Have and Hold by Miss Irene Clearmont
“It had been good, and strange beyond belief! Being fucked by a man who was wearing stockings and heels had turned her on like never before. Her husband had been so awkward at first, but for the first time in years she had climaxed hard and it had been great! She almost shuddered to recall the way that she had forced herself on his face and the impulse to have him kiss her ass that she had resisted! That would come later!”
For one husband who thinks he has it made, the penny is about to drop. Especially when his scheming mother-in-law points out that Edith, the young wife and career-woman who married him, is aware of his harmless crossdressing. She has yet to confront him but she will. It will be her means to exert greater and lasting control over the husband she essentially keeps, and will ease into a female led marriage. Control that same mother-in-law will have no conscience in using for her own ends”
Includes crossdressing, humiliation, girdles, domestic service, punishment, caning, bondage CBT, cock cage, chastity, full steel caging and more!
A quick glance from the window into the street. A twitch of the curtains to set them straight, and then a retreat into his own special world. Heart beating fast, a nervous step across the bedroom and Simon was flipping open the laptop and logging in.
It was always like this, a furtive excitement, a helpless obsession that had to be fulfilled no matter what the risk… Of course, the risk of discovery was low, but the consequences were endless. As the screen came to life, Simon waited impatiently before the browser was open. The window into his furtive world, the entrance into a few solitary moments of gratification. Hastily he stripped every shred of his clothing, kicking his shoes under the bed, trousers and T shirt in a crumpled heap. The muffled sound of a car door slamming in the street outside caused him to jump and peep once more from the slit between the closed curtains to witness the neighbours unpacking bags of groceries from the trunk of their car.
He watched a moment, as if to be sure that their banal activities were the cause of his panic and then breathed a sigh of relief.
There was no way that Edith would be back hours early from the visit to her mother, but the possibility had shaken him. Back to the screen, the fatal log-in, the checkerboard pattern of the various snippets of film, Simon’s cock already standing straight, awaiting attention.
First things first!
A delicate pair of knickers. Satin and lace, carefully chosen and given to Edith nearly a year ago in anticipation of his little fetish. He stepped into them and pulled them high, feeling the lace scratch at the inside of his thighs, the cool material enclosing his hanging balls, his erection standing from the waistband. His head was in a whirl as he glanced at the screen of the laptop perched on the bed and decided that today was going to be a singular day.
A risky day…
The bathrobe on the back of the door was the façade that could be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Slung on to cover the shame in a trice should the front door open and Edith call to him from the hallway… Once the stockings were on, there could be no quick disguise, it would take valuable seconds.
Almost without volition, his hand reached for the diaphanous stockings and pulled them through his palms.
Soft and lacy.
The seams a wrinkled line that crinkled them as he sat by the motionless screen and gathered the soft nylon and pulled them on.
Now, Simon’s breathing was hard, a rasping effort as he carefully rolled the delicate wisps up his legs and enjoyed the feeling of enclosure.
Two thoughts enraptured him.
The first was the recollection of Edith.
The second the feeling of smoothness over hairy legs.
Just a week ago, she had worn them for him, a rare occasion that had brought tears to his eyes. Unwashed, still bearing the hint of her skin as a perfume that rose to his nostrils as he arranged the double borders on his thighs. If only she had worn the shoes…
The ones that he had given her just a month ago.
“Too slack,” she had said.
But then there was a good reason that the high heeled stilettos had not fitted. Good that she had not realised why! They fitted him, not her… Tight and gripping his foot as he slipped them onto his feet. Toes narrowed in the rounded uppers, heels lifted high, Simon stood and wobbled to admire the effect in the mirror. His eyes did not see the rough masculine hair that curled under the nylon, the poor fit of the knickers that were too slack for his narrow hips, the clash of black stilettos with the white of the stockings.
What he saw was only what he wanted to see.
A transformation of man into a slut, a creation that was uniquely his own. A sexual dream that caused heart to thump and hands to shake as they lowered to take the rampant cock and massage it ever so gently. Tempting, so tempting to go another step, but the exhilaration of risk and emotion overcame his ability to hold back. Hands massaged, the laptop with its offer of canned dreams lay open and unseen, it was just hands and the small moan that slipped from pursed lips.
Further and further; each time a more intimate and precarious experience.
There was no longer much need for the film clip, no longer any requirement for anything but the roiling thoughts in his head. Long strokes and short ones. Control was so difficult when it was all so real, when the fantasy in his head drove his hands, when he was so close to climax.
The dream had no storyline, no plot or outline, it was just a vague knowledge that he was a slut that needed to be punished, humiliated for what he was. A paradox, punishing himself for the actions that he could not help himself from acting out.
A gasp, a clenching of thighs, a thrust of hips and his hands moved to catch the outcome.
It had all been so real, but now panic took over as reality replaced his vague imagined dream. Two steps in those painful stilettos and he kicked them off. Three more to the en-suite bathroom to clean up and it was over. The stockings folded once more in the drawer, the knickers carefully placed at the bottom of the stack whence they had come, and the shoes parked in the rack next to the others as if they had never been moved.
Laptop lid flicked closed with the film still open. Frozen at the kneeling maid that was the basis of his personal fantasy.
Jeans once more on and curtains opened.
Down there in the street, his neighbours had returned for the last of the shopping and were struggling with a torn supermarket bag. Had it all been so quick?
Just a few minutes that had been longed and hoped for three days since the last time? Five minutes of pure gratification already fading fast as Simon turned to eye the room carefully and make sure that all was just as it had been when he had arrived.
The laptop in his hand, Simon shook his head and resumed his ordinary life.