TV NUDIST free porn video

My name is Clinton Crayle, and I'm a very different kind of Private
Eye. I specialize in untangling the kinky sex problems of the very rich.
My fee is One Thousand Dollars a Day, and I'm seldom out of work. My
clients know that my discretion is absolute and I guarantee my results.
So if you're rich and in a jam, come to my office. Harold Belt did....

"Mr. Belt," I said, "Your problem sounds interesting. Blackmail
from a professional Dominatrix is, fortunately, rare. But from what
you've told me, it's very real in your case."

"I guess I was a fool to write her all those letters," He sighed,
drawing a cigarette from a gold case. "All my innermost fantasies, in my
own handwriting. But I thought she could be trusted...."

"Most mistresses can be," I said, "this woman, this what's-her-
name...."

"Carla."

Belt lighted his cigarette with a flick of a very expensive
lighter.

"Carla Dare, my - my Dominatrix for over a year."

"What I'm wondering," I went on, "Is why you haven't tried to get
the letters yourself, or hired some other, less expensive, P. I. to get
them for you."

"I have," He said, "But Carla seems to have a fool-proof set-up
where she's living now. There's no way I can get close to her without
her knowing it. And the last detective I hired quit the case without
even telling me why. He just handed me his incomplete report and told me
that even if he found out where the letters were hidden, he wouldn't be
able to get to them. I knew then that the man I hired would have to be
the best in the business - You"

"Thanks," I smiled. "Now let me see that report while you fill me in
on this fool-proof set-up."

Harold Belt explained. And as he spoke, I realized why no one could
get close to Carla Dare without her knowing about it in advance. I also
figured out why she'd waited until May to start her blackmail and had
set September as the deadline for Belt to pay her a cool Million. I took
the case.

And started preparing for a visit to Carla. At the Sunny Acres
Nudist Camp.

It's not easy getting into a place like Sunny Acres. You have to be
recommended by a current member, have your own camper, provide
references, pay dues and abide by some strict rules. Fortunately, I have
some good connections and Harold Belt provided me with a generous
expense account. In less than a week, I was driving my rented mobile
camper through the woods of upstate New York and into an assigned
camping spot at Sunny Acres.

"You'll find the water and electric hook ups over there," The
Director told me. He was a healthy looking man, just over middle aged,
wearing nothing but sneakers and a suntan.

"The showers are right next to the General Store, where we also run
a Post Office," He went on, "Mac - that's the big fellow down at the
gate - he runs mail out to the Post Box, and he'll fetch things from
town, if you should need anything."

"Sounds good," I tried to act casual, talking to this naked man.

"You'll find us rather liberal here," The Director continued, "Some
Nudist Camps are pretty strict about young people having a good time,
but we feel that as long as it's consenting adults - uh, you are an
adult, aren't you Mr. Crayle?"

"Sure am," I answered, "Twenty-eight last January." I'm used to that
question. My youthful looks and longish hair have often let me pass for
a much younger man.

"Well, we feel that as long as you don't do anything really raunchy
out in public, or don't force yourself on others, you shouldn't have any
restrictions here that you wouldn't have, say, in a Single's Bar.
There's only two rules that we enforce strictly."

"First, as long as the temperature stays above Sixty Degrees, you
have to be naked when you leave this camper. Shoes are okay, but no swim
trunks or anything like that. This place is a camp for Nudists, and
anyone who can't accept that can just - well, you understand."

"Sure," I smiled to hide my uneasiness. "What's the other rule?"

"Well, a few years back, some blue-noses passed a law that places
like ours have to provide separate hygiene facilities for men and women,
and that includes showers. Now not every camper is as nice as yours, Mr.
Crayle, so a lot of folks use those showers. And you'd be surprised how
often some guy will try to get a peek into the Women's showers. You sure
wouldn't think you'd have a problem like that at a Nudist Camp, but I
guess it's a case of forbidden fruit looking sweeter. Anyway, a thing
like that could cost us our license, so we have an attendant at the
Lady's Shower twenty-four hours a day. Any man who tries to sneak in
there gets thrown out of Camp. Immediately. Well," he seemed unsure of
how to go on. "I guess that's it. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Crayle." And he
left.

Alone, I undressed and pondered the situation. If Carla Dare was
living here, as Harold Belt had told me, she certainly did have an
interesting set-up No one Could come onto the property without her
knowing about it, so she'd know who to watch out for. I imagined that
she'd check out newcomers like myself pretty closely. And it certainly
would be hard to sneak Burglary Tools around in a Nudist Camp. This
wasn't going to be an easy case, I reflected.

Well, the first thing was obviously to find Carla Dare and get some
idea of what I was up against. Feeling shy and uncomfortable, I slipped
the keys to my camper onto a chain around my neck, took off the last of
my clothes, and put on a pair of sandals. Here goes nothing, I thought,
as I walked out onto the grounds.

It was odd at first, walking around like that. There were few people
about, since it was getting on toward evening, so I felt rather awkward
and isolated, as though people were staring at my nakedness from
somewhere. My pale skin did set me off from the crowd, and a few young
girls pointed at my white bottom and giggled. I tried to act casual, but
my stomach fluttered inside me and I kept fighting back a blush.

I soon reached the general store, however, and got a stroke of luck.
As I entered, I heard a woman complaining to the attendant.

"Damnit it anyway! Mac couldn't get into today, and you folks can't
even sell beer. How's a lady supposed to get a drink around here?"

I looked at the tall, dark-haired woman, with her firm, high
breasts, long legs and ripe ass and I recognized her immediately as
Carla Dare from Harold Belt's description.

I wasted no time taking advantage of this chance.

"Excuse me," I smiled, "Maybe I can help."

She turned and looked at me, mistrust in her eyes. Then, she
grinned.

"Well, a Cotton-tail. And who might you be?"

As her eyes swept over me, I felt myself covered by the blush I'd
been fighting. Her amusement at my paleness was very disconcerting.
Nonetheless, I pushed on.

"Err- -Clinton Crayle's my name. I just got in this afternoon, and
it -uh- it happens I have a g-good supply of Spirits in my trailer if
you'd care to..... to... er...."

This was Silly I felt so shy and awkward. Me, who'd given smooth
lines to dozens of girls before, now stammering such a crude proposition
to this amused naked lady.

