As I watched his inspection of me I noticed him lick his lips
imperceptibly. Yes, he was interested. No doubt about it. His gaze rose to my
chest, which in this sweater at least appeared to have a little breast mass
slightly hidden beneath the fabric. I’d caught sight of myself in a reflection
earlier and been surprised how my body did seem quite feminine. I put it down
to the effect of the heels. There’s no doubt they force the body into a shape
that exaggerates the bum and chest.
Claude was still sizing me up. His eyes moving over me like
the exploring touch of a blind man. I could almost feel his stare.
I took some pleasure from the idea that this man, who ever he was, had clearly developed a lustful desire for me. It was, of course, ridiculous. I was not interested in the man. My interest was in how he was responding to me. I felt something curious. Power. Yes, that was it.
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.
Clothes Maketh The Man is an iconic serial about crossdressing that’s been running since 2016. New episodes are added monthly, as we follow the hapless adventures of Andy – or Andrea – as he progresses in a tortured path fuelled by curiosity, passion and excitement.
Have you ever felt that perhaps you’ve placed your trust in the wrong person? Well, welcome to Andy’s world. He progresses from seemingly innocent situation to catastrophe with a regularity that will entertain you, and hopefully you’ll never experience. Imagine the moment when a trusted friend says ‘Trust me!‘ – and suddenly you realize things are going to go very, very badly.
You can always find the latest version of Clothes Maketh The Man by using the search box on the home page of http://FionaDobson.com – or just by using this link. Search For Clothes Maketh The Man.
If you’re enjoying the story, be sure to comment on the pages!
I’m delighted to say that I’ve released Part 18 of Clothes Maketh The Man. You will need to be logged in to read it, but for those of you enjoying the ongoing story of the hapless Andrea, you can find it here. A taster is below.
Now, let me remind you precisely where we are. I found myself in my walk in closet, crouching down, in five inch heels. You can’t imagine how that hurts after just a few moments. Just feet from where I was, on the other side of the closet door, was Mandy (my girlfriend), who had arrived at my place and let herself in unexpectedly.
Through the louvres of the closet door I watched and my blood ran cold as I realised she was dialling my number. There by my feet were the trousers with my cell phone in the pocket.
In that moment time seemed to stand still, hanging in the air, like an unplayed note in a musical score. I held my breath
Mandy had returned from her overseas trip and I’d forgotten the date. It had crept up so suddenly and now she was back, standing in my bedroom, looking at a pale pink tee shirt and leggings that were strewn about my bedroom…