Chapter 1: Taking Her Breath Away

Chloe pulled off her jeans and her practical underwear and slid herself back onto the bed. Her friend followed, her mouth continuing her way down. There were so many parts of Chloe that she loved. How many more times would she be able to put her tongue into that adorable innie, and then follow the soft line of down to the beginnings of her sparse blonde pubic hair? She rubbed her face against Chloe's pussy, taking in her scent as Chloe's legs opened wide.

There were fading whip marks on the insides of Chloe's thighs, which she kissed and licked. She was used to seeing marks on Chloe, for whom sex and pain went together, but she always wanted to make them better. Her mouth moved up along the taut tendon on the inside of Chloe's thighs as her fingers pulled her open. The first taste was delicious and Chloe moaned as her friend's tongue licked the length of her.

She lost herself in Chloe's soft lips and wetness, sucking and licking her prominent and engorged clit, then went lower, using her lips to spread Chloe's, descending to her opening and pushing her tongue in, until her face was covered in her friend's juices. Chloe pulled her head up urgently and kissed her, licking her face and holding her.

--

They held each other, pressing themselves against each others' thighs. "So, have you talked to him about us?" Chloe asked eventually.

"I told him about you up front," her friend said. "He hasn't mentioned it since, but I think he will. Or he's waiting for me."

"Waiting for you to ask him?" Chloe said.

Her friend was quiet. She was fairly sure Robert was waiting for her to tell him she'd ended it, to offer herself to him exclusively. It was hard to imagine that his concept of "ownership" would include sharing her with someone else. She didn't want to say that, though, and she really didn't want to say that as much as she'd miss Chloe, she wanted it.

"I can't," she said. "I'm not going to ask him that. Not so soon."

Chloe was quiet. They'd talked about this, and she knew Robert was not interested in the kind of semi-open relationship she and Kevin had. But it was another matter to think that this might be the one of the last times they'd be in bed together.

"Will you be angry with me?" her friend asked.

"No, sweetie," Chloe said. "But I'll be sad." Chloe and Kevin had never moved in together, in part because Kevin sometimes spent the night with others, or scheduled private play sessions. Chloe had been friends-with-benefits with Rachele before she met Kevin, and had settled easily into the comfort of having both of them. She didn't want anyone else and it was hard to hear this from her friend.

"You know that I had that conversation with Kevin, right?" Chloe asked.

"About us?" her friend asked. "No, you never told me that." Chloe hadn't wanted to admit exactly how important their "benefits" relationship was to her.

"I told him that you and me were non-negotiable," Chloe said. "That you mattered too much to me and I wouldn't do that to you."

"I didn't know that," her friend said, hugging her closer. "I never would have asked that of you."

"I know, sweetie," Chloe said. "That's why I never told you."

Her friend rested her head on Chloe's chest. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just don't think --"

"I know," Chloe said. "He's doesn't exactly disapprove of what Kevin and I do but he's not comfortable with it."

Rachele was quiet. As much as she loved being with Chloe, what she had with Robert was exciting her at a different level. It was not at all a deal-breaker for her but she couldn't say that to Chloe.

"I'll always be here for you," Rachele said. "You know that, right?"

Chloe held her tighter. "I hope so. Even if I can't fuck you I'll still need you some nights. Even if we just watch tv on the couch." She'd been able to count on Rachele for company on many of the nights when Kevin was "otherwise engaged." Those nights might feel different if she were just home alone by herself. Or, if she was honest with herself, sleeping on Rachele's couch.

But she was also being unfair. She'd always had both of them. Rachele had spent a lot of time single in between unsatisfying relationships, none of which had ever gotten to the point where she felt the need to stop seeing Chloe. So she must have had plenty of nights alone when Chloe was with Kevin; she'd almost always said yes when Chloe asked, but had never seemed to mind fitting her time with Chloe around Kevin.

"And you'll always have me," Chloe said, kissing her friend's head. "No matter what. Robert can't take that away."

Rachele nodded, but she was thinking that being "taken" was exactly what she wanted.