"Hmmm", She smiled, "You certainly don't waste time, do you Mr.
Crayle." She pretended to hesitate, and I wondered if she was torn
between a mistrust of strangers and the need for a drink. Somehow, she
didn't look like muff of a drinker to me. But she surprised me by
saying:

"Well, I really shouldn't. But I guess there's no harm if I just
drop by for a drink. Shall we say in about an hour, Mr. Crayle?"

"Call me Clint," I said, "I'm in lot Thirteen, Miss Da..-Miss, uh?"

"Carla Dare," She seemed not to have noticed my near-slip. "See you
in an hour - Clint".

I felt a little better as I walked back to my trailer. This was my
chance to get close to my quarry, to find out what kind of person she
was, and, perhaps, get a lead on those letters. I was nearing my trailer
when an odd voice broke in on my thoughts.

"Hi there. New in town?"

It was a tall, slender man, fairly young, his hair as blonde as
mine. A black man, slightly shorter but more muscular, walked with him.
Something about the pair seemed a little off key somehow.

"Err- Hello", I said, embarrassed all over again. "I-uh- just got in
today. Clinton Crayle is my name."

"Just call me Art," the blonde man said. He shook my hand with an
odd, caressing touch. "And this," he gestured to the black man, "Is
Roger."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Roger's voice was surprisingly soft. And his
handshake was delicate and lingering. "Art and I have the camper next to
yours," he smiled, "We're roomier."

"Why not drop over tonight, Clinton?" Art asked, "Roger and I just
love company."

Somehow, he was eyeing me just as Carla had. I felt a fresh wave of
embarrassment at my nudity.

"Uh, that-that would be nice," I said, "But I'm afraid I have
someone coming over tonight. A-er- lady."

Roger's lip curled faintly.

"Well," he said, "Some other time, then. Good day."

As the two men walked to their trailer, I thought I saw them holding
hands. What a narrow escape that was.

Back inside my luxurious camper, I checked the tape deck, fluffed up
pillows on the bed, and made sure the portable refrigerator was chilling
the wine. I set out some crackers and pate and took a quick shower,
drying off and powdering myself with talc. I wanted Carla to be
impressed with me.

There was a rap at my door.

"Coming", I called. Naked, I padded across the thick carpet and
opened the door.

And got something of a surprise. Carla was standing there fully
dressed.

"Well?" She smiled at the shock on my face. "Aren't you going to
invite a Lady in?"

Not waiting for an answer, she swept in.

"Oh, it's lovely."

I had a chance to get over my surprise and take a closer look at her
now. she was wearing an elegant black gown, gathered at the neck,
shoulderless, with a very low cut back. Silk stockings, high heels,
jewelry and a rather large purse completed her outfit.

"How did you...?" I stammered, "That is...I thought you'd be..."

"Naked as a Jaybird?" She smiled, "Well, that's hardly the way for a
demure little lady to come calling on a man she's just met. I carried
these things over in this bag and put them on in the shadows outside.
But I think you look simply charming. Mmmm, smell nice too."

"Excuse me, while I slip into something," I started.

"Oh no you don't." Carla was still smiling but there was a firm
undertone to her words. "As long as I'm the guest here, I want you just
as you are."

"But...but I feel kind of funny this way. I mean, with you dressed
and all."

"Nonetheless," She stated, "If you want my company here, you'll stay
naked. If you put on as much as a slipper, I'm leaving."

"Well," I didn't want to lose this chance. "I guess if you put it
that way, I can't get dressed."

"Fine," She said, "Now show me about the place. Then you can serve
me some wine."

She seemed impressed by the luxury of my camper.

"How nice. You even have a shower. I have to use the Camp shower
facility. Oh, and a wet bar".

As she toured through the small trailer, I noticed that she examined
things rather closely. My closets, lockers, even my refrigerator, all
got a thorough once-over. As if she were looking for something. I
wondered now, just who was checking out whom. It occurred to me that
perhaps her complaint in the General Store had been just a come-on. A
trick to get a closer look at the new-comer, me. Was it possible -that
this striking woman was a lot sharper than I'd thought?

But she soon relaxed and let me pour her some wine.

"You look so cute, serving like that", She giggled, "You should have
a little apron".

"I'd be glad to wear anything right now," I said, "My feet are
getting cold."

"Hmmm," She considered, "I suppose I should let you wear something."

"I'd be very grateful," I urged.

"But you know," She went on, "I can't be too careful. I mean, a
woman alone with a man, in his rooms, after you've seen me nude. I'm
afraid that the wrong clothes might make you - oh, how shall I put it? -
too masculine and aggressive. I wouldn't want you to force your
attentions on me, after all."

"I'll gladly wear anything that will make you feel safe."

"Word of honor?" She teased.

"Word of honor," I confirmed.

"Very well, then," To my surprise, Carla reached into her purse.
"Put this on."

It was a lacy white apron.

Before I could say a word, she was behind me, tying it around my
waist, securing the apron strings with an elaborate bow.

"Carla"' I winced, "What is this? That's awfully tight."

"No buts. put them on. And the shoes, too or I leave this instant."

Reluctantly, I pulled the dark stockings on. They molded themselves
to my legs, hiding the trace of masculine hair there. Then Carla
squeezed my feet into her five-inch heels, tightening the straps
herself.

"Nice," She said. "The heels give a very sexy swish to your walk.
Move around some for me." "Well it's such a tiny thing," She explained,
"It can barely fit around even this slender waist of yours. There, I
think that's charming."

I didn't. I felt awful in the frivolous thing. It seemed to be a
mere nothing of white nylon lace, and the bow in the back called
attention to my bare rump beneath it. In front, it barely hung low
enough to cover my privates.

"Carla, must I wear this?" I complained.

"You certainly must," She insisted. "And that's not all," She
slipped off her high heels, reached up under her gown, and started
removing her dark hose.

"You were complaining about being cold," She said, "These should
keep your legs nice and warm."

She handed them to me. Dark, thigh-length hose with elastic tops.

"I can't wear those," I protested, "I mean, they're so feminine".

"They'll go very nicely with that cute little apron," Carla said. "I
know you're a man, and there's no one else here, so you needn't worry
about that. you want me to stay, don't you?"

"Of course I do. But..."

I did as she ordered. The heels were awkward and a little painful,
but I managed to walk around in them.

"Very good," Carla beamed, "You certainly know how to move that ass.
Now, just a little makeup and you'll be all set."

"Makeup", I squeaked, "Carla, that's going too far."

