Fetish begins at 40 Ch. 02byLearningfast©
It is 5.45 on a November evening; she's undressed and robed herself in a silk dressing gown. Her feet are compressed into her highest stiletto heels; 5 inches, which make her size 4 feet almost vertical behind her toes. She sits on the cushioned wicker chair in their bedroom and waits. He will be here in a few minutes and she will make him dress her as she wants.
[[It had come to Patricia's realization one afternoon some weeks earlier that she'd turned into a fetishist. Until that moment, she'd not thought about it. But, when planning this evening's pleasures for herself and her husband, she realised that there would be no pleasure at all unless she was properly dressed. And by dressed she meant tight underwear; firm control girdles, corselettes and sometimes laced-up corsets. Coupled to a pair of high compression stockings, these garments had become essential for her arousal and orgasms. They'd tried going to bed and making love without dressing up and she had experienced little excitement. And she'd noticed that his erection had been rather limp; nor did he achieve his own orgasm. She'd pondered on this for some days...]]
Today, he is surrounded by her enlarged collection of corsetry; over 100 items with girdles, corselettes and long bras. And another collection of 100 pairs of stockings; some smooth and fully fashioned, others with varying degrees of compression as support stockings. She wonders what he will think of the layout of the room because her clothing is in piles on the bed, on the two stools near the window, and on the floor, lying on clean towels.
[[...Patricia was approaching 45. With her husband, she'd been exploring the erotic aspects of corsetry for five years. Even since they'd made love with her dressed firmly in girdle, bra and stockings, she'd been building a collection of firm exciting corsetry and long, controlling bras. She'd got him to assemble a special chest of drawers to hold her "ordinary" collection and five of the six drawers were full. So full, in fact, that closing each of them required a good deal of pressure on the contents. She hadn't counted how many items she had, but almost every evening she would select a combination of corsetry to wear for her husband when he came back from his office. And every weekend, from Friday evening to Monday morning, she was encased and shaped by Lycra, satin panels, steel spiral bones and zip-fastenings...]]
Her husband arrives at the door and lets himself in. She stays quiet and he finds his way to the bedroom, to see her sitting facing him in her silk and heels. Quickly, he scans the room and sees the piles of underwear. He flings off his jacket and goes towards her, to hold her waist and kiss her gently.
"What is it to be tonight, my lovely wife?" he asks.
"I'll show you if you agree to do all as I ask," she replies, "Yes?"
"Of course. I'll do everything you tell me."
[[After their wedding, over 20 years earlier, her husband had undressed her on their first night as a married couple, and she had abandoned her girdle and stockings immediately. He'd been happy with her figure then and there had been no question of foundations for many years. He expressed the view many times over the years that he wanted her to be free of "artificial shaping" until that special event when she'd taken the step to dress in her first "grown up" girdle and stockings. That was on her 40th birthday and the effect on him had been electric. They'd rediscovered the eroticism that had marked their first few newly-married months. Now, they dressed her each night in the most restrictive clothes they'd been able to find, and she'd dropped two dress sizes as a consequence of the new regime, and without dieting. Often, she was dressed for him as he arrived home, but sometimes she waited for him to install her inside the garments he chose.
Patricia's husband also wore tight underwear. For work, he would wear compression shorts or, sometimes, a full body post-surgery compression suit from his shoulders to his ankles, to keep his physique shaped up and looking youthfully trim. Each evening, he was excited on arrival from his work; on the point of erection. After he came home, and over both days at weekends, she would select for him a woman's girdle from the sixth drawer and some firm support stockings. There was nothing effeminate about him, but the dressing and the unusual pressure excited him; and therefore her also. They spent the first hour or so of every evening in the bedroom or the bathroom, making love in one or two positions from their repertoire.
