Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 2) - Sex Stories

Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 2)

... cleavage momentarily masked the larger problem that Sasha was now completely topless in the middle of her city, with nothing but lycra pants and utterly pointless wrist bands to counter-argue the claim that she was stark-naked in front of the city’s grand Cathedral. Tara chose that precise moment in time to laugh out loud, and she broke into mock applause. “Great tits, Sasha. No fair covering up those juicy boobies. Learn to take a compliment!” Sasha heard gasps from bystanders on the street behind her. She could feel her face go bright red, and she instinctively covered up her breasts with two hands as the realisation of her predicament sunk in. It was at that point as well that the wristbands revealed their true purpose. Slowly at first, but with a seemingly irresistible force, the wristbands were forcing themselves apart. Magnetic! Damn it, thought Sasha hopelessly, they’ve got some kind of magnet inside of them. It was too late to try and remove them, as she couldn’t force her hands close enough together to rip off the bands from the opposite wrists. At the same time, she also felt the same irresistible force being applied to her shoes, and she felt her unwilling feet slowly being pushed further and further apart. Slowly, gracefully, and yet entirely without mercy, her wrists and ankles began to move outwards. She instantly knew that the wrist bands would be repelling the shoes as well, and she sensed the upwards trajectory of her wrists with utter helplessness. The ...

... entire process took less than a minute, although it felt like an hour to Sasha, but as gracefully as it started, the entire movement came to an end with Sasha in a perfect "X" pose. Her arms were splayed upwards and outwards, her legs now wide enough apart to make walking a extremely tricky and slow proposition. Sasha stood before her victor, black tight pants protecting the last of her modesty, unable to cover up - unable to move, really - but completely able to fully imagine how all this must look. “Well, Ladies”, their earpieces announced, “it would appear we have reached the final end state of our game. Tara Tennyson, Sasha Sinclair, it is with great pleasure that Decided Enterprises has helped two such upstanding citizens as yourselves to work out their differences.” “Wait a minute,” Tara interjected, “what part of `total humiliation’ involves Sasha keeping her pants on?” “Screw you, bitch!” Sasha shouted, as she tried to ignore the small crowd of astonished people slowly gaining in size around them. “Well,” the voice continued, “it’s certainly true that while all great feuds must come to an end, there is always some choice as to how they end, even in a game such as our own. Miss Tennyson, you would be entirely within your rights to simply walk away now, never to see Miss Sinclair again, content in the knowledge of your complete victory. You, of course, also have on your person a tight white top, perhaps surplus to needs. I must say that shirt offers a variety of options. I ...