"Nonsense," She said, "It'll wash right off. It'd sure be a shame
for me to leave now after you've gone this far, but that's what'll
happen if you won't wear just a little makeup."

"Well," I wavered, "I guess you've got a point..."

Minutes later, I surveyed myself in the full-length closet mirror
and felt a flush of shame.

Carla had combed my hair into a girlish wave and put a white ribbon
in it. It seemed terribly feminine. But that was just the start. Eyebrow
pencil, eye shadow, even false eye lashes combined to give my eyes a
soft, sexy look. Powder and rouge softened my features and brought out
my girlish cheeks. And my lips had been painted an alluring, kissable
red that matched my brightly-colored fingernails.

Carla hadn't stopped there, though. Working skillfully with the
rouge, she highlighted my bare chest, emphasizing the slight curve of my
breasts, darkening the aureoles. As I studied my self in the mirror, I
could scarcely believe how remarkably feminine I looked.

"Admiring your body, Sweet?"

I turned at the sound of Carla's voice, embarrassed all over again
by my appearance. Then, I was amazed to see that she had removed the
rest of her own clothing and was lounging nude on my couch.

"Guess I can get comfortable now," She said, stretching her tawny
body. "You certainly don't look masculine and threatening any more.
Serve me some more wine and then put some music on. I want to see how
you look when you dance."

As I timidly obeyed, I realized that this woman must truly be a born
Dominatrix. Here we were, after barely an hour and she'd reduced me to a
feminine maid in my own camper. I scampered about, blushing every time I
caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wondered how she had done
this to me.

Well, I thought, it's only temporary. Just till I could find out
where she was hiding those letters from Harold Belt. Boy, would she feel
foolish when I got them.

But for now, it was me who felt silly, simpering about at her
command as she lounged nude on my couch. Somehow, I found her lush body
incredibly exciting, even as I rebelled at the indignity of my own
appearance. I felt odd stirrings of arousal, and I'm sure Carla noticed
my twitching cock. This went on for more than an hour, until she
said:

"Well, it's getting late, and I imagine you're tired, so I'll be
leaving now."

"Leaving?" I asked, dismayed. "But it's only Nine O'clock. Can't you
stay a little longer?" Besides, I thought, I still hadn't a clue as to
the whereabouts of the letters.

"Sorry, Love," Carla smiled sweetly. "If I stayed much longer, I'm
afraid I just couldn't control myself. I might just eat you up, you look
so sweet. And on the first date, too." She shook her head. "No,
beautiful, I'm afraid you wouldn't respect me if I let you have me so
easily," She stood up, flaunting that magnificent body of hers as she
studied the frustration in my face. "And I guess you know, I insist on
respect from men"'

"Can...can I see you again?" I asked weakly as Carla put on a pair
of sandals.

"You certainly may," She smiled, putting her clothes into the bag,
"You may walk me to my trailer if you'd like"'

"Oh, I'd love that"' I said, "Just give me a second to change."

"Uh-uh," She shook her pretty head. "If you want to see me again,
you'll have to walk me home just as you are now"'

"But Carla"' I protested, "I can't go out like this"' I gestured
down at my feminized state, my stockings and heels, my apron, hair
ribbon and makeup. "If anyone saw me, I'd get kicked out of camp"'

"It's quite dark out tonight," Carla said, "If we're a little
careful about where we walk, no one will see you. Come on, it'll be a
real lark"'

"I don't know," I said, "I feel just awful like this"'

"Tell you what," Carla urged, "I have a very important bit of
information for you. Something very sexy and exciting that I know you'll
be interested in. If you'll walk me to my trailer, I'll tell it to you
when we get there."

I was hooked. And we both knew it. I couldn't pass up the chance to
learn something else from this mysterious woman. Carla waited outside as
I put out the lights and fastened my key chain around my neck again,
then snuck out of my trailer, locking it securely.

"Ooo, isn't this exciting?" Carla giggled in delight at the sight of
me, outside in my feminine embarrassment. "You're so sweet to do this
for me. Here, here's a little present for you."

So saying, she held up the onyx necklace she had worn that evening.
She stepped behind me, and, with a little difficulty, fastened it around
my neck.

"There"' She smiled, "Now you're just perfect"'

But I was too busy looking around me to appreciate her addition to
my humiliating appearance.

"D...doesn't seem to be anyone around," I ventured cautiously.

"Oh no," Carla informed me, "There's a big dance over at the Main
Building. Most everyone will be there. My trailer's in the opposite
direction, so we're not apt to see very many people."

"Thank goodness"' I shivered, although the night was warm. "Let's
get going"'

We must have been an odd sight. Carla, naked, walking confidently
slow while I, dressed in bits and pieces of feminine attire, minced
awkwardly beside her, hips switching, trying to hurry her along.

"Don't be so impatient," Carla chided, "It's not far, really."

"Oh Carla," I whined, "It's so hard to walk in these tiny shoes' And
I'd just die if anyone saw me like this"'

"Well then you'd better think of something fast. You're much too
young to die, and someone's walking our way."

I saw the figure in the light from a trailer, even as Carla spoke. A
tall, well-built man, totally nude. And walking right toward us!

"What'll I do?" I gasped.

"He hasn't seen us yet," Carla said calmly. "If I were you, Sweetie,
I'd scamper over behind those bushes and hide. You can catch up with me
after I get rid of him. But you'd better hurry"'

She didn't have to tell me twice! Panic-stricken, I trotted into the
shadows and hid there, watching.

It was a strangely erotic scene. The naked male and the nude female,
meeting on the path, their perfect bodies gleaming in the moonlight. As
I watched, the man engaged Carla in conversation. They talked for a
while, and I could see that the man was trying to lead Carla back the
other way, toward the dance. She shook her head softly, however, and I
could see that the fellow was disappointed. To make up for it, Carla
kissed him, and it was so wild, seeing their bodies come together as
they embraced.

I watched from my hiding place, strange emotions running through me.
Excitement at seeing such an erotic display. Confusion about my peeping-
tom eavesdropping. Tension, I mean, what if Carla did go off with him
and I never got to find out what she had to tell me? And above all, fear
that somehow this man might see me in this awful feminine get-up.

But at last they broke off their passionate embrace. The man went
his way and Carla hers. I hurried to catch up with her.

