tagExhibitionist & VoyeurDo You Trust Me?

Do You Trust Me?


It was another day in their on-line relationship. The young woman who had dared to live her dreams out in Erotic writing had become his friend. He had dared to be her friend, her helper, to lead her safely into the path of dreams and fantasies, to make them a reality in her world, but not to be shared in his. The mental stimulation was having an effect on him – in the best of ways, manifesting itself in tortuous and physical erections that he could not hide when he read her words. She was in his mind, and in his thoughts.

He looked at his wife, she smiled back at him. As far as she was concerned he was researching on-line for some family tree stuff, boring to her. He had a page open, ready to flick on, should she happen to get up from the sofa and glance down at him on the floor as he "surfed"

He was online with Amanda, emails flicking back and forth. Sometimes the wait for a reply was torture! Apart from vague descriptions they had mutually agreed to disclose, neither really knew what the other looked like, apart from age, height, hair colour. And that was fine. Anonymity spared either of them the blushes of real life, and whilst nt describing themselves as perfect, each was able to paint an ideal picture of the other in their minds, and after all, this was the joy of the imagination. No need for perfection, no need for advertising flawless models, just a safe, warm, comforting view of each partner in this, their Cyber world. He had turned off the volume, so that the "ping!" of incoming mail did not alert his wife or pique her interest.

Was she ready for the next step? He decided to take her hand, in the ether, and lead her through the next door……

Amanda – Do you Trust Me? - xx

He seemed to wait an age. Sam – with all my heart – yours, Amanda.x

After pondering a while, and letting her maybe sweat a little – after all, they were perfect teases, perfect foils for each other as they stretched the boundaries of their games. He knew she was safely alone at home at the moment, her flat mate having gone out for the evening. It was nine pm, another Saturday and he was stuck in, his wife never wanting to go out to friends or for a drink, content to be a stay at home grannie.

You are alone at home? When will she return?xx

She will be back at eleven, she has to work tomorrow, ha ha! But not me! Amanda.x

That reply was rather quick! He rose from the floor and stretched, and ambled through to the kitchen to make a coffee, enjoying the cool clean air after the warmth snug of the coal fire.

He returned to the living room and settled back down. "How's it going?" his wife asked, her eyes never straying from the screen, another endless repeat of CSI playing, which she'd already seen, the Woman's Own on her knee open and unread. Was this the way he was meant to live out his life? No chance!

"Oh it's not bad, but I have to keep trying to search different ways, still looking for your mum's grandparents."

After she had nodded and drifted back into the flickering drama, he began to type.

Amanda – All you need to do is answer me Yes or No to the following. There is no "right" answer, only what you are comfortable with. Do you trust me? Do you have a digital camera? (Do not send me any pictures from this) Do you accept a dare? Will you follow each step as I ask? Are the curtains all drawn? Will you give me one hour of your life tonight? It will not harm you, and I hope it will enlighten you. Do you trust me? - Sam.xx

He put the laptop down, and finished his coffee. His wife had left the room, the door open, and a draft raising the flames from the coal and wood in the fire. He stared into the embers, imagining a blush on Amanda's cheeks as she read and digested that last email. This was a whole new world to him, and he was enjoying it. Over the past weeks, the outwardly shy and reserved Amanda had come to flower and blossom within their friendship, and her story writing had evolved well. Her fantasy wish to be an exhibitionist had bloomed, even pervading into her real life. She had told him that when shopping, she had bought knickers instead of panties, lingerie instead of underwear. He had no way to check, he had no wish to check, but the visions it gave him in his mind had caused him some rather painful and embarrassing erections!

She returned to the room, and installed herself back on the couch. Plain black trousers, cover-all jumper which hid (he knew) a T-shirt, cami top and blouse, and those thick woolly socks. He remembered when she used to wear stockings, and silk, and………but that was before she became a grannie. He returned to the laptop, saddened by the memories.

