KathrynLocksley
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The Ghost of Lingerie Past, Present, and Future [Text]
🕑 Added 2024-11-29 19:03:35 +0000 UTCA transcribed version of the audio experience, "Ghost of Lingerie Past, Present, and Future."
Conner’s getting a late-night Christmas time visit from a busty spirit, here to warn him about the potential consequences of his crossdressing ways. But even she can’t deny how well he wears his favorite lingerie.
Please note, this story contains tongue-in-cheek kink-shaming as part of the kink. No disrespect is intended toward anyone of any kink, gender, or gender expression. It also contains m/f sexual interactions, male crossdressing, a scene of being caught in the act, and femdom BDSM elements including spanking, CBT, and edging.
All characters are adults and all sexual contact is consensual.
Enjoy!
***
Conner. Psst. Conner. Wake up.
Don’t look so surprised. This visit has been a long time coming.
Aww, you didn’t believe I existed? That spirits like myself existed?
Well, come here and know me better!
Look at me. Look through me, at the outlines of your bedroom ceiling. Are you satisfied with my realness? Good, I’m glad we’re settled on that.
Yes, of course, you can feel my weight on top of you. My hands on your chest. I am here for your welfare. Your salvation. And for me to succeed, I’m going to need you to feel.
I should start by telling you, you can banish me any time you want. You could send me away right now. And you’d never have to hear the dire warnings I bear, the ones that could have changed the course of your life. All it takes is two words from you. Can you guess what they are?
That’s right. Bah, humbug. Feel free to say them again, but only if you mean it.
No? You want me to stay? All right, then.
So, are you going to be the one to say why I’m here? Or do you want to make it a guessing game?
Hmm, what about the path you’re on could possibly require supernatural intervention?
It’s not a lack of Christmas spirit, I’ll give you that. You have Christmas spirit to spare. So loving, so full of life, so giving toward the people around you, especially your lovely girlfriend, Siobhan.
But there’s one gift in particular I’ve been sent to discuss with you. That reckless gift, the one to yourself, in your bottom drawer.
There we go, there’s that guilty little grin. Yeah. We’re on the same page now, aren’t we?
Red satin panties, glittery red stockings, and a little red double-A bra, all with festive, fluffy white trim, all in exactly your size. Not a chance of claiming they’re really for Siobhan.
And this isn’t your first set of lingerie, is it? Not even close.
Let’s take a look at how deep this strange little habit of yours goes, shall we? Touch my hand, and we’ll fly.
#
What do you mean we haven’t gone anywhere? Not in space, maybe, but in time. Look.
Yes, Conner. That’s you.
That’s you, just about a year ago in this very room. It’s two days after Christmas, and you’re preparing to keep the festivities going at a leftovers gathering with friends. It’s supposed to be a casual, relaxed occasion. An opportunity to shake off the pressure of all that preparation.
But you don’t look particularly casual at the moment, do you?
How long did it take to wax those long legs of yours for this outfit, Conner? You got them smooth enough to slide on those nylons with no resistance at all. And that was just the beginning. You’ve got bikini panties, and shapewear you clearly don’t need, and that tight, high, underwire bra that gives you almost a shadow of cleavage.
You made more preparation efforts for this than you did for Christmas Day with your family, didn’t you?
And every ounce of that effort went to waste, because here comes the t-shirt, the thickest one you could find, and then the button-down shirt, and then the sweater, all carefully selected and tested to hide the work underneath.
No one will see a thread of your careful crossdressing, not even yourself, for the whole night of drinks and games and merriment ahead.
What a perverse compulsion.
Tell me, Conner. Look at me. Look at my breasts, these two massive weights I carried around in life, and tell me that you enjoy wearing an underwire bra that changes nothing about your look, just for the feel of it.
I won’t mock you for it quite as gently as Siobhan has.
What’s that? You want to see more?
Well, we’re certainly in no danger of running out of examples, are we? You’ve had a busy year.
How about this one? Yes, there you are, getting ready for a day out at a football game. And what’s this you’re putting on now? I see a skirt. A skirt too short to even brush the tops of your thighs. I suppose it has to be that short, so that you can pull your trousers up over it before you leave the house. It’s a cute pleated thing, isn’t it? And in your team’s colors, too. And what’s that you’re adding now? A tight little crop top?
