Michele And The Predator Ch. 03
Keywords: Ch., Michele, And, 03, The, Predator,
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The Predator was stunned; it dawned upon him what had happened; he had fucked and been fellated by a transvestite. A man dressed as a woman! He looked at the pathetic sight lying before him on the bed and laughed. He thought to himself that she was just as good as any 'real' woman he had fucked; and she sure wasn't going to be telling anybody about this evening, that's for sure; you could see the look of terror and disgust in her eyes. He might as well enjoy the rest of the evening. He started making plans to do just that.
Michele lay sprawled and cowered on the bed; she saw the look on the face of the Predator as he realised what he was dealing with and she watched his face change from surprise to cruel calculation. She lay there shivering as the Predator strolled around her bedroom and examined her secret things. Michele was reviled as the beast toyed with her makeup and wig collection; she heard him snigger to himself as he opened her wardrobe and rifled through the hangers inspecting her clothes. She was revolted when he opened her lingerie drawers and pulled out various items of intimate apparel; she gagged when he lifted a pair of her satin panties to his face and sniffed at them and then rubbed them sensuously on his cheek, the nylon rasping on his five o'clock shadow.
The Predator started to hatch his plan. How he loved to humiliate the upper class bitches he preyed upon; this would be even sweeter. This pansy transvestite couldn't do a thing to protect himself; he was obviously 'in the closet' (he sniggered to himself at the pun and was delighted when the transvestite bitch shivered at his evil laugh). The Predator had thought of the transvestite as a 'her' so far and decided he could deal with the situation better if he continued to think of 'him' as a 'her'. Yes he was going to have some fun with this bitch! He dragged her off the bed and into the bathroom. He spoke only enough to get his message through to the shocked whore; "Wash, makeup, dress! The clothes I want you to wear will be on the bed; wear the blond wig! You better look fucking good when you come out of this bedroom bitch or I'll handcuff you to the front fence still dressed as a woman so that all of your stuck up snooty neighbours can see what they have been living next to!" He slammed the bathroom door shut.
Michele pulled herself up off the cold bathroom tiles and looked at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick was smeared all around her mouth; her mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow had blended together with the Predator's semen and was smeared around her eyes and had run down her cheeks in dark rivulets. Her brunette wig was dishevelled and clumps of her hair were matted, glued together by the hideous man's issue from when he had spent himself over her face. She tore off the wig and turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower; turning up the hot water until she could barely stand to hold her hand under it. She looked at the water cascading across her painted fingernails and began to sob uncontrollably; she hated herself. Why did she have this uncontrollable urge to dress like a woman!!! She had got what she deserved she thought as she removed her jewellery; dressing up like some high class hooker had attracted this revolting vile man! Michele started tearing off her clothes; she pulled her semen and makeup stained white skirt down around her ankles and kicked it into the corner of the bathroom; her high-heels skidded on the tiled floor as she kicked and she slipped and landed heavily on her arse. Now she started to laugh uncontrollably; she realised that her sobbing and laughing were symptoms of shock due to what had happened to her; being violated in her own home. She tore off her blouse and it joined the wig and skirt in the corner. She propped her back against the hard wall and reached down and unbuckled her high-heels; they too joined the growing heap of womanly attire.
Michele slithered out of her slip and she couldn't suppress a flash of arousal as the slinky garment slid down her stockinged legs creating a little electric shock of pleasure. She suppressed the feeling and felt further disgust with herself for having such a feeling at a time like this. Michele was becoming enraged with herself now and she grabbed at her garterbelt and the waistband of her pantyhose and nylon panties and pulled them down around her ankles in one tangled bunch. She reached down to the stockings and pantyhose clinging to her ankles and pulled them over her pretty painted toes and scrunched them, along with her panties and garterbelt, into a perfumed silky ball of nylon and lace which she also kicked unceremoniously into the corner with the rest of her clothes. She did not want to touch her lingerie as it was stained not only with the Predator's semen, but her own spend; she felt even more loathing with herself for climaxing whilst the Predator had had his way with her. Lastly she shucked herself out of her brassiere, which then became the last garment to join the dishevelled heap of clothing in the corner of her bathroom. Michele pulled herself to her feet again and stepped naked under the shower, deliberately not looking in the mirror on the way past. She grabbed a washcloth and poured a liberal amount of moisturising cleanser into it and began to scrub at her face, removing her makeup as the scalding hot water cascaded over her body.
