Ten minutes later, he recommenced his exploration of her body. She'd moved a little this way and that, as his hands and his face delved into her creases. Smoothing, pulling and licking her skin almost everywhere it was exposed apart from the corset and her panties. These panties came off, of course, during one of these "explorations" and she allowed his hands to move over her, and under her and into her.
At one point, he placed his hand on her flattened abdomen and asked softly, "Is this OK? Comfy?"
"Mmm. I can't feel it now, at all," she'd replied in a dreamy voice.
"So let me tighten you a little more. Tell me when you can feel it again. Yes?"
And she'd agreed with a waggle of her head inside her blindfold, so he laced her waist an inch or two further.
"That alright?" he'd enquired and got another waggle of her head.
She didn't realise it, but her waist was now 5 inches smaller than when she'd arrived, maybe two hours earlier. She placed her hands on the shrinking waist but expressed no concern.
So this was the way it went from time to time. He played on her body. She had another orgasm. He would tighten her waist a little, while she relaxed into the new shape developing inside the ferocious corset.
Eventually, there came the time for another lacing, more serious this time. He rolled her over and played with his mouth and hands on her back and shoulders and her bottom. He reached out for a small conical butt-plug and slowly introduced it into her anus. She seemed to be expecting it and made all the right motions and sounds. He pressed it and she pushed out, so that her sphincter opened. It was only one-inch diameter, and settled into her smoothly with the black flange showing against her fair skin. Then he kneeled up across the backs of her legs and reached up for the knot at her waist. He leaned down to her ear and spoke softly:
"This is a bigger tightening now. But you'll be fine. Your body has got used to the corset now. Yes?"
"Mmm. I'll tell you if it's too much," she said into the pillow.
This time, he braced himself and crossed over the laces to get leverage against the eyelets: the first time he'd adopted this method of lacing. He braced his shoulders and pushed the two lace-loops outwards, drawing the corset edges almost together. He could see what she couldn't; her waist was almost at its smallest and the tightest the corset could be made. But not quite. Not yet.
"Mmm. Enough," she'd said, and he had stopped. He would resume in a short time; he knew that.
At one stage, he'd also tied her hands so that she wouldn't be able to feel the reduction of her waist; which might have startled her. So her hands were tied up to her shoulders; each hand crossed over her breasts and tied to the opposite shoulder, with the soft rope round her back.
"Why this?" she'd asked from behind the blindfold.
"So your figure will be a surprise when you feel it next," he'd said in his soft matter-of-fact voice.
+++++++++++++++++++
Now it was the early hours of Saturday morning. He'd had her blindfolded for six hours while he gradually laced her into the corset. At the start, she'd been excited at the feel of the white satin covering; smoothing her hands against her changing figure. After each reduction, she'd asked for a rest. And he'd agreed, so they lay down and he played on her some more with his hands and mouth. At one stage, after some minutes for her to recover her quietness, he reached out for a favourite vibrator and they'd played some more. He was keeping her body for his pleasure later. She orgasmed easily, this beautiful shapely woman, and she'd clung to him each time, in her pleasure. Together, they'd gone to the bathroom from time to time so that she could relieve her bladder and he helped by cleaning her from the tub of gentle wipes he kept there.
The latest lacing had been done with her lying on her stomach and relaxed, but with her arms still crossed over her breasts. Now her waist was 20 inches: almost half her hip measurement and 10 inches smaller than it had been when she arrived the previous evening. There was only a short waist acing still to be completed.
He turned her over onto her back, untied her arms, and helped her to stand in front of the mirror. Her eyes were wide open, and her mouth.
"What have you done to me?" she said, looking in the long mirror, "my God, what's happened to me?"
"Oooh nnnooo," she was beginning to scream now as she placed her hands on her waist, "it'll kill me. Something must burst in me."
