by Madeleine Oh
"It's beautiful," Annie whispered half to herself. She'd seen corsets before, in the books Jean-Luc loaned her and the videos they watched together. She'd noticed satin and latex corsets worn at the two fetish parties he'd taken her to. But she'd never held a corset in her hands, much less ever seen anything as beautiful, as obviously expensive, and as intimidating as this. It looked tight-fitting and encompassing and her breath quickened as if she were already constricted.
"It will be beautiful with you inside it," Jean-Luc said, a dark light flickering deep in his eyes.
"You want me to wear it?"
"I sure as hell didn't buy it for you to stare at with that shocked smile of yours."
No, he hadn't. He'd bought it to enclose her... Goosebumps skittered down her spine. "When do you want me to wear it?"
"Now." Her mouth went cold and dry as her body responded to his knuckles caressing her cheek. "Right now." He took the corset from her shaking hands. "Go upstairs and strip. I won't keep you waiting." Anxiety disappeared in a wild rush of anticipation as Jean-Luc's mouth curled at the corners. He kissed her on the mouth. Slowly. Opening her lips and pressing deep with his tongue. Just as her body warmed and damp gathered between her legs, he broke the kiss. "Be ready for me." He stepped aside to let her walk upstairs.
Once in her room, Annie slipped out of her sensible pumps and stripped off her clothes, laying her jacket over a chair and leaving her skirt a crumpled circle on the carpet. Her underwear followed fast. She was naked. For Jean-Luc. Naked, stripped, and apprehensive. She tried to calm herself by closing her eyes and breathing slowly, but when she shut her lids, she saw the copper corset in Jean-Luc's hands and smelled the soft, sweet scent of new leather... and her arousal.
She opened her eyes and looked around the pitched roof and dormer windows. It was her familiar room all right. She just felt changed with each heartbeat. She smiled at the polished brass bed with its crochet spread. Soon...
The door opened.
"Jean-Luc!" Her body responded to the sight of him before he uttered a word. Or was it the contents of the blue box in his hands that had her wet and anxious?
"Take it. I want to watch you put it on." He held out the box. "And then I'll tighten it."
The corset still lay in the nest of tissue that rustled as Annie reached inside. She smiled as the leather brushed her skin. "How tight will it be?"
"As tight as your cunt around my cock."
She went cold and hot in quick succession, a heated thrill racing over her skin. Jean-Luc's words hung in the air between then, as Annie lifted the corset from its nest of tissue. The glove-soft leather was lined with matching silk, laces tied at the back, and down the front was a row of tiny brass hooks.
While Jean-Luc sat on the chintz-covered day bed, where he'd fucked her soundly last weekend, Annie wrapped the corset round her waist. Warm as a caress, the leather enveloped her ribs like a lover's arms. Like Jean-Luc's hold on her.
Twelve hooks fastened down the front from between her breasts to just above her pussy. The corset almost met at her waist. It took just a little tug to fasten the first hook. The second closed easily enough but with the next two, one above and one below, the tightness grew like a pair of strong hands gripping her waist. Annie held her breath as she fastened the corset up to her bust, exhaling gently at the last hook. Looking down at her breasts, shaped now into tight globes, she paused a moment, savoring the constriction, the sense of encasement, the feeling of being surrounded: her ribs enclosed, her waist compressed, her breasts high.
And she had five more hooks to go.
Those were easier. It seemed the manufacturers expected less than skinny hips. Why not? Jean-Luc knew every inch of her body. The leather wrapped as closely as a new skin. She found herself breathing gently at first, then deeper.
"Beautiful!" Jean-Luc stood up. "Now to tighten it."
"It's tight enough already!"
He shook his head. "Now, it is like my finger in your sweet cunt. I want you to understand how it feels to have your soft walls squeezing my cock. His hands cupped her breasts, which felt fuller and heavier than ever before. He brushed her nipples with his fingertips and she felt his touch right down in her groin. Hell! She felt it deep inside. She was as hot and needy as if they'd been fooling on the sofa all evening, or watching one of his hand-picked videos.