"My," I panted, "That was close"'

"Mmmhmm," Carla sighed, "Closer than you realize...yet." she looked
at me. "I guess that little scene must have excited you, Darling"'

I looked down and saw to my embarrassment that my cock was hard,
stiff and straining under the apron. Carla gave it a delicate caress.

"Don't you feel silly," She teased, "A girlish little thing like you
with a hard-on? Did he excite you that much? Or is it those feminine
clothes that turn you on?"

"I'm not into that. I'm not"' I insisted as Carla grinned broadly
and gave my cock another squeeze. "It's just...oh, I don't know."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to think it over tonight," Carla
said, "We're at my trailer."

As she unlocked her camper, I noted with surprise that it was the
same make and model as my own, but a different color. This woman must
really have some money put into this project if she was living as well
as I was.

But Carla started talking, and I tried to clear my confused mind and
listen attentively.

"Well," She said, "I'm going inside. You can't come in, so you'll
just have to walk back to your trailer alone. Think you can find it?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now for that bit of information I promised you. Here it is:
I've been very mean to you tonight."

"You have," I tried to make it a statement, but it came out sounding
like a question.

"Mmm..., meaner than you know...yet. You see, you won't be able to
get those things off until you get back to your trailer. That apron is
tough nylon, and I knotted it very tightly. You'll probably have to cut
it off. And your shoes are fastened shut with tiny locks on the buckles.
I left the key under your couch cushions. You can't take off your
stockings over your shoes, of course, and the makeup, the necklace, even
your cute little hair ribbon, will all be very difficult to remove."

"I...I guess I'll just have to hurry back and get inside my trailer,
then," I admitted "I just hope nobody sees me."

"I hope so too, for your sake Sweetie," Carla stepped inside her
trailer and spoke to me through the open door. "But there's no hurry.
You see, when I put that necklace on you, I secretly slipped off the
chain with your keys on it. You're locked out of your trailer, all
dolled up in feminine clothes that you can't take off"'

My hands fluttered up to my neck, searching for the key chain, but
found only Carla's necklace. She saw my eyes widen and quickly
continued.

"Oh, I don't have your keys, Beautiful," She said, "I gave them to
that guy back there on the path. I said I'd found them and asked him to
hang them on the bulletin board right outside the Main Building...where
the Dance is being held. You'll have to wait until the crowd breaks
up...about Midnight...then try to sneak up under the spotlights and get
your keys without anyone seeing you. Good luck, Girlie"'

And she closed the door.

"Carla'" I cried, desperately, "Don't do this to me' Let me in!"

But her only reply was to turn on the outside light, sending me
scurrying into the protective darkness.

Huddled there, I shivered in dread at this woman's fiendish
ingenuity. I knew that the penalty for wearing clothes in public here
was immediate expulsion from the camp, a penalty that would effectively
prevent me from carrying out my assignment. Carla knew it too, and must
be really enjoying the double cruelty of tricking me outside in women's
clothes. I had to hide, now. Not only to keep from being kicked out, but
also to avoid the awful embarrassment at being seen this way.

Keeping to the shadows, I made my way toward the Main Building. It
proved to be harder than I'd expected. I knew the general direction, but
it's difficult to find your way around a strange place at night. I had
to listen carefully for noises and scan the darkness for the glow of
party lights. As I got closer to my destination, however, more and more
people were about. I had to jump behind bushes, apron strings flying, to
avoid being seen, and make wide detours in those awful heels to skirt
groups of revelers.

Finally, I found a spot in a grove of trees where I could just see
the Main Building and wait for the Dance to end. Time seemed to slow,
almost to stop as I waited there in my feminine garb. With no watch, I
had no way of knowing how long the Dance had to go. People kept arriving
and leaving randomly. And although I was too far away to recognize
anyone, quite a few stopped at the large bulletin board mounted on posts
outside the building. What if one of them took my keys by mistake? What
would I do, I wondered?

After an eternity of discomfort and suspense however, I at last saw
the crowd thinning out. More time passed and more and more of them left.
Finally, I saw the director lock up the entrance and leave.

At last, I thought. Walking stiffly in the tight heels, looking
cautiously about for any chance passers-by, I sashayed up to the Board.
Quivering under the merciless spotlight, I searched for my keys. But
what I found instead was a note:

DEAR CLINTON,
APRIL FOOL! I REALLY LEFT YOUR KEYS ON THE
GROUND IN FRONT OF YOUR CAMPER. HOPE YOU
HAD A NICE TIME COMING ALL THE WAY OVER
HERE AND WAITING AROUND LOOKING LIKE THAT!
LUV THIS,
CARLA

Furious, I snatched the note down and scurried back to my camper.
The keys were on the ground, just as the note said. All that waiting,
that dreadful embarrassment, for nothing. Inside, as I removed the
shameful feminine garments and rubbed off the makeup, I began to calm
down a little. And as I moved around the camper, I began to notice
subtle little tell-tale signs.

The place had been searched! And now I knew that I was up against a
truly brilliant opponent.

Thinking back over the night's events, I saw just how clever Carla
had been. She'd arranged to start off with me naked, so that I couldn't
hide anything on my person while she gave the trailer a quick once-over.
I had noticed her subtle search, and she had noticed me noticing. So she
had cunningly arranged to get me out of the trailer, wearing clothing of
her choice, and keep me out for hours while she came back and gave it a
thorough search. By now, she would have found my P. I. license and would
be fairly certain of what I was So after. It looked like she held all
the cards now.

All but one.

I thought I knew where she'd hidden the letters.

I was up late the next morning, after spending most of the night
thinking. All night, I had tried to put myself in Carla's shoes -
figuratively, that is - and think like she must be thinking. She had a
good set-up here at Sunny Acres and she wasn't likely to blow it just
because a Private Eye showed up. She'd scared off one Peeper already,
and after the way she'd handled me last night, she probably wasn't too
worried about me getting very far with this case.

Of course, she didn't know about all my resources. She probably
figured that I was just another guy whom she could easily dominate, as
she had last night. And she didn't know that I knew where she was hiding
the letters.

Well, I didn't know for sure, but I had a pretty good clue. Last
night, while touring my trailer, she had admired the built-in shower and
mentioned that she had to use the Camp Shower Facility, that "Women
Only" facility that the Director had warned me about. And according to
my predecessor's notes, she did go to the Shower Room every day.

Yet, after making that humiliating walk over to her place, I had
found that her trailer was the same make and model as mine, so she must
have a shower of her own.

