Tales of Ancient Rome 2 Salidia and Lydia
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Tales From A Hard Drive free porn video
Tales From A Hard Drive
By Angela
"So 'ow did yer get 'ere then?"
"It might help if I knew where 'here' was!"
"Alrigh' keep yer 'air on!
"Look sorry... what did you say your name was? - I know you're
trying to be helpful but I'm damned if I can work it out."
"Look mate, what if yer tells me where yer was doin' ... y'know,
kinda before, like. Most of thems that comes 'ere, y'know sudden
like, finds its best"
"What do you mean 'those that come here suddenly'? Does it happen
a lot then?"
"Look mate, I'm only tryin' to help. Why dun' we start from the
beginning... again? Me name's Indie an' it's my job ter see yer
okay, an all tha' and ter see ya gets put where ya belongs... So
to help me wiv me job. I needs ter know somefink about yer...
alrigh'?"
"All right. But it would help to know where this is, then perhaps
I can work out how I got here. And why is it so dark? Am I dead?"
"Nah! Not dead! An' its not a good idea ter tell yer everyfink
first off mate. Believe me... do it my way. I've sen 'undreds
like ya - all sorts of lost souls they are when theys first comes
in 'ere. Dun' know who theys is 'alf of 'em. Nah! So just tell me
what yer was doing before like. It'll come ter yer slowly then an
it won' be such a shock. Somes goes off their 'eads in 'ere, they
does."
"But why is it so dark? I can only just make you out from that
blue florescent print on your tee shirt."
"'Lectric blue thems calls tha'. Yer'll ge' a tee in a minute.
But we have a few fings to sort ou' before tha'. Know wha' I
mean? So like I says tell me what yer were doin' before."
"Well... well... umm... I think... well I was on the computer.
Yes, on the computer... in the bedroom. The study my Mother calls
it..."
"Brillian' I knew it would come back ter yer. Always does. Well,
nearly always. Anyway get on wiv it... Yer in yer Mum's study..."
"Yes, that's right I'm on the computer in her study. I've always
disliked that word... study... it's just so pretentious don't you
think?"
"Would if I knew wha' it meant. Just keep to the facts will yer.
Tell me abou' this study then. What can yer see... what can yer
see in yer minds eye?"
I can see... Well, as I said it's a bedroom. A small bedroom, you
know... a third bedroom in a three bedroom house... a box really.
There's a desk, or is it a bench along one wall? The computer is
on that. Its green."
"A green computer!?"
"No! Stop interrupting, will you? It's... it is a Green desk, I
can see it! And next to the computer on the green desk is a TV on
a wall bracket so I can watch... whatever. It's a sort of a mini-
communications centre. There's a tiny stereo next to the computer
screen used for Mother's mp3s. Ooh and she uses it to listen to
the Archers on Radio 4 too, sometimes."
"The Archers?!!"
"Yes, I quite like them too - an every day story of country folk
- so they say."
"Get on wiv it! Yer rememberin' ain't yer!"
Yes! Yes I am remembering aren't I? So I'm on the computer...
there's a wardrobe with a single large painted flower on each
door that I notice when I first come in. There's a chair of
course and..."
"What's on yer computer screen can yer read it?
"Why is it so dark in here? I can see more blue glow coming from
over there. Are there other people over there?"
Yeah! Thems is some of the groups - gangs really they are - ya
might wanna join when we've got yer sorted out. Anyways can yer
read what's on yer screen?"
No I can't read it... but... but I think I know what it says. I
think... Oh shit! It's coming back to me. Oh my God! The stuff's
about me, there are horrible, untrue things written about me! It
says... it says... I'm a trans... I'm a trans..."
"Transvestite! Yer a transvestite! I knew it soon as I saw yer!
Least yer in the right place then."
"I'm not a trans... I am NOT a trans... whatsit!!"
"Yes yer is! Yer a transvestite! Thems all are in here mate! Well
nearly all... ya just possibly just might be one of those...
umm... aah 'transsexuelles'. Quite tasty some of thems are,
believe me! Well we'll get ya sorted out in a bit, mate. Anyways,
yer was sayin' yer a transvestite."
"No I wasn't! I was saying there's something written on the
screen that says I'm a trans... vestite." There's a big
difference you know. Just because someone puts a label on you
doesn't make it true. You seem to like labelling people?"
"Well its my job init? So if yer not a trannie... what are yer?"
"I don't know."
"D'yer know why someone says yer a trannie?"
"No... What did you say your name was?"
"Indie."
"Look Indie, I think the stuff says I like dressing as a girl."
"Yer fink? Yer must know if yer likes it or not?"
