Natalie’s Secret - A Fashion Show

Natalie's Secret

Thank you. Last night was an adventure - my own personal one-woman lingerie show. It was better than Victoria's Secret for multiple reasons: the model was the most beautiful, I had a front row seat (the only seat), and it was total pleasure and pain.

When I showed up to your house last night, the candles, incense, and Korean folk music played low created a nice ambiance. But mellow... I was worried my plans for treating you to some rough play were a wash out - you were going to treat me to some "vanilla-only" tonight as revenge for not consenting to some of your domme demands 5 weeks ago. I"m Dom tonight, like 90% of the time...

You called me from upstairs to come up. Good start, I"m thinking. I can head straight for your bedroom, no detours.

You're in your bedroom, standing in the middle, wearing dumpy cleaning lady clothes."Sorry... your'e early, you say.

"No, we agreed on 7:00."

"It's 7:00 already?" You play-act. "I guess my watch is slowing. Sorry you see me like this! I better go change. Why don't you have a seat? Please use the chair. In fact, I insist."

I see next to your bed that there's an oak office chair with arms. I sit and you come out from behind a folding Korean room screen that's blocking your dressing area.

"Oh, I forgot to kiss you in welcome," you say. You come out still wearing the cleaning lady duds, and have a pair of jeans in your hand. They're mine, the ones I gave you last week for your church bazaar because they are too tight on me.

***

Last week:

I had a pair of expensive designer jeans in 'discard pile' in my living room. You asked me what was wrong with them. I mentioned they were way too tight on me so I was going to toss them in a charity bin. You asked me to try the jeans on and let you be the judge if they were too tight.

I replied: "I know they're too tight. Before I even zip them up, I can feel my balls being crushed and I can barely do up the zipper. I thought they would look sexy--skintight and showing off my ass, but way too tight and don't loosen up even a little with extended wearing. The discomfort is so bad that I don't even want to think about sex when I wear them. It must be a self-preservation instinct, because If I ever had an erection in these jeans...and well, where would the swelling go? There is no place for expansion!"

"You're right" you said "they would look better just slightly larger. Too bad. Can you donate them to my church's bazaar?"

I agreed.

That was my undoing. I had given you a wicked idea.

***

Now there we were last night, you wanted me to put on the damn too-tight jeans. "Put them on... now! Or get out of my house."

"Shit!"I think to myself. "What did I do to piss you off?"

I started to doff the jeans I arrived in. I was wearing my new really thin pair of black ultra-sheer ice-silk underwear.

"Ooooooh... I like those!" You drool out. "Manties!"

I roll my eyes. "Men can wear nice, non-sackcloth underwear. They're thin, breathable... perfect for a hot summer day."

"And nearly see through!" you laugh.

Anyway, I was fortunate to wear them because the jeans she forced me to wear were still way too tight. Thicker underwear would have made things just that much tighter. 'Going commando' would not have been better--going without underwear in those jeans would have been like sandpaper on my tender spots, I think.

I put the jeans on and zip up, with difficulty... then do up the top button, with difficulty. Like last week.

"OK, sit!" you order.

I forgot to mention earlier that sitting was near impossible. I got a reminder of that again last night. I was slowly easing myself into the chair like an 80-year-old man, until you pushed firmly on my shoulders and I plopped into the seat--and in a bit of discomfort.

"Comfy?" you ask.

"Not really," I wince.

You asked me to hold still... or leave. I agree and you pull out some rope from the pockets of the baggy cleaning clothes. You tie my wrists firmly to the arms of the chair.

"I get it, you're Domme tonight... without telling me."

"Not at all, Sugar," you say. "I'm treating you to a fashion show. Ta ta." And you prance away to behind the screen.

I hear the rustling of undressing/dressing, and I'm anticipating seeing you in some super sexy erotic new outfit. Except... I know I better not get aroused or move too much. Ouch!

You dance out wearing your Taekwondo dobok and black belt. OK, not so sexy clothing, and certainly not new... but you do look super hot in it! You start to go through a form; your firm, muscular body executing turns, punches, and kicks with precision, power, and speed. I'm impressed! And proud of you!

