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It was mydarkest secret and greatest shame that I liked to dress like a woman.I had done it on and off for years. My views on it seemed to change bythe day. Sometimes I would dress whenever I could. Other times, I wouldgo years without cross-dressing. The desire was still there, but therewas more of an internal push to deny it.Three times, I built up a full wardrobe of women's clothes just to givethem all to goodwill. Each time, I did so in the futile pursuit offixing myself. I figured that if I purged myself of these woman'sgarments, somehow my cross-dressing would stop. It was the temptation,I would delude myself into thinking. Of course, it never stopped thedesires and soon enough I'd be building a new collection of women'sclothing, and my effeminate traits never went long without showing."Still admiring women's clothing, I see," I heard Dr. Nichols say.I didn't quite know what to say or what she meant. I shrugged and said,"It's a good picture."She laughed and said, "You'd still. Just before the two guys disappeared, their last acts were to each place a bell clip on each of her nipple rings, they tested these bells by flicking her swollen and sore nipples and ting-a-ling was clearly heard, they walked away laughing.In the stillness and dark of the night, Mandi still feebly hoped for the chance to escape but she had to admit whilst she would not have chosen to endure the things she was made to do, she now cherished the feelings and experiences they had given her. She felt herself flush and blush at the thought of what her dear old mother would have thought of her if she had known what Mandi had experienced over the last days, weeks? How long had she suffered, she tried to remember but as she could not even recall what day it was today let alone the date she failed miserably to work out how long she had endured these things.Almost the second her eyes finally gave way to sleep, she was awakened by the icy cold rush of water as it cascaded over her secured body..
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