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Captioned Images Series: Auction
Created: 09/26/2024
Louis bought it all. Not just the woman's home, but all her belongings as well as he body itself. The woman, Louis didn't want to think of her name, had lost everything, literally. She had to auction it all, her home, her car, her possessions, and her body. Everything except her name and her soul. When he saw her, he had to have her. He was the highest bidder, a bid that included the entire 'lot'. All her possessions and her body itself belong to him.
Most of the bid went to pay off her creditors, but she was left with a few dollars after everything was sold. In the end, she could start anew. Hopefully, she wouldn't bankrupt her life as a man as she had as a woman.
Louis, dressed only in the woman's delicates (a bra and panty girdle), stepped into the walk-in closet, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Rows of dresses, skirts, and blouses hung neatly, their delicate fabrics and soft hues creating a world of elegance and femininity. The air smelled faintly of lavender, as though the previous owner’s presence still lingered in the room. Each garment was immaculately preserved, a testament to the woman who had once lived here and her love for clothing that embraced womanhood in its most expressive form. It was hard to fathom that for a few dollars, everything the woman had owned belonged to him.
The garments themselves weren’t extravagant in price, Louis knew. He wasn't an expert on women's fashion...not yet. They weren’t the type of designer pieces that people flaunted to show wealth or status. But their beauty lay in their variety and charm. There were tea-length dresses with lace trim, floral-patterned skirts that swayed gently when he touched them, and blouses adorned with ruffles and delicate embroidery. The styles ranged from sweet and vintage-inspired to more contemporary, but all of them shared one thing in common: a devotion to the art of being feminine.
Louis marveled at how meticulously curated the collection was. There were satin nightgowns, sheer chiffon blouses with billowing sleeves, and pastel-colored cardigans that seemed to beg for a matching pearl necklace. A row of ballet flats, kitten heels, and elegant pumps lined the bottom of the closet, arranged by color and style, completing the picture of a woman who had once taken great care in how she presented herself.
Running his fingers over the soft fabrics, Louis smiled to himself. These clothes, with their modest price tags but extravagant attention to style, now belonged to him. It was as if he had stepped into someone else’s life—a life defined by grace, poise, and an appreciation for the finer, more delicate things. The thought both thrilled and titillated him. He could almost feel the presence of the woman who once filled these dresses and would be living in her home, wearing her apparel, and having her body make her into him. No, he wouldn't come to her end. But even if he befell her fate, spending a decade or more like this would be worth it.
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