Fetish corset stories
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We dressed again and I fitted the satin crotch strap I had worn with my old corset, Megan helping me to cinch it really tight, then kissed goodbye and I went downstairs, changed elevators, the went up to Stan's lofty perch on the top floor. Terri knelt down between my legs and it felt like a vacuum cleaner as she sucked all Stan's cum from my pussy. "You felt so wonderfully tight," said Stan, "The pressure of the corset certainly makes a difference." Several weeks after I started wearing my new corset I was sitting in bed, on Stan, his rigid cock implanted deeply within my love tunnel, watched by Gloria who was waiting to suck me dry once Stan came inside me.
I felt Stan's tell-tale tensing, knowing that he was going to spurt in a few seconds, so I bit Megan's clit, hard enough to hurt like hell but not enough to draw blood from the sensitive organ. I released Megan's clit after a few seconds, still wary of causing permanent damage, my own body shuddering from my orgasm as I felt Stan relax and lean over my back, reaching around and caressing my breasts. "Hi, Mandy," greeted Megan, casting her eyes over my corset-clad body, with a brief top tied beneath my breasts and a frilly skirt below my corset, reaching half way to my knees and looking like the merest breath of wind would blow it up and expose everything underneath, which wasn't very much.
I enjoy looking at all the cool cars and I love showing my wife's body off as we walk around the shows. With her small frame she really doesn't need a full corset but she likes the way it feels under her dresses. I left and started walking around, as I looked at the cars my mind was on what my wife might be doing. I answered and my wife said in a very sexy voice do you want to come pick me up? How can you take a big cock like that without it hurting I asked. I said you let him fuck you in the ass? She said I gave him head for taking the pictures and let him come in my mouth.
With a sigh of resignation and she had very few, if any other options, Annabelle struggled out the jacket once more, rolled the sheer stretch top over up over her breasts, and then rolled down the top of the skirt - no way was she taking that off and picked up the corset. Annabelle carefully stood up, undid the clips again, and lay the corset down, bending down slowly against the skirt's resistance, and using her hands, forced her first stocking foot into the pointed toe of the first boot. When she had reached her arms full extension, she clamped off the laces at the corset with one hand, and examine the results, she was a bit perplexed - She had pulled out what seemed a lot lace, but the gap seemed just as big at the top and bottom and most reduced at her waist.
Phyllis can feel a new stretch in her sphincter muscles and flinches just a little, so that Mark can tell he is close to her comfortable capacity. Mark presses more and finds that his hand is moving into her rectum with greater ease; although the pressure on his bunched fingers proves to him the pressure Phyllis must be feeling. On another weekend, Phyllis was relaxing with the big plug inside her, half expecting mark to come with his hand at some stage. Phyllis presses and massages her labia and clitoris, while feeling his package hardly moving gently inside her body. And with a big 3-inch plug in her rectum all day; to be replaced by Mark's hand or else his sex-package as often as they wish.
We started out as friends, I introduced her to my peeps who in turn introduced her to some of her friends (now), then we decided to become a couple, and when we had sex for the first time it was indescribable, that was two years ago, and we can't keep our hands off each other. I stop playing with her breasts, moving my right hand down her stomach to her pussy, I shove my finger on her clit and start rubbing her with my finger as my cock rubs her there, too. Faster, faster, faster, faster until she stops and starts again, this time grinding hard before bouncing again.
As the procedure progresses, increasing pressure will be applied to the body-forms until they fit exactly and precisely over the client in the manner agreed in the hologram. Immediately, the Kevlar shaper is replaced on her figure and she must wear that for not less than 48 hours, until the transformation process is complete and we can be sure the Transogen gas has dissipated completely from her tissues. These corsets assume the shape of the client immediately; but slowly because I like to savour the sensation of feeling her waist and hips, the curve over her derriere, the flat stiffness over her abdomen and the constraint over her pubis.
The situation was not helped by the fashion requiring a longer waist - my staymaker suggested that I let my waist out a little when I struggled at the extra pressure, but I am as you are, proud of my hard-gained waist and George complements me on it nearly every day, so I laced night and day for two weeks, until I could just about manage 20" for the initial fittings. Biddy, I beseech you, just leave it at a small nod towards this fashion, as to follow it is near torture, I am constantly wishing for the end of the season, as at present my torso is being choked away, three or four times a week, I tell you, I can hardly wait until I visit you in the summer - the thought of a week in short light stays, loose skirts and low heels quickens my heart.