Oh, I get it. Do you fancy yourself a cheerleader, Conner? Are you planning to rip off your clothes at the game later and do a dance for everyone?
Why not? Are you afraid of what those men you call your friends would say and do if you let them see you like this? Or is fooling them part of the fun for you? Do you prefer sitting there in your respectable sweater, dreaming your secret dreams?
Is honest social interaction so unbearably bland to you, that you have to create pointless lies to season it for yourself?
Is that what drove you to do what you did at your cousin’s wedding last month?
Yes, here we are. You remember this day. This place. This reception hall. You remember Siobhan’s gown, and your suit, and what was underneath. But do you remember anything of your cousin from that day?
Poor woman. She invited you in good faith to one of the most important occasions of her life. And what did you do?
You wore white.
Not on the outside, of course. But there you are, standing among her guests, wearing the fullest, most ostentatious set of bridal lingerie you could find.
White stockings with blue garters. A white corset so stiff and narrow-waisted that you could barely hide the shape of it under your jacket and cummerbund. A white lace thong, both suggestive and laughably virginal, making its presence constantly known with that stiff, scratchy string riding deep in the sensitive crack between your cheeks.
You couldn’t think about anything all night except getting home, so that Siobhan could strip you down, put on her tuxedo-striped strap-on, and fuck you like that wedding night belonged to you.
She is such an understanding girlfriend, isn’t she? She would never demand an explanation for what happened next.
But I’m not her, and I will.
That wedding was the day when secrets under your clothes stopped being enough for you. You didn’t wait for home, not completely.
There you go, sneaking off from the reception. Finding your way into the groomsmen’s dressing room. Taking off your suit. Admiring yourself in the mirror.
Your cock is so hard in those tight lace panties that you can’t resist giving it a sneaky little touch. You won’t finish here, as if that makes it any better, but the door is unlocked.
Anyone could have caught you, and can you imagine what would have happened then?
It would have been the only thing anyone talked about when reminiscing about that day. Months of anticipation and planning would have been reduced to a joke about cousin Conner’s scandalous little reveal.
So. Would you care to explain yourself, Conner?
What is it about these clothes that would compel you to put them on, even at such a risk? Why did you need to wear them here, to see them on yourself now?
Is it really just because they’re pretty, and delicate, and taboo? Do you care that much about the nice way they frame the muscular yet soft, surprisingly feminine curves of your ass….
[Clears throat]
Let’s head back, shall we?
#
Oh, no, we’re not done. The past is really just context for your lesson. We have lots more work to do here in the present.
Kick off those blankets, and let me see what you’re wearing now, unless you’d rather say those two words—
Oh, you’re doing it. Just like that, you didn’t even need to think about it.
All right, then.
Are you genuinely welcoming my help, or did you just want to show me those boxers you’re wearing? Are you trying to tell me there’s nothing to see here?
I admit, I’m… surprised by your choice of sleepwear. You didn’t know I was coming tonight. You could have been wearing anything you wanted. You could be indulging any proclivity you have in perfect privacy and safety. Is that why you’re not? Too safe? Or is this strictly about comfort?
Let me feel.
Are these boxers real silk? I guess you never really switch it all the way off, do you?
Wow, you’re hard as a rock under there. You weren’t like that in your sleep. This happened after you woke up. It’s not because of how silky these shorts are. And not to sell myself short, but it’s not entirely from staring up at my cleavage either, is it?
You’re still thinking about all those forbidden sets of lingerie you’ve worn this year. You’re still thinking about the one you’re planning to wear next. Your cock is downright throbbing against this drab, masculine cut of fabric, restless to be wrapped up in pretty, revealing, fitted satin.
Take these off. If you want me to stay, show me your naked self, so that I can haunt, and torment, and punish that naughty, deviant body, and see if I can’t make it sorry.
So eager. I hope you don’t expect me to be gentle.
Hmm, let’s see what we have here. It’s funny. You look so ordinary when you’re fully stripped down. Just like when you’re fully dressed up and hidden. Well, ordinary in a handsome way, of course.
Look at this chest. You’ve got a bit more muscle here than you like to show off, don’t you? Why would you want to stuff these pecs into a bra? It’s not like they need the support.