In their collection, they also had three large-size panty-corselettes into which they could both be zippered when they were lying down and connected with his erection deep inside her. The first time they had done that, he had made it a surprise for her. And what a surprise it had been and they'd struggled to connect the hooks and then move the zipper so that they were both enclosed. That had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life, and both their orgasms had exceeded anything they could remember. He'd flooded into her and she'd flooded them both and the corselette with her own juices as well as his. That night, they'd struggled to get the big corselette on, struggled to move to their orgasms, and struggled even more to release themselves from their corset prison. Since that night, they'd tried variations on the same theme with new garments, new positions including standing up, lying in warm bath water, and sitting on a swing together which he'd assembled in their bedroom. They kept them for special occasions so that "...we won't just get use to it." As the months went by, her desire for restricting underwear had become more urgent and necessary.
And so Patricia knew, deep down, that all this corsetry interest had indeed become a fetish for her and she thought for her husband also. "We need the clothes to enjoy each other -- to get orgasm. Isn't that the definition of a fetish?" She'd worked out for herself.
On the same day as her "self-discovery," she began to plan her own extreme satisfaction and how to convince her husband to take part; if he needed convincing. She thought that would be easy. She went through her collection of corsetry, to see what else she needed to make it work. After one hour, she made a list and went online to search for her requirements. These days, no high street in England has corset shops; nor are there department stores with proper corset departments. And so her buying spree started and lasted many days online; and she kept it secret from her husband. To do this, she used the stored suitcases and sports bags in the garage, so that nothing would appear in the house, and so arouse his curiosity.
The day came when she had collected all she needed and wanted; and planned to fulfil the depths and the heights of her fetish. She wanted everything; not just something a little extra from before; not just a new or an extra girdle. This was going to be her stride into extremism. It would alarm her husband; se may even frighten herself; what she planned may not be possible; but she was determined to attempt it. And the day came. It was a Friday. The month was November. It was cold outside.]]
During today, she has laid out all her collection and new purchases, ready for the evening. Across their bedroom she's laid piles of restrictive underwear. Her excitement has grown every minute and she stopped from time to time, to feel at herself. She's massaged her breasts gently through her bra; then taken off the bra and let her nipples rub against her shirt and sweater for the rest of the day. She's pressed her hand against her pubis, and felt the moisture oozing around inside her panties. She's watching the clock, calculating the time when he will return and she'll be ready for him.
As she hears the car in the driveway, she saunters to the bedroom with its treasure-trove of underwear. He comes to her and they hold each other and he runs his hands over her naked figure, through the silk. He has no idea of what she's got planned but sees underwear around the room and immediately starts to take off his office clothes and his white compression suit underneath. She helps him until he's naked and excited because he knows something unusual is about to happen. But he has no idea of just exactly how unusual. She takes off the negligee and her sodden panties but keeps on the stilettos.
"Dress me," she instructs him, "exactly as I tell you to. Yes?"
"Yes," he says and nods enthusiastically although not quite knowing what she'll want.
She goes to the first pile of underwear and selects a little girdle; a pull-on with just four suspenders. And she collects some stockings on the way. She slips off the stilettos. He kneels in front of her and holds the girdle open for her. Together, they urge it into place over her hips and up to her waist. It is a slight thing, from Marks and Spencer, meant for a girl of 16 in the 1960s. He kneels again to help the stockings into place, and fastens them to the suspenders. This girdle has almost no effect on her figure except to make her smooth, and that is her plan. She needs to be smooth for what is to come.
She leans across and selects a long bra, which she holds up to him and he goes behind her to place it over her arms and shoulders. He fastens the 12 hooks and eyes. This has a nice effect on her breasts and her upper torso. It is a Triumph Doreen Long bra. Now she is smooth from thighs to shoulders and a little better held over her ribs. Her plan is working well although this level of corsetry has little effect on her body, as yet.
"Now this one," she says selecting a white high-line zippered girdle with panels and bones. It is a Rago Style 1294; a much more substantial garment which, without doubt, will affect her shape.
He knees again and holds it open for her to step into it; and then together they lift it into place; all the way up to her bust line, over the bottom of the long bra and totally hiding the first girdle. He pulls the edges together at her left side, and hooks it up before closing the zipper to hide the opening. Kneeling again, he fastens the six suspenders to the stockings already in place, so now she has ten suspenders and they form a second extension-girdle around her thighs.
