corsets

Tony the doorman brightened and said



“Good morning, Mr. Madison! And this is Missy, right? Good morning to you!”



And he called them a cab and held the door for Missy as she got in. He obviously could not ogle and embarrass her as he had before, but she was so sexy! He knew she had not objected or told anyone about their last encounter, and although he was not the sharpest knife in the rack, he thought she was a little slut underneath, and he could not resist the temptation and put a hand under her short dress and gave her ass a good hard squeeze as she got into the taxi.



“EEEEEEKKKKK!!” Missy squealed in surprise.



Bill, just getting in on his side, heard her and said:



“Are you all right, little one?”



“Y – y – Yesss – yes Sir, I’m fine.”



Why, oh why didn’t she tell Bill what had just happened? She didn’t like Tony and she didn’t like being squeezed and groped like that, but something in her preferred to just go along. She was okay, no harm done, and she really did not want to make a scene right here on the street, in front of all these New Yorkers. Maybe she would tell him later. Meanwhile Tony had developed such a huge erection he took a break from work and went to the men’s room, where he locked himself into a stall and masturbated furiously, thinking about how great it would be to fuck little Missy and how he might be able to accomplish that. There was a little store room off the lobby, but he had no idea how he would ever get Missy there.



Missy tried to put Tony out of her mind. She was both excited and nervous about seeing Alexandra again. On the one hand what had happened before was wrong, and now as a married lady committed to her new husband she knew she should not let anyone else touch her. But in a strange way she liked the imperious Alexandra, so tall and regal, so formal, so strange and distant, so sensuous yet so lonely. She knew Alexandra was sexually attracted, and she knew what had happened last time, and she knew that it had felt right somehow. But she was married now, and resolved to avoid close contact. Maybe Bill would stay this time, and everything would be all right. She hoped Bill would stay.



When they arrived Bill talked to Alexandra for a few minutes and took care of the bill. He announced that he had important work to do and would not be home until late that evening. He gave Missy a $20 bill and an apartment key.



“When you are done, little one, Alexandra will call a taxi for you and this will cover the charge to drive you home. Don’t worry about figuring out the right tip, just give him the $20 bill and you’ll be fine. Then go up to the apartment, use the key to get in and wait for me.”



“But Sir, can’t you stay? It shouldn’t take too long, and I would feel better if you stayed. Please Sir?”



Missy, sitting on the small stool in the living room as before, looked up at him pleadingly through her big eyes.



“Please Sir? I am more comfortable with you here. Please?”



“I have work to do, Missy, and won’t be home until late tonight,” Bill said sternly.



He bent over and whispered in her ear: “Now obey my wishes, slut. Do as I say or you will be spanked. Actually, for what you have just said you will be spanked anyway when I get home, and it will hurt!”



“Yes, Sir,” Missy murmured in a defeated voice and watched as Bill left. She didn’t know if she had the strength to resist Alexandra if she decided to take things further.



After she saw Bill out, Alexandra came into the room and stood looking down at the pretty Missy, sitting on the low stool with her knees tightly together. Although she had not heard the whole exchange, she knew Missy was reluctant and Bill had made it clear just how things would be. It reinforced her opinion that Missy was Bill’s little fuck toy, his sex slave. It seemed pretty clear as she looked at the young girl in her little dress and heels. And something was different about her, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint just what it was.



“Well child, and how are you today?”



“Fine, Ma’am,” said Missy, looking up shyly at the older woman. She was dressed today in another Victorian outfit, a different style from before but still in shades of gray, long dress and sleeves, with the same high heeled boots. And an extremely small waist!



“I have finished your corset, and today you will have your final fitting. Mr. Madison wants it to be just right, and we have all afternoon, so we will spend as much time as it takes. And you know enough by now to be cooperative, don’t you?”



“Y – y – yes Ma’am.”



Stepping close to the stool, Alexandra ordered:



“All right then, up with you and off with the dress!”



And again Missy stood, uncomfortably close to the older woman, and took off her little dress. As before she had trouble getting it over her long hair and, moving her arms and elbows, brushed against Alexandra’s full bust. Finally it was done and Missy stood in her tiny thong and high heels. Again Alexandra took the dress and went into the other room, this time locking it away in a drawer.



She emerged a few minutes later carrying a pretty purple box, in which laid Missy’s new corset. And a pretty thing it was, in the purple silk she had chosen, very fine material, an under-bust style leaving her breasts free above and her pussy free below.



There was actually very little to do at a corset fitting, since once the garment was made it could really not be altered. Normally Alexandra would lace it up loosely, then a little tighter, then give the customer instructions to increase the tightness of the lacing a little bit each day for two weeks, and not really lace it tight until 14 days had passed. But in Missy’s case Alexandra had other ideas. She knew this might be the last time they saw each other, they had all the time in the world, and Alexandra was determined to make the most of it. And she had noticed what was different about Missy – the large tits! This had to be the sexiest girl Alexandra had ever encountered, and the little thong did nothing to hide the perfect ass.



As before Alexandra was very professional. She sat in a big easy chair and had Missy stand in front of her, fitting the corset on and lacing it loosely.



