Cuckquean Wish List
Cuckquean Wish List gazed at the clear passage wall as the green line trolley plunged underground. If the other passengers had been paying attention, they probably would have dismissed her refusal to make eye contact as merely typical “T” etiquette. Cuckquean Wish List herself was very much in the know about the unsure manner by which she imagined that she was the main individual on the train. In fact, she wished she were with every ounce of her being.
It would be incorrect to assert that she was not noticed by any of the other passengers. With glances that he hoped were brief enough to be considered nonchalant, a young accountant across the car from Cuckquean Wish List had occasionally turned from his Globe to admire the pretty strawberry blonde. He gave her a few passes because of the fullness of her lips and the cut of her chin, and he liked her smart business suit with the leather skirt.
However, the majority of his focus was on her legs. Dark stockings accented the curves and shadows of Cuckquean Wish List’s knees before vanishing into a pair of zip-up black leather boots above her calves from beneath her skirt. Due to the excellent set of hips they were anchored to, their legs always walked in an attractive strut.
He might have noticed the occasional anomaly in her outfit if the tastefully gawking man had gone so far as to stare directly at her. Cuckquean Wish List herself held her knees tightly together and clutched the hem of her long suit jacket like she was afraid it would fall off at any moment. She pulled and stretched the fabric out of shape as her heart raced with every train jolt.
At Copley Station, the young man let his eyes follow Cuckquean Wish List as she got out of her seat. At the back hem of her skirt, he noticed what appeared to be silver buckles peeking out from beneath her jacket. Before tumbling down the stairs, she concealed her briefcase behind her and gave him a slight blush.
Cuckquean Wish List’s beet-red grimace was more pronounced than the man’s pale pink glow. With the briefcase still covering the backs of her thighs, she left the station in a tight-kneed shuffle. Like a woman who finds herself in a light dress on a windy day, her other hand held the front of her jacket together at the bottom.
The skirt she was wearing, which was advertised as a “leatherette spanking skirt,” was the cause of her caution. Practically, this meant that there was no material to cover her cheeks in the ass, and it was held together by a pair of buckling straps behind her upper thighs that made the globes above do a push-up.
Cuckquean Wish List made her way out of a shelter made of black iron stairs onto the city streets above after waiting for her train’s other passengers to leave first. The latex “clit stimulator panties” she was wearing made the short walk that lay ahead of her seem much longer. Even though they were crammed into a thong to honor the purpose of her skirt, the supple nubs still brushed against her clitoris as she moved.
The profane squicking between her legs was practically sufficient to assist her with foregetting the embarrassment of strolling the roads of Boston in an assless skirt. She was only sufficiently upset by the shame that did manage to pique her interest. She tried as hard as she could not to imagine what it would be like to just throw down her jacket and crawl the rest of the way on all fours, teetering between horror and orgasm. She resisted the urge to fall into the abyss as though she were at the edge of a cliff.
She had progressed to this point sufficiently slowly and initially with some innocence. She had been embarrassed to discover that one of the other girls had broken into her locker and taken her underwear one day after swim class at her high school. She had been forced to improvise because she was unable to wear her soaking wet bathing suit underneath her uniform.
Cuckquean Wish List’s abilities and imagination were well-matched. She had constructed a crude brassiere, barely large enough to accommodate her expanding adolescent breasts and secured by the strap of her goggles, by cutting two circles from strategic locations in her swim cap. After that, she had put her legs through the cap’s holes and wore it like a sloppy pair of pants. Even though the loose rubber folds between her legs occasionally tickled her, this arrangement neatly protected her modesty.
Cuckquean Wish List started wearing the swim-cap panties once a month to control her menstrual flow, and she used rubber cement to reinforce the ragged cuts. She was, however, soon forced to shop for a replacement because they could not last forever. She was unable to locate any products that were suitable for this purpose other than adult diapers, which were excessively bulky and obvious. Fortunately, a quick Google search for “rubber underwear Boston” led her to a store that had exactly what she was looking for.
Cuckquean Wish List thought the website, Eros Boutique, was a sex shop, but it wasn’t like the pink monsters you find in shadier neighborhoods. The majority of those were nothing more than cheap video stores with shoddy lingerie draped over the mannequins in the windows. This location, which was in a more trendy part of town, behaved more like a trendy clothing and knickknack shop that just happened to serve “adult” customers.