Sam – Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.No. Yes. And implicitly Yes. Yours, with wonder, Amanda.x

He smiled to himself. He could imagine the look on her face and possibly a slight sigh escape her lips as she read his reply. "I am logging off". He hit "Send".


Amanda felt her heart jump as she opened his reply. She didn't want to appear to eager, but she felt she couldn't help it, here she was, with the house empty and to herself, the Internet free, and able to email her Cyber love.

Her face fell, and she let a sigh escape her lips. She almost moaned. "Amanda, I am logging off" followed by the empty void below. With drooped shoulders, she scrolled down the screen, as she was always apt to with his emails.

Her heart leapt.

"Trust in me. You have an empty house. Preferably, go - run a bath, a shower will do, but a bath will be better. Your hair must be dry. Place your camera on a table. Set the timer. When you are naked, before your bath, take a photograph, head to toe. Print it out, and look at it while you bathe. Soak, be clean, be smooth. Don't forget the photo – do not leave it laying around, take it with you to the computer. Dry yourself. In 30 minutes I will log back on. You will be dressed. Your suspender belt, with American tan stockings, pink knickers with polka dots, your matching bra, a plain black skirt, a blouse (buttoned), and court shoes with a low heel. Take another photograph of yourself – dressed – and print it out. Be dressed when I log on. Have your digital camera ready – but you will NOT be sending me any pictures – and you will be rewarded. We will be done by 10:15, you will be safe, but you will be exhilaratingly drained – I hope.


She logged off, and skipped through to the bathroom. As the bath began to fill, she laid out his choice of her clothes. She did wonder what part the camera would play, if she was not allowed to send him a picture (?). She took a photo of herself, naked, in the bathroom door, and hurried to print it out. She didn't like it, she looked awful, but he had said………. She poured oil into the water and stepped in, feeling the tension and aches soak away, to be replaced by a tingling, and a float of butterflies lifting in her tummy. Her legs were smooth – she had kept a secret from him this week, she had saved and paid the extra to have her legs waxed. She knew it would be worth it.

As she washed, she looked at the picture, and felt embarrassed. She hardly looked at herself dressing, so to actually look at herself naked, almost like a voyeur, she picked fault with every flaw that her eyes could see. It wasn't a flattering photo in any way, she looked to be just sad, she looked chubby to herself, weight had piled on, till she filled out. She sighed, then remembered her task. At least that took her mind off the plain frump staring at her, propped up between the taps. She washed, soaped, rinsed, and stepped out to dry, patting herself down with the warm fluffy towel from the radiator. As she closed her eyes, she felt her skin tingling with anticipation, excitement mounting within her at what he had in store for her. Padding through to her bedroom, the towel tightly wrapped over her bosom, she clutched the photo in her hand. Her clothes lay on the bed, and fleetingly she felt they wee mocking her.

The bra cupped her breasts as she closed the clasp behind her, and she began to shiver. Not with cold, but with a shivering excitement that grew threw her. The suspender belt on, she rolled up the tan stockings on her legs, the way they slid up her smooth skin felt almost like tiny little fingers tickling up to her thighs. The knickers cupped her mons, snugly fitting, and she knew they would not stay dry for long if he were to tease her. Stepping into the shoes, with the black skirt hugging her hips, and buttoning up the blouse, she made her way to the camera once more. She stood in the same doorway again, the flash making her jump. Quickly, she ran and printed it off, and while the printer chattered away, she logged back on. Should she email him? Would that look to keen? Would he punish her for it?

As she debated the pros and cons, her Inbox lit up – hardly daring to breathe, she opened it, it was from him……

"Trust in me. You have an empty house. What happens in the next hour stays between your four walls and my screen. Do you really trust me? Will you answer me honestly and do as I ask? Do I have your permission to start – are you ready to play the Game. Just answer Yes or No – no recriminations on your decision – it is totally up to you. With love. Sam.xx"

She caught her breath. This was it. She promised to herself that she would not fib in any way, and if he asked her anything – anything at all – no matter how intimate or inane, she would answer him. The way he worded his emails to her whenever they chatted, he always made sure that she knew she set the pace, she was, in effect, in charge. Weirdly, she wondered if she was being Dominant? But then again, she was always led by him. How she had altered since their first exchange of emails – it excited her. She pressed Send.


