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Come inside my mental dressing
room. I have lace and latex, stilettos and silk stockings, whips,
glitter, and wigs galore. There are piles of reinvention stacked in
every corner, and tonight I’ve decided on the fetish queen. Make-up
first, with charcoal lids and liner, black curls and scarlet red lips.
A nice satin push-up bra because I love lots of cleavage. Lacing into
my corset is almost like an orgasm, I am so seduced by the insane curve
from breast to belly, completing the hourglass of my hips. My seamed
stockings come from Paris, and with delight I snap them into place with
lace garters. I’m genetically a leggy giant but my five inch velvet
stilettos fit just right. The look is almost complete when I stand in
front of the mirror, but there’s one thing left, the most important
element of my persona, that which the prior would be mere costuming:
the personality. For with each layer that I don, each sweep of my
artist’s brush, I am creating this person to satisfy a craving within
myself and many like me. Each personality is different and special.
Kind of like Cabbage Patch dolls, they come with different names,
styles, and desires. Each ready to be adopted into a nurturing libido.
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