“There, how does that feel?”



“Fine Ma’am,” Missy replied, secretly relieved.



She had thought the corset might hurt or be restrictive, but this was fine, very fitted and comfortable.



“Okay, now we must make sure it is comfortable in all different positions. Let’s start by reaching up. Come with me!”



And they went into the kitchen, where Alexandra had Missy reach up and get various things from upper shelves.



“Now let’s make sure you can bend over okay.” And Alexandra took several plates from a shelf and made Missy pick them up from the floor.



“How does that feel, child? Does the corset cause you any problems reaching up or reaching down?”



“No ma’am, its fine.”



“Good. Now let’s make absolutely sure it fits comfortably.”



And Alexandra took Missy back into the living room and had her stretch out on the floor. She ordered the little girl to curl up, to stretch and reach, to go into whatever positions Alexandra could think of. She had never done this with a client before, but Missy was so absolutely charming in her heels, thong and corset that the older woman could not resist the temptation to see the young girl’s body as it moved, stretched, contorted and posed. She kept it up for 15 minutes, often telling Missy to hold a particularly sexy pose for as long as a minute.



“Now child, it is time for you to see what it will be like to be laced up tight. Come over here!”



And Missy was put into a standing position facing away from Alexandra, who proceeded to lace up the corset as tight as she possibly could. As the restrictive garment got tighter and tighter, Missy began to complain.



“Ma’am, that’s much too tight! Oh! Oh! Ma’am, that is really starting to hurt! Ooohhh!!! Ma’am, I am having trouble breathing. Oh please, loosen it! This is unbearable! Oooohhhh!!!!! Please, oh please ma’am, please loosen it!!”



Alexandra ignored Missy’s pleas, tightening and re-tightening until she was finally satisfied. Missy would have been moaning, but since she was unable to take anywhere near a full breath, her sounds of consternation came out like little yelps.



“Now child, kneel here on this pillow. I will leave you for a few minutes to get used to the feeling of a very tight corset. Feel free to move your arms and torso around.”



After she left, Missy squirmed and tried to find a comfortable position, but it was not to be. There was no way to relieve the constant pressure on her stomach and abdomen. But after ten minutes she did find herself getting used to it. Breathing was much shallower, and that meant she had to take more breaths. She knelt on her pillow, panting as if she had been running and were out of breath, still squirming in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position.



Bustling back into the room, Alexandra said:



“Come with me child, and we will continue to make sure you can move properly.”



And again Missy was made to reach for things on upper kitchen shelves, pick up plates from the kitchen floor, and she was again made to lie down on the living room floor. Alexandra took out a digital camera.



“Wha – what are you doing, ma’am?”



“Don’t worry, child, I always take a few pictures of my corset creations for my files and promotional materials. If it bothers you, just keep your eyes closed. No, have a better idea. Remember last time when I was teaching you about corsets?”



And she bustled out of the room, returning a minute later with a blindfold, this time in purple silk.



“I saved a strip of material from your corset and made this specially for you,” said Alexandra, drawing the soft silk over Missy’s eyes and tying it behind her head. She could not resist stroking the girl’s hair for a brief moment before moving back.



Missy was confused; like the last time, she felt that things were going in a direction that was not appropriate, that there was some kind of sexual element here, but she wasn’t sure, and anyway it felt good. With Alexandra, somehow she felt safe and warm and comfortable.



And so Missy continued to put her body into the positions Alexandra ordered, not realizing that she was posing for a very sexy photo shoot. The sight of the pretty Thai body, with the larger tits and smaller waist, made an absolutely captivating sight, and Alexandra didn’t stop until she had a full set of pictures featuring Missy in a variety of provocative poses.



“Are you getting used to it, child?”



“Ma’am, this is very tight!” said the blindfolded girl. “I can move a little better now, but its still hard to breath. And it doesn’t quite hurt, but it feels restrictive and tight and uncomfortable. Is this the way it will always be?”



“That will be up to Bill. He is the one who will be lacing you. If he does it according to the instructions, he will progressively go from loose to tight lacing over a two-week period, and by that time you should be fully accustomed to it. Right now it seems tight because you are not used to it.”



“Ma’am, when will we be done with the fitting? I can’t bear this much longer!”



But Alexandra had other ideas for Missy, and wanted her to stay exactly as she was.



“Be patient, child. Good things come to those who wait. Now come with me!” and the older women helped Missy to her feet and, taking her elbow, guided her up the stairs to the bedroom.



Alexandra knew the next step was to get Missy into that hazy, suggestible mental sub-space. She decided to take a direct approach. She took a pillow from the bed and set it on the floor in front of her bedroom chair. She began a steady soft patter of whispering:



“Good girl … good little girl … you are a good girl, little Missy … you feel safe, don’t you … you are always safe with me, child … now kneel here on this soft pillow … good girl … now I want you to use both hands to feel your corset … enjoy the sensation of the beautiful silk … feel it, child … good … feel your body too … yes, that’s right, feel your breasts … pinch your nipples, child … good girl … that feels good, doesn’t it? … pinch them harder … now you stay just like that and keep pinching – I’ll be right back …”



Alexandra quickly went into her small dressing room and took off all of her clothes, except her tight gray corset and high heeled gray boots. Her large natural breasts stood out proudly from her chest with very little sag; her legs were smooth, sleek and long, made more so by the heels. She took a moment to check her hair and make up and perfume, wanting to be as attractive as possible for little Missy. If she played this right, she might be able to do this several more times.