"Yes" It flashed up on his screen, and he smiled to himself. Let the game begin. He wondered how she would react to his questions. He watched the countdown in the corner of his screen, conscious that he could not let her be compromised. If she wanted anyone to know what the new Amanda was like, that was up to her. Till she was happy enough and confident enough to do that, he always kept her safe.

"I asked you to take a photograph before you cleaned yourself in the bathroom. I asked you to print it out and to look at it. Tell me what you saw……………..xx"

He felt sad as he read her reply, but knew it was necessary to build her up.


She blinked. How could he? He knew how she felt. She was chubby, she hated her body. She blinked again, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye, and then shook herself. No. She had promised. Warts and all Sam? Is that what you want? You want to poke fun at me? She glared at the photo, on top of the second one, and began to type, she kept it third person, as, with an almost disinterested eye, she began.


"It was before my bath. I see an overweight, medium height girl Hips are too big, thighs too chunky, legs look short, boobs too big, face too plain, hair too flat, face disinteresting. Frumpy looking, no one you would notice. Boring Amanda.x"

He smiled. Not in happiness, but in knowing that she had critically, if somewhat sharply, written from the heart, purely what she had seen. As soon as his Inbox had lit up, he had sent the message he had readily composed, so that she would have no time to think or to worry. Of course he had never seen her in the flesh, never met her, but had gleaned the unhappiness from little slips, and reading inbetween the lines.


"I asked you to take a photograph after you bathed. I asked you to print it out and to look at it. Tell me what you see. And which room has no curtains drawn? With love….xx"

She blinked again. That was quick. He usually made her wait. She was about to go and grab a glass of wine, but the speed of his reply stopped her and made her look at the second picture.

"Okay. Smart, office person. Clerical, or lower-manager. Prim, proper, curvy, but bland/average. Amanda.xx"

She felt better now, though she was still smarting about the picture of her naked. Oops!

"P.S. The kitchen blinds are still up – all the other rooms have the curtains drawn.xx"

She sat back, puzzled. She imagined that normally men would want to see her naked, but to strip for them. What was all this about? Naked first and then dressed.? She had half a mind to send him the first picture and have done with it, but the moistness between her legs and the tingling inside her belly – she knew there was something at the end of this, but what? And she knew he would not hurt her. He couldn't physically anyway, but she knew that whatever mind games he had in mind, she would be okay. What was going to happen?


He grinned. This was going the right way. He had worried at first, with her critique of herself, but now knew that he had to play the cards right in order to have this game run the right way, and to have her quiveringly confident at the end of it. He had copied and pasted all sorts of rubbish from the internet to flick up on screen should his wife suddenly wonder what was keeping him quiet – and happy. And he was glad that she had remembered the curtains question.

Not that it would have mattered, he would have found a way for her to have one set open.

"Take your time. Stand up, remove the skirt and blouse only. Take another photograph of yourself, same place, same pose, in your under things. Print it out, place it at the side of picture one – tell me what you see in the new one. Lovingly, Sam..xx"

This was getting to be good! "Another drink dear?" he asked his telly-bound wife. As he made her a cup of tea, he poured a good glass of whisky and lemonade, and strolled back to the warm room.


Amanda stared at the screen. what was this, family portrait time? She removed the skirt and blouse, and stood back in the same doorway. Just as the flash exploded, she had noticed the hardening of her nipples under the cupping of the bra, her breasts seeming to grow slightly, as her chest heaved. Blushing, she set the picture down, alongside the clothed version. Amazingly, by some luck, she was in virtually an identical pose and place. She wondered if it would make a good peep-slideshow on her computer! She wrote from the heart.