4

She had wondered if he'd ask her about Chloe. She had masturbated about not being allowed to masturbate, or about asking him to be allowed to come. But the control over her clothing he was asking for felt deeper. It wasn't something she could ignore if she wasn't in the mood, or that would apply only when she were already aroused. This would be part of every single day. He probably wouldn't want to hear excuses on the days when she got out of bed late, the days when she skipped shaving her cunt if she wouldn't be seeing him.

"This would affect more of my life," she said. "It would mean you controlling me every single day, whether or not I see you."

"That's right," he said. He could see that look in her eyes that meant she was exploring implications and possibilities. "I don't want you to agree to this right away. Think about for the rest of the weekend, what it would mean for you, and also what you would need from me. We'll talk more about it and you may ask any questions you like. If you're ready, then on Monday night, I want you offer this control to me in writing."

"Yes, Sir," she said. He had set up a separate private email account for her to use when sending him the acknowledgments and assignments he liked to have her write for him. "Would it start after that?"

"No," he said. "During the week I want you to review your clothes, and discard anything that was purchased for you by other men, or that you purchased for them. You may set some aside if you wish to keep them and we'll discuss. On Saturday you will show your wardrobe for me, so I know what you have. I will buy you new things."

She nodded. "Can I still buy my own clothes?"

"Yes, but I'll need to see and approve them before you can wear them," he said. "Keep the tags on."

--

For the next few days she thought about it every morning as she got dressed, about waiting to find out what he'd tell her to wear. Could she fit all that into a busy morning? He did say she could send him a list the night before, and she liked picking out her clothing in advance. She didn't want to make those kind of decisions in the morning, so maybe this was a way not to make them at all. And it sounded exciting the more she thought about it

One evening she made her decision and sat down to write him, sitting at her desk, naked. That felt appropriate.

Dear Robert,

I want to offer you the complete control over my clothing that we discussed. I understand this means that I will wear only what you allow me to wear, and that when I get dressed I will either wait for instructions from you, or describe what I want to wear and ask for your approval. This will mean I need to leave time for this in the morning and I would like to please know how long I should wait before getting dressed, if you don't respond.

I also understand that when I buy clothing for myself, I may not wear it until you have seen it and approved it.

I am apprehensive about being able to do this consistently and correctly every day, but I have also been thinking about you having this level of control over me and it has been making me feel aroused and taken in a way I have not felt before. I just ask you to please be patient with me as I get used to this as I have never done anything like this before nor has anyone known every detail of what I was wearing all the time. The thought makes me wet but as I said it also makes me apprehensive because I want to do a good job for you.

I am writing this with no clothes on because that felt appropriate, Sir. Please let me know what I should do next.

Yours,

rachele

She debated the closing for a while. "Yours" might be pushing it, given what he'd already told her, but it was also a standard way to close letters. And spelling her name with a lower-case "r" felt like a nice contrast to his capital "R." She hoped he would approve.

Before she went to bed, he had responded, accepting her offer and reassuring her that he would be strict, but kind. She went to sleep thinking about being guided firmly like that, about the analogy he'd made early on about being led blindfolded on a leash.

5

In his email accepting her offer of control, he'd told her that he would review her underwear first, and to be ready for him to come to her apartment Saturday morning to review it all and give her the replacements that he'd be purchasing.

Now she stood in her bedroom, naked except for the corset he'd bound her into, getting aroused watching him look critically at her intimate clothing. She took shallow, even breaths, as best she could, feeling the air on her exposed nipples and cunt as he moved around the room, talking to her matter-of-factly as she stood naked and encaged.

He divided her underwear into piles. Everyday underwear went into one stack. The things she'd bought for him, or that he'd bought for her, went into another, joined by some of the nicer thongs she'd already owned. Some of her older pieces, including a few she'd bought for herself at a sex shop, went into the trash can next to the bed. So did everything she owned from Victoria's Secret.

