Description

Raped By My Evil Twin, by Jezebel Rose

The old man walked along the sidewalk slowly. His cane helped him along so he wouldn’t stumble. Soon he came to a row of shops and entered the one with the sign ‘Antiques’ hanging above the door. Walking into the room, he looked around and noticed something amiss. The clerk came out of the back room, spied the old man, and said, “Hello, Jackson Maily, how was your lunch?”

“Where is the mirror?” The old man asked, pointing with the tip of his cane to space against the back wall where it used to stand covered up.

“I sold it, Her Maily.” The clerk replied happily.

“What? You sold it?” The old man asked in astonishment. “I would never have sold it!”

“But, I got an excellent price for it, Jackson Maily.”

“To whom did you sell it? We must try and get it back!”

“To a young lady, sir… She gave a parley some for it. All in cash too.”

“Did you get her name? Her address?”

“No, sir. Why? What is wrong?”

“You don’t understand Roger, that mirror…it is evil,” the old man said just before he collapsed to the ground.

Jezebel Rosetta made her living, a very successful living, writing romance novels. A mousy, quiet type of girl in real life whose novels showed the reader heroines that had a deep inner strength to bring them through trials of conflict, failed, and successful romances. Her success allowed her to live better than average acquiring a Victorian style home in the country and to fill it with antique furniture. Her latest acquisition, a 17th-century mirror that she immediately hung in her bedroom thinking to use it as a dressing mirror.

After some struggle, Jezebel was able to hang the mirror right where she wanted in the bedroom across from where her bed sat. It was a beautifully polished wood framed mirror with hand carving all around. Standing there, looking at the mirror itself, she began to look at her reflection. She saw herself as she always did; Standing 5’2″ in her stocking feet. She had a shapely body measuring 34-28-32. Her ample breast always looked gigantic on her small frame. Her dark brown hair she wore lose fell along her shoulders to the length of mid-back. Her face was covered with black framed glasses, which gave her a nerdy look — nothing like the women portrayed in her novels. Quite the opposite, shy and soft-spoken if not a bit submissive.

Looking into the mirror, her image seemed to shimmy, if just for a second. She rubbed her eyes. She must be tired; she thought and decided to go to bed. Though the hour was not late, she wanted to get up early and get a start on writing her next novel. That night she slept. Not a restful sleep, but one with strange dreams making her toss and turn most of the night. Awaking in the morning, she knew she was still tired and knew she had these peculiar dreams but could not remember any of them. She moved across the room, heading downstairs to the kitchen, not before glancing at herself in her pajamas as she passed the mirror. With dawn just breaking, a good cup of coffee out on the veranda in the cold fresh air was just what she needed to wake up. Finishing her coffee, she went inside, made a second cup, and firing up her laptop began to write.

Three hours later, it was time for a break and a stretch. Back upstairs to shower and change. When finished, she was dressed and standing in front of the mirror, watching herself as she brushed her hair. As she did so, the image in the mirror shimmered once again, and in a flash, she saw her reflection change. Change from what she was wearing, blue jeans with a white blouse to a much different image. She saw herself… or what looked to be her. The reflection of herself wore a black leather mini skirt, a black leather bustier that pushed her ample breasts upwards. Almost lewdly. Black leather knee-high boots adored her legs. Her hair was pulled back tightly on her head into a high ponytail. Jezebel glanced away to look for her glasses. Seeing them on the nightstand, she moved to grab them and put them on. Looking back into the mirror, all she saw was the reflection of the image of herself, as she was.

What had happened? What had she seen? Was her mind playing tricks on her? Surely, she was still tired from the lack of restful sleep. That and too much strong coffee. It had to be it. She made her way downstairs and went back to work writing.

The next morning she arose at her usual early morning time. She was tired. She had put in a full day of work yesterday writing well into the night. When she finally stopped for the evening, she had gone to bed, but once again, her sleep was interrupted with strange dreams. Dreams which bothered her but none that she could remember when she awoke. Taking her usual cup of coffee, she went out on the veranda of the house only to find a large package waiting for her. When did this arrive? She thought. She did not hear any delivery. No bell was wrung. Strange. She brought the package into her house and placed it on the table. It had her name and address on it, but the return address was unreadable. Taking a steak knife from the drawer, Jezebel cut the seal of the box and looked inside, surprised at what she found. It was a black leather corset. She lifted it out of the box and admired the beauty of the construction of the piece. It was undoubtedly hand made with quality leather and heavily boned. It laced up the back and had a zippered flap that covered the laces. Putting back into the box, she went outside and sat down to drink her coffee. Where did it come from? She had not ordered it. Nobody she knew would send something like that to her.

Finishing her coffee, she decided to go and take a quick shower and get dressed. As she moved through the kitchen, she reached into the box and took the corset with her upstairs. Not knowing why.

After her shower, she came out of the bathroom only in her panties and was moving towards the closet when she thought she heard someone call her name, “Jezebel.” She turned quickly to look, but there was no one there.

“Jezebel.”

She heard it again, but there was no one in her room.

“Jezebel.” It was only a whisper.

As she looked around the room trying to figure out what was going on, she looked at the mirror. Something drew her closer to the mirror. She listened, saw her reflection, and then it changed. It was the image of herself of what she saw yesterday. However, this time she was calling to herself.

“Jezebel. Jezebel.” It said. “Put it on.”

She looked as if in a trance. Turning Jezebel moved to the bed and picked up the corset. She looked back in the mirror. Her reflection was smiling. “Put it on.” Echoed in her mind. Jezebel bent down and stepped into the corset, lifting it over her hips to pull it waist high. It fit perfectly over her small frame from just over her hips to breasts. Raising them and pushing them outward. Proudly. However, it did not cover her chest completely. Instead, the cups lifted them up but only covered them half way. Peeking over the top was half of her silver dollar sized aureoles. She tried to pull it up a bit further, but every movement by her body allowed it to slip down. She needed to tighten the laces. Reaching behind her back, she could grab the laces but be unable to exert the type of force to tighten them. Then she remembered there was something else in the box. Going back downstairs, she went to the box and on the bottom found two metal lasing hooks. With these, she was able to grab the laces and pull them tight. She started at the bottom and worked her way up to the top. Tied the laces off to hold them in place and then decided to do it again. Starting back at the bottom, she pulled the laces even tighter. After a half an hour, she was able to remove the corset extremely tight pulling her waist in almost a full two inches. She then used one of the hooks to snag the zipper flap and pulled it up covering the laces. She then made her way back up the stairs to look at herself in the mirror.

She was amazed at what she saw. The corset defined her curves like never before. Breasts pushed up and outward. Her gum drop sized nipples poked over the top. It did no good to push them back down as they just continued to pop back out. The only problem she had was that the corset made breathing a bit difficult, forcing her to take shallow breaths.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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