1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    planning. So then, I decided it was because she wanted me to humiliate myself, completely. It fuelled the already raging fire of my jealous anger. And that, in turn, brought on the low point of that whole spring. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't the only low point. I'd walked out on her, three more times after the burned dinner, though not with the extent of bad feelings that that had caused. Once over the bras, but I already mentioned that. Once overshaving my legs. That was mostly a case of my pig-headedness. She called up the next morning, asked if I intended going places where I absolutely had to wear shorts, and I gave in. Shaved them before I went to her house, in fact. Badly, too. It took a while before they got to be smooth, instead of rashy. The third time was after April First, and convinced me that I had to complete my plans, and soon. It was a Saturday. We were puttering around the house, not really doing much of anything. She got a call to go in to work. Fine. That had happened before, and she'd just left me at home. This time, she wanted Ginny to go along. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. I'd already laid my plans, though, and for over a week had managed to avoid going out in anything like full drag. Nor was I wearing my office skirts any more. I'd even gone so far as to start wearing some of my remaining masculine underwear to school, then dropping by my apartment to change. According to the letter of what she had told me, I only had to wear a blouse when I ...
    was wearing panties, and that meant that I could also stop wearing blouses. The stockings had never been required; I'd started wearing them partly out of pleasure and partly because I figured they would be required, if I made an issue of it. So I was spending my days &#034in boy.&#034 Now, she wanted to drag me, perilously, to her office. I refused. Maybe I would have been better off accepting the implicit invitation in her eyes. In fact, I'm sure of it. I didn't, though. I lost my temper, started pulling off my blouse (I wore dresses, or skirt and blouse, while I was in her house, although I knew we'd bought some women's pants for me as well), and headed for the clothes which were still, as agreed, there by the door. When I grabbed them, I pulled up short. &#034What is this?&#034 I asked, outraged. A pair of shorts -- men's, but so what? I had shaven legs! -- and a tank top -- and I shaved my underarms, too. The tank top was *pink.* She smiled. &#034I promised a set of unremarkable clothes,&#034 she said. &#034I didn't promise that they'd be unremarkable *men's* clothes. Shall I get my copy of the agreement?&#034 She had one, and she knew it by heart. Every time she made a new requirement, she wrote that down, too, and made me agree to it explicitly. Like keeping my legs shaved, and wearing a blouse when I wore panties. Well, anyway. I stamped my foot, and wailed, &#034That's not *fair!&#034* before I even realized how ridiculous it sounded, how silly I looked. And then I got ...
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