Coming back into the room, Alexandra took a moment to view the beautiful sight before her. Little Missy was wearing the light purple heels, thong and silk blindfold. Kneeling, she was pinching her nipples hard enough that she occasionally let out a quiet moan of pleasure. She seemed to be in a different place, a world of her own.



Alexandra came over and sat in the chair, spread her legs and pulled the chair in tight, right next to Missy. Stroking her beautiful long hair, she began whispering softly to her again. Gradually Missy’ hands were transferred from her nice tits to Alexandra’s even bigger tits, and Alexandra’s finger played with Missy’s lips.



“Suck!”



And Missy automatically sucked on the finger, taking it into her mouth, sucking it gently and softly, taking it deep into her mouth like a little cock. She continued to stroke Alexandra’s big full tits with both hands.



“Good girl … good little girl … while you are here with me alone, child, you are little girl … do you understand? … during these special times you are Mine … yes, that’s right, child, right now you belong to Me, and will always do as I say … you are a good obedient girl … you will be My obedient girl … yes … yes, little child … My very own good little girl … do you understand what I am saying?



In a near-hypnotic trance, Missy stopped sucking the finger long enough to whisper:



“Yes, ma’am.”



“Its time, child. Time to explore what it really means to be a sexy girl. And you are a sexy girl, aren’t you Missy? Do you feel sexy right now?”



“Oh YES, Ma’am!”



Alexandra slowly transferred Missy’s hands from her breasts down to her pussy. She guided Missy’s hands, showing her how to turn on a woman. How to find the clit. How to stroke the lips, drive her fingers in, pump them in and out.



For her part, Missy had done some of this the last time. She had fingered Alexandra’s pussy the last time, but now she was learning more, learning about the magical clit.



“Right there, child. Yes, right there. Feel it, stroke it, play with it. Harder! Faster! Don’t stop!”



Still in a kind of trance, Missy responded to each command. It all seemed very natural to her, and she again noticed that there was absolutely no guilt now in being with another woman. She had experienced a moment of panic the first time she was here, but after thinking about it and experiencing it again, Missy felt absolutely comfortable pleasing the taller, older, more experienced woman.



“Yes, right there! OOHHHHH!! Oh you hot little slut, I’m going to cum!”



And Alexandra grabbed Missy’s hoop-style earrings and pulled her face close in to her pussy. She let out a long moan and came hard, spurting out her female juices onto Missy’s hands. It was a strong, sustained orgasm and some pussy juice splashed onto the little Thai girl’s face, surprising her. But she had been told in no uncertain terms “Don’t stop!” so she kept stroking and pleasing with her hands. She noticed that without any stimulation whatsoever, her pussy was wet. Why, oh why did that happen when she was pleasing someone else? Missy still did not understand it.



And Alexandra had never cum in a squirt like that before! What a sexy girl! That was one of the best orgasms ever, but Alexandra was not done. She decided the time was right to put an edge into her voice, and sternly she said:



“Look what a mess you have made, slut. And you are my slut now, Missy, make no mistake about it. Now it is your job to clean up the mess. Right now!”



Missy was taken aback by the change in tone and realized she was in trouble. Confused, the young girl started to scoop up the juices with her fingers as she could, but Alexandra grabbed her ears and held her mouth close to her pussy.



“Not like that, whore. No hands. Use your mouth. Now!”



And for the first time, Missy opened her mouth and tasted another woman. With short, terse commands Alexandra taught her how to “clean up the mess.” Using her tongue she licked all the girl-cum from the chair, even the little puddle on the floor. Pulling the sexy girl’s mouth back to her wet cunt, Alexandra barked loudly:



“Now, slut, clean me up all over my sweet pussy. Use your tongue. Get it up in there! Deeper! Lick it all up like a good slut. Good whore! Please me, bitch! Get that tongue up in there!”



And thus Missy earned how to please another woman with her mouth. Alexandra took a full hour in this position, training Missy with a steady stream of specific instructions. Missy learned how to harden her tongue and stick it in as far as she could. She learned to wiggle and twist and turn her tongue just the way Alexandra liked it. She learned to flick and nibble on the clit. She learned that it was quite different from cock sucking, and used a different set of muscles.



Before long her tongue and jaws were tired, and several times she tried to come up for air and take a short break.



“NO!! You may not stop, child – you know very well one of your primary instructions is “Don’t stop. For that you will be punished!”



And Alexandra firmly pushed the young girls’ head back into her sopping wet pussy.