I lost weight deliberately for the wedding. I lost about 10 lbs. For the second wedding day, I decided to wear the Berlei girdle but on a trip to Manchester I saw a really firm American girdle called Rago1294 and I bought it. I was excited all through the wedding and worried in case he thought they were old fashioned and matronly. He dressed me in the same girdle I'd worn at our wedding and the same bra. It was so romantic. That night we made love many times with me in the wedding outfit again. Already, 20 inches feels perfectly all right and my orgasms have started to become intense again now that I'm breathing and moving more easily inside the corset. So caring and careful and romantic.
Pretty boys were young lads who wore some girl’s things, particularly heavy makeup, stockings (usually black), high heel boots, very tight corsets and tight, almost transparent blouses to show off the corset lacing, but were still identifiable as boys with short pants and boys’ hair cuts. It was not unusual for boys to wear corsets in those days but they were looked at as having ‘strange’ parents. There I was, a ten year old boy with a very pronounced girlish figure walking along wearing a sissy blouse, short pants, black silk stockings and girls’ white ankle socks which emphasized the black stockings.
Kay went into the curtained area and returned with a corset folded in her hands. Kay lifted me to a standing position and the two of them helped me across the room until I was leaning against the filing cabinet. She stood me back up and reached behind the filing cabinet to pull out Kay's notice. Laura rested my head beside mine as Kay took more pictures of me in various poses held in Laura's arms. Each breath had to be fought against the constricting slip and corset as Kay took more pictures. Kay handed Laura some things from a desk drawer. Kay removed the camera from the tripod and handed it to Laura.
It had been a long day and I hadn't had much sleep the night before because I had spent much of it sucking on the pussy of a stranger while you fucked me from behind. You ram you hard cock in me, and started fucking me as my orgasm winds down. "Mmhmm," you fuck me hard and fast and you can feel my pussy gripping your thick cock again. I scream out as I cum hard on your cock, you hold on to me, tight as my body convulses in waves of pleasure. You plunge you cock in my throat and pull it out as I start to suck off my cum.
For the last few days, he has allowed me from the house unbound, but that morning I was singing a happy tune, not loud, as I can still not manage even half a breath in my rigid stays and for some reason he took umbrage, he ordered, Lissa my maid to lace my corset fully closed for its whole length which left me gasping for air, bind my arms up double, attach my false ones, draw my shoulder brace fully back, fill my mouth with a kerchief and cover it with a full mask, then a heavy veil which restricted my vision to nought and then my most tunnel brimmed bonnet, capped above with my largest hat ( which is an unbridled confection that I will be glad to see gone).
Taking advantage of the dark dance floor, I ran my hand along his cock, clearly hard through his jeans. I wouldn't refuse a hard cock in the state I was in but he still didn't know i had a little something extra and wasn't the hot young "Debby" he'd be hard over all evening. He was caressing my whole body, sliding his hands from ass to tits, pulling them out of my corset and wrapping his lips around one of them. I grew harder and harder being on my knees, ass exposed and a cock in my mouth, to the point my panties were stretching. He agreed and slowly and deeply rammed his hard cock into my ass. Walking me a little further, still grabbing at my ass, we eventually kissed goodbye and exchanged phone numbers.
I stood in front of the mirror in nothing but my blue boxers, shiny clippers in hand, waiting for my girlfriend Gina to respond. Then, one day, after a decent bit of mattress fun, Gina asked me if I didn't like going down on her. Gina could tell when i wasn't being my genuine self, and would push me to be honest - which most of the time meant, I didn't want to be some boring, uncurious loser. With a weird grin on her face, Gina wrapped my belt around my neck, looped it through the buckle and pulled tight - creating a collar and leash of sorts. Despite all the trimming, I still had dark hair on my legs, and sprouting from the side of a rather obscene looking panty bulge.
Phyllis stood in front of the long mirror and felt at her figure inside the corset, with the hard boning and the shaping over her waist and hips. Mark laid her down on the bed and played with her body; touching and working her clitoris and kissing her labia and sucking on her vagina; until she came a lovely orgasm inside the corset. Now, at the end of the year since she first met Mark, she has "worked her way" through four corsets, each progressively smaller at the waist and more controlling in its bones and design. Phyllis now wears a laced-up corset every day, under her work clothes; carefully planning her accessories and movements to prevent too obvious a display to her colleagues.
