|Game 1||Game 1 Outline|
A thoughtful look comes around Valerie`s face for a moment. Then, she says, "I`ll decide what to do with you later, Maria. In the meantime, I`ll have you join me for dinner."
She turns toward a closet in the corner of the room. In your frozen state, you are not able to move to get a better view of what she is doing. A couple of minutes later, she shows you a pair of sexy evening dresses.
"We`re going out to dinner, my dear," she explains. "I`ll wind you up, fix your hair and makeup, get you dressed, and then we`ll have a little girls night out. Just the two of us."
After Valerie reinserts your key and turns it as far as it will go, you again feel the same euphoric rush you felt the first time you were wound up. Once the sensuous feeling running up and down your body has passed, you look at Valerie longingly. Part of you is starting to relish this whole experience as a wind-up doll. The other half of you, though, thinks that it would be better to be out of here and back to being your old male self.
After putting a matching red bra on you, Valerie picks up the red evening dress and slips it over your head. Judging from the feel of it on your soft skin, you guess that the dress is made of a satin material. It ends at about mid-thigh, leaving little to the imagination. The skirt, which ends just above your knees, makes a pleasant sound when you move. It excites you when it rubs your legs while walking. The dress has thin shoulder straps, although not quite spaghetti size like on some girls` prom dresses you have seen. Although your boobs are somewhat covered at the bodice, you have felt more modest when wearing other outfits (which is saying something, considering some of the outfits you have been forced to wear recently).
You hear Valerie giggle, and you look at her inquisitively. "What?"
"I almost forgot to put panties on you," Valerie laughs. "Hmm . . . or should I bother?"
"Think I`d like to have panties," you say, feeling warm with embarrassment.
So will Valerie put panties on you? Or will you go to dinner feeling a little more, uh, . . . "free," so to speak?
Written by an anonymous author
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