I hope you’re enjoying the ongoing serial, Clothes Maketh The Man. If you’re not already a member of my Patreon, you can enjoy the first 24 parts free. The subsequent chapters are unlocked for the remarkably generous low, low , subscription of just $1 a month.
As Andrea’s adventures become more intense she finds herself increasingly at the mercy of her own passion.
“In some prehistoric world would they have forced me down on the ground, and pulled away whatever primitive coverings I had, only to force themselves into me as they bit hard on my neck, while thrusting deeply till they were satisfied? Was I just meat to be used for their satisfaction? I felt myself quiver at the thought. How wonderful that might have been.”
It was one of those crazy situations that you just never believe can happen. I was visiting my sister in San Francisco and arrived at the airport only to find my luggage was in Albuquerque – which was not part of the plan at all.
I’d flown out of Chicago just hours before having been called to come in and interview for a position with an advertising agency, and I was excited about the possibility of a great career move. I’d packed my best suit, a shirt and some shoes, and that was about it. I could be in and out of San Francisco in a coupe of days, and I’d stay over with Jennifer, my sister.
Jennifer is one of those people others look at and think is the perfect sister. However, behind closed doors she could be a little harsh, to say the very least. I think growing up I’d seen a mean streak no one else had been exposed to. Either way, I always knew there was something a little dark about her.
I wouldn’t say I am exactly ‘sensitive’ to these things, but there was definitely something about the way she would tease me as a child. You just never knew how far it would go. And there was always the possibility it would go to far.
I pulled into the evening gridlock, the smell of Devina still in my head. The way she’d towered above me, so controlled, her big eyes inspecting me had left me feeling both more unsettled about her motives and yet compelled by the undeniable feelings growing within me.
I couldn’t help but feel desire for Devina. The woman who
was the architect of my own destruction and this unchained slavery which she
had so skillfully imposed upon me. I
knew that, despite her releasing me from the abominable chastity device, after
I had done as she had told me, I would return and lock myself up as she had
I would drive to Mandy, my girlfriend. There I would, as
Devina had instructed me, ‘do my duty’ by Mandy and then I would return. Like a
slave returning to their master. And I would be grateful.
Now, for those of you who have experienced neither chastity
nor the powerful draw of a dominant partner this may all seem rather strange.
However, there’s no doubt there is a peculiar motivation that forces us to do
things that seem counter intuitive to the uninitiated. It has to be said
though, the wife who returns to the husband that abuses her, the person that
day after day goes to a job they despise, these are equally baffling, though psychologists
will offer plausible explanations. Yet here I found myself, consciously
considering that I was so firmly bound by these chains of desire that I had
absolutely no choice but to do as Devina instructed. Could this be something like a case of
The image of Devina, tall and strong toying with me came
back to my mind. It was intoxicating. Her laugh, her power and her control. I
find it confusing and yet compelling. I wanted to obey.
The traffic was static.
My instructions were clear. Go and satisfy Mandy. How Devina knew this what
was needed I did not know, nor did I much care. My instructions were
clear. I tapped out a text message in
the frozen traffic and told Mandy I would be there as soon as traffic allowed.
I guessed this would come as a surprise to her, but a reply came moments later.
Sit down and enjoy the latest episode of Clothes Maketh The Man. Think of a nice warm fire on the beach, the waves, the soft sea breeze, and the gentle smell of the last of Andy’s self respect disappearing in a puff of smoke.
Hanging upside down hooded in some kind of arena, in front
of an audience of unknown size I found I had a moment to reflect on the
misfortunes of the last few days. As I did so I noticed the crowd fell silent,
and only soft footsteps came to my awareness.
I tried to look round in the direction of the footsteps, and as I did so I heard a gasp go up from the audience. What was that? Something surprising… something revealed? I struggled to throw off the hood but it was no good, and I heard laughter coming from the audience.