"But I don't... honest Indie. Are you an Indian is that why your
name's Indie"
"Nah! Nofink so crass mate! I was always called Indie right from
the start. I was the first one here I was. I live down that track
over there. Prime position it is where I live! I can see everyone
tha' comes and goes. My job's to help ya find yer own place, an'
'elp sort out the folks ya'd like to be wiv while yer 'ere."
"'While I'm here...' do you mean I can go back?"
"Nah! No going back. Best ter go forwards. We only goes forward
round 'ere. But we gets in quite a spin sometimes with all thems
comins and goins. Quite a spin!"
"Well can I go forwards out of here, Indie?"
"'Fraid that's not up to me, little un. Now why don't yer tell me
about when yer first dressed as a girl... That's wha' yer 'ere
for really... to tell yer story like. Tell ya what! To get yer
started on yer tale... about dressing an 'at... why dun' I take
yer to meet somes of the others in here and yer can ask a bit
about their stories, y'know how thems got started. Was theys
forced, blackmailed or trapped? Did they have a wicked sister,
bruvver or muvver. Did thems have time on their 'ands, an' was
they left alone in the house. So many tales! Them's all different
but there again them is all the same... if y'know wha' I mean?
"Come on... over here. Be quick! Mind that track... it's full And
watch that sector gap! If a bit of ya ends up in there yer dead
meat! Come on over 'ere but CAREFULLY!
"Now from 'ere yer can see much, much more. This the 'ub of
fings. Now yer can see how it's all laid out can't yer? See all
them ring roads? An' there's lots of groups camped along side
'em. Y'know all those electric blue glows over there... in that
big bunch... can yer see 'em? And those over there... Look! Can
yer see em?"
"Ye... s, just?"
"Well, little un, they're a gang called the 'Doms' - best avoid
them if yer possibly can - they just like runnin' everfink and
everyone. But tha's where I wus clever, see? I put 'em next door
to the 'Subs'. Now THEY like being told wha' ter do!! So the Doms
and the Subs get on famously and theys don't bovver me. Doms can
be a bit of a mixture, see... some gay men who dun' like to admit
it, y'know what I mean? And some Dom lesbie women who just love
having power over poor weak effeminate little boys - so watch yer
don't get caught 'ere young 'un. The Subs are trannies - y'know
transvestites, kinda like, who like bein' pretend women an' just
love bein' told what ter do and havin' their botties spanked.
Some likes havin' weights 'ung from their dodahs! Urgh!! Let's
get a bit closer an' I can read some bits of a tale for yer. See
if it takes yer fancy like... here yer go! Ready?"
***
Agatha entered the room to find Robin sobbing; still curled on
the bed wearing the sensuous satin and lace creation she had
forced him into earlier. He was bound and but not gagged.
"Roll over and let me look at you, sissy!" Agatha commanded,
standing gloating, as the archetypal PVC-clad dominatrix she was.
Robin, fearful of again crossing her and the punishment that
might ensue, rolled over on his back as she commanded.
Unfortunately, for Robin, he revealed his member to be rising to
attention. Agatha's eyes almost imperceptibly flicked to take in
his tumescence in the burgandy-coloured laced-edged panties she
had dressed him in last evening. But quickly her eyes moved on to
the soft rising swell of his breasts. She always started with
their breasts.
"My!" said Agatha, "That bra looks good on me but on you it is
wicked. Even with you lying on your back, dear, I can see that my
pop-up, push-up creation is doing wonders for you. You love it
don't you my sweet baby?"
Almost unspeakable humiliation had been caused Robin the previous
evening when Agatha had dressed him in her silky underwear, bound
him and caried him like a small, helpless soft toy into the
bedroom. She had told him that anyone pretending to be a man with
such a small 'cockette', as she insisted on calling it was doomed
to spend his days as her servant and that his cockette was to be
removed - "So your panties will fit better, sweet baby." she had
said. With her return, Robin was once again reminded of what a
helpless wimp he was.
"I see baby likes the idea of not having his cockette messing the
line of his dear little panties. Would you like me to play with
it one more time, my darling little baby girl?" she asked.
***
"I dont think I want to hear any more of this, Indie" Why are
Doms so hurtful to Subs and how can having to wear girls panties
in such awful conditions give anyone a boner?
"A boner, eh? Well! Now yer asking somefink ain't yer? See what I
didn't really explain t'yer, is that mixed in pretty close with
Doms and Subs, is a group of infiltrators. Bloody infiltrators! I
can't seem to separate 'em out. They runs me ragged thems does!"
"What's an 'infiltrator' Indie? And why don't the Doms and Subs
do something about them?"
"Who are they?" They're the S&M gang that's who - sadomasochists
the lot of 'em - bit loony if yer ask me. But it's wha' ever
turns yer on I 'spose."