Annie let out a little moan and leaned back, pressing her naked bottom against his tropical wool slacks and his most definite erection. She wasn't the only one ready.
"Stand up," he whispered, "chin up, back straight, put your hands on your head and breathe easy."
She obeyed, when what she wanted, needed, was to rock her hips against him and let the rhythm and his fingers take her to climax. But Jean-Luc's fingers were busy between her shoulder blades.
The first pull caused her to catch her breath but her body accepted the constriction. She breathed carefully, lifting her chin and her breasts. Her breasts seemed larger, fuller, and acutely sensitized, as if tightening her body pushed all her nerve endings to her breasts. Her nipples peaked and she gave another gasp as Jean-Luc tightened lower.
He proceeded with infinite care, pulling her in millimeter by millimeter until her diaphragm was constricted and she breathed high in her chest: short shallow pants that seemed to match her racing heartbeat. He paused a while, to let her body adjust to the corset, then with a soft kiss on the side of her neck, began again. When he paused, his hands smoothed the leather that covered her hips and belly. He stroked the whalebone curving down her straightened body. Once, as he paused, his erection brushed her thigh. She wanted to reach for him but, as directed, she kept her hands on her head while he forced her body into warm leather.
As he finished, Jean-Luc tied the two laces in a knot, the loose laces hung down over her naked bottom. One, either by chance or Jean-Luc's design, slipped in her crack, the end brushing between her legs.
"Now," he said, "walk towards the door and back to me. I want to watch you move."
He expected her to walk when she could scarcely breath! Annie pulled her shoulders back and her chin up, the movement lifted her breasts even higher but eased the tightness beneath them. She took her first step tentatively, half-afraid her knees would wobble or her feet refuse to obey. But she took one step, and another. She was walking, head high and heart racing, her body wild with desire and need. At the door, she turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror opposite the foot of the bed. She was encompassed in iridescence. A wide beam of afternoon sun caught the gleam of the leather as she moved. Seemed she stood taller, back straight and shoulders back. With her body constricted, her limbs felt freer than usual. Her legs moved with a ease and confidence that amazed her. Her arms swung comfortably. She raised them slowly and one by one removed the pins that held up her neat French pleat. As the last pin fell to the floor, Annie shook her hair free on her shoulders. A few strands fell on one breast and she left them there and looked across the room at Jean-Luc.
He smiled and beckoned. "Come over here, Annie." Breath tight, heart racing, she crossed the room with slow steps. Her thighs were shaking as she stood knee to knee with Jean-Luc. He looked up at her and without a word, eased his finger between her pussy lips. And smiled. "You're wet, Annie."
His fingers held her cunt lips apart. His knees brushed hers. She felt the warmth of fine wool as he nudged her thighs apart. His breath was warm on her face. His free arm encompassing her shoulders, he pulled her close as his mouth opened her lips. He kissed with infinite slowness, utter power and complete certainty of her response. She sighed as his tongue pressed hers and she rocked her hips against his hand. His thumb stroked her clit. His mouth possessed hers. Her mind roared with need and desire. His thumb worked her with a steady, slow caress. Once. Twice. With the third stroke she came, her cry swallowed in his mouth.
She clung to him as her knees gave way. Jean-Luc steadied her with his arms as she sagged against him. Slowly her breathing returned to norma
l, or as close as it could with her ribs encased in leather, and the pounding in her ears eased. As she leaned into his chest she heard his whisper.
"You'll wear this whenever I ask, won't you Annie?"
Our Women Know What To Do
"Is it too much to ask?"
Lying warm and replete after lovemaking, my body still weak from climaxing, I couldn't refuse Ahmet. "No. It's just..."
"Just what?" Ahmet asked, his breath warm against my face.
I couldn't say "Too weird, too kinky." To a Turk, to a Muslim, it was a reasonable request. A cultural requirement, if I had any hope of fitting into his world. "I'm just not sure I can go to the beauty parlor and ask if they'll do my pussy when they wax my legs."
"Of course not!" His chest fluttered under my hand as he chuckled, a low and sexy sound that had the power to make me wet even when I still ached from the last time. "That is not how our women do it."
