I step to the bed and run my fingertips across it – marvelling at the sleek, tingling smoothness. This fabric isn’t cotton, or silk, or any other of the natural or man-made fabrics of Deemak. This dress must be made from something off-world, sold at the Sector 1 marketplace; almost too precious for calloused hands like mine to touch.
The material seems to almost hum beneath my touch. I’m nude, but that seems right for this dress. It was clearly never intended to be worn with any undergarments beneath it…
…even panties, I wickedly think.
There isn’t a moment’s hesitation. I gently pull the dress over my head, wriggling into it. I’m scared that I might accidentally rip this beautiful fabric. The fine gossamer material feels so delicate and precious.
And then, as it falls around my body and sleekly caresses my curves, I realize this is more than just a beautiful gown made from a fine fabric.
Oh, I think to myself. This is a pleasure dress.
The thin, yellow-gold material molds itself to my body as though it’s alive; with the gentle sensuality of a lover. It feels like there are a thousand tiny hands suddenly touching and teasing every inch of me. My nipples harden instantly beneath the gentle, teasing touch of the dress.
I’m shivering as I stand in front of the full-length mirror and do a little spin. In my reflection, I see the dress contour to my figure almost like it’s painted on. As I stand there and sway, dancing to music only I hear, the fabric moves and shifts in slow motion, as if trying to hug my body even as the breeze pulls it away from me.
So, this is what the Aurelians want me to serve them dinner in.
Some part of me is suddenly still open to the idea of giving my virginity to these gorgeous aliens, even as my pride tells me not to surrender something so special just to become another notch on their belts.
But is virginity truly precious? Perhaps only to them. I almost feel disloyal at the thought of not giving it to them – of letting some other man, a disappointing human man, claim it unappreciatively at some point in my future.
In any event, I’m shocked that Cyrus, Gallus and Varian chose this outfit for me. Shocked, but perhaps not surprised, knowing Cyrus’s wicked streak.
I stare at my reflection. I can see the round circles of my nipples through the sheer material, hard and pressing firmly against the gossamer fabric. I’d have thought the Aurelians would want to be focused on the business deal tonight – but given how they’d looked at me so lustfully in my drab and dirty maid’s outfit, surely they’ll lose their minds when they see me like this.
And, for once, I know it’s not my ego telling me that I distract them. I can feel it in their hungry gaze.
They didn’t care a wit when I broke that glass – and cost them a fortune. Now, they’re dressing me up in this, when it's certain to distract them during what they've told me is one of the biggest business deals of their long, long lives.
I realize that the Aurelians aren't treating me like a random woman in their harem; even one with the novelty factor of her intact virginity.
They’re treating me like something else – something special.
I can't believe they could have amassed such a great fortune if they were willing to lavish huge amounts of time, focus and money every time a woman didn't immediately open her legs for them...
…unless they'd never had a woman like that before; one who doesn't immediately bow to their desires. Perhaps, as incredible as this sounds, that novelty alone could be enough to drive them crazy.
But regardless, this dress feels so right. It feels as though it was made for me, and only me.
Just like a Fated Mate is made for one triad of Aurelians – and only them.
I take a deep breath.
If this is to be my last night with the Aurelians, I want to make it count. I'll decide later how deeply I want to let myself indulge in this fantasy – the illusion of another life that I’ll never live.
So, yes, I'll wear the dress, and I'll serve the Aurelians their dinner and drinks. I’ll let myself be shown off like a trophy for the powerful aliens and the businessmen they’re negotiating with.
I bite my lip in anticipation. There’s something so deeply and deliciously humiliating about having to serve the Aurelians while I'm dressed like this. The pleasure dress makes me look more naked than if I wore nothing at all. It’s like wearing the kiss of a sensual lover over every inch of my body.
It’s like a tangible version of the feelings these Aurelians have awoken in me – and how, in the brief time I've spent with them, I've learned so much about myself and what I truly desire.
Imagine how much I’d learn if I was actually Bonded to them – as impossibly unlikely as that is. Imagine if every desire I had buried deep inside of me was forced to the surface, for them to indulge. My cheeks burn just at the thought of it I wouldn't be able to bear the shame, surely – the sensual, perfect, overwhelming heat that burns so deeply inside my core.
I bite my lip in anticipation, staring at myself in the mirror.
“So, this is who I am,” I say softly to myself. I twirl in the mirror again. I can barely recognize myself. I didn’t have a mirror back in my tiny rented room at The Stag, but when I’d used to walk past a shiny steel panel, or a shop window in the Sector 3 marketplace while I worked, I’d catch a glimpse of a woman as dirty and stained as the reflective surface I’d be looking
