped my dress, slid it off trembling shoulders, let it fall in a pool at my feet. Bra, panties, stockings—each piece removed to gasps and murmurs from the circle. Never had nudity felt so much like standing trial. When I lowered myself onto the chair, leather cold against bare skin, the Mistress fastened the restraints around my wrists and ankles. My body was bound open, displayed, vulnerable to every masked gaze.

“Strip. Slowly. Show your CEO exactly what she owns now.” With trembling fingers, Lila removed her suit jacket, then unbuttoned her blouse. Her modest C-cup breasts spilled free, nipples already stiff and aching. She pushed the pants down her hips, letting them pool at her ankles. Her massive futa cock sprang up hard and heavy, slapping against her toned stomach with a wet sound. Thick veins pulsed along the shaft, the fat purple head glistening with a steady flow of precum that dripped onto the floor.

Linda nodded her head sharply, before sternly ordering, "Good, now strip! I want to see what you have to work with." Jennifer hesitated again, but the stern expression of Linda had her slowly stripping naked. Linda watched as the adorably sexy teen stripped naked in front of her. She almost told the tiny girl to keep her socks and shoes on, loving the image of the tiny girl being naked except for that. But she dismissed the idea, for now. Once the tiny teen was standing in front of her completely naked, Linda circled the girl like a wolf admiring its dinner. She teasingly trailed the end of her riding crop over the girl's bubbly ass cheeks and perky breasts.

A small speedier this time, she washed her paunch and legs. “The underwear go too,” he ordered. Bronaugh stilled. Looking up at his expression, she took a profound breath. Yeah, affirm. No enormous bargain. It’s not like no one has ever seen me exposed before. Without a word, she snared her thumbs beneath the sides and stripped them off, dropping them into the bucket with her bra. “Now touch yourself,” he commanded.

It begs until blood is dripping from knees and tears are staining cheeks and I am brought back to the theory of irrational masochism. I look up at a piece and I vaguely remember reading through this submission a while back. There are a couple of photos next to the written portion where a woman is naked, bound completely by red rope. Wax adorns the erogenous parts of her body as she lays across a bed. The pictures are vignette-Esque, only heightening the erotic scenario and making it ten times more personal. Funny enough, it reads: You came undone with only words, responding to a foreign language only spoken by I, one that asks you to strip from your clothes and submit every inch of your skin

“That.” My gaze drops to the phone, a naked picture of her in a blue wig and a mask stares at me. Initially, I’m shocked, but I try to hide it. “Nudes?” “Swipe,” she says. I begin to swipe, it's different angles of her naked, some without her face in it, some in lingerie and then a video pops up, it's her on her bed, naked and licking a long huge dildo. That one makes me gasp, “Arielle—” I pause.

“Strip.” The command settled over her like a wave of heat. Her breath caught in her throat. She hesitated for a heartbeat, but her body moved before her mind could protest. Her fingers tugged her sweater over her head and then her bra. Her nipples peaked in the cool air of the room. She slid her leggings down next and her underwear last. She folded everything neatly, placing it to the side as if she were preparing for a medical exam. Then she stood there. Naked. Breathing hard. Victor circled her slowly, his boots silent on the floor.

“Don’t make me wait. I want to feel you both.” We didn’t need more encouragement. I lifted her easily, wrapping an arm under her thighs as Fynn stripped her dress completely off her body. Ribbons fluttered to the floor, the last delicate bindings coming undone. She was naked now, bared completely to the firelight, to us, her skin glowing, her scent rich and wild in the air.

Just as I said, I pulled into the gas station, waited for them to be out of sight and then turned around and headed back to the strip club. When I got back there, Whisper was sitting on one of the couches out in the front lobby, talking to another stripper that also got me hot when she performed. She was chunky but gorgeous. She had long dark hair, D-size tits and a nice pussy. She wore a tank top when she performed and didn’t take it off; she would just pull down to expose her tits. I guess she was self-conscious about her gut, but I still thought she was the second-sexiest stripper in the joint. I remembered her name was Nina when they announced it over the speaker hours earlier when she p