DaddyJo ⸻ The sun was warm on my bare shoulders as I tied the apron strings tight around my waist. The skirt of my maid-style outfit was scandalously short, but DaddyJo liked me in it when I worked outside for him. The ruffled trim brushed against my thighs as I stepped into the garden, already feeling a delicious flutter of nerves knowing his eyes would linger on every movement I made. “Bring me the shears, sweetheart,”...

The bell above the door chimed as Sierra and Karen stepped into Luxe Lace, the Gold Coast’s most decadent little lingerie boutique. The place glittered with satin ribbons, jeweled straps, and mirrors that promised trouble. “Oh, we are so going to be a distraction in here,” Sierra said, her lips curling into a grin. Karen raised an eyebrow. “Correction—you’re going to be the distraction. I’m here purely for… research purpo...

Sierra’s Effortless Beauty She doesn’t chase the mirror’s gaze, Nor dress for endless praise, Yet every breath she softly takes Turns moments into golden days. No brush defines her windswept hair, No paint upon her cheeks, Her smile—a dawn without compare— Speaks more than poets speak. The way she walks, a gentle grace, As though the earth aligns To cradle each sure, barefoot step With whispers from the pines. Her laughte...

Karen had always known that the world would see her one way, but in her heart, she felt entirely different. She was in her early forties, with a soft-spoken nature, striking auburn hair, and a wardrobe that would put many fashionistas to shame. Karen was a crossdresser, but to her, this wasn’t about wearing clothes meant for the opposite gender—it was an expression of who she truly was, the fluidity of her identity. In he...

In the soft glow of neon lights, a cozy bar tucked away in a quiet part of town was buzzing with low conversation and the clink of glasses. The warm ambiance and chill music made it a perfect place for anyone seeking a little escape. Sitting at the far end of the bar, Karen adjusted her black lace gloves, smoothing the fabric over her wrist. She’d been coming here for a few nights in a row, always drawn to how accepting i...