Until that moment, she'd been relaxed and quiet in her corset, but the visual image of her own figure in the mirror had provoked a panic. For the first time, she thought she should be gasping for breath; struggling to move; fighting against the constraints of the bones and the lacings. She ran her hands over her figure, into the waist, over her hips, round and over her contained buttocks, up and round her ribs. As he knew, the corset was not tight at the bottom edge, nor at the top. She slid a finger under the bottom edge to realise that it was simply touching her skin. And she tucked her thumbs in the top edge and discovered the same there. But her waist was tight. Really tight. Tighter than she'd realised before this view in the mirror.
After her little outburst subsided, he held her and felt at her figure for himself. From behind, looking into the mirror and into her eyes, he ran his hands over the flat rigid front of the corset; feeling the tautness of the busk fastening over her muscles and containing her ribs. Then he moved his hands to left and right to feel the curve over her hips, which now felt like little shelves.
He traced the bones in the corset from top edge, over their laced-in tightness and down to the bottom edge. He imagined he could feel her hip bones, the fabric of the corset stretched tightly over the curve of her iliac crest; the broad sweep of bone. But what were her bones and what was the rigid taut corset was impossible to distinguish. Even so, it felt good to him.
He held her waist, pressing his fingers and thumbs together as if to encircle her. Almost but not quite, and she was almost rigid in her waist. She felt like warm wood; carved into the shape of the most erotic feminine waist. There was no movement in her waist at all; no "give" as he pressed; no flexibility as she swayed a little under his grasp and his groping.
Then he allowed his hands to roam over her lower abdomen and down to her pubic area, to discover a little bulge below the corset. Her intestines and skin-fat had been gradually rearranged during the slow corseting, and now was located in a beautiful little mound above her pubis. He anticipated how that would feel when he next lay down with her; on her; inside her. But he could wait a little longer.
He led her back to the bed and helped her to lie down. A woman in a tight-laced corset hasn't the flexibility to lie down buy herself. He knew that and let her down gently onto her pillow, lying on her back. She was panting a little by now and holding her waist; remembering the image of her own figure in the mirror.
Lying next to her, he coiled his arm over her and held her waist with one hand. Moving that hand up and down, he moved to place his face near hers and kissed her gently on her cheek, in her hair and then on her chest above her breasts. And then full kisses and sucking on her nipples, such as she'd appreciated earlier in the evening. But now she was concentrating on her breathing and the memory from the mirror. Orgasm was not high in her list of priorities but she knew that he would take her soon. She opened her legs as far as the corset would allow, with the outer edges digging into her thighs just a little.
And so he lifted himself onto her corseted and contained body, and entered her for his pleasure. With his hands either side of her waist, flat on the bed, he pumped his penis into her slowly at first; and then with greater urgency.
At this point, he surprised and shocked her by leaning flat on her body and holding her waist in his two hands as he continued his shagging. His full weight lay on her and she expected to feel crushed; but the corset seemed to support him through its tightness and the rigidity of her body. She wrapped her hands round his shoulders and his neck as he lay on her full-length. She knew that he was holding her waist but had no awareness of it. The hardness
and tightness of her waist had lost all her skin sensation.
For the first time, she understood how tight corseting can be restrictive and immobilising but also comfortable if done properly. The corset seemed to contain its own anaesthetic through its tightness and the perfect pressure on her skin. She pondered all this as she lay there under his movements, knowing that soon he would flood her with his sex juices. But then he surprised her again.
He let go of her waist and raised himself off her. Quickly, he turned her over and pushed his erection into her vagina from behind. He pressed on the flange of the butt-plug, of course, and she could feel both intrusions now in a way she didn't before. He kneeled over her and held her waist as he moved back and forth. His erection was very hard even though he was not super-endowed with penis. She could feel the rigidity of his movement as he pounded into her lips, against the walls of her slippery vagina and rubbing against the butt-plug in two ways. First by movement of the flange, and secondly by proximity through her membranes inside her body. Her own excitement was rising and she could tell that his certainly was.