From one of the shopping bags he'd brought over, he took out four expensive cotton bikini panties and four pairs of seamless boy shorts, also cotton. "You can wear these when you have your period or for some other reason need more comfort or coverage. You can add a few more if you like," he said, pointing to the pile of everyday underwear. None was as nice as what he'd bought.

Then he took out several boxes and other items. He laid out a selection of thongs, g-strings and v-strings, along with other even sluttier items. Some had nothing at all in back, or had openings that would leave her ass exposed. There were also slit panties and crotchless panties, and little bundles of straps that she'd have to figure out. "May I touch?" she asked.

"Of course," he responded. "They're yours. If you are concerned about anything in particular you may ask."

She bent over as best she could in the corset to handle the things he'd bought for her. Everything felt expensive. The lace items weren't scratchy, the fabrics were soft, delicate and natural, and the items were a mixture of muted colors and blacks and whites. This was hundreds of dollars of clothing, she realized. "This is what I'll be wearing every day?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "As I said, the others are only when necessary." She was getting more aroused thinking about his expensive and elegant purchases between her legs, and over (or not over) her ass. "May I try them on?" she asked.

"I've already had them hand-washed, so they're ready to wear," he said. She started to reach for one, but he said, "Stop."

She looked at him. "Who dresses you?" he asked.

"You do, Sir," she said, registering that he hadn't really said yes to her question.

"You'll stay in that corset and nothing else until I tell you otherwise," he said. "Put your new underwear away."

Bending carefully, she picked up the expensive collection and put them into her dresser. She had to ask for help to get the stack of everyday (or rather, special-purpose) underwear, because it was in the center of the bed and she couldn't bend over that far.

6

She'd been dressed in casual Saturday clothes when he arrived, carrying several shopping bags. He had told her the day before that this would be the last time she chose for herself what to wear, and after some debate, she'd gone with simple. She wore a pullover sweater and t-shirt on top, without a bra because she knew he like fondling her. Under her jeans she wore a flimsy white g-string that she'd bought for him but hadn't worn yet. His hands found it soon after he arrived; as he'd kissed her, he 'd reached into the waistband of her jeans, feeling her bare ass, and said, "That feels nice." He'd ordered to turn around, unbutton her jeans and show him, and he caressed her ass, then told her to pull her pants back up and sit down on the couch.

She was a little nervous; they spent much less time at her small apartment than at his luxurious place with its long balcony and view of the river. Rather than acting like a guest, he was giving her instructions in her own house. But that felt right, as it always did when he took control. And he was here with a purpose. He set most of the bags down by the door of her bedroom, then sat next to her holding a box which he laid in her lap.

It was heavy. She opened it to find a black leather corset. She'd told him recently she'd never owned one and liked the idea of them. She'd been thinking of the sexy lace or satin garments that made your hips and breasts stand out, but this was not frilly or delicate. It felt heavy and stiff, with unforgiving steel stays under supple black leather.

She lifted it up against her, noticing that it would go beneath her breasts rather than over them, and that even unlaced, it looked narrower than she was. It had complex buckles in front and laces in back, and straps that would go over her shoulders. Steel rings hung from the hips. It was a bondage restraint, not lingerie, and the weight and solidity of it was intimidating and arousing.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "Stand up and get completely undressed."

She'd become used to doing this under his gaze. It was rare now that she remained fully clothed when they were in private and rarer still that she undressed herself by herself. She stood, removed her jeans and sweater and folded them, placing them on the couch, adding the t-shirt and the scrap of cloth that she'd worn between her legs. She stood naked in front of him. He looked her over appreciatively and kissed her. His hand parted her legs and stroked the cunt she had shaved for him this morning, because he'd told her he liked it that way.

"Stand up and raise your arms," he said, standing in front of her. He wrapped the corset around her from the back and buckled the straps in front, one just below her breasts, one at her waist, and one lower down near her hips. Once the shoulder straps were buckled and tightened, the corset not only left her breasts uncovered, but with its contoured top edge, raised and presented them.