"S-a-d-o-m-a-s-o-c-h-i-s-t ?"
"Sadomasochist little'un? Oh no! Not so 'little' now! Yer've got
bigger sudden like.
"Nah! Nah! I dun' mean tha'! Take that stoopid grin off yer face!
I dun' do innuendo!
"Wha' I mean is tha' ALL of yers grown since yer arrived ain't
it? Not sure where I'm gonna put yer now.
"Anyways as I was saying - sadomasochists are people who like
givin' an' receivin' pain; that's mental pain as well as the
usual kind y'understand. Anyways mos' times a sadomasochist gets
to be a pretty complex character as 'ey grow up. An' 'ey sort of
get mixed up with the Doms or Subs. So is a Dom mainly a Dom or
mainly a Sado (thats a pain giver - got it)? Or is a Sub mainly a
Sub or mainly a Maso? Strewth! I can't sort 'em ou'. So I just
let 'em get on wiv it, keeps away from 'em and minds my own
business I does... know what I mean?
Ya clearer now littl'un? Shall we move on? Come on, jump over
this segment. I'll take ya somewhere I fink ya'll fit quite
nicely. Here cop a load of this! Pin yer luggoles back... I'll
read yer some more."
***
Daren hastened away from 'Victoria's Secret' anxious to try out
his new purchases. The clerk in the shop had smiled seductively
at him as she rang up his treasures. He had bought a dozen
sumptuously, seductively feminine silk bra and panty sets; a
black heavily laced and boned corset that promised to reduce his
already tiny waist to a mere whisper of 18 inches and three of
the most gorgeous peignoirs one could ever hope to own. For a
woman it would be heaven for Daren it promised bliss! He was a
fortunate boy, having been born with genes that predisposed him
to be the svelte like creature he was.
The clerk smiled at him and lisped breathlessly, "I've written my
phone number on the back of the receipt... call me... if you want
anything. Anything at all!"
Daren walked along the mall and entered the first shoe shop he
came to without hesitation. He was walking on air buoyed by the
expectations of soon trying out his new underwear. He sat in the
ladies section and waited for the clerk. Daren explained his
sisters need for a new pair of black court shoes with a 5 inch
heels, size 11 double E fitting, and how miraculously he just
happened to have exactly the same foot measurements as hers so he
could make sure they would fit his sister. The clerk beamed her
pleasure at serving such a kind, considerate, generously spirited
young man and sped off to search the stock room for the common
place every day shoes that Daren had requested he buy his sister.
The clerk returned almost immediately clutching a shoe fetishists
orgy in her hands. "Would you like to try these on Hon?" she
asked him.
She fetched a new pair of sheer nylon foot stockings and told
Daren to slip them on instead of his own woollen socks. He did so
and gently eased his feet into the delicate but magnificent high
heels.
"Walk a ways up the shop Hon and make sure your Sis will like
them."
Daren did just that. He walked effortlessly in the heels as if he
had been born with them on. "I'll take them", he announced.
Rushing to let himself in to his immaculate loft apartment, Daren
sped to his 'special' dressing room. He stripped and quickly ran
a batch luxuriating in the heavy scent of expensive perfume and
bath oils. He had no need to shave... anywhere... ever. Drying
and talcuming himself with increasing urgency he expertly donned
the saucy black full-cupped silk 40DD bra, he reached to his
dressing table and clasped the silicone inserts he had already
purchased from a well-known web site catering to the needs of
cross-dressers.
The garter belt was next; it sat prettily about him with the
stocking clips competing with each other to gently caress the
smooth checks of his well-rounded ass as they dangled languidly
down. He sat on the bed and correctly eased a gossamer stocking
up each leg just as he had read about so often in the soft porn
fiction of which he was so fond.
Once the stockings were clipped to his garter belt he marvelled
at the feelings almost overwhelming him. Why were only women
supposed to wear such glorious clothing? He could not be a
pervert for just wanting to feel what women do. Could he? No!
Quickly dismissing such thoughts from his mind he stepped into
the tight fitting panties. He eased his member back between his
voluptuous thighs and pushed his seed pods up and inside himself.
The panties held him in place perfectly. When he looked down he
saw the unmistakeable soft undulations of a woman's delta.
Suddenly feeling a woman's need for modesty he ran his arms into
the soft draping peignoir and let it fall about him. Finally, and
before he dare look at himself in the wall-to-wall mirror doors
he slipped his Cinderella feet into his 5 inch heels.
Now he was ready! Or should he use the female pronoun when
describing himself. Deciding: "Yes!" And quickly choosing to call
herself Andrea when like this, she gathered her senses.
Her member, somewhere deeply buried below, strained to be free.