Now why would a woman with her own shower visit the Camp facility
every day? Obviously, she must be hiding something there and wanted to
keep an eye on it. The letters!

As soon as I figured that out, I knew it had to be right. Such a
place would appeal irresistibly to Carla's cruel sense of humor. A spot
that was guarded Twenty-four hours a day, where she could come and go
freely, but no man could follow. The penalty for even trying to sneak
into the place was immediate expulsion for any man, and Carla would know
instantly if I were to bring a woman into the camp. So she probably
thought the letters were completely safe there, and yet tantalizingly
close.

Yes, that would appeal to her, all right.

But I thought I could outsmart her.

It was the crack of dawn, two days later, when the car bearing the
bearded man pulled up in front of my trailer. He seemed a little amused
at the sight of me answering the door naked, but he quickly carried in
the heavy suitcase, straining under his bulky sweater and baggy
trousers. As I locked the door behind him and drew the blinds, he
slumped onto the couch, panting.

"The least you could do," he said, as the false beard came off, "is
give a lady a hand."

"That would have been a sure tip-off," I said, "I think the two guys
in the next trailer are watching me, and I can't have them suspecting
there's a woman here. You won't be able to stay very long, either, or
they'll get suspicious. We'll have to make sure they see you leave as a
man, also. I know it's a lot of trouble, but after all, I'm paying you
well enough, Evelyn Traynor."

I should explain, dear reader, that Evelyn Traynor was known to me
as an exceptionally talented woman. She runs a well-stocked Boutique for
transvestites in a large city and she's a master - or mistress - of
cosmetic disguise. Some time ago, she had even transformed me into a
woman, complete with false breasts and a tiny wig that managed to cover
my male organs and disguise them as a woman's pussy hair. In this state
- much against my will - I had been forced to work at a Gay nightclub
for nearly a week by two sadistic teenagers before Evelyn would
transform me back. She, of course, hadn't known that I didn't really
want to be made over into a female. She was only doing her job, and
doing it quite well at that!

But now it looked like I could make good use of Evelyn's unique
talent.

"You sounded very mysterious over the phone," She said, opening her
bag. "But you are paying enough to make all this trouble worthwhile. You
said you wanted the 'Skin Out' treatment again..."

"That's right," I said, "I'm sure you've noticed this is a Nudist
Camp," I was almost casual about being naked by now, but I crossed my
hands over my lap as I sat in front of this amused woman. "I want to
pass as a woman here. It's that simple. You made me into a perfect copy
of a naked woman once, and I know you can do it again."

"Yes, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," She said, "Just
lie down on the couch there. I see you've already shaved off all your
body hair. That'll save us oodles of time, Dearie!"

She moved around out of my sight for a moment, then returned with a
hypodermic syringe.

"Now this won't hurt much at all, so be a brave little girl!"

To my surprise, she gave me two shots, one on each side of my chest.
She hadn't done that the last time.

"Oooo!" I complained when she was finished, "What was that for?"

"The last time I transformed you," Evelyn explained, bustling about
with more equipment, "I glued false rubber breasts to your chest. This
time, I thought I'd give you something a bit better. The substance I
just injected into your chest is a sort of concentrate. Over the next
hour, it will mix with the fat in your chest and swell up, giving you
real, natural looking breasts!"

"Real breasts?" My eyebrows shot up in shock. "But I don't want...
How long will they last?"

"Oh, Six to Twelve weeks," Evelyn said casually. "If you want to
conceal them, you can always wear-loose clothing, as I'm doing. Now
spread your legs, Dear, it's time for me to work on your jewels."

How awful! I thought. I certainly hadn't planned on being stuck with
real breasts for nearly three months! But it was too late to stop now.
Meekly, I spread my legs and let Evelyn go to work on my privates.

Evelyn Traynor's Pussy-wig involves an elaborate process, with
several secrets known only to her, but I think I can explain the basics
of it.

First, she applies an ice pack to the genitals, causing them to
shrink as a natural reaction to the cold. Then, she takes advantage of
this temporary effect by slipping the cock and balls into small,
confining devices, making the reduced size permanent.

An oval-shaped semi-flexible plastic cup goes over the balls. Evelyn
pushes this back between the legs where she glues it to the skin and
pubic hair with special bonding latex. There is a small tube mounted on
this plastic cup, and Evelyn slips the shrunken, flaccid penis into this
tube and secures it there. Thus, the total male equipment is tucked and
held firmly back between the legs, much reduced in size.

Finally, Evelyn glues a triangular wig over the apparatus, artfully
styled to look like a woman's pubic thatch. She has even shaped the
device to suggest pussy-lips. Wearing it, a man's true sex is not only
concealed, but attractively disguised as a woman's. The penis tube
permits the wearer to empty his bladder -if he sits down - but of course
completely prevents the cock from getting erect. In no way can a man in
this device ever express his true maleness until it is removed.

"You were wise to send for me to do this," Evelyn said as she
secured a wig to my head by lacing my real hair through it. "A job like
this calls for an expert with years of experience. Use the wrong latex,
and the skin will blister horribly. And I'm sure you remember that you
can't remove that pussy-wig without the proper solvent. Don't worry,
I'll leave you a generous supply. Just don't forget that if you try to
take off the pussy-wig without it, you'll rip the skin right off."

At last, Evelyn announced that I was done and helped me to my feet.
I tiptoed over to the mirror and surveyed her work.

My blonde hair, augmented by the wig, now swept quite gracefully
over my bare shoulders. Beneath it, my face was the very picture of
femininity, with long-lashed shadowed eyes, pink cheeks and sensuous red
lips.

The new breasts - that I was stuck with - were not overly large,
but they were definitely firm and well-shaped. I tentatively explored
them with my feminine fingertips and felt them swell as the nipples
stiffened embarassingly.

Below this, my shaven body now seemed totally feminine. Long, smooth
legs, rounded bottom, and there, between my legs, a woman's inviting
love nest.

I moved about before the mirror, examining myself front and back,
extending my legs, raising my arms, turning about and stepping daintily.
It was perfect. I looked totally female.

"My! I do love to see a TV enjoy herself!" Evelyn laughed.

I had almost forgotten about her. I stopped suddenly embarrassed,
not just by my feminine condition and nudity, but that Evelyn had seen
me capering about that way. I grabbed a towel and held it up to me
rather self-consciously.

"Well, I must be going," Evelyn had packed her bag and was now
putting the false beard back over her face. "I certainly hope you enjoy
your new role, Dearie. I left you a few feminine things you may need.
Have fun now!"