"Now, I see a sexily-dressed girl, the bra makes her breasts have cleavage, the panties show off the curve of top of her legs, and the stockings look good, with the bare flesh above framed by the suspender belt. If I had been dressed like this, I would have been noticed by all the men straightaway! This one I……." she hesitated before continuing "This one I feel good about.xx"

She now realised what he had set out to do. However she felt about herself, the last picture was the real Amanda. She looked again at the first photo, and laid it by the last one. Skipping from one to the other, she now saw those curves, invisible to her when she first critically pulled the body to bits, but perfectly highlighted in the other picture. She saw the "sexy" Amanda, and imagined having the same lingerie on but having a photoshoot done, a boudoir set of pictures. She realised suddenly that the "plain" Amanda in the first one was the same girl, but with her "nakedness" hidden in the last picture by the underwear, she looked so good, so…..sexy, she could hardly believe it. And she realised why it was that Sam had always said "better a well dressed woman than a naked see-for-all" She groaned as she felt hat familiar tingle in her belly, and stood, revealing a damp spot on the cushion. He skin was sheening, she wasn't hot with the heat, but hot with heat, and a burning desire that made her want to……………………


He grinned again. This was going the right way after all! He thought of her, sitting there in her underwear, appraising the photos, and finally seeing herself. He wished he was there, he wished he could take photographs of her like she had never had taken before. He sighed, and wrote back to her, the laptop crushing is twitching cock.

"My darling Amanda. Tonight I have teased you terribly, but I think that you may now realise what it I about a woman's body, a curvy, well proportioned woman's body, that excites men so. Naked or clothed, you are sexy Amanda,

I wanted your hair dry, because I wanted no distractions for you, no coldness, only awakening.

Naked or clothed, you are sexy Amanda, and no-one or no thing can ever change that – only your belief in yourself. The outer clothes you wore in the second photo, take a look at them again. Office-wear, everyday uniform, anonymity, blending in with the background. If you work in an office, no-one will notice you, you have on what you should have on. But when you go to work next week, you are – without exception – to wear your sexiest underwear everyday, and stockings.

As you walk around, you will feel the kiss of bare thigh on bare thigh, you will feel the brush of stocking upon stocking as you walk. Only you will feel this and know this. No-one else. To the outside world you will be the office girl, if you like. To your inner self, you will be the sexily-dressed WOMAN in that last picture, and you will know it. You may even find yourself a little damp, as you talk to someone, knowing what you are underneath that "uniform".

I have two final "tasks" for you. Will you accept them? Whether you do them or not, it is up to you………………………..Sam.xxxx"


She felt dizzy. She was conscious of the electrifying brush of her arm on the side of the bra, which caused only the slightest movement of the cloth, but it was enough to set her nipple on fire. How could she feel like this, merely from words, and the blind eyes of her voyeur? Not a virgin, she knew the rush of heat that sex could bring, or the pure release of love-making, or masturbation. But this? She wished he was sat in a corner watching her. "Yes, I accept.x"


Shorter now, because his time was running out, he answered her straight away.

"Tidy up, replace everything. Either burn, or keep very safe, the three stages of your Awakening. You are to go to your bedroom. However, before you do so, you will WALK to your kitchen turn on the lights, and pour yourself a drink, slowly, of whatever you wish. Rinse your hands in the sink, take your drink, and go to your bedroom. Turn all the lights off, except your bedside lamp, and remove all but your stockings. Then pleasure yourself – you will write everything down that you feel to me in an email tomorrow. Sweet dreams my darling. Yours, thankingly, Sam.xx"


She looked at the clock on the wall. He had timed this perfectly, she would be in bed when her flat mate returned. Her cheeks blushed. In bed. "He wants me to……..?" She took a deep breath, and tidied the table up, just sending "I will.x" before powering the computer down, and stashing the photographs at the back of a drawer in her room. Then she remembered, a drink. She reached for her dressing gown, her arm fell. She took a deep breath, and walked through the house to the kitchen, wincing as she turned on the bright overhead strip light. As it flickered into life, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. Curves, framed with silk and lace, and…she gasped. "Oh my god, what if……….?"

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