She slowly lifted her eyes and feasted on what she saw. Long
fine, but full, blond hair cascaded like a waterfall about her
shoulders. Her skin was the texture of fine porcelain, full
luscious, deep-throuting lips sat expectantly beneath a pert
small delightfully turned up nose. She took it all in; her face,
her hips the feel of the silk and gossamer nylon, the sweet
delicate perfume that gently hung about her. Slowly she opened
the peignoir and let her delicate hand reach into her panties.
Her hand expertly retrieved her member and she creamed instantly.
In what like seemed like forever load after load of spermatozoa,
swimming for their lives, pulsed from her and soaked into her
beautiful silken underwear.
***
"He looked back at 'imself in the mirror, but this time with wiv
an overwhelmin' feelin' of loathin'. He ripped all that was
girlish from 'im and dived for the shower to clean away all the
crap".
"Does it really say that last bit, Indie? Did she, did he, did he
really rip all those lovely things off? I wouldn't have!"
"Aargh! the mist clears even more, as they say little 'un! Nah!
tha' last bit... well, not bits - bytes really or data words
moreover, thems were mine. Yer see wha' ya have here is yer Fetis
infiltrated wiv yer Perfs. And before ya ask... A Perf is all
very unlikely... They don't 'alf con themselves Perfs do."
"But, but..."
I'm explainin' so don't interrupt little'un. Christ look at yer!
Yer've grown again! I really dunno where I'm going to put ya.
Anyways... A Fetis always has bags and bags of new underwear an'
stuff, an' impossibly high heeled shoes, or kinky little PVC or
leather numbers. Quite few like women's uniforms - Army an' Navy
y'know, and French Maids, especially French Maids. What they
likes ter do is ter get all dolled-up in the stuff, walk around a
bit... and wank. They wank usually as soon as they see
themselves. Can't help it see. But old hands can keep goin' a bit
longer. Dun' smirk I told yer I dun' do innuendo!
What the stories don't tell yer tho' is that as soon as all these
wankers jerk off, they usually gets ter hate 'emselves for doin'
it in the first place. All that pleasure gets trumped by loads of
grief."
"Oh I see. I don't want that!"
"'Course yer don't. Nah! Ya gots to be true to yerself but yer've
also got ter be true to life. Tha's it 'true to life!' That's
where the Perfs fall down. Tha' last story had a bit of Perf in
it. Perfs are simply perfec' - or fink they are. It's never a
story about a balding guy of 60 somefink with a beard shadow that
looks like a rice paddy and a beer gut that must have run up the
national debt to buy. Nah, yers perfs always are too small to be
men but just perfec' to be women. Everything about them is...
well perfec'. Shapely legs instead of chicken drumsticks; narrow
waist instead of fat falling over a belt; pert breasts on a
hairless chest instead of... well yer gets don't yer? Who are
they trying to kid? Who are they f***in' trying to kid!? Look
around ya what do yer see here? Oh! sorry! Forgot ya can't read
can yer?"
"There's nothing to read is there? All I can see are some feint
blue circles and lines in the road."
Circles an' lines in the road? I'll 'ave yer know thems circles
an 'em lines are some of the finest binary digits in 'ere... I
put 'em there meself!
"But what about the 'Fetis'? Should I stay with them?"
"If ya'll take my advice, nah. Most Fetis are all right but they
are pretty self contained and don't seem to want friends. They
spend most of their time in a cycle of dressing up, wanking,
cleanin' up an' recoverin'. But they only tell yer to yer face
about the dressing up bit and the wank - they call it waves of
pleasure. Ya didn't see Daren/Andrea whatsit phone that shop
assistant and ask 'er out, did yer?"
"Oh! The one in Victorias Secret... No! he didn't did he. I would
have! I imagined she was nice!"
"Oh! yer liked her did yer? So yer not gay then... or there
again..."
"No I like girls, but... but I get jealous of them! I want to be
a girl. Mum's written some stuff on the computer about me that
says I should have been born a girl but I don't look very much
like one... Indie?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. I mean... thank you for helping find out about... about
what I am doing here. I think I know now... I feel more complete,
more whole, you know, than when I first arrived?"
"Well that's it init little un? Ya hadn't all arrived! Only the
first bits of yer were 'ere. Let me look at yer now yer've all
complete. Eerh... yer looks about 20k... CR check okay yep! Close
enough! I think I've got just the right place for yer. A few
loonies but nice ones... and of course, Harry Benjamin helps me
keep the infiltrators out. Just slip on this T-shirt before we go
- 'sgot a big blue TS on the front. Don't yer look a grand lass?
"Come on! I'll read yer story back as we run along these
tracks... ready?"
Maddy
- 03.06.2020
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