I always liked the feel of support stockings as well especially when they came available in nice colours and thinner fabric but didn't really wear suspenders during my first marriage. The long bra over the girdle gave me a specially tight waist - and a nice shape over my hips. I've bought a firm long-leg high waist panty-girdle from London, made to measure and really tight over my tummy and round my waist. Sometimes I stick to a tight girdle and long bra and pulI up my stockings really short so that they hold my thighs and the tops of my legs right up to my lips.
The mother steps back and nods and the maid then takes hold of the shoulder straps and pulls them tight dragging the taut breasts high up onto the daughters chest, nearly level with her shoulders and generating a louder squeak from behind the mask. This prodigious close boned corset is lifted by the maid (with some difficulty due to its size and weight) and carried over to the lacing bar, the daughter releases one hand and then the other and slips one gloved arms and then the other through the shoulder straps of the corset and shrugs it on like a heavy coat.
The corset took over 40 minutes to close, leaving me to relax for a few minutes before each tightening of the laces, until my waist looked that of a young girl. By the time the five brief panty girdles were in place, I was straining to breathe inside the corset and I was immobilised from the waist down. The excrement had forced them off my body and now formed a layer or warm semi-solid around my hips, bottom and thighs, and increasingly down to my knees inside the leggings. The swelling inside the leggings was obvious and as soon as the boot pressure was removed, my rectum started to retch again, so that another half kilo load of excrement slowly forced its way out.
Finally, she paused dramatically and laid her hand on my elbow, then she opened the other door. The flush stood out against the sober colors of her suit, and I suddenly wanted to see if she blushed all the way down. I worked my way down her back, pausing to loosen a hook only as it impeded my hands. While I had my hands behind her neck, I decided I would like to see her hair. Down came the torso till her breasts hid her knee, her hair hung to the floor and her leg was straight as taught line. "And finally, because I wish to." I took her ass in both hands and carefully bit her left ham.
Inside were two white vintage style open girdles with stockings; very firm and boned, fastening with hooks and eyes on my left hip and a zipper to cover them. "Of course, dear one," I replied and looked carefully at the girdle when I got it home; to make sure I would know how to don it and wear it for a whole day at the wedding and the reception afterwards. First, he took my measurements under my breasts around my ribs, round my waist with a little tightness in the tape, and round the widest part of my hips. For my monthly period times, or if I am unwell, we place me inside one of my firm girdles [and sometimes two at once] for a few days instead of the corsets.
There is nothing like being close to a corseted or girdled woman, to hold her and to fill her; all the while feeling the extra pressure that comes from her clothing and the way it presses on her body. I can feel the bones of her underwear, the pressure on her skin, her sort-of immobility, her exaggerated shape with reduced waist and bulging hips, the flatness and tautness of her stomach and groin, the round firmness of her bottom, and the strain of the corset or girdle edges into her thighs. I decided to start easily and got for her a long high-waist open girdle, with suspenders and stockings, and a long boned bra.
In bed, later, she slept through the night in her girdle and stockings, but not before she had brought herself to a long slow orgasm with one of her "toys." This time, thinking of Mark, she allowed herself to wonder what would he be like as a man-with-a-woman. Phyllis held his head gently as he moved his lips over her girdled figure and revelled in the sensation of a man treating her as she's always wanted; in her underwear and enjoying it as much she did. Mark took hold of her contained waist and guided his erection up the tunnel of her girdle, between her thighs, and back inside her hot wet vagina.
She was a shapely long-haired blonde, and was pinning a pair of black nylon panties to the line. He thought especially of those black panties as they hugged her inner thighs, the reinforced crotch nestling against her most private, intimate parts. Being honest, stealing grated on Alan's conscience, but oh how he needed those black nylon panties. Sally had pictured her admirer as a tall, handsome, lonely man desperate for a woman's love, who had seen her and fallen at first sight. Just imagine the shock on poor Sally's face when her handsome lover turned into a spotty runt of a teenager who stared adoringly at her as if he would bore through her with his eyes.