I blushed, wishing there were some way I could explain to her that I
wasn't a transvestite. That I was only doing this for business. Then I
looked down at my nude, totally feminine body, the pert breasts, the
shapely legs, and the soft-looking pussy. I tasted the lipstick on my
mouth and felt the odd heaviness of my false eyelashes. And I knew there
was no way I could make her believe it. I watched quietly from the
darkness of my trailer as she drove off.

Now, I thought, time for action. I quickly gathered up a few things,
a white bath towel with a few vital items rolled up in it, and a white
latex shower cap that Evelyn had left. Next, a pair of women's white
sneakers with rather thick soles and a three inch heel, laced onto my
bare feet. I clipped my key chain around my neck - no losing it this
time - and crawled out a loading door, out of sight of Art and Roger's
trailer.

I was outside now, totally feminine and naked, ready for a trip to
the showers.

It was like an out-of-body experience, walking across the camp. I
felt giddy, afraid and elated at the same time. I mean, here I was,
walking about in broad daylight, a stark naked woman! My shapely breasts
jiggled and my bottom swayed sensusly as I moved my long, shapely limbs.
The cool air on my nipples and between my legs felt oddly thrilling. It
was weird, not having the familiar masculine bulge there, and feeling
instead the weight of my swaying breasts. And it was even stranger to be
walking around in public this way without getting even a second glance -
except, perhaps for some lustful stares from the men!

One man in particular admired me rather frankly. His hot stare up
and down my body set me blushing all over and he laughed with delight as
I passed. I recognized him as the guy who had kissed Carla a few nights
ago, and I was glad to get past him without any amorous approaches.

Finally, I reached the showers. I had timed it beautifully. Too
late in the day for morning bathers and too early for people cleaning up
after the day's activities. Except for the muscular female attendant at
the doors, the place was deserted as I donned my white latex bathing cap
and stepped inside.

It took me forty-five minutes of searching before I found the
loose wall tile with the plastic bag behind it, full of papers. I
quickly I rolled the letters up in my towel, replaced the tile and left.
And it was barely a moment too soon. I was several yards from the shower
building when I caught a glimpse of Carla going in from another
direction. Talk about a narrow escape!

But I knew that I was going to have to move fast. Once she found
the letters were gone, Carla would undoubted come looking in the most
obvious place - my trailer - with all the resources at her command. I
was going to have to get rid of them, fast! Fortunately, I had prepared
for that emergency.

First, though, I had to make sure I had it the right stuff. I
found a shady knoll, where I could see anyone coming, unrolled my towel
onto the ground and stretched my naked, feminine body across it. And
started reading.


Dear mistress,

You have commanded me, your Slave Harold Belt, to write you another
of my fantasies. I must obey. In my fantasy I am a rich, spoiled
hypochondriac with a private room in an expensive hospital. The Doctors
have long since grown tired of my complaining and the only one who
visits me is you, my private nurse.

One day, I try to **** you. You easily repel my attack, then
threaten to have me thrown in jail. I plead for any punishment but that.
We agree that you will impose your own punishment, and I must take it.
You shave off all my body hair, then start wrapping me in plaster
bandages. They go on easily when wet, but soon start to harden, like a
plaster mold. You bind me up in them with my arms behind my back, elbows
meeting. You force me to suck in my stomach, and wrap me very tightly so
I can scarcely breathe. You make me arch my back and stick my chest out
and you cut round holes in the front so that my bare breasts stick out
like a woman's. Above the waist, only my face and breasts are left free
of the confining mold.

And then you start in below the waist. You wrap the bandages up my
shaven legs that I cannot bend my knees, stopping at the tops of my -
thighs. You wrap my ankles and feet so that I can only walk on tip-toe.
And you tape my cock back between my legs, since I won't be needing it
again, you say.

Finally, you force me to look at myself in a mirror and it's so
awful, seeing what you have done to me. I'm Completely covered in smooth
plaster, except for my face, breasts and butt. I have no arms, and my
narrow waist emphasizes my flaunting ass and blobs.

I beg you to release me, but you only laugh and make me tiptoe
around the room. I must depend on you totally now, for food, cigarettes,
even to go to the bathroom. You sit me on the floor and force me to
orally service you. It excites me terribly, but my cock can't get free
from the plaster confinement. You climax, and to reward me, you paint my
body sheath with flesh-colored paint and spank me because now I look
naked.

That night, you smuggle me out of the hospital. You take me to an
exclusive women's club where everyone laughs at my silly helplessness.
They put wigs and makeup on me and dress me up like a doll. I must stay
there, you say, as a plaything for all the women, and....


There was more, pages and pages of it, but that was enough. Harold
Belt certainly could imagine some elaborate predicaments! Then, I
remembered where I was and how I was with a start. Talk about some other
guy's dreams, here I was looking totally feminine, bare assed and bare
breasted in broad daylight, my male organs hid by a pussy-wig. And in
this vulnerable state, I was holding onto letters that were worth a
Million, with a cunning Dominatrix after them!

But I had prepared for this, I reminded myself. From my towel, I
took a large pre-paid mailer, already addressed to Harold Belt. I sealed
the letters in it and headed straight for the Camp Store and Post
Office.

But once there, I had a problem.

"Mac's already taken out the Mail for the day, Miss," The naked man
behind the counter told me. "It's Ten-Thirty now, and the Mail Truck
gets to the post box around Eleven. But if you Just leave your package
in the bin over there, it'll be okay."

Sure, I thought. This was probably the second place Carla would
check. She'd have little trouble filching the envelope from that open
bin. Then, an idea hit me. Without a word, I raced out of the store.

As quickly as I could, I trotted toward the main gate. If anyone
thought it odd, seeing this naked blonde woman in high heeled sneakers
running around with a rolled up towel under one arm and a bulky envelope
under the other, no one said anything. If only I could reach the gate
and get Mac to take the package down the half-mile to the post box, I
thought, I'd be safe.

But Mac was not there, and the gate was locked securely in his
absence. Out to lunch or on an errand, I thought. What rotten timing.
There was a phone by the gate, so I could call an attendant, but I knew
that by the time anyone got there, the Mail truck would have been long
gone.

What I did next may sound foolish, but I was desperate. I couldn't
afford to have Carla find me with the letters, and there was no place I
could hide them. I had to get them out to the Mail Box - and right away.

