He pressed against me, and my bound hands felt his cock, getting harder and bigger."That's right you sissy slut, that cock's all for you! You're gonn... love my cock! Now sit in that char. Now!"I obeyed and sat in the chair. I looked up and saw my captor. He was wearing a ski mask, a black tee and jeans. I couldn't determine if it was the guy I was supposed to meet. He knelt down and cuffed my ankles.He ran his hand up the inside of my leg very slowly. He looked up at me, "Oh, you're. ) The local fabric store cooperated by having as sale on some of that lovely, shiny silky fabric that real men never, never wear, not even while eating quiche. So with pattern in hand and bundles of fabric and notions laid out carefully I approached the task.The preliminaries went well. I put the company tabletop on the kitchen table, laid out the fabric and cut out a dress for my daughter, a blouse for my wife and myself. As I cut I indulged in fantasies of medieval ladies gathered in a sunlit. More

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