At this stage, he startled her again; he took hold of the knot in the corset-laces and untied it. She knew what he was going to do and felt another panic rising in her; and he did exactly as she expected. He leaned against the laces, crossing them over again to provide the leverage. Until the corset was closed. Her waist was now only 18 inches but she didn't know that; only that she was being compressed into the most erotic feminine figure that she could imagine for herself. He tied off the knot and she lay under him immovable, and resisting the sense of panic in her numbed waist.
And so, holding her tiny waist from behind, he completed his shagging on her and spewed his sperms and other juices deep inside her. At the last moment, as his erection and his testicles were pulsing, he buried himself deep inside the corseted vagina. Thus he finished his conquest of her body and her corseted figure; and she relaxed with pleasure and release in the knowledge of what had happened to her.
+++++++++++++++++++
Later, he released her from the corset. She was relieved but also sad and disappointed. She'd become accustomed to the pressure and the knowledge of her superb shape. As they stood to release the corset, she held his hands away for a few seconds; to take a final long look at her 36C-18-38 figure. She wondered if she would ever again see herself with such an outline; such a silhouette. She hoped so and determined to keep close to this man if he agreed, and to experience this again. Next time, she resolved to take more pleasure now that she knew how it felt and how she looked.
Uncorseted, and with his arms around her, she slept until late in the morning.
The End.
In His Possession
I stepped into our apartment and dropped the keys on the coffee table, and the brown bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.
"I'm back!" I didn't have to raise my voice much, it was a small apartment. "Babe?"
"In here," he called from the bedroom. His voice was pitched low, kind of growly. I shivered. I knew what that voice meant. I set the bag on the kitchen counter and dug out the cheese and carton of milk and shoved them into the fridge. The rest could wait.
I peeked into the bedroom, trying to keep my excitement off my face. He stood within arm's reach, wearing jeans, no shirt, his feet bare and a wolfish grin forming on his lips, hunger lighting his eyes. His hair was damp from a shower.
Electricity zipped along my spine. A sense of danger and my own vulnerability shivered through me.
Lifting one arm, he slowly shut the door behind me. With a dominant push of his hand on my stomach, he backed me up against the door, his eyes intent. Without breaking my gaze, he gathered my wrists above my head in one of his hands, and buried his other tightly in my hair, angling my face upward for his kiss.
Keeping me still with the press of his body, he moved slowly, he was in no rush. His prey wasn't going to get away. He kissed me slow and forcefully, his eyes remaining open and hot. He licked the seam of my lips. When I didn't open for him, he tightened his hold on my hair, forcefully dragging my lips apart with his and thrust the tip of his tongue into my mouth. My breathing hitched. It was a good thing he had a tight grip on my wrists, because I swear to god I almost hit the floor.
I moaned, and he pushed his tongue deeper. I sucked on it, and he growled deep in his throat, pushing his hips against mine. I moaned again, hooking my knee up around his hip, to better feel the hardness in his pants. As hard and heavy as he was, he would have permanent zipper tracks tattooed to his pride if he wasn't careful. God, he felt so good.
He trailed his lips to my ear, and on down my neck, leaving his shoulder bare and vulnerable to me. I took the opportunity, my teeth gripping the muscle roughly. Enough to leave a faint mark but not breaking the skin.
He growled louder this time. He pulled me away gently by my hair, and spun me around to face the wall. He placed my hands firmly against the cool surface. Shivers ran through me and heat suffused my blood. God, I loved it when he got like this.
Beneath my shirt, his hands slid up my stomach, cupping my breasts. He moved my bra out of his way, and flicked his thumbs over my nipples.
I bucked in his grasp, taking my hands from the wall and tried to turn around. He released his hold on my nipples, placing his hands on my hips, not allowing me to turn around. Instead, he placed one of his hands between my shoulder blades, bending me forward until my cheek and forearms laid against the cool wall, my hips still several inches back.