“Just like Bill,” Missy thought as she continued to give pleasure with her mouth. In the back of her mind she knew she was being used, and a little part of her still rebelled at the thought. But a larger part of her being was caught up in the sexual haze and feelings of pure submission. She had pleased others with her mouth for so long now it was second nature to her.



And Alexandra reveled in the dominance, having three more gigantic orgasms right into Missy’s face, long hard wet messy spurting shots that coated the poor girl’s face, hair and chest with girl cum juice. She was a mess! Alexandra made her clean up any liquid that got away, and both times that meant going all the way down to the floor to lick up little puddles of juice.



Finally the dominant older woman let her up for air, saying:



“Come with me, child.”



Taking the blindfolded girl into the bedroom, Alexandra took off Missy’s thong and heels and put her on top of the covers. Exhausted, Missy curled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately.



Alexandra knew that there was a chance she would see Missy again, but there was also a chance that this was the last time. Just in case, she decided to make a record for later masturbation sessions. Getting out her small, high quality video cam, she set it up on a high shelf and focused it on the bed, testing it to make sure she was getting full video and sound on the entire bed area. She made sure a new blank tape was inserted and turned the cam to “record” mode. Perfect.



Alexandra had no idea how similar her approach was to the one Bill used early in his time with Missy, and she couldn’t know that Bill liked to do what she now did. She simply moved the sleeping girl on to her back, swung a leg over her and mounted her mouth. Drowsily Missy felt something and started to wake up, only to find a wet pussy lowering itself onto her mouth.



“MMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFF!!”

It wasn’t what she said; it was the way she said it that got him to do everything she commanded. It wasn’t that he couldn’t overpower her…after all, he was a man of six feet, and she was a woman half a foot shorter and 100 pounds lighter.



It was like a teenaged son having a confrontation with his mother. He could overpower her, but he wouldn’t because, well, because she was his mother. Neil could overpower this woman, but he wouldn’t because, well, because she was his lover.



She had measured him very carefully about six weeks ago now, chest, waist, hips, not just the circumference measurements, but also the vertical ones, chest to waist, crotch to waist, etc, until she had it just right. Now the package had arrived in the morning mail and she had instructed him to go to the bedroom and strip naked and wait for her. He stood there now with nothing on but a wedding ring and waited. He was embarrassed, not just because he was naked, but because of his erection. He couldn’t will it down. She could do this to him, just because of his addiction to his fetish. She knew it and he knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it, but there was a lot that she could do with it.



He waited like a dog in a kennel, finally sitting on the edge of the bed where he had thrown his skirt and blouse, straightening each and admiring the cut and femininity of them. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore male clothes. Was it the Christmas party? That was the last time he had seen his friends. He had politely declined the Super-bowl party in January, numerous boys-night-out dates, and in April a golf outing. They didn’t phone any more now and he was fine with that, as his life had changed.



It had all started with the fire. Well, that’s actually when it all ended, depending on one’s vantage point. Jade, his wife, had always liked to see him in women’s clothes, loved to dress him up and apply make-up and do his hair. She admitted to being somewhat bisexual (somewhat?), but she wanted the best of both worlds in one body, and that body was his. At least it used to be his. This particular day in early January, she had laid out his lingerie and clothing for him to wear, did his make-up and then took him into the greenhouse which was attached to the living room in their foothills estate. She calmly put shackles around his wrists and ankles and locked them shut.



“Wait here,” she said, as she went back into the living room and disappeared. He eventually caught outside movement through the glass of the greenhouse and saw her struggling with a large cardboard box toward the barbecue pit about fifty feet from his viewpoint. She left and came back with another, then another until there was a stack of them, perhaps six large boxes in all. She turned to him and smiled as she took some lighter fluid out of her pocket and doused the stack until the can was empty. Then she came to the small door in the greenhouse and opened it.



“What’s in the boxes?” he asked.



“Clothes,” she responded, “your clothes.”



“What? What do you mean?” he said with alarm.



But she just smiled again and closed the door, walked toward the stack of boxes, took out a match, struck it and threw it. There was a “wumph” sound and his male life disappeared before his eyes.



Since then she had shopped for him, both at stores and on the internet, and filled his bureaus and closets with skirts, blouses, dresses, bras, panties, hose, and wigs. The wigs were no longer used, as his hair was now long and properly feminized.



And now the corsets had arrived. She had pledged to him that he was to go on a strict waist training regimen, twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week, all year. When she came into the bedroom however, she was carrying far more than just the three corsets. He was told to be quiet while she emptied the contents of three boxes. The first contained the corsets, all leather and severe looking, with huge eyelets to allow excessive lace pulling he assumed. Each was a different color, one black, one green, and one pink. Pink? The second box contained two pairs of shoes, pumps actually or perhaps more correctly, stilettos, with impossibly high heels and thick, full ankle straps. The third box contained a surprisingly realistic set of squishy silicone breast prosthetics and two bras to fit.



Ooh boy, this was going to be quite a fitting, he thought, as she approached him with the breasts. He had had several treatments of hair removal over the last few months, and his chest hair was completely gone, as well as his leg hair. The facial hair was scheduled for next month.



“Stand still while I glue these on,” she said.