You bow. "That was the black belt form called 'Taebaek', which means 'Bright Mountain' in Korean." You start to disrobe. You let the dobok top and pants fall to the ground and you step out of the white mound. Your breasts are white mounds! You're wearing a black ultra-sheer panty and bra set that would match my underwear, except yours have solid black polka dots. You laugh, dance and pirouette in front of me, your twirling reveals the white mounds of your firm sweet, perfectly-shaped ass.

"Oh my"... I drool. You stop and stare me down.

"You divined that I'm Domme tonight. Even you aren't dull enough to miss that! Your Domme says no talk from you! Only grunts and nods."

I nod in understanding. And I also start feeling increasing discomfort. Your lingerie is killer... and killing me! My cock is firming.

"Oh shit!" you say. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. An erection in those jeans would be really uncomfortable, and maybe even painful if your cock zigs when it should have zagged. And here you are... with tied hands so you can't unbutton and unzip... or even shift your package. Let me kiss it better!" You kneel in front of me and lean in as if to give me a blowjob, then stop. My cock is really swelling now.

"Wait a minute..." you tease, "bad idea! I should hide out of sight behind the screen so you stop seeing me and the arousal will go down." You walk behind the screen.

I shake my head and grunt. "No!" I'm thinking, "A blow job would be perfect! You'll release my cock from this torture chamber... sweet enough! But with your expert wet mouth sucking me fully, and bobbing forcefully... that's what I need."

I can hear you changing behind the screen, and you pop out in other outfit: scarlet satin tap pants and matching satin bullet bra, and scarlet satin robe. You model expertly, turning, cat-walking with a firm icy/detached look locked onto your face. You glide by, circling me in the chair. You stop.

"You may touch me, when and where I ask. And stop when I say so. You may caress, slap, or pinch as you please. If I approach your face, you may only smell and moan. You may not lick, kiss, or bite me!"

You turn and bend away slightly exposing your panty-clad ass to my tied right hand. I can move my hand only a few inches. I firmly caress your firm perfect ass though the silky-smooth satin. I just start pinching your firm flesh when... "Stop!" you command. I stop. More pain now, because touching you was distracting me from the pain of my compressed cock and balls. But touching you also made me get much bigger and harder!

You lean in and push your cleavage in my face. You use your hands to smoosh your luscious tits around by mouth and nose. I breathe in your perfume... and continue to squirm.

You prance off behind the screen. I'm aroused / tortured by your parade of 18 more lingerie outfits in a variety of fabrics (satin, lace, sheer nylon, silk...), colors (black, red, champagne, blue, violet...), patterns (solids, polka dots, stripes...) and styles (bra/panty sets, girdles, belts and garters...). You have an impressive undie collection and you're only showing me half. I know this because you tell me. You also count off the outfits as you step out from behind the screen : "Here's number 3!"...

...the night moves on... "You"ll loooove number 12!"...

***

Then there was outfit #15, a steampunk leather corset with buckles, and nothing else--no bra or panties. You turned around and bent over into my face, pushing your dripping wet, fragrant pussy onto my mouth, and then your earthy, heady-smelling puckered ass firmly against my nose!

***

I'm sighing with relief when you say "Here's number 20!" Last one! I mean, I'm going out of my mind with new heights of lust with every single outfit, but I'm also hurting badly down below.

Number 20 was also a knockout: cream-color lace boy's shorts and matching cream-color lycra crop top with long arms. It's so sheer I can see your nipples standing perfectly erect behind the thin film of the lycra that molds itself around those delectable strawberry nuggets. I'm beside myself with horniness... and an equal measure of pain. I NEED to get out of these jeans.

You go through the modeling routine for #20 that you had rehearsed. You don't allow me to touch or smell you this time. (You are getting more turned on, too, and your pussy smell is more intense now, filling the room.)