The Predator listened to the sobbing and then the laughing coming from the bathroom and finally the sounds of the bitch showering. He realised that the incoherent laughter and crying were the result of shock; more importantly he realised that this cunt was going to comply with his every order. The Predator continued to work on his rudimentary plan as he rummaged through the clothing in the wardrobe and dresser. He didn't want to see the transvestite when she emerged from the bathroom; seeing her as a man would ruin the fantasy; he wanted to see her only as a woman. He would select the outfit she was to wear and then wait in another room until she was dressed. The scattered clothing that the transvestite had left on the bed when she was dressing before he had invaded her house was swept onto the floor; he already knew what he wanted her to wear.
The Predator selected a black leather miniskirt and a longsleeved white nylon blouse from the wardrobe. The blouse had ruffles on the décolletage and cuffs and to him it looked both classy but also slutty. He threw them on the bed and then went back to the wardrobe and chose a pair of extremely high-heeled, red leather open-toe sandals; he played with the shiny red straps and silver buckles for a while and then tossed them onto the bed next to the skirt and blouse. From her dresser he took a lacy red brassiere and matching panties which he laid on the bed along with a black satin suspender-belt. He whistled to himself as his rummaging produced a pair of exquisite black stockings. He held them up to the light and stared at the diaphanous black nylons with their darker reinforced Cuban heels and stocking-tops; tiny diamantes decorated the satiny stocking-tops and Cuban heels; a black seam ran up the back of the stockings. He licked his lips and gently fingered the gossamer hose, being careful not to snag them. These he lay gently next to the rest of the lingerie on the bed.
The Predator felt himself stiffen and he turned his back to the bed and walked over to dressing table; he picked up a bright-red lipstick and wrote on the mirror in large letters: 'DON'T FORGET THE BLONDE WIG!!!' He checked that the window was locked, pulled the blinds and ripped the phone out of the wall socket. As he heard the shower stop in the bathroom he walked out of bedroom and went down the corridor into the kitchen. He was fully sober now and needed a drink. He found and opened a bottle of red wine; he guzzled the wine straight out of the bottle, thin streams of the dark red liquor ran from the corners of his mouth. The Predator pulled a kitchen chair into the corridor to where he could see the bedroom door and straddled the chair so that his elbows rested on the backrest. He occasionally gulped from the bottle as he finalised his plan, all the time his icy cold eyes stared at the bedroom door.
Michele emerged from the bathroom full of resolve and determination. She didn't know what the Predator had in store for her but she knew that she would not be able to overpower him unless she could catch him off guard; maybe acquire some form of weapon in the house, or make an escape whilst he was distracted. She had thought about her predicament whilst she stood under the shower washing away the residues of his attacks. She hurt a little down there, but it was only a weak throb caused from being invaded in a place that until tonight had been virginal. Michele knew that she had to pretend to comply with Predator's every wish until she had a chance to escape or incapacitate him.
Michele looked around the bedroom and was glad to see that he had left the room; she didn't want him to see her as a man; somehow she could deal with the humiliation while she was dressed and feeling like a woman; but standing powerless, man to man, in front of him would be unbearable. She looked around the room at her scattered clothes that the Predator had swept from her bed and her eyes settled on where he had laid out what she was to wear. She sat down at her dresser and looked in the mirror. The predator's warning glared at her; 'DON'T FORGET THE BLONDE WIG!!!' in big red letters. She was tempted to wipe the lipsticked threat from the glass but she thought that should she get through this the writing may be evidence that could be useful to the authorities. Couldn't the police identify criminals from their handwriting? Who was she kidding? There was no way she was going to the police or anybody with her story. It was inconceivable that she would confess to being a transvestite and even more inconceivable that she would admit to what had been done to her by this monster.
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Keywords: Ch., Michele, And, 03, The, Predator,