"How do your women do it?" I leaned up on one elbow, my fingers smoothing the soft pelt on his chest, and grinned.
"Woman!" He growled, rolling me on my back. "They respect their men and obey without question."
Yeah, right! I knew his sister, Leyla. She was my age, a journalist, resolutely single, and as self-assured a woman as I'd ever known. But since he now lay on top of me, I chose not to belabor that point, or rather, I belabored his nipples with my fingers. Besides, curiosity got the better of me. "How do your women wax their pubes?"
He raised a dark, beautiful eyebrow. "How should I know? Women know that. I'll call Leyla."
That would be a conversation worth overhearing. I'm close to my brother, but discussing pubic hair removal? I think not.
It wasn't so with Ahmet and Leyla.
He called me the next day at work. "Leyla will expect you Thursday, after lunch." My day off and he knew it. "She will show you what to do, with her cousin Yildiz." Yildiz and who else? I'd never though of depilation as a social event, but what the hell—life had certainly been different since I'd taken a Turk to my bed. Ahmet was not your average Midwesterner.
"Do I need to bring anything?" Towels? Razor blades? Baby oil? A covered dish?
In the pause, I imagined him raising his head and clicking his tongue, a sexy crease shaping between his eyebrows. "How should I know?" His voiced eased a little. "You will be there? She's making preparations."
"I'll be there." I hung up, scared. What had I agreed to?
On Thursday Leyla greeted me with a hug and offered mint tea in curved glasses. Cousin Yildiz smiled shyly as she handed me rose-flavored wafers and sesame cookies. I nibbled cookies and sipped the fragrant tea, cold, nervous hands cupping the warm glass.
"Ahmet..." I began. Someone had to broach the reason for my visit in the middle of the afternoon.
Leyla dismissed her brother with a shrug. "What does he know?" Her dark eyes met mine, a suggestive smile curving her full mouth. I grinned back. So much for respect and obedience.
Leyla refilled my glass as Yildiz slipped out of the room. A few minutes later I heard water running overhead. "Your bath," Leyla said, "to help you relax and soften your skin. The first time can be worrying." She put her hand on mine and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, I have done this since I was fifteen."
I took her word for that as my fingers meshed with hers. "I suppose so. This is very new to me."
"New can be very, very satisfying." Leyla stood up; I followed. We were joined at the palm and sort of rose together. "Come on."
A dark cloth hung over the bathroom window, leaving the room in twilight. Perfumed candles flickered in shallow brass cups, adding warmth to the already steamy bathroom. Scented bubbles came to the rim of the tub.
"Beautiful!" I said, and meant it. I wasn't sure what to say next. I didn't need to worry: Leyla was running the show.
"Get in and soak while we prepare." Leyla wrapped her arms around me. "Don't look so worried. We will take good care of you." She kissed me and swept out the door.
My fingers shook as I unbuttoned my blouse and unzipped my skirt. I was nervous as a virgin. Which, I supposed, was exactly what I was. I eased into the too-warm water and leaned back, chin in the bubbles, inhaling the strong scent of lavender and roses and trying to forget what was coming next. I lay there for ages, languid in the heat and the steam, more than content to spend the afternoon in the tub. In fact, the more I thought about it, I wasn't sure I really wanted a bald pussy, not even for Ahmet—although it was perhaps a small price for the best sex I'd ever had.
Either way, I was too relaxed to do much but stand up when Leyla appeared at the door holding a towel the size of a small sheet. If I'd felt lethargic before, I was positively boneless after Leyla's warm hands patted every inch of my skin. I barely had energy to pull the terry robe around me. Was it nervousness that made me trip on the rug by the bedroom door? Leyla caught me and helped me lie down on the king-size bed.
The curtains were drawn, shutting out the afternoon and the world beyond this warm sequestered room. More scented candles flickered around the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Yildiz stirring a small pot.
"Almost ready," she said. "Just let it cool a little."
"What is it?"
"Honey, beeswax and lemon," she replied.
Was I nuts to lie here while a woman I'd never met before spread boiled-up honey on my pussy? Leyla's hands eased along the soft skin inside my thighs, spreading my legs. I'd never felt this vulnerable, or this relaxed.