"I know this has been a delightful and erotic show for you, and too short in some ways--but also perhaps too long and painful for you in other ways!...With your stiff cock and big, meaty balls stuffed in those tight jeans... They must be a mess! I'd be afraid to look!" You pout, mockingly.

"Let me change into something more comfortable." and you skitter off.

Behind the screen I hear you giggle "...something more comfortable! That's so cliché... I can't believe I said it."

"Give me a few minutes!" you sing out.

I wait... and wait. My senses have been dulled because of my focus on my swollen stiff cock, bent into a funny position--and my balls: I can both feel them (ouch) and alternately not feel them! Are they going numb?

Then I ignore the pain for a few minutes and prick up my ears. I can hear 'snap, crackle, and pop' sounds riffing repeatedly from behind the screen. I know it's not Rice Krispies. "Fuck! She's putting on latex!" my mind screams. My biggest fetish, which you have only gotten into since meeting me. I envision you behind the screen, slathering silicone lube on your skin, and then carefully rolling, slipping, sliding, gliding, pulling, and tugging some sexy latex enclosure on. More 'snaps, crackles, pops', as you make final adjustments, smooth out wrinkles and ripples and start shining with latex polish and a buffing cloth.

I've never hated my cock until now. My mind wails: "stop torturing me, cock! Stop torturing me, YOU!"

You step out. You look like a super hero. Youre wearing a gleaming, glistening black latex catsuit with zippered crotch and a full head mask with large eye holes for your immense, beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, and two small nose holes. Your mouth is framed by a cut-out mouth in the latex mask, perfectly tracing your vibrant scarlet lip-sticked lips, with about a 1 cm gap on all sides. You smile seductively. Your eyes burn, smolder, and flash wickedly.

"Rescue is here at last!" you coo. You saunter to me, the latex riffling and squeaking as you cat-walk and your inner thighs rub together. I notice you have your Taekwondo black belt around your waist and a large black satchel in your hand as you kneel in front of me at my feet. You place the satchel behind you. Then you lean in slightly and unbutton and unzip me. Oh my fuck! The sweet relief. I was ready to cum then and there from just being out of the pain.

You look up at me. "You know why I picked the form Taebaek--'Bright Mountain'--for my starting performance? Your cock must be looking like a mighty bright mountain right now!"

You lean in further, tug my jeans down a bit, and then pull my filmy, thin, pre-cum wetted underwear (OK, manties!) over my cock, which is now standing straight up after release from "jean jail".

"Yes, it looks like a bright mountain--soon to be "bright and shiny mountain" after I apply some of my mouth dew!"

You lean in further still, your lips just touching the tip on my cock! Then you straighten up and pull away... fuck! You are a tease!

You raise your right index finger as you start to scold me. "I should add: yes, this is punishment--deserved punishment--for not being a good sub last month and not consenting to what I thought were not unreasonable demands. OK, I'll never ask you to try on a cock cage again. You should have tried it, though. You might have found it less painful than tonight."

"My other demand, before I suck you to ecstasy..." You pause... and reach behind your back with both hands. You present me first with a coil of white rope in your left hand and then, with a dramatic flourish, you put your right latex-clad fist inches from my face. From it dangles a gleaming black dildo, the length and girth of my own cock--in a strap-on harness.

Your face moves in until our noses touch. I smell your sweet breath, your lipstick, and the over-powering seductive scent of your latex. You plant a long, wet, tongue-probing kiss on my mouth. You fill me with your tongue, it darts and thrusts against my tongue. We kiss for over 10 seconds.

"You weren't too big on trying out pegging for the first-time last month, either. You refused outright, in fact. 'Non-negotiable!' You said. I figured a dildo inside you-- matching what you pack in front--is a good starting size."

I groan and then nod my consent. I know when I'm beaten.

You give me a wicked lop-sided grin.

You finally pull out a cowboy hat, leather vest, and assless leather chaps from the satchel and hand them to me. "I'm not the only one who'll be wearing a costume..." you tease. "Yeah, baby! I'm riding a cowboy tonight!"

-END-

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