Patricia is wet and she can feel her sex juices running through her labia and onto her inner thighs. She spends a moment to feel at her figure inside the two girdles and the smoothness over her body; and then she looks around the room at all the other items of firm underwear. Her anticipation is rising every second.
"And now this one," she instructs him, holding up a full-length corselette. It is also by Triumph, style Ideal, with a zipper up the full length at the front; finishing between her breast; and with six suspenders. As instructed, he kneels, lifts, fastens the hooks and the zipper, and attaches the stockings.
Patricia is a clever woman. She knows that layers of corsetry will increase her measurements. At the start, she's been fitting into size 14, for her 38B bust and 40 hips. But on the bed and around the floor there are piles of girdles and corsets up to UK size 30: bust 54 inches, waist 50 inches and hips 60 inches. She has plans, you see.
At this point, he grabs her and his erection is raging; pressing against her groin.
"Now," he says hoarsely, "Now."
She says nothing and makes no movement, but he turns her round and bends her forward until her hands are on the bed, and her knees pressing against the edge of the duvet. He reaches under her and feels her wetness. With no other preparation he presses against her and runs his erection smoothly into her from behind. He is stiff and stronger than she can remember from many weeks of rather half-hearted sex. Today, her body and its corsetry-covering has excited him as she planned it would.
"Don't come yet," she requests him softly, "I need a lot more from you later. Please."
"Yes; you're right. Just let me enjoy you and the feel of you," he explains.
His hands are on her hips, around her well-held waist inside three girdles and the long bra; and over her thighs. He holds her by the suspenders and by the shoulder straps of the corselette together with the long bra. And then, slowly, he withdraws himself; still erect and pulsing. Ready for another time. Soon, he hopes.
"Now this one," and she holds up a ferocious-looking girdle-corset with a label saying Spencer; made in the 1980s. It is shiny white and looks like it could hold an elephant in shape. It is high with shoulder straps and also low to tuck under her bottom. It has a heavy hook fastening strip at the centre front and laces both sides in front of her hip bones. Speaking of bones, this garment has no fewer than 20 steel bones, both spiral flexible and also solid flats, to control the corset and prevent it from twisting as the laces are tightened. She earlier counted the bones in her preparation and has been looking forward to this one.
He wraps it around her and fastens the clips at the front. Then he starts to tighten the laces, a little at each side, until they are closed. He doesn't know it, but her figure has just been reduced by a full dress size; even taking into account the other layers of underwear she has on her body. Patricia feels as if she's being squeezed into a different woman altogether, and she likes the sensation. Her fetish is well established and now she knows no bounds for the extent to which she will go.
"Wow. That's tight," she puffs, "I like it."
She puts her hand down to her pubis and feels the moisture again. He joins her and feels that she's wetter than he can remember over many weeks and months.
"Let me try one of these," she moves over to a pile of girdles on the floor and selects another high-waist, zip-fastened style with six suspenders. It is black this time. Inside, the level says Crown -- waist 30 inches; so she knows it will be a struggle to get into it.
"Yes, this one," and she holds it out to him. To him, it looks miniscule alongside the ferocious piece of corsetry into which he just installed her.
"Will it fit on you?" he asks.
"Make it fit," is all she says and that is what he proceeds to do.
It isn't easy, and he struggles without any help from Patricia since she is so trussed-up already that she cannot move to pull anything into place. Eventually, the girdle is in place and what a device it is; 18 inches long with flat bones over the stomach and also flexible bones around the waist and down the back. The zipper alone is 14 inches long and took him nearly 15 minutes to work into place over the hooks and eyes. And now there is a need for more stockings since the previous suspenders have taken all the space around the welts.
He goes to a collection of stockings and picks one up.
"Not those," she says, "get me some supports. Those in the Elbeo box."
