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Her Fetish Novel Cover

Her Fetish

As a focused dance major, the protagonist of Her Fetish is fully committed to her upcoming examinations. To her peers and instructors, she is the embodiment of a disciplined, well-behaved student. However, beneath her polished exterior lies a private world of desire that contradicts her public image. She grapples with a secret fixation on being violated, a recurring fantasy that she keeps hidden from the world while navigating her academic pressures in this young adult story.
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Chapter 3

On the second night, I put on the suspender skirt I wore last night and went out again.

The difference was that I didn't even wear a thong this time.

As soon as I walked out of the stairs, I saw a man staring at me from the corner of my eye.

I pretended not to notice him as I took a few steps forward with a fluttering heart, then stopped and began to bend down to adjust my sandals.

As I secretly glanced back, I saw the man gradually approaching me before he squatted down six feet away and pretended to tie his shoelaces.

From this distance, he could directly see my private parts.

No matter what, it would only take so long to fix my shoelaces. Half a minute later, I stood up and continued to walk.

After leaving the community, I began to get excited. The coolness under my skirt, especially, gave me a sense of excitement as if I were doing something bad secretly.

The pleasure I felt today was completely different from last night's.

I stopped when I came to a store on the corner.

This was my family's store. It had been renovated recently and had not yet opened. However, the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the street had been covered with reverse film. It looked like a mirror from the outside and glass from the inside.

I leaned over the window and checked carefully for a moment. After making sure that no one outside could see inside, I took out the key, opened the door, and walked in.

After I turned on the air conditioner, I pushed a single couch to the floor-to-ceiling window, took off the dust cover, took off my skirt, and lay down comfortably.

People were coming and going outside. While they couldn't see me, I could see them.

I put my feet against the glass and easily did a split facing the window.

Just then, a sturdy man came to the floor-to-ceiling mirror. With his six-foot-three frame, his burly body completely blocked the reflection of the street lamp and cast me into the shadow.

It was the man from earlier.

As I stared at him with my breath held, I reached down and gently explored my body.

Although I knew he couldn't see me, when we looked at each other through the glass, my heart still seemed to jump out of my throat.

I looked up and looked at the man who was so close, secretly enjoying this secret happiness.

But for some reason, the more I touched myself, the emptier I felt.

This was far from enough. I wanted more.

The little devil in my heart began to roar, "Come on, come here. There is a woman waiting for you here!"

But I never even dreamed that he would push the door open as though he had heard my voice.

It was not until then that I realized that I had forgotten to lock the door!

My mind was blank. I watched him fasten the bolt and stalk toward me.

"W-What are you trying to do?" I choked.

The man's body was too big, putting me under great pressure.

But not only did he not answer, but he easily picked me up and pressed me against the wall like the man last night.

The feeling of being dominated by a man poured down from the top of my head again, along my spine to the soles of my feet, and then from the soles of my feet to my heart, prompting me to completely give up resistance.

I propped my hands on the window, tiptoed, and obediently raised my hips...

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