Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 57.

– Find Part 1 here – Chapter list here –

I stared at the blotter. There it was, without a doubt. My sister’s phone number reversed, the imprint of a number written down by fountain pen and then pressed to the blotter to dry the ink.

Why on earth would Mrs. Gravely have my sister’s number. I tried to join the dot’s in my mind. Devina knew Mrs. Gravely. It was Devina who had shipped me off here. And she knew my sister, Jenn. Was it possible that my very own sister was mixed up in this somehow?

For a moment I thought how quickly all this had happened. Was it some complex and long standing conspiracy that had led me to this inevitable fate? I shifted awkwardly as I realised that I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to escape this predicament.

For a moment I hesitated, but I recovered myself quickly. I didn’t want to be caught here. After all, what might they do to poor Veronica. I couldn’t bear to think of her soft flesh cut by the lash. And Mrs. Gravely had shown she was not afraid to put this means of discipline to the test. I hurried back to the door, to a quick look to be sure the way was clear and then slipped back into the corridor and headed for my room to change my clothes.

Once in my room I took a nice simple black dress I’d chosen earlier in the day and lay it on the bed. After stripping off, I put on my robe and walked to the communal shower room down the hall way. Once there I took advantage of the fact that everyone was busy downstairs and took a long slow hot shower. I knew my role in the evenings event was over. I was expected to make a reappearance downstairs before long, but for a short time I was mistress of my own time.  I suppose that’s why I relaxed so much, soaping my limbs luxuriously. Just giving myself to the warm water and the moment.

There’s something a little mesmerising about soap, shampoo, conditioning and the releasing of muscles that have been hard at work. It’s a sense of righteous tiredness. Sex does that to me. I mean, I throw myself into it and especially now, I let me body get right into it. As a result even after such a degradingly depraved performance as I had just given, my body did feel wonderful. I smiled to myself as I thought how Mr. Butterworth had succumbed so easily. Man is but a slave to his carnal thoughts. The poor fool. It crossed my mind that I had power, and I smiled.

Was this all part of it? Teach me to use my body as an instrument of control? How fanciful that was. All the same, it was a strange thought. Teach my body to like it. Interesting.

I didn’t hear the sound of number 30 entering the shower. I just turned round and suddenly there she was. She was so silent I was shocked when I stood her standing close behind me.

“Oh, god,” I said. “You gave me a shock.”

“Don’t be so silly, Andrea,” she said.

I looked at her body glistening as the water coursed over her.

“I didn’t think you were supposed to use my name,” I said. “I thought that was forbidden.”

“Well, I’ve been here a while. And I’m going for my surgery soon. So, I figure I can get away with these things,” she said in a surley manner.

She moved closer to me, and I felt her hand on my shoulder. She began to massage soap into my skin. I moved away a little but she moved with me, and continued to moved her hand against my shoulder and back.

“30,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” she said, now moving her body against mine, slipping and sliding against me.

I was immediately aware of the fact that I had no desire to push 30 away. I could feel her chastity device against my buttocks, and instead of moving away I felt excited. It was strangely intense. Not the hot testosterone fuelled desire I had known most of my adult life. This excitement was more subtle. It felt somehow deeper. Different.

“30,” I said, “don’t! We’ll be in trouble.”

“They’re all busy downstairs. They will be for at least an hour.”

“But surely, we’ll be missed,” I said as she wrapped her arms around me.

“Shut up,” she replied. “You know you want this.”

I turned around and in a moment of comically absurd humor the two chastity cages clicked and clinked together as I pressed my hips toward 30’s.

“We shouldn’t,” I said as I felt myself begin to melt with sexual excitement. I stared at 30’s tightly strung little body. She was like a bow string, only the tight fitting cage betraying her.

I don’t know what possessed me as I sank to my knees and found myself face to face with her cage. I glanced up wards, and the smile on 30’s face told me to drop any thoughts of resistance. She was stunning.  I felt her hand on the crown of my head, wrapping my hair in her fist.

With that she turned her back on me and pulled my face firmly to her wet buttocks, hot water streaming down her. As she pressed herself to the wall, legs apart, she drew my face between her buttocks and slowly gyrated against my cheeks.

Unable to prevent myself I pressed my tongue against her ass. Working my neck and mouth to press deeper I found myself wrapping both my arms around her thighs as I pleasured 30.

I can’t say when I noticed that she was not pulling my face to her anymore. All I knew was a compelling desire to devour 30’s beautiful and ripe body with my mouth. At some point I realised I was not being coerced or forced at all. Far from it. I could not help myself my desire to satisfy 30’s desire was so powerful.

Later as I thought back on it I realised I had a sense of frustration, but not at the presence of the cage. My desire to enter 30 was almost nonexistent. My frustration was driven by the desire for 30 to use my body. I wanted her to penetrate me, even though it was entirely impossible. Yet, that desire was there. As our body’s gyrated against one another I remember feeling an overwhelming sexual high, and yet it was not driven by my orgasm. This was something else. Something deeper.

30 had giggled, gasped and writhed as my face had pressed deeply against her, and eventually I felt the warm saltiness of her emission, as it dripped down her body. I lapped at her hungrily and she smiled at me, her desires unmasked, replaced only by an eagerness as she kissed me.

“Yes,” she murmured. “I knew you were a wanton slut the moment I saw you.”

With that she stepped away, her tiny cock satiated. She towelled herself off and disappeared as swiftly as she’d arrived without saying another word.

Sitting, on my knees in the still warm shower I stayed there a moment. I felt something unfamiliar. I couldn’t really put my finger on it, and it was only a little later that I really identified it.

I felt desired. And it felt good.

11 Replies to “Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 57.”

  1. Every chapter of this story does something to me on a soul level that I find hard to explain. I am left with a desire to experience transformation like this at times.

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