Slave to High Fashion: A Submissive Tale

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As a lover of fashion, I at all times wanted to experience the glamorous world of haute couture intimately. Little did I know that my desire for it would soon lead me down a path of submission, where I would become the eager slave to high fashion.

It all started when I met a gorgeous model named Isla at a fashion week in Paris. She was tall, slender, and had piercing green eyes that were mesmerizing. We hit it off immediately, and she took me under her wing, introducing me to designers, photographers, and other models.

One day, Isla took me to meet a popular fashion designer, who was renowned for his avant-garde designs. When we arrived, he greeted us with a stern expression and asked if I wanted to work for him. I eagerly said yes, not realizing what that meant.

The next thing I knew, I was whisked away to his atelier, where his team of seamstresses, makeup artists, and hairstylists awaited me. They stripped me down to my underwear, and began fitting me in numerous garments. They pricked, pinned, and molded me into their vision, and I could feel myself being transformed into a living, breathing work of art.

The designer himself came to inspect his creation, and I could sense his intense gaze on me. He circled me, examining every inch of me, and I stood trembling in his presence. But despite my fear, I couldn’t help but be aroused by his commanding presence.

He noticed my reaction and smiled wickedly. “You enjoy being dominated, don’t you?” he said. “You want to be my slave?”

“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.

“Then you’ll do everything I tell you to do. You’ll be at my beck and call, and you’ll always be ready for me,” he said.

Without hesitation, I agreed, and he took me to his office, where he began to explore my body in methods I never wondered feasible. He tied me up, spanked me, and made me beg for his touch. But he also gave me pleasure beyond anything I had ever experienced before, introducing me to a world of sexual ecstasy that I had only ever dreamed of.

I became his obedient little fetish doll, at all times willing to please him and satisfy his every desire. He pushed me to my limits, but I loved every moment of it, relishing in the tingling sensations that spread throughout my body.

My life had become a never-ending cycle of submission, fashion, and pleasure, and I was completely enslaved to it. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. For in this world, I had found my true calling: to be the submissive slave to high fashion.