She had held up at home to block the UPS man on the day her request showed up, and ran higher up to give them a shot. The thing that matters was night and day. Where it should have been tight, the swimcap was loose, and vice versa. The brand-new pair was made to fit a woman’s hips and held her femininity with a firm but gentle grip.
She had tried on the fit for a long time and was impressed by how well the seams fit her, unlike the old swim cap, which had sharp scissor cuts. She enjoyed the sensation of creating a new layer of skin as she massaged herself through the material. She had to wash them out a half-dozen times that evening.
Cuckquean Wish List had, obviously, progress significantly since those early guiltless days. She had developed into a stunning grown-up, and her star was on the ascent at the workplace where she worked. Overall, her sexual life had been successful, but she never wore rubber on a date to avoid rumors. She definitely cared about her reputation, if sometimes to the point of paranoia.
An educated observer of her public shame walk might find this level of caution regarding public opinion to be unusual. The dramatic manner in which she relaxed as soon as she entered the Eros Boutique itself would be even more intriguing. She softened as soon as she crossed the threshold, shifting her briefcase to one side and using her other hand to mop her brow instead of the jacket.
She made the change because she was aware that the shopkeepers had likely witnessed everything because they had been involved in their scandalous business for a long time. They were proficient, never giggling or prying, albeit that implied that they frequently answered her cooperations with a rather frustrating clinical separation.
“I believe you’re holding a purchase for me?” Cuckquean Wish List coughed.
A blank cardboard box was placed on the counter by the clerk as she rushed into a back room.
The post-it note read, “The buyer came in to inspect it before paying,” and the clerk said, “The buyer left it for you to collect.”
Surprised, Cuckquean Wish List abruptly raised her head. You addressed him?”
The note was held up with a polite smile by the clerk. Personally, no.”
In the past eight years or so, Cuckquean Wish List had spent a lot of time online discussing and expressing her growing sexual fantasies about latex, bondage, and exhibitionism. A small number of online playmates had managed to persuade her to send photos of her latex-clad body (though only from the shoulders down).
She had recently set up an anonymous Wish List so that her admirers could buy her clothes. She would reward them with photo sets of her modeling the items in front of a bedsheet while her head was blurred into anonymity, carefully manipulated. Their hurried praise of her erotic charms never failed to arouse Cuckquean Wish List, who cherished the sensation of exposure.
However, she had recently agreed to a new game. She began receiving gifts from a man whom she had dated for several years via email and chat rooms. He was only known to her as “Darlington”; Additionally, the items were kept at the store for her to pick up because she refused to disclose her address. She was to wear whatever she was given until she got home, according to the agreement.
She always sent him a lengthy and in-depth account of the day’s events as payment. A few hastily-anonymized photos of the new gifts on her body just before she peeled them off and took a long, relaxing bath were frequently attached to the frothing and turgid descriptions of her arousal, shame, and anticipation.
She had worn the spanking skirt home under a heavy felt overcoat that she had picked up during the spring freeze. That day, she had the good fortune to put on full nylon hose, and as a result, her bottom was no colder than her calves. She had been instructed by Darlington to wear it to the store this morning, and he had promised that a suitable replacement would be available for her to wear to work.
Cuckquean Wish List trusted with her entire existence that it would be, since she had a urgent agreement discussion booked for that very evening. She carried the package cautiously to a nearby cafe, purchased a coffee, and then slipped into the bathroom to change. She draped her coat on a snare and considered over what she had recently realized.
She had no idea that Darlington lived on the East Coast or in the Boston area. She always got the impression that he was English from him: When he talked, he spelled words like “color” and “honour,” and his mannerisms were rather traditional. Cuckquean Wish List was somewhat startled by the idea that he might actually make an individual appearance at the boutique.
She opened the box and checked the time on her watch. At the highest point of the heap was a plastic sack from a notable costly dress store. Cuckquean Wish List breathed a sigh of relief as she opened it to reveal a chic black calf-length skirt that went well with her long suit jacket. Given that Eros had never carried anything so modest, it is evident that the garment was added to the package after the fact.
Cuckquean Wish List
She began to examine the remaining garments in the box after undoing the buckles on her skirt. On top of a matching pair of pewter latex stockings was a silvery rubber overbust corset with black straps down the front. Cuckquean Wish List took off her thigh-high nylons and unzipped her boots with a sigh.
She took out a container of skin cream that she had some time in the past discharged and loaded up with Eros Bodyglide, and shook a couple of drops into the stockings. She scoured them a piece to spread the grease about, then, at that point, accumulated them into bundles and slid her sharp toes into the polished sheaths.