Summoning up all my courage, I looked about and saw a good spot
where I could climb the Twelve-foot chain-link fence that surrounded the
camp. There was a tree with some low-hanging branches just above the
barbed-wire top that I could use to help me over. Taking advantage of a
narrow gap near the gate, I passed my towel and the envelope through to
the outside then put on my white latex bathing cap to keep my hair from
becoming tangled in the branches.

And I climbed over the fence.

It was easier than I'd expected, since the fence was designed to
keep people out of the camp, not in. There were plenty of footholds and
the limbs of the tree outside were springy enough for me to swing easily
down to the ground on them. Once safely down, I picked up the towel and
envelope and ran down the trail toward the Mail box.

As I ran, I felt suddenly fearful. I was outside the protection of
the Camp now, nude and feminized. What if somebody saw me? I remembered
that the road where the Post Box stood was rather well-traveled. Oh,
heavens, I thought, what if somebody catches me this way? I had visions
of amorous truckers pulling me into their rigs and carrying me miles
away from my trailer and clothes. It would be horrible to be abandoned
this way, looking like a woman, wearing only bathing cap and sneakers,
at some sleazy truck stop, motel or road house.

But the road was mercifully deserted when I reached the post box. I
quickly inserted the envelope, wondering if the Mail Truck had passed
yet. My answer came seconds later as I heard it rumbling up the road
toward me. I quickly ducked back into the bushes and watched as the
driver picked up the mail and sped off.

Well that was taken care of. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now to get
back to my trailer, my own body and my clothes. Might as well leave
tonight, I thought.

It was not to be so easy, however. Back at the fence, I discovered
that my earlier observation was truer than I'd thought. That fence was
designed to keep people out. There was no way I could climb back in near
the gate. I thought about using the call-phone to summon someone from
the office, but then I reflected. They'd want to know what I was doing
outside. They'd want to check my name to make sure I was a member. Even
if I wanted to reveal my true sex, they'd never believe that I was
actually Clinton Crayle, their wealthy male guest.

No, I was going to have to sneak back in. Some way.

Fearfully, I began walking along the fence line, looking for a good
spot to climb. All my anxieties came back now, stronger than ever. What
if some hunters saw me? Or hikers? I heard once about a young
schoolteacher who was caught skinny-dipping by a troop of Girl Scouts
who forced her to accompany them on their hike. They took her miles into
the woods, away from her clothes, and forced her to act as their nude
slave for the entire two-day camp-out. How horrid it would be for me, a
man, to get caught like that and be trapped in this feminine body.

After walking the perimeter of the fence for what seemed like hours,
however, I finally found a suitable tree growing close to the fence. I
knotted my towel into a large ball and tossed it over. Then, with a
little difficulty, I made it up the tree and over the fence. Inside at
last!

By now, I was quite a ways from the main part of the camp but I felt
much safer as I strolled through the woods. Not so worried about being
caught. It was kind of a trip, really, to be transformed so completely
that I could pass as a woman, totally naked, in front of everybody.

I was so taken with this strange sense of unreality that when I
reached the main part of Camp, I decided to prolong it just a bit. I was
sweaty and dirty from my efforts, and after all, I might as well take
advantage of this while I could. So I went back to the Women's Showers.

This proved to be even more delightful, for the showers were quite
crowded now. All around me, slippery female bodies lathered themselves
up and rinsed off. I tossed my shoes into the trash, since I wouldn't be
needing them again, put on my bathing cap and joined in.

What an experience, to be surrounded by all that femininity. Inside
my pussy-wig, I could feel my cock tingling. My breasts grew firm as my
nipples stiffened with arousal. Finally, I had to turn the water on very
cold just to keep my composure.

After I dried off, I realized that I probably wouldn't be needing my
shower cap or towel again either, so I chucked them in the trash, too,
and headed back toward my trailer barefoot, wearing only my key chain.

That last stroll was really something. I flushed with the success of
a mission accomplished. My long hair felt good on my bare shoulders, and
my pert breasts jiggled delightfully. A cool breeze wafted across my
bare bottom and the grass felt good between my toes Nonetheless, I was
looking forward to freeing my male organs once more and putting on
clothes again. I rounded the corner to my parking area, lot Thirteen.

My trailer was gone.
Someone had simply driven off with it.
Leaving me stuck here.
Like this.

I nearly swooned in shock, staring at the bare ground where my
Camper had been. Suddenly, I wanted to throw my hands over my nakedness
and run for cover. It seemed worse every second I thought about it. I
couldn't report the theft to the Camp Director, because I couldn't prove
that I was a registered guest here. Not without the solvent for removing
the disguise over my genitals. Or some cream to remove my makeup. Or a
mirror to help me get my wig off. Or a baggy sweater to cover my... my
breasts!

Everything I needed was in that stolen trailer. I had no money, no
clothes, no place to stay and no one to call for help. I was stuck here,
unable to leave or to make myself look one bit less feminine. Stuck in
this Nudist Camp and in this nude female disguise.

I knew immediately, of course, that it was Carla's work. Once she'd
found that the letters were missing from her hiding-place, she had
probably come immediately to my trailer. She couldn't have known when
I'd taken them, of course, but a quick check with Mac would reveal that
I hadn't left the Camp. At that point, the next step must have seemed
perfectly logical to her in a deliciously cruel way. She'd know that the
letters were either with me or in the trailer. So she could cover both
possibilities with a single bold stroke - steal the camper. If the
letters were hidden there, she'd have them. If I still had them, then
stealing my camper would effectively prevent me from leaving with them.
Either way, she had me.

I wandered about the Camp for over an hour, trying to look natural
and composed while my mind was in an uproar. What to do? Then, the idea
hit me. It seemed risky, but worth it. The one person who could get me
back my clothes was the one who had stolen them. And it to me that, with
a little bit of luck, manage to pull off a very tall bluff, holding no
cards at all.

Mind made up, I headed for Carla's trailer.

The voice that answered my knock was Carla's, coming from within her
trailer.

"Come in. It's unlocked."

Taking a deep breath, I entered the trailer. It was very similar to
mine, in a different color scheme. Carla, dressed in the black gown she
had worn a few evenings ago, was at a portable desk, her back to me. As
I entered, she calmly turned, then stopped suddenly, her eyes widening.

"Who are...? I was expecting... Wait a minute!" She rose and walked
over to me, staring intently at my feminized body. Then she simply broke
up laughing

"Oh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Uh-hee!"