Don’t these nipples enjoy the privilege of being free under your clothes? Do they prefer confinement? How much confinement?
I’m going to start pinching now. Scream out when you can’t take any more.
It’s okay, you can moan in the meantime if you want to. We both know the difference between a moan and a scream.
Does this still feel good? No problem. Ghost hands don’t get tired. I can go as long and tight as you need.
There. That was a scream.
And yet you’re still smiling at me.
All right, bend over my lap, show me that soft, curvy ass. Let’s see how much punishment that lovely layer of padding can take.
[Slap, slap.]
Oh, this is easy for you? Good to know. I’ll stop holding back.
[Slap, slap, slap.]
Your erection is digging into my thigh. You’d better not try to grind it on me. This isn’t for you to enjoy, you know. This is a spiritual correction for your… extra-gender indulgences! It’s a solemn occasion!
[Slap, slap, slap.]
Those thongs you love so much can’t do anything for you now. They have no protection to offer your poor, dear ass. Don’t you wish you were wearing something sturdy, and modest, and practical? Don’t you want to always be wearing something like that?
[Slap, slap, slap.]
How about now?
[Slap, slap, slap.]
Well, that just made you even harder, didn’t it?
Lie back down. Let me feel. Oh, you’re dripping. You like having me handle your shaft, and your balls like this? Yeah, for now you do.
But you know where I’m going to have to spank you next, don’t you? What I have to resort to when all else fails. Aww, look at you trying to be so tough all of a sudden. We’ll see how long that lasts.
I’ll start with a nice quick, firm flick to the head of your cock.
Three, two, one.
[Flick]
Hmm, still hard, I see. Let’s try that again. This time, you’re going to look down at your cock, and we’re going to ask it together, “What is wrong with you?”
Say it.
Good.
Three, two, one.
[Flick]
Still standing.
This one’s going to be harder.
Repeat after me. “I will be a normal, boring, good boy, and forget everything I know about how it feels to be pretty.”
Three, two, one.
[Flick]
Well, you said it, but you still can’t seem to do it, can you?
Time for the balls. This one’s going to be a hard, open-palmed slap.
Tell your balls for me, this is what they get for allowing themselves to be crammed into underwear that wasn’t built for them.
Three, two, one.
[Slap]
What do you know? Still as hard as ever. You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?
It’s too bad I only get to show myself to living souls at Christmas time. It seems like you might need more than one visit, to have a hope of changing your path.
You’re still thinking about that gift to yourself, aren’t you? Still savoring the idea. Still obsessing over those silly little wisps of red satin and white fluff, and how hot you’re going to look and feel in them.
You can’t put the thought aside.
Well, I can’t either.
How dare you have such a versatile body? It’s not enough to be handsome in men’s clothes, you have to be a perfect little sex kitten in every piece of lingerie you try on as well?
I know what it does to you, thinking about dolling yourself up, but do you know what it does to me, picturing you like that?
It makes me want to grab you by the cock, yes, like this, and stroke it, gently. I want to tell you that it’s okay, that you’re sweet, and cute, and nothing bad is ever going to happen because I’m going to protect you. I want to tell you that all you have to do is relax, and I’ll make you feel so good.
But I can’t right now.
Yes, I’m stopping. Yes, I’m going to leave you hanging there, for now. There’s still one more thing I have to show you before the night is out. The real reason why I’m here.
#
Yes, this is the future. That’s what it’s always about, isn’t it? The past can be learned from, the present is the staging ground for all our efforts, but only the future can be changed.
I would not come here and toy with you if there were nothing to accomplish by it, no meaningful course correction still possible.
Here we are, in a place you know well. This is your office building, and on an ordinary day, you would be sitting there at that desk, counting down the minutes until it releases its hold on you for the night. But today is the day of the Christmas party, and you’re over there in the biggest conference room, enjoying hard eggnog and a surprisingly nice catered dinner with your coworkers and everyone’s partners.
Let’s watch, shall we?
The assistant office manager is getting warmed up to lead a long set of caroling, and it seems like an easy moment for you and Siobhan to slip away, just for a little while.
I don’t need to describe what you’re wearing today. You’ve already planned it.
