She noticed his eyes devouring her, his eyes alit with lust. She slowly shifted her legs, laying them side by side, then spreading them open slightly, revealing the fact that she had no panties on underneath her short jean skirt. His imagination went wild, as did he; he had only relieved himself in the past three weeks since their last encounter, and now with her right in front of him he couldn’t help himself. He stood up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, jarring her down from her position on the desk. “You like being a little slut?” Mr. Rostand said as he forcibly twisted her arm behind her and bent her over a desk. She was tiny, and although she struggled with surprise, she was no match for him. “What? Mr. Rostand, what are you doing?” Sara’s voice held a note of terror. “I asked you a question, do you like being a little slut?” Mr. Rostand bent over her body, pressing his body weight on top of her, growling in her ear. He could feel her erratic breath as her small body. She then put me to bed and told me we will talk about this in a few days. It was a few days later but I still dressed that few day. When she came home that day we talked for a few hours about why I was dressing and why I should not. She told me she had made a few phone calls to some therapists and she wanted me to go and talk to them. So off we went to talk to them about m dressing. My therapist was a lady and a good looking lady if I can remember. When we talked the only thing that was racing though my mind was how nice her clothes looked and I wish I could wear the clothes she had on every day. She would wear the most amusing outfits, skirts, blouses, dresses, and heels. I would think to my self what she ad under her clothes, was it silk, lace, or something different. Some days I would wear panties or even a bra at time when it was cold to the chats. I would think to my self, was she wearing the same type that I was wearing? This would want me to dress more and more looking at.
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