“Glue them on? With what? How do I get the glue off later?” he asked.



“It’s very safe surgical glue. And why would you want to get the breasts off? It will last a few days, if not a week before you need a re-fitting.”



“I see,” he said, as she spread the glue on the breasts and then applied them in a circular rubbing motion so there would be a complete seal. “Hold them on for a few minutes and don’t let go. It needs to set. Put this on in about five minutes.” She put a pink support bra on the bed beside him and went over to inspect the pink corset, laying it out on the end of the bed, straightening the laces and checking for flaws.



While waiting for the glue to set, she asked him, “You so love this don’t you? You’re so obvious.” And she glanced down at his throbbing erection. “You know, there are a couple more things that I have to do to totally transform you. One will be the breast implants. We’ll do that next year. The other is to get a chastity belt, one that fully covers and flattens that giant clitoris.” She playfully slapped his penis and kissed him passionately on the lips while pushing herself against his hands on his “breasts”.



Her right hand wandered to his penis and scrotum, while the left hand explored the smoothness and femininity of his hairless belly. “Ooo, my little she-male, you are about to undergo a world of change. I can hardly wait.” She hugged and fondled him for awhile, as he continued to cement his breasts to his chest. Finally she said, “Okay, let them go…slowly.”



Neil took the pressure off the breast prosthesis with trepidation. They sagged, putting pressure on his pectoral area, pulling with the weight, and then they held, bouncing slightly.



“Jesus,” he exclaimed, “they feel like part of me!” And he made his upper body go up and down a few times to get used to the sensation. They bounced authentically, but he felt like he needed some support, so he put on the bra as instructed. That felt better, but the weight on the straps was something he was going to have to learn to contend with. Such was his life now, and he had resigned himself to it.



Jade was watching him with delight, “Excellent! Now, put your hands over your head. Time for the corset, sunshine!”



He, as always, did as he was told, and she immediately wrapped him with the stern device, zipper and busk at the front, and laces at the back. The top of the zipper ended at a short post under his bra, with a hole in it which seemed peculiar, but it explained itself when Jade slipped the end of the zipper over the post, added a small lock, and clicked it shut. The slow process of tight-lacing began. Slowly, methodically, the vice got tighter, not uncomfortably he noticed; it was more like a tight hug, an embrace, an unyielding grip. His waist was being preferentially slimmed compared to his chest and hips, cinching him in, inch by inch. The breathing was becoming more shallow and chest-oriented with each tug of the laces. Then she tied it off and wrapped a cloth tape measure around his waist.



“Twenty-eight inches. Excellent!” she said, and then she started fumbling with the laces once again.



Jesus, he thought, his waist was normally thirty-two inches! Where the hell was his stomach and liver going to re-locate? He was getting tired of holding his hands over his head and was about to ask for some relief when he heard a “zip” followed by a click of a second lock.



“What was that?” he asked.



“It’s the lace lock. The laces are folded inside a sac which is zippered to the back of your corset, within a flap which covers the laces. It’s locked shut so you can’t tamper with the laces, at least not without destroying the corset. I’ll warn you now, once and only once, that if you destroy any part of these corsets, you will be punished severely. Got that?”



The tone of her voice made it very clear. He did not want the bondage and whipping that he had received earlier on in his training. That was clearly etched in his brain.



“Yes ma’am,” he said. He put his hands down and immediately felt the compression increase in his chest. His breasts were forced upward and outward, while his ass was forced backward, his waist merely a narrow hinge. “Holy shit! This is freaking tight!”



“Well,” she said, “It’s a start. I’m going for twenty-six inches with these corsets. Should take a year, perhaps more. In six months or so I’ll order your next set of corsets which will get you to twenty-four inches. Now here are the rules. From now on, you’ll be wearing a corset twenty-three hours a day. I will unlock you for one hour every morning for your shower, but that’s it, no more.”



He was still back at “twenty-six inches” and he looked at her, incredulous, “Two more inches tighter than this? No, wait…Four more inches?” he said breathlessly.



“You’ll get used to it, I’m told. Your internal organs will actually shift over time and find new positions relative to each other. The key is to be relentless. That’s what the locks are for. Oh, I almost forgot; it’s time you learned to walk in high heels. Sit on the bed.”



He sat down and breathed shallowly with the increased compression. Jade put a stiletto on each foot. Then Neil understood what the thick ankle straps were for as she made the wrap at the ankle, and then put a lock through hasps on the straps to lock them on. He looked at her as if to say, “Are you serious?”, and then stood up, teetering.



“Oh my God! When do these come off?” he asked.



“At bed time,” she answered, “and then they get locked on after your shower the next morning. Now put this girdle on to hide your hideous clitoris and get dressed in your skirt and blouse.”



This was no small task now that he was restricted with the corset and the shoes, but he eventually was fully dressed and he walked unevenly to the full length mirror near the corner of the room. He gasped.



He had a waist, hips, and breasts of a woman. Not only that, but his make-up was good enough to help him pass as a woman, even in the daylight. The giveaway was his walk. He was a man in drag; that was clear.