"Lift up your hips." Leyla slid a pillow into the small of my back, tilting my hips upwards. Before I quite came to terms with that, her hands closed over my ankles and set my feet flat on the bed. My legs spread, my pussy exposed, a tremor of apprehension skittered through me. What next?
"It's okay," Leyla soothed, her hand still lightly holding my ankle. "You're fine."
I wasn't. I was scared. I shut my eyes and wondered if it would hurt as much as leg waxing. It had to and I was nuts—no matter how much confidence Ahmet had in women knowing what to do.
Leyla sensed my growing fear. "Don't worry." She settled behind me on the bed. "Yildiz does this for me. She is experienced." Leyla moved nearer, propping my head and shoulders against her chest. Reassured by her words and her closeness, I relaxed and looked straight down between my spread legs as Yildiz pulled up a small table and set the white enamel pan on a tiled trivet.
I watched, dry-mouthed and fascinated, as she clipped my curls with a small pair of scissors. Her fingers were cool and confident and I shivered. I'd been touched before, by lovers, doctors, nurses, but never with such gentleness and ease. I relaxed against Leyla's breasts and watched the younger woman between my legs. As she trimmed, Yildiz caught the clippings until her cupped hand was full of golden-brown curls.
"Your hair is the color of orange blossom honey," she said, admiring the heap of curls in her cupped hand before dropping them in a trash can.
I was halfway there—or was I? So far it had been easy, if embarrassing. It couldn't all be this painless. I tried to focus on the perfume of candles and beeswax as Yildiz smoothed rose-scented talc on my cropped pussy. Her touch soothed. It wasn't exactly a caress, more an encouragement.
"Now this will feel warm." She was right. Warm, pleasant, almost relaxing. It took only seconds for her to spread the golden paste on the left side of my pussy, and not much longer to take a strip of cotton fabric, gently press the heel of her hand into my crotch and with a deft twist of her wrist, pull.
I let out a yowl like a crazed animal. My body arched off the bed in pain. I'd have been airborne if Leyla hadn't held my shoulders as Yildiz pressed her warm palm hard into my crotch.
I shivered, shuddered, and muttered a few choice epithets.
"That bit's over. It'll ease quickly," Leyla promised. Even as she spoke, the pain eased. Yildiz continued the pressure, now rocking her hand back and forth. Somehow the movement did ease the pain to a dull sting.
"You might have warned me," I said, relaxing as the sting slacken
ed into an ache.
"It's not so bad, is it?" Yildiz asked, her hand still pulsing my gently throbbing skin.
"Not now," I admitted. A minute ago it hurt; now, under the ache, a strange pleasure stirred.
"It's just a few seconds," Yildiz said. She eased the pressure of her hand and gently rubbed her fingertips over my tingling skin. "That came away beautifully. Your skin is so fine and soft." She looked up and smiled, her dark eyes gleaming. "Rest a minute and I'll get the other side."
"I don't mind waiting." Heck, I wouldn't mind quitting now. Maybe Ahmet would like the halfway look.
"Not too long." Leyla's hands rested over my collarbones like a warm caress, "or the mixture will cool. Then it sticks and hurts."
As if that first bit hadn't! "Let's get it done then." What had I said?
Yildiz repeated the spread, press, yank. This time I was ready and didn't yell to scare the pigeons off the roof. I managed with just a stifled groan and a slow shudder that set my breasts wobbling and my stomach quivering. I was more than ready for Yildiz to press hard on my throbbing flesh, and welcomed Leyla's soothing massage, kneading and stroking my shoulders and chest, her fingers stopping just short of my breasts.
"Let me see," I said as Yildiz slowed her rubbing and the pain eased. I'd had my eyes squeezed shut most of the time, but now a strange fascination had me wanting to look. I was almost bare. Reddened, still-tender skin showed both sides of my slit. A swatch of hair still decorated the top of my pussy and I felt rather than saw the thinner hair between my butt cheeks. "Are you taking it all off?"
"Oh, yes!" Leyla said, her breath warm in my ear. "We do everything."