That red satin present to yourself, unwrapped early and hidden under your unassuming business casual attire.
Oh look, you and Siobhan have found a sprig of mistletoe to stand under. How sweet. How wholesome. No one can complain too much about the two of you stealing a kiss. The decorations told you it was okay.
And who can blame you for turning that kiss into a long, sloppy makeout session? You’re young and in love, and this is an occasion for letting your hair down. And there’s no one watching anyway. You’ll cut things short if anyone happens by who might be uncomfortable.
At least, that’s what you’re telling yourselves.
But now you’ve got a problem, don’t you?
That unshakeable erection of yours is back. If you were really dressed the way everyone assumes you are, you’d be able to ignore it, let it go, but you just can’t stop thinking about that gorgeous satin you can feel against your skin. Siobhan can’t either. She’s only human, and you really are just that pretty in it.
Just like at your cousin’s wedding, fantasizing and waiting isn’t good enough for you anymore.
You and Siobhan go looking for an empty office. The lock doesn’t work without a key, but you can’t be bothered about that right now. You have to get that satin out in the open, get this lust out of your system, right now. Nothing else matters.
Siobhan undoes your buttons and belt in a rush and pushes you onto the desk. All of the lingerie stays on. She just pushes your panties to the side to free that irrepressible erection.
Then she pushes her own aside as well, under her skirt, and climbs on top of you.
She takes you in and rides at a wild pace that’s still too slow for your mood. You decide to flip positions, put yourself on top and pound her into the desk. She’s too excited to bother trying to control you, the way she usually does when you’re feeling… frilly. She just lies back, moaning softly, and embraces you.
The back of your panties, your stockings, the straps of your bra are all pointed back toward the door.
[Door opens]
And that’s how your coworkers find you, when they come to try to drag you back for pudding and pie and four-part harmony. No less than eight people including your boss see you, and everyone else in the building will have heard the story by tomorrow.
Now, getting caught with your pants down at a company Christmas party… that happens. But when you add in what’s under your pants, what you get is a moment that you will never live down.
Believe me. I’ve checked much deeper into the future than this.
Have you seen enough?
All right. Let’s head back.
#
How’s that unflappable erection of yours?
Why did I even bother to ask?
Really, even after seeing all that, you’re not going to put your horniness aside for one minute and make a genuine effort at some more long-term thinking? Maybe figure out where you want your life to go, and how and if your lingerie fits into it?
You’re thinking about putting it on right now, aren’t you?
Fine, go get it, I’ll wait. I mean, if there’s any place for it, it’s here in your room. Can’t say I object to seeing it on you again either.
Oh, you really do look gorgeous.
Lie back down on the bed. Let your cock stick out of those panties, like it would have at the party. Like it might still, at the party.
Why? So that I can touch it, of course.
Like this.
I’ve shown you everything I’m allowed to. But there’s still a while left before morning. And this is the last thing I can think of to do for you.
You have been hoping for more of this kind of attention, haven’t you? Good, then take it. Take it and all those naughty memories, and let me let off some pressure for you. Maybe you’ll actually be able to think afterward.
Yes, I promise, I’ll keep going until you’re finished this time. I am here to save you, remember?
This is it, your last chance to be satisfied with private fantasy. You can keep the memory of that possible future without letting it become the real one. You can cum to the thought of it, here in the dark, with a ghost who won’t tell a soul.
That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?
Is it going to be enough?
Are you going to be able to take this gift and be happy?
Or are you going to take it and go get yourself found out anyway?
Am I going to keep getting sent back here, to punish, and warn, and guide, and say I told you so? Am I going to have to help you pick up the pieces of everything you break for the sake of this silly little obsession?
Oh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to decide right now. You have time to enjoy this. That’s it, relax. Focus on that smooth yet confining fabric clinging to the most sensitive parts of your body. Focus on how cute and dirty you look, with your hard cock sticking right up out of underwear that was never meant to hold it.
Focus on my hand, running over and over the wet, slippery underside of the head.
Squirm as much as you want. Get those cute, feminine hips moving, whatever way makes you feel good.
Are you ready?
Let it out. Let it all out. Every drop. Every risky impulse, if you can. Let it out.
Have a good Christmas, Conner. I’ll be back for you next year, or not.
It’s up to you.