Jade laughed, “Okay, that is just NOT acceptable. I will NOT have you look like a man in drag. Start practicing baby. Walk.”



His face burned red as he tried to look feminine, but the result was the usual male strut with exaggerated hand-flaring in what every male thinks is a feminine walk. The elbows were out and he swung his arms from the shoulders. He was not going to fool anyone.



Jade shook her head and yelled at him, “Do you think women look like that? Jesus! Okay, let’s start at the beginning. You now have a waist. Put your elbows into the waist. Swing your arms at the elbow and take small steps with your foot under the hip each time you step outward. Imagine a line in front of you and put each foot on that line as you walk forward. It takes poise and balance and grace, none of which you have right now, but you will.”



He listened and tried, but she was right. The corset and heels stiffened him up, made him nervous, but he tried to remember. Elbows in, small arm swing, small steps, on a straight line. Okay, again. Whoops! Again.



Jade looked with pleasure at her creation and felt a surge of power over him.



“Okay, that’s a good start sweetie. Now go put on your apron and make us some breakfast. Scrambled eggs with sausages, coffee black. We’ll eat outside this morning. The sun is just asking to be sat in, isn’t it?”



“Yes ma’am,” he said. He was always nervous about outside exposure when he was dressed like this, but with no male clothes now, he had to do it, if he wanted any fresh air at all. Fortunately, the yard was very private, and only rarely did a fisherman glance into it as he cast his way downstream in search of the perfect rainbow trout.



Neil went into the kitchen and put his apron on. The walking made his breasts pull on his chest skin as his breasts bounced in the bra. Well, that was an interesting sensation, he thought. It was then that he truly started to notice the size of his breasts. He could see his feet only with effort and a lean forward. They were always getting in the way. He opened the pantry door to get some bread and it hit his left breast, which caused him to loose his balance and stagger on his spiked heels. His calves were already in fatigue from the impossible angle of his foot and the shortening of the Achilles area.



When Jade came out and sat at the nook to watch him get breakfast ready, he turned to her and said, “I’m not sure I’m going to like this. I mean, the corset is nice and all, but these heels…Jesus! In fact I think I want to take them off. They’re really hurting my legs.”



She just looked at him and smiled, “You WILL get used to them. You’ll see. I am NOT unlocking them. So fuck off and cook the breakfast.”



Jesus! She sometimes called him her slave, and there was a lot of truth to that. He now did all the cooking, the dishes, the housecleaning, laundry and ironing, in fact every single domestic chore while she watched TV or read the newspaper. As he thought of this, he turned to her once again and said, “You know, sometimes I think you consider me your slave. This is a pretty one-side relationship. A little appreciation would be nice you know.” He immediately realized how submissive and feminine that sounded.



Jade just looked at him and said flatly, without emotion, “You ARE my slave. I tell you what to do and you do it or you get punished. I control everything. I have the money, the house, the cars, everything. You have nothing. But if you don’t like it you can always leave. I might allow you to take a few dresses and such, but you will have to leave with essentially nothing. Sorry to have to put it that way, but this is the way I like it and this is going to be the way it is unless you choose to leave. You’re in way too deep now. You signed over your assets to our joint account which I promptly moved to my personal account. You have nothing except me. But you don’t really have me, do you? I have you. I own you. Where’s my coffee?”



He looked at her, eyes wide, mouth agape and was about to argue, when he realized she was right. It was like he had just broken out of a dream and realized where he was. He stared at her, humiliated, and dropped his eyes to look at his pathetic excuse for femininity, the falseness of it all, but he had indeed “crossed over”. His fetish had claimed him. He wasn’t really a slave to her as much as he was a slave to his fetish. She was only the deliverer, the messenger. If he walked away from her, he walked away from his fetish. And that, he could not do.



“Oh my God,” he said out loud, and went back to cooking the eggs.



“It’s Goddess,” she explained, “and make my fucking coffee and bring it to me on the deck. I get grumpy without my coffee.”



His calves ached like hell, his waist was cinched and locked, his “breasts” bounced heavily in his bra. He would have breast implants next year. His penis stirred in his girdle. Oh my God, oh my God, he thought, and he said, “Yes ma’am. I’ll get it for you right away Goddess.”



No sense in biting the hand that feeds you.

Neil walked to the restaurant, west on the Bow River pathway. The autumn evening was clear, clean, and cool, and the aspen and poplars were beginning to turn to golden hues. It wasn’t far, and he wondered if she knew that. Had she asked him his address? Had he told her? The last weekend’s meeting was a blur, a distant happening and he, at times, had wondered if he had just dreamed it. He had done some reading on BDSM since then, and he realized that he had been treated very badly, but had been lucky in that the wounds healed well. If this ever happened to him again, he would seek medical help to make sure that everything healed. No, he thought, he would demand a “safe word” so that this would never happen again. Not with anyone, especially Alena. Alena, such a sweet and gentle name, such a dominant, reckless, and evil woman. He would end it tonight. The chain would come off, and he would be free.