She knows what she wants; firmness all over. With care and not a little difficulty, he feeds the tight support stockings up her legs and attaches them to the new suspenders.
Patricia goes to the long mirror and surveys herself. She sees a feminine form covered in corsetry. Not a shapely and alluring feminine form, but a mass of corsetry which hides her figure within it. She knows and she can feel the compression on her body inside five layers of foundation wear. And she's only just started.
She looks round at him and sees his erection.
"Now," she says quietly, "How do you want me?"
"Same as before," he replies without hesitation and she goes to the bed and tries to bend over. Off course, she can't; so she leans as best she can and tried to open her legs. Even that's difficult and he comes behind her and forces her ankles a little further apart. And then he presses his erection towards her labia, and somehow gets inside. Not much of him, it has to be said, but enough for him to feel the stimulation and her to feel the movement against her skin; against her buttocks pressed together by the corsetry. Once more, his hands roam all over her figure and he is now more excited than ever by the rigidity of her body. She feels like a warm statue and he want to fill her, to ravish her and to throw her around in his passion. But he is a patient man; and he wants a lot more of her later, whenever that is and whatever it entails. He withdraws again and she stands up as he holds her from behind, feeling the flatness of her stomach and the firmness of her breasts in their multiple covering of bra styles. He is even more intrigued by her rigidity and the hard shape with its bones and shaped panels and the taut suspenders now bunching around her thighs.
After that, Patricia really lets her obsession go wild. After another hour, she is encased in four more girdles and two more bras; and another two pairs of stockings, each with eight suspenders attached to them. She can no longer move around, or even walk with any proper control. Her body is inside a tight prison of corsetry; crushed to a set of measurements she can only imagine but not see. On the outside, she is a hardly-walking mass of firm foundation-wear. She makes him measure her and is intrigued, and partly disgusted to see that she now measure over 46 inches at her bust over the bras, 44 inches at the waist and nearly 52 inches over her hips. She doesn't look like a woman at all: just a moving mass of Lycra, nylon, bones, zippers, suspenders and firm, very firm pressure. Really firm pressure. As she passes her hands over her figure, she can't feel anything on her skin. She feel like a wooden statue depicting the history of corsetry over the past 40 years; and she knows that she is on the inside and crushed into a figure she hopes is small and shapely; but has no way to know.
The suspenders have formed massed of stretch elastic and metal clips around her thighs. There are now almost 50 of them, bunching over her skin and the taut stockings that compress her legs and feet. She likes the feeling of the compression and is surprised by the appearance of the mass of suspenders; and the lack of control she feels when trying to bend her knees to walk. Her legs are held almost rigidly straight by the multiple layers of support stockings.
"Now that one," she points to a white corselette of enormous bulk and complexity. The label says Lady Mary of Sweden and the measurements are shown as size 130. That's a 52 inch bust and there is a long zipper to fasten at the front over a long row of hooks and eyes. And six suspenders.
He goes to it and picks it up. Well; more truthfully, he hoists it off the pile and somehow carries it to her. He kneels and steers her feet into the open corselette, and manhandles it up and into position. But it is a tricky and difficult operation. This garment is also boned at the front, and has a further six suspenders, that catch on all the others as he moves it upwards, onto her figure. In fact, getting any more underwear over the bulky masses of suspenders is the most difficult part of any further dressing of Patricia.
But he gets it into position finally, and struggles with the hooks and the zipper. And finally it is in position and covering everything else she has on. Then comes another pair of stockings; he's lost count. Is it 10 or twelve pairs now that she is wearing with so many girdles and corsets? Whatever is the number, he completes the fastening and his erection is now completely out of his control. His penis is bouncing up and down as his pelvic muscles try and urge a climax; with or without a woman on the end of him. To be perfectly frank, there is no way he can find a way into Patricia dressed as she is. Her thighs are held together as if by a steel tourniquet. She couldn't open her legs and he couldn't force them open; not without dislocating her hip joints.
And Patricia cannot lie down. If she did, she probably couldn't get up again. So he had an idea.