Fetish begins at 40 Ch. 02

"Wait -- I want you now," he told her and she wondered what he had in mind. Her desire to be filled was just as strong as his but she knew it was impossible.

He brought a short stool from the other room and stood on it with his erection at her face height. And she gave him the best mouth job she could from inside her corsetry; which he appreciated, keeping his balance as best he could in return. Even then, he stopped his climax from being reached. He wants his full ejaculation at sometime in the future, not a half attempt now.

The rest of the night is a blur of excess, of obsession, of crazy ridiculous corseting. At some early hour, maybe 2 am, Patricia is really beginning to feel over-compressed. Her vision is affected and she can't really speak properly: so broken is her breathing. She is still standing but leans against the wall from time to time. She's beginning, also, to think about ending her plan at this stage. But a fetish obsession cannot be denied, and she decided after a half-hour rest, to continue. Turning to her husband, she points at a certain pile of girdles and indicates which one she wants next; without speaking. And so they resume her imprisonment in her personal high security unit made of corsetry.

By 4 am, Patricia is covered in 76 items of corsetry; girdles, corselettes, long bras and body stockings. Her biggest item at size UK30 has been difficult to fit onto her. In the mirror, and to his eyes, she is simply a standing and hardly mobile corset-shop. She has almost no shape except massiveness. Her waist, if it can be so called, is as far round as she is tall. Her bottom and hips cannot fit through the door of their bedroom. She is about 2 foot 9inches wide and measures over 6 feet around her widest parts. Her bust is massive and sticks out by nearly 2 feet from her chin. All this is clothing, of course; she is crushed and somehow managing to stay alive on the inside of all this restrictive clothing.

The suspenders are the most surprising and alarming phenomenon. Huge bunches of elastic and metal clips, and a mass of nylon stocking tops, are located around her thighs. Combined wit he shape and size of her hips and thighs in the corsetry, these bunches of suspenders now measure over 4 feet across from the far left to the far right; and the latest stockings are stretch to breaking point by the force needed to attach them to their suspenders over the top of all the others.

"Help me walk," she says to him, and holds out her hands.

He takes them and moves backwards to allow her to take a step. Just one step and they can hear the corsetry creaking and rustling through its 76 layers on her body. And the clicking of the nearly 300 suspenders. She is panting from the pressure and the exertion of the attempt to walk. But, more than that, she is excited. He can see in her eyes a look that presages orgasm.

She takes another step and makes a great intake of breath. She looks into his eyes and then at the wall, and then at the ceiling. And then comes the orgasm. Huge, overwhelming, throughout her compressed body from her toes in the two-dozen pairs of stockings to her nipples inside their 48 different bras and corselettes. Her skin is flushed. Her breathing shallow. Her mouth wide open.

"Ooohh," she moans, and then a rising cry, "Aaaaargh."

She clings to his hands with a force he has not felt before from her grasp. She staggers and almost falls; but then her knees give way so that she is supported only by the stockings and corsetry. But for them, she would collapse. As it is, she staggers and he catches her in the height of her orgasm and feels her pulsating even through the many layers of her corsets and girdles. She clings to him and it passes eventually.

"Wow," she says breathlessly, "I didn't expect that. It was wonderful. Now help me lie down."

This is a major undertaking. There is no chance of her collapsing on the floor, in a heap of clothes, because the clothes keep her upright and rigid. He thinks to himself, "If we could take Pat out of those corsets, I think they'll stand up by themselves. How is she taking all that pressure?"

By a series of manoeuvres, Patricia is first propped against the wall, rolled onto the bed and slowly repositioned so that she is lying on her back, facing the ceiling. She needs four pillows under her head; so much corsetry over her shoulder blades means that she can't let her head down onto the bed. Eventually, she is settled into place; still gasping and holding her chest, her breasts and her belly as if to reduce the pressure by feeling at herself.

"How does it feel?" he asks; showing his curiosity for the first time after five hours of their playtime.

"It's frightening and exciting at the same time. I can hardly breathe, I feel crushed to a pulp inside my body. It's as if I can feel my spine against my breasts; I'm so pressed together. I can feel my heart beating and my intestines moving around. Like they're trying to get away from the pressure. Of maybe they're trying to empty. That would be messy," and they chuckle together.

"There's no way to please you with me like this, I don't think," she apologises.

"This is your evening, Pat," he says the right words, as he always does; but secretly he's getting tired of waiting to satisfy his erectile necessity. Patricia can see his remaining erection, still noticeable after all these hours.

"Can you do something extra for me, please," he knows that tone and that she is looking for something erotic.

"What would you like?" he enquires and she tells him.

He goes to their "saucy drawer" and takes out a long silicone double-ended dildo vibrator; the one she likes for their "long-range stimulation" times. It is 18-inches long and contains a vibrator motor in one of the bulbous ends. He lubricates it and also his right hand and up to his wrist. The more he thinks about Patricia's request, the more he realises that he will need a lot of lubrication to get his hand anywhere near her labia and her vagina. They are way up in the cavernous tunnel which is her underwear.

Lubricating his arm up to his elbow, he pushes more of the gel as far as he can reach between her confined thighs. And now he's ready to try and get the dildo into Patricia. Lying next to her on the bed, he slides it up as far as he can, through the cave-entrance formed by the mass of open girdles and corsets. He soon finds that his wrist will not flex sufficiently to make the journey and he moves down to the foot of the bed. He is going to need to push hard from a solid base and he takes a firm stance.

Slowly, and with back-and-forth urging, he pushes the dildo up the lubricated passage between her thighs, and follows it with his hand. And his forearm. Patricia is unable to direct him until she feels the penile-end of the dildo pressing against her labia. At long last. And she tells him how to position his hand to get the vibrator into her body.

They are successful and the effect exceeds all their expectation. As soon as the dildo enters her, Patricia feels another orgasm climbing inside her. She knows immediately that this one will be overwhelming. She starts panting, her eyes stare at the ceiling; she can hear nothing through the roaring of her heartbeat and the pulse in her head.

"Oooohh," she cries out again, and her eyes close tight, "Aaaaarrgh."

She sounds as if she's in agony but he knows it is ecstasy, and he continues his movements with the dildo, as it vibrates in his wrist; both crushed within Patricia's thighs and hardly able to move.

It is true that Patricia is ecstatic inside her corsetry but, at the same time, she's aware of the crushing pressure and her own inability to move. She is lying as if in bondage. She can't move her arms or legs, and only her head can shudder from side to side as the passion overtakes her. In a final tremble, she cries out as much as her breathing will allow.

"Oooohh, yes. Oooohh," and then a great breathing out as her lungs empty, pressed almost flat in her body by the forces of her corsetry.

And so the night ends. It is just breaking daylight through the bedroom windows. Patricia is exhausted and he is frustrated. Both wish for release in their different ways.

Can you imagine how long it will take to undress Patricia? And then how soon it will be before he gets his way into her? And then what will the future hold for them, now that they've let this demon out of its Hades?

Well; this is a fetish,isn't it? An obsession, a necessity, a requirement for Patricia.

It will happen again: maybe even more extreme.