I blushed beet red from head to toe as she took in my appearance.

"So that's how you did it. My, how charming! This is even better
than I'd thought! Ah-ha-ha! Are these real?" She ran her hands over my
breasts, then tweaked the nipples. My wince of embarassed arousal set
her eyes gleaming.

"You certainly went to a lot of trouble, Mr. Crayle," She smiled,
"Or is it Miss Crayle now? Whatever did you do with your mannish organs?
I must say this is a distinct improvement."

"Very funny," I fumed, "Shall we get down to business?"

"Certainly, my Dear," Carla said with false sweetness, "Whatever did
you want?"

"You have something of mine," I said.

"You're wrong," Carla replied, " I have everything of yours,
including, now that I look at you, your true gender and identity."

"Give them back!" I snapped.

"Why, whatever should I do that for?" Carla's voice sounded like she
was talking to a little girl. "It's only a question of time before I
find the letters in your trailer. And you look so sweet like this. You
could make a great career as a stripper," she giggled, "If you had
anything to take off."

"You may be right about the letters being in my trailer," I half-
lied, "But you could search it for years and never find them." That much
was true anyway. "You need my help as much as I need yours."

"Are you suggesting a trade, Little Lady?" Carla could tell that her
constant references to my feminized state rankled me, and it delighted
her.

"That's right," I swallowed my anger and went on, "The letters in
exchange for my trailer and clothes. I've put more than enough work into
this job already, and Harold Belt isn't paying enough for me to become a
full-time woman. Just take me to the trailer, I'll give you the letters
and we can both go our separate ways."

Carla considered.

"I guess it would save some time," She reflected.

"I can promise you that," I insisted, "Without me, you'll never get
those letters."

There was a bit more haggling, but before long Carla was driving her
mobile trailer out of Sunny Acres, with me crouched on the floor beside
the passenger seat. I had to hide there, because Carla had adamantly
refused to give me any clothes. Just as well, I thought. When we got to
my Camper, I'd want plenty of freedom to move. As you've probably
guessed, I planned to overpower Carla when we got there and simply take
back my trailer. I figured that I could use the element of surprise to
my advantage. Meanwhile, I sat with my bare rump on the cold floor,
knees drawn up to my breasts, hugging my smooth legs as we rode down the
highway and I tried to pump Carla for information.

"What about Art and Roger?" I asked, "The two ..er.. guys in the
trailer next to mine. Are they in on this with you?"

"In a way," Carla said, "They're both clients of mine who had some
interesting bisexual fantasies. I got them to come here for an extended
get-acquainted session and they both just love it. Of course, they're
also good friends of mine, so they were happy to keep an eye on your
comings and goings for me."

"Sounds like you're pretty well-organized," I said, brushing a stray
lock of hair back over my bare shoulder.

"I call it 'meshing'", Carla explained, "I try to find clients whose
fantasies can be blended with those of other clients. I pair the sadists
with the masochists, the submissives and dominants, the gays, even the
readers and the writers. I used to type up Harold Belt's fantasies -with
minor changes, of course, and send them to a dominant husband and wife
team in Connecticutt. They just loved them, and they can hardly wait to
meet Harold in person."

"Meet Harold?" This was news to me. "How are you going to arrange
that?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Carla asked casually, "That's what I was
working on when Harold chickened out. So I moved up to Sunny Acres and
told Harold that he could either come up and get his letters back
himself or else send me a Million Dollars to ease my hurt feelings. I
figured once I had him up here, naked and cut off from his money, his
natural masochism would make him bend to my will," She smiled down at
me. "I never dreamed that he'd find such a shameless Little Lady to come
and get them."

Through my embarassment, I tried to digest this new bit of
information. Belt had told me only half the truth. Carla Dare, it
seemed, was more interested in his body than in his money.

That changed things, but only a little. True, I was no longer
dealing with a purely mercenary female, but now I could see Carla for
what she really was, a woman for whom Domination was all-important. She
had gone to great lengths just to force her will upon Harold Belt. I
shuddered to think what she might do to me if she found out I had foiled
her.

"We're here." Her voice broke in on my thoughts as she parked the
Camper.

"Is it safe for me to come out?" I asked, rising timidly to my feet.

"Sure," Carla nonchalantly went to the door. I followed, shivering.

Outside, I could see that we were in a rather heavily-wooded area,
and my trailer was fairly well concealed among some trees. Carla and I
walked toward it. Here, at last, was my chance.

Moving swiftly as we walked, I grabbed Carla's ankle and pulled
hard. she went down fast, with a surprised grunt. But I was long gone by
the time she hit the ground, running naked through the grass to the
safety of my trailer, breasts jiggling wildly. I reached it in seconds,
flung the door open and jumped inside.

Into the waiting arms of Art and Roger.

"Hey! Who's this?" Roger said, grabbing my arms, twisting them
behind me. I kicked and he twisted harder, until I yelped with pain.

"Steady, Girl." Art cautioned, grabbing one of my kicking feet.
"Where's Carla? Quit kicking or I'll break your toe."

"I'm right here," Carla stood in the doorway, scarcely mussed by her
tumble. "Hold on to her, Roger," She said calmly. "Art, you tie her
feet."

Art quickly lashed my feet together with a necktie. He and Roger
were both fully dressed, and I felt terribly embarassed at being handled
by them this way. I felt so vulnerable in so many ways. As a naked
person among people who dressed, as a female at the mercy of two strong
men, and as a Straight Male being pawed by Gays. Their hands seemed to
be all over me as I writhed in their grip.

Deftly, Carla tied a necktie around my neck, then, with the help of
the men, twisted my arms up behind me and tied my wrists in the loose
ends.

"Recognize her, Fellows?" Carla asked the two men when I was bound
helplessly. "It's Clinton Crayle, the Private Dick. He made up like a
woman to steal the letters from me, and now she can't get back to
Malehood."

Art and Roger looked at me with increased interest and amusement
now, and I felt more ashamed than ever as I lay naked before them on the
floor, breasts jutting out because of my bound arms, my tied ankles
emphasizing my curvaceous legs and ass.

Carla knealt down on the floor, looming over me menacingly.

"Let's have those letters, Girlie."

"Untie me", I wailed.

She tweaked one of my nipples, pinching until I moaned.

"The letters," She urged, purring.

"N-never"!

"All right." She