He slowly undid the button on my jeans, then eased the zipper down. I gasped as his hand eased inside the lacy waistband of my panties. He pushed my legs further apart with his feet, maneuvering his hand more firmly against me.
"I knew you'd be wet," he moaned in my ear, circling my entrance with one finger. I whimpered, from both the feel of what he was doing and from the explicit nature of his words.
He latched his teeth onto the back of my neck, not enough to hurt but with far more dominance than I had done to him. At the same time, he sank one of his fingers inside me, and my eyes threatened to cross. As it was I couldn't stop the cry the broke from my lips as he flexed his finger inside me and added another.
He clamped his other hand over my mouth to prevent any further sound from escaping, and my excitement only increased. Three fingers. Always moving... In, out and in a come hither motion that sapped all the strength from my legs.
God, I was so overwhelmed by my own desperate need that tears had formed in my eyes, trickling down my cheeks and over his knuckles. Then he rubbed his thumb roughly over my clit, and the world exploded into a star studded dankness that ripped through my body and stole all my strength.
When my vision finally cleared, he picked me up, and laid me gently on the bed. He climbed over the top of me, his jeans shed, mine quickly joining his as well as my shirt. My flip flops had been lost long ago.
My body was still shivering from a aftershocks when he pushed himself deep inside me. My body clenched around him, trying to suck him in deeper. He groaned like a dying man, and tried to stay still a minute, panting and shaking from the effort.
I loved that I could drive him to this.
Without withdrawing from my body, he rocked against me, his cock bumping into something deep inside that brought back all my need for him. I lifted my hips, pushing against him and something in him seemed to snap. Bracing himself with an arm on either side of my head, he began to move, thrusting into me so hard and fast that the bed was banging against the wall.
I needed more, "please!" I begged. I was close, so close. I was going to die if he didn't DO something. I couldn't stop the small screams that ripped from my mouth. My nails were scraping his back, and he raked his teeth along my neck and shoulder, threatening to renew his mark of possession.
With a primal growl, he sat up, lifted my hips, and slammed home, over and—Lord Almighty, what was he hitting?
He didn't bother to cover my scream this time. I splintered into so many tin
y pieces that my soul would forever look like shattered glass.
As I drifted back down, I was vaguely aware of his teeth latched onto my shoulder, holding me still while he spent everything he had inside me. He collapsed against me, tremors still shaking our world. After a minute, he pushed his weight off me, lying half on me, half on the mattress, our legs still tangled.
Ducking his head down a bit, he latched his lips over one of my sensitized nipples, drawing it into his mouth and sucking, hard.
I jerked and moaned, shoving my fingers into his hair. He released me when I tugged, laying back down and drawing me into his arms. "I love that you're a screamer," he sighed.
The End.
Rachel and the Movers
The lazy afternoon progressed slowly as Rachel sat alone in her new apartment. The place felt empty without any furnishings in it.
"When are those movers going to get here?" Rachel thought to herself.
As she sat waiting for the movers to call she thought about all her friends she had to leave back in Florida. Slipping into a daydream about all the fun times she had with the boys. Rachel noticed she was looking at her toes when she snapped out of her dream. She smiled and leaned forward to inspect her toes a little closer.
It had been a while since anyone had paid attention to her feet. Rachel thought back to her early experiences with foot guys. There was that time back in Miami when she was working at a sports bar. The female wait staff dressed as cheerleaders and the older men in the club loved it. Rachel remembered the group of Canadian tourist who asked if her toes had ever been sucked on. Several of the tourists held her still while one of them removed one of her shoes and socks and commenced to pour beer down her foot as he sucked her toes.
Her mind skipped ahead to remember even brief occurrences with footmen. It seemed they used to be everywhere. There was the shoe salesman whose hands used to linger on her feet longer than normal. The maintenance man who used to comment on her toenail polish color. It would be years later that Rachel would finally meet Jim. Rachel and Jim started off as roommates during college. It wasn't long before they developed a fondness for each other.
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 104