Cuckquean Wish List unbuttoned her blouse, removed the rubber bra, and then slipped into the corset. After a few minutes of struggling, she was able to pull the zipper all the way up to her cleavage. She noticed that the front straps’ rings did not have a mechanism for connecting as she looked in the mirror to admire her improved curves.
She noticed a handwritten note in the box as she looked down into it:
I have decided to keep a few random items for the time being. At the address listed below, you can pick them up from the concierge.
A hotel in Harvard Square was the address that was provided. Cuckquean Wish List realized that he must have flown in just to engineer this stage of their game. She quickly looked through the box.
A black leather thong with silver chains, a white plastic egg with a black wire tail, and a plastic baggie filled with tiny polished padlocks in the shape of hearts were all exposed when Cuckquean Wish List lifted the note. She turned the box on its side, but there were no keys to the locks.
When Cuckquean Wish List realized that she was going to be shackled to the corset until later that evening, she seized briefly. Of course, she never had a chance to remove her belongings until she got home, but somehow she was taken aback by the locks’ immutability.
In disbelief, she used her slackened jaw to try to comprehend both the fact that she was required to perform this action and the fact that the very thought had caused her to wet the tickling nubs of her pants. She took a deep breath, opened the bag, and then slowly pulled out one of the sparkling silver locks.
She threaded it through the top strap’s loops while being hypnotized. Who exactly was this Darlington man who could go around telling girls to put on sexy underwear like that? She was a significant businessperson! Just think of the nerve!
Cuckquean Wish List closed her eyes, squeezed, and held her breath.
She opened her eyes wide and dropped her chin to examine what she had done after hearing the delicate but piercing “click.” The latex garment was only slightly stretched by tugging at the lock, and no amount of fumbling could locate an emergency release catch. She reached into the baggie and fished out the next lock, panting and moaning in extreme arousal, regret, and fear.
“Nonooononooonononooonooooo…” Her mouth recited “no”, however her fingers continued to press every little locking “Yes!” across the front of her brand-new, gleaming foundation garment.
Cuckquean Wish List returned the baggie with its two remaining locks to the box and pulled out the plastic egg after securing the erotic corset to her body. Despite the fact that it resembled one of the bullet vibes she had purchased a few years prior, no amount of twisting was able to activate it. She discovered that it already contained the batteries, and shaking it did not produce any vibrations.
Cuckquean Wish List sighed and removed the garters from her stockings so that she could remove the teasing panties, realizing that she was already committed to this risky game. She tucked them into the shopping bag that contained the more modest skirt after wrapping them in the spanking skirt and pushing the bundle all the way into her briefcase. She pressed the egg between her labia after wetting it with Bodyglide and felt her pussy devour it eagerly.
She quickly recovered and turned to the last item in the box, making sure the retrieval wire was within reach. It was a cowhide strap that secured by means of hasps at the top corners of the front plate. In front, delicate silver chains dangled so that when they were shaken, they tinkled lightly. Thin slits connected the hip straps to the front hasps, but the hip straps did not appear to have any catches of their own.
When Cuckquean Wish List realized that the two locks that were still in the bag were not just extras as she had initially thought, she choked back a yelp.
“Oh good, good!” “All right, bastard,” she murmured to herself. You gain! Don’t you know that I can’t back out now?
Cuckquean Wish List meticulously prepared her body for the fact that she wouldn’t be able to remove her underwear for the entire day. Cleaning herself totally, she at last tucked the egg’s wire far removed and pulled the celibacy belt’s lashes to an agreeable snugness, snapping the locks on.
She immediately threw her hands between her legs and began rubbing the black leather with her fingers when she heard the tiny clicks. The lack of sensation in her pussy surprised her. She had become accustomed to every movement and bit of friction being transmitted directly to her erogenous center because she had worn rubber against her snatch for such a long time. She tried to ignore the possibility that she had just committed an epic error, but her feelings of arousal and anxiety intensified.
Someone who had heard her flushing knocked on the bathroom door, cutting her off from her explorations.
“Um, one moment!” As she put on her blouse and reattached her garters, Cuckquean Wish List felt her heart racing. Dressing rapidly, once more, she before long had her long skirt and boots on, confirming in the mirror that for all presentations she was dressed impeccably typically. She took a deep breath, put on her suit jacket, grabbed her briefcase and the box that was empty, and ran out of the cafe.
