Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories 
From: nostrumo@nienor.in-berlin.de
Subject: TG: Clothes Fetish by Anniwund E. Mariner
Date: 4 Nov 1995 02:10:41 +0100

			    Clothes Fetish
				  by
			 Anniwund E. Mariner

	In the note it said to go up to the first floor where a
hallway separates several bedrooms. In the note, it said to enter the
first bedroom on the right of the hallway. Once I was inside, I found
a ottoman with its back to the window. The floor was covered by a dark
blue carpet and the walls were white and bare. In the note, it said to
open the closet door. I found an equally barren closet except for a
dark blue suit outfit handing on a coutouriere's hanger. In the note,
it said to shed present apparel for apparel in closet and that's what
I did.

	As I took the suit jacket off the hanger, I discovered many
more items suspended from the bar of the hanger. G-string panties, a
garter belt, stockings, a silk camisole, white blouse, bracelets,
earrings, and so forth. I did not know how long I was given to put on
the entire outfit. To me, it was simply another fetish house-cleaner
session that I took on as a part-time occupation to feed my bills. If
what the deviant-customer wanted was a career woman to clean his/her
house, then that's what will follow.

	I took my time getting into the outfit properly: It was a
shawl-collared wrap-around blouse with pearl cuff-links. It glided
nicely over the camisole. Once I tucked both into the dark blue skirt
- that was tight and short, but long enough to be realistic - I
snapped on a three-strand pearl choker necklace. This customer was
into getting the details correct, I thought to myself. I shrugged on
the jacket and buttoned it before going into the bathroom to have a
look at the mirror. On top of the close-lid toilet, a pair of suede
four inch heels sat waiting for my feet. I got into them promptly.

	In the mirror, my dark hair was brushed and straightened and
very business-like. I adjusted the jacket until it was perfectly
centered before going downstairs to the library, where the note said
to wait.

	When I got halfway down the stairs, the front door banged open
and a figure came in from the flood of the afternoon light. He was in
a red horse riding jacket with black velvet collars, a white cravat
tucked around his neck, white cotton breeches and shiny black riding
boots. He walked over, looked me up and down with steely grey eyes,
before turning me around with one hand on my shoulder. He made no
comments but I felt he approved.

	Before I could make a complete turn however, he pushed me onto
the stairs, and yanked my skirt up to the small of my back. I tried
desperately to crawl up the stairs but kept on sliding down from the
well-polished wooden surface. He ripped my panties off and fell on top
of me. His lips next to my ears hissing, "you're just begging to be
fucked, around you, you slut, you just want it don't you?" His cock
pushed against my anal opening as I pleaded incoherently for him to
stop. With a vicious thrust, he nailed me to the staircase with his
unlubricated cock while my screams echoed through the house.

	I could feel the texture of his leather boots against my
stocking encased calves as he rode me feverishly. My whimpers were
divided into rhythmic beats with each of his thrusts, my face mashed
against the stairs. When I was about to lose consciousness, he pushed
my ass together, squeezing his cock, before he pulled out, turned me
around to face him, and ejaculated a thick bucket of hot semen all
over my suit and blouse. Then as I looked at him catching my breath,
he lowered his crotch on my face and rubbed the remaining cum on the
tip of his rod against my cheeks and eyes. He wiped his tool clean
with my hair before zipping up his breeches.

	When he was satisfied that he looked every bit the proper
hunt-master, he knelt down leisurely between my thighs, slid the front
of my skirt against my belly and proceeded to suck my eighteen year
old, smooth shaven cock until I was sore and red.