He moved behind her, and started pulling the laces tight. The steel closed around her, pressing the soft leather into her flesh. He started in the middle, compressing her diaphragm, then moved upward, constricting her ribs and further pushing up her breasts. He went back to the middle, tightened those laces further, and then descended, the cage closing relentlessly around her abdomen. In front it descended to a rounded point that touched the top of her pubic bone, while in back it was cut higher to show off her hips and ass.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"It's very tight," she said.

"It's supposed to be tight. Can you breathe all right?"

"I can breathe fine."

He started tightening the laces further, telling her to breathe out as he again started tightening at the middle, this time going downwards first, further constricting her core below her ribs, then upwards, compressing her rib cage almost painfully.

"And now?" he asked.

"I can't take a deep breath," she said. Her rib cage could not accommodate the full expansion of her lungs, and her diaphragm could not extend downward very far because there was little room left.

"Relax and breathe evenly," he said.

He walked around her, watching her breathing, touching her face. She could not turn to look at him. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Sit down now," holding her as she sat without being able to bend. Being seated compressed her a little further, and he watched her carefully. She took slow breaths, surrendering to this imprisonment.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"I feel encaged," she said. "I can't move properly, I can't breathe normally." It was making her intensely aroused to be so completely controlled. He had very literally taken her breath away.

Her hands were at her sides. The corset lifted her breasts as if she were offering them to him in her hands. Her small brown nipples were hard and prominent, facing straight ahead. As always she held her legs apart, exposing herself for his view or touch.

He held up the underwear she'd been wearing. "This is something sexy and slutty that you put on for me this morning," he said. She nodded.

"You're now wearing something that I put on you, that you cannot take off alone," he continued. "I want you to think about the difference, think about being restrained, versus being provocative. You look very hot this way, but that's not the point. You won't be choosing your own clothes again."

That was not going to be the case, but he didn't know that yet.

"No, sir," she said. "I put that on for you, but you put this on me. You bound me."

"That's the difference between being a slut showing yourself off for me, and being controlled and displayed," he said. "It's the difference between doing, and being done to. You haven't gotten dressed, you've been dressed. You've moved from subject to object."

"Object," she said. "Your object." She would have been panting with arousal if she could, but instead she slowed her breathing, sank into his control, in the back of her mind hoping her wet cunt wasn't leaving a spot on the couch.

"I'm going to look at your underwear now," he said, holding out his hand. She took his hand and stood up carefully. He put his hand between her legs from behind, probing her wet pussy and inserting two fingers into her, and his thumb into her ass. She moaned, opening her legs and starting to bend over as much as the corset would let her, but that wasn't what he wanted. "Stand up straight," he said. Holding her tightly from the inside, he walked her into her own bedroom. Every motion stimulated her and she desperately wanted him to play with her, but she took careful, even steps.

In the bedroom he walked her to the dresser where he knew she kept her underwear. "Take it all out and put it on the bed," he said. She opened the drawer, and started taking things out. His hand was still inside her; as she turned to the bed to lay the items down, his hand turned with her, and as she bent stiffly to put them down, it clenched and twisted inside her. She moaned again and raised her hips to him. "Focus," he said.

She continued laying out her underwear, his fingers constantly probing and moving within her and his thumb digging deeper and deeper into her ass. Her own juices had provided plenty of lubrication for its entry but not for it going this deep. It was painful and exciting at the same time and when he brought his fingers together as if he were clenching his fist she cried out and dropped what she was holding. She could not bend over to pick it up in the corset, but his hand inside her forced her to her knees, and she picked it up as he bent over next to her. His other hand held her shoulder as she got back on her feet, the hand inside her lifting her up and making her gasp.

When she was done, he positioned her next to the now empty drawer, and pulled his hand out of her. He removed his thumb gently but it was still uncomfortable. She happily licked herself off his fingers when he put them into her mouth, but hesitated before doing the same with his thumb. He just held it in front of her mouth expectantly and looked at her. She could smell where it had been, but finally took it into her mouth obediently, wincing at the bitter taste.