The Need - Sex Stories

The Need

Need

Many girls who dress have a multitude of reasons for why they do so. Some want to be sissies, controlled and abused, humiliated by those that enjoy controlling them. Others queens, the embodiment of femininity, showing off and flaunting to the world how gorgeous they can be. Some go to great lengths to hide that side of themselves, exploring and playing on their own terms.

Regardless of your reasons, your drive for wanting to be feminine, the one constant theme that seems ever present is need. That unscratchable itch you feel not being able to express that side of yourself. That never ending voice in the back of your mind, growing louder over time, whispering to you each time you see a cute pair of shoes, or an outfit you adore. At first you admire, silently smile to yourself as you imagine whatever fantasy comes to mind. Yet, as the days or weeks go by without the ability to express yourself, that desire grows. That ache, itch, voice, or need becomes more prominent. Harder and harder to ignore...

For me, that need was Rory. My girly persona, the ever present voice inside of me that built over time. Often it was just to have a night of being feminine, or a day being my own personal maid. Sometimes I found myself bouncing on my favourite dildo, moaning into the night as I came from my locked clit. Rory always brought a smile to my face, a calming sensation spreading over me as I was finally able to express that exciting side of myself.

However sometimes I needed more. Craved more. Sometimes, for lack of a more sophisticated way of describing it, Rory simply wished to be a whore. To be controlled. To be owned. Almost as if a switch was activated inside of me, enhancing my desire to be feminine, to be her. She wouldn't be silenced, wouldn't be ignored. Rory wanted to be in charge, to fulfill that need, to live her fantasy. And being the spoiled little brat she was, Rory often got her way.

Tonight I could feel that need inside of me, that craving beginning to flourish. Knowing it couldn't be stopped, nor delayed, I gave in to the inevitable. First step was always the same, a simple way to seal my fate until Rory was sated. Picking up my favourite cage, the light weight material feeling like a second skin, I quickly slid my balls and clit through the ring. A perfect fit, snuggly hugging every part of me, I moaned as that familiar feeling came over me. My clit, anticipating what was to come next, began to twitch, tingling with excitement. Before it could grow in protest, I quickly slid the cage on, ensuring everything was lined up properly. Satisfied, I pushed down just a bit further, hearing that familiar, anticipated, and beautiful littleclick, clit firmly sealed in its prison.

Looking down at my caged clit, I giggled, all the feminine emotions inside of me rushing forward, the welcoming feeling of being encased, as if I had locked away any traces of masculinity. What made this all the more exciting, or enticing, was the fact ...