His thoughts raced through him as he walked, the emerald green of the mountain river running in the opposite direction. He wore black pants and a black shirt, and even a black tie tonight. He had never been so bland or bold, depending on one’s viewpoint, in his life. As he thought about this, he suddenly stopped walking and said out loud, “Oh my God!”



It was her! He was wearing black. This was her doing. He started walking once again, the restaurant in sight, wondering what was happening to him. He had to get her to unlock the chain, but he suspected he was going to have to pay a price, and the thought of that excited him. God damn it, he thought; this was not healthy; this had to end.



He stood at the dais at the entrance to the restaurant, struggling to get used to the contrast of the darkness of the depths of the vast room with the light of the row of window tables to his right. The room was pleasurably divided into nooks and crannies where all patrons could achieve the feeling of privacy and intimacy. Before the hostess arrived, he spotted Alena in the far west corner at the window, staring dreamily out over the river, a glass of white wine in front of her. He walked towards her, noting once again her exquisiteness, such an absolute stunning creature.



She saw him and smiled, standing up and coming to him, embracing in the middle of the room. There was that smell of her again and his breath left him momentarily, the smell of perfume and leather, the essence of her, the look of her, dressed in black of course. In fact she looked identical to the first time he met her, the little black dress, black hose, black stilettos. Black on porcelain skin, a contrast like shadows on a moonscape, distinct and sharp, cold and hot, sudden edges, beautiful and dangerous. He felt her corset at her waist once again and his heart raced as she thrust into him, kissing his cheek and whispering, “Your outfit pleases me.”



Despite his intentions tonight, Neil kissed her cheek and whispered, “I thought it might.”



They sat down in awkward silence for a few moments and to avoid eye contact, he stared around the room; it was empty but for them, as it was much too early for the normal evening diners. He brought his eyes back and they locked with hers. God, even her eyes were black on white, he thought, so intense, so powerful.



“Oh God,” he said out loud.



“It’s Goddess,” she replied, as she laughed. He blushed and laughed as well, and the clumsiness faded.



They continued to stare at each other with complete comfort then, but were interrupted by a young server who asked if they would like to have a drink before dinner.



Without consultation, Alena said, “We’ll have the Fess Parker Chardonnay please.”



The server seemed surprised at her quickness and glanced furtively back and forth between the two of them and then said, “Yes Ma’am.” And she swished away.



The awkwardness returned.



Neil began, “So, I don’t really know that much about you, you know. What do you do?”



Alena’s eyes flashed; he was sure they flashed, “I play with men, sometimes women.”



“That’s it? That’s all you do? Like toys?” he asked, enjoying the sexual play on words.



She cast her eyes playfully upward and responded, “Yes, I guess so…like toys. I play with them until I break them.”



“Really. And then what do you do with them?”



She blinked and pulled her head back as if in astonishment that he didn’t know the answer, “Then I throw them away and get new ones. Or I keep them in special places for nostalgia purposes.”



Neil looked at her in amazement and not a small amount of fear, “I see,” he said, “You’re a sick woman, you know that?”



Smiling and leaning forward, she responded, “I used to think I was sick at one time. That was killing me. Now I go with it. I’m a psychopath; I don’t care anymore. I just need victims. Like you.”



Neil was completely mesmerized, afraid, but attracted, completely aroused, his face flushing hot.



“Look,” he started, “I don’t think…”



She reached out and took his hand gently and smiled saying softly, “Shh, I understand baby. Don’t be afraid. Here’s to a nice evening.” And she lifted her glass to him, forgetting he had nothing to drink as yet.



God she was beautiful, he thought. She had him like a hand on a yo-yo, push away, pull back.



There were a few moments more of silence and then he asked once again, “Seriously, what do you do?”



“Let’s just say that I’m independently wealthy, and just leave it at that, okay?”



“Okay, fine then,” and he paused before he asked, “Would you please get me out of this chain tonight? It’s driving me crazy.”



“Bolt cutters didn’t work, huh?” she replied with a wink.



“I, umm, how did you…?” Her giggle stopped him from asking the obvious, “Seriously, I need to get out of this.”



“Oh Neil baby… so naïve,” she said, shaking her head slowly from side to side, “THAT chain is not the problem. There is a time for removal, and it’s not now. I don’t have the key anyway; it’s on your table.”



“My table?”



“Surely you remember the table that I took your virginity on. You won’t ever forget that, will you? You were so sweet and helpless.” She saw the approach of the server and said slightly louder, “And you’re going to look so sweet in your corset too.”



The server was unwrapping the shrink cap to the wine and she looked at Alena, puzzled, and then at him as if comprehension of the situation dawned on her, and smiled, “Going to make an evening of it are you tonight? Who wants to taste the wine?”



Alena held out her glass and the server said, “I thought so,” as she glanced at Neil.



He was speechless, his face red as the heavy curtains at the edge of the window. He put his hands to his temples as if he had a headache and waited for the wine to be poured. When it was and the server had left, they clinked glasses and Alena said, “To a great weekend…and a very good and understanding server,” as she glanced toward the kitchen.