She arrived at the orange line station on time and ran into a waiting train right away. She felt relieved when she saw that she was on time for her morning appointments after checking her watch. Despite the fact that the reality that lay beneath her stylish business attire ate at the corners of her mind, she rode through the Boston tunnels feeling better for her modesty.
Cuckquean Wish List began to read a memo about the scheduled negotiations for the afternoon from her briefcase as the train rolled toward her office. To get ready for a typical day, she focused as hard as she could. She quickly became engrossed in figures and facts as she read the emails she had printed out before leaving home that morning.
A sudden movement in her pussy shattered her concentration. As the egg buzzed intermittently, her fist immediately clenched in surprise, crushing a printed spreadsheet. She stared accusingly around the train and suddenly noticed that it was coming toward her station. She grabbed her belongings and hopped onto the platform, gritting her teeth against the uncontrollable stimulation.
As she moved away from the station platform, the vibrations returned to sporadic levels before completely dissipating when she reached street level. She took a moment to calm down and realized that the egg had to be a remote-control variety. An antenna made of wire was what she thought was just a retrieval string. Somebody had been working the relating transmitter back on the stage, and the egg had just fired up once she went inside its restricted reach.
Has anyone been observed waiting there? Is anyone sceptical? Perhaps a person is playing with a PDA or pretending to listen to the radio. When she realized that all she had been thinking about was getting to the stairs, she shook her head. She had no idea if anyone else had been there with her.
She was content for a while that Darlington had bought her the expensive skirt she wore and that her quick exit would have made it impossible to spot her. He was aware that she was going to wear high boots and a long jacket. He knew her face now that he had her description.
The business day started unremarkably enough, and Cuckquean Wish List figured out how to forget about the morning. She grudgingly admitted to herself that she would not be able to eat or drink anything until she had the keys to her chastity belt in her possession, so she skipped lunch. The day quickly passed, and it was time to negotiate that crucial contract.
To keep her kinky underwear’s locks and chains from jangling too much, Cuckquean Wish List walked as evenly as she could into the conference room. The corset kept her back straight as she slid into her seat between her coworkers.
“You look fantastic today, Cuckquean Wish List.” David, a director on the floor above hers, made a comment. He had good intentions, was friendly, and was, in his own way, quite attractive. However, his eager-beaver demeanor at work frequently ruined his square jaw and blue bedroom eyes.
Cuckquean Wish List
“Well, I’m grateful, Dave.” “Think it’ll help?” Cuckquean Wish List asked with a polite smile.
“Well, I think that it’s a sign that we’re all feeling very positive today!” David simply smiled awkwardly for a brief moment before regaining his composure.
David’s portly vice president rolled his eyes and pressed a button on an intercom to bring in representatives from the other company so they could get started. Four Englishmen entered the room, shook hands with everyone in the room, and then sat down.
The talks worked out in a good way from the get go, and Cuckquean Wish List felt certain and active. However, the men on the opposite side of the table began to flood them with numbers after a while, evidently in an effort to muddle the bargaining in their favor. Cuckquean Wish List’s team showed weakness and lost crucial ground as things started to spiral downward.
Cuckquean Wish List’s opponents finally realized that they had the advantage, so they made a complete offer that was decent but not what her team had planned. She felt the egg in her buzz into life as they moved the paper closer to her side. She experienced an instantaneous mental shift: one second she was a brilliant and strong finance manager taking part in pivotal dealings, the following she was a collection of sex and elastic attempting to conceal underneath a uniform. Her eyes grew wide with surprise as she let out a loud gasp and filled her lungs with air.
With horror, Cuckquean Wish List realized that Darlington had to be inside the building. She shuddered at the thought that one of the Englishmen in front of her might be him as she looked across at them. She prayed that no one would be able to hear what she was feeling in her loins as she studied their faces and felt the vibrations course through her.
The four men’s arrogant grins gradually faded, one by one. One of them reached over and grabbed the sheet back while coughing nervously.
“Emergency room, we should attempt once more, for what reason don’t we?” he muttered, modifying the figures with an extravagant wellspring pen. The vibrations stopped when he removed the cap from the pen.
As the remainder of the negotiations progressed without Cuckquean Wish List present, Cuckquean Wish List gulped and swam her head. She played her role quietly, disappearing into the background as the vice president maneuvered and argued before signing the document alongside a signature from the opposing side. The four men left after shaking hands once more after the contract was signed.
As Cuckquean Wish List and her coworkers waited for them to move out of earshot, there was a prolonged silence. Her coworkers took turns shaking her hand once more, resulting in a sudden round of cheers.