He did not respond verbally in kind, but he still clinked her glass and drank the wine. Clearly he was going to need a lot of wine tonight, he thought.



After the appetizers were ordered, Alena brought a bag out from under the table. “Here’s your corset. Go put it on in the washroom sweetie. Just pull it through under the chain and then fasten the front busk. It’s back-lacing, so tighten it as best you can. I’ll tight-lace you later.” She handed him the bag.



“You ARE nuts, aren’t you? First of all, why the hell do you always want me dressed in women’s clothes, second of all, why here?”



“Listen Neil, a person who is nuts is one who does not know he is nuts. I know who I am; obviously, you don’t know who you are.”



That statement hung in the air like Casablanca bar smoke in a film noire.



Neil took a gulp of wine, angered partly by her demands, and partly because he was so incredibly aroused and ashamed to be so. “Jesus,” he said, and he lunged out of the chair and off to the washroom.



They were still the only ones in the restaurant, but nonetheless he checked all the stalls in the washroom to be sure he was alone. He entered the wheelchair access stall to give himself more room and pulled the corset out of the bag. It was black. It was leather. It smelled of her. Taking his shirt and tie off, he positioned the corset to slip under the chain tracing its way from his neck to his genitals. It was surprisingly smooth and supple, while the severe boning gave it strength. Fastening the busk with his untrained hands proved more difficult than he thought, but once done, he had no idea how to tighten and tie the laces at the back. He was all thumbs. By luck he found the long loose loops and pulled, feeling instantly the compression on his upper torso. Then he found the loops which tightened the lower part and pulled. It was well made, and the laces, while they pulled fairly easily to tighten, gave very little back when he fumbled and let the laces go. Over a few minutes, he had tightened it as far as he could and he wrapped the laces around to the front where he tied them off. He felt silly, but his face was stilled flushed red; he could feel the burn. And like a pervert, his shorts were moist from his leaking semen.



He relived himself, and then put his shirt and tie back on and went to the sink to wash. Nothing showed, but his face was indeed red. He splashed it with cold water, finding it difficult to bend over the sink now that he was corseted.



“Okay,” he said out loud, “Here we go. Shit!”



Alena spotted him immediately as he exited the washroom and smiled, as he was not carrying a bag. She noticed his strained and stiff walk, suggesting either a back problem, or, well…a man wearing a corset, and she almost laughed out loud.



As he was about to sit down, she said, “Come here.”



He stood in front of her and she felt his waist. Satisfied, she said, “I know this one is too small for you. It’s mine you know…the one I wore last weekend. I’ll measure you for your own tomorrow. Say thank-you to your Goddess.”



Neil felt like an idiot, which was the intent, but he knew that he had to play this out, “Thank-you, umm…Goddess. Jesus!” He sat down and immediately gulped some more wine. The compression of the corset caught him by surprise and the chain clinked ever so slightly on the steel boning in the busk.



Alena caught the server’s eye and attention, waving her over, “Unfortunately we smoke, so would you delay the appetizers until we get back from getting our fix?”



“Certainly Ma’am. I know the feeling; I smoke as well.”



To Neil, Alena said, “Come on. Keep me company.”



Once outside, she guided him into a short alley between a high-rise condominium building and the restaurant and said, “I’m going to snug up your corset. Pull your shirt up and turn toward the wall, hands high on the wall. That’s it.” He had complied and she began relentlessly tugging on the laces, sucking the wind out of him, finally tying him off and reaching into her purse for her cigarettes.



Neil almost felt dizzy; the corset was so tight. “Jesus, does it have to be so tight?” he said as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. And then he saw her. Their server had exited the back door of the restaurant and was having a smoke not even fifty feet away. She had seen everything and just smiled, threw her cigarette on the pavement and ground it in, turning slowly and re-entering the establishment.



“Can we go? I’m not hungry any more,” he asked Alena.



Ignoring his statement she said, “She’s a great server, don’t you think? She has a wonderful understanding of her clientele. I think I’ll give her a big tip.”



Another bottle of wine had to be ordered, as he was drinking much more than he normally would, a dryness in his mouth created by the fire in his cheeks. The appetizers and entree were delicious as always. When the server came to retrieve the plates, she asked him, “You haven’t finished sir; is it not satisfactory?”



“Oh, no, it’s fine thank-you. I just find that I’m full, that’s all.”



She smiled at him and leaned conspiratorially toward him, saying, “Yes, I’m not surprised. The compression will do that won’t it sir?”



Alena exploded with laughter. She was good; she was very good.



Neil, his face aflame, could not look at either of them as he said, “Yes, yes, tight. Very tight.” He got up quickly and went to the washroom to settle himself. The restaurant was half full now, and he was sure the other servers were staring at him as he walked with as much dignity as possible. Inside a bathroom cubicle, he breathed as deep as he could to calm himself. Jesus, he thought, was he crazy? What the hell was wrong with him? The corset embraced him like a hug, the humiliation was unbearable…and he was aroused.



He realized now that this was not going to be simple. He was not fighting her any more; he now understood he never was; he was fighting himself. And she knew that all along.

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