Her Fantasy: His Fetish

At this point, he motioned her and propelled her gently towards a full length mirror on the wardrobe door. She saw herself for the first time in a girdle and stockings from the vintage era of feminine dressing. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her waist; where her waist now actually was, as she could see it clearly defined by the girdle. He moved his hands down to her thighs and onto the stocking tops; then backwards over her bottom and the bottom edge as it tucked under her buttocks; and finally up to the top edge as it held her ribs under her breast.

He took his hands away and she took over. She made exactly the same movements on herself; pressing and smoothing over the new curves she could see and feel for herself. She had not felt so feminine for over 20 years. Her hands wandered over her hips and under her buttocks and across her groin and under the front edge, to feel into her labia and towards her moistened vagina. She realised that she was even wetter than before. The pressure and the shaping effect of this garment had given her new erotic sensations of which she knew nothing. She turned to him and saw that he had another item in his hands. It was a bra, but like no bra she had ever worn. He slipped it over her arms and turned her round. She positioned her breasts in the cups, as he placed the straps on her shoulders and gently pulled the back together. There were 12 hooks and eyes on this long line bra, and the boned elastic cuff dug into her waist, at exactly the place her waist ought to have been and d\now was. She looked in the mirror again and saw a dark skinned Indian woman in brilliant white vintage foundations that gave her the shape she had as a girl. She pressed her hands over her breasts, down her torso, over her midriff, over her waist and her flat abdomen, across her straightened groin, and over her smooth satin-contained bottom.

This was new, very new to her; she wanted this feeling for ever. She recalled seeing pictures of fashionable Western women dressed something like this, in magazines and newspapers many years ago; in her childhood. She looked at herself and marvelled at the flatness of her stomach, the smooth curves of her hips and the tightness of her waist. She felt more feminine than she had for decades.

It was obvious to her that he would want to make love to her again, now that she was shaped and contained in her special outfit. And she wanted it more than anything else. He spoke to her again n his strange tongue and she just looked at him, waiting for him to guide and lead her to the bed and to more sensations. She could just make out her name in what he was saying and assumed he was speaking endearments

"I'm going to love you to heaven and back. For my pleasure, Rekha, you'll feel everything a woman can feel. I hope you enjoy it as well, but I may ruin your body and wreck the corsetry; but it'll be fun for me. Try to enjoy it Rekha; it will happen anyway."

He led her to the bed and she complied willingly. As she settled herself onto the bed, she allowed her hands to roam over her new figure again; to feel the waist and the hips and over her breasts now contained in a bra of such unusual design and structure, that she hardly felt like Rehka Diwe at all. She was covered and controlled and compressed from her shoulders to her thighs; almost to her knees because of the tight stockings. All in white against the dark olive of her skin.

But he didn't let her settle onto her back, on the bed. He raised her until she was kneeling with her back to the edge of the bed where he was standing. He pressed on her shoulders with both hands and made her sink her face and breasts to the bed, while her bottom stuck up in the air and became her vulnerable target. She imagined what he would do next; she had experience of anal penetration and found it painful but strangely stimulating also. He positioned himself behind her but did not probe into her anus. He slipped easily into her vagina and held her hips in his hands as he moved back and forth. Under the bottom back edge of the girdle, he delved into her sex parts and raised her off the bed with the strength and force of his penetration. At each stroke she went from kneeling on the bed to being impaled in mid-air on the end of his erection as his hands guided her body and her direction of movement; and then to kneeling on the bed again. She would not achieve orgasm this way but she was intrigued to feel the movements and the force of his entry.

He did not ejaculate but he was intent on a long sensuous experience with her. After a few minutes, maybe 4 or 5 minutes, he stopped and let her lie down on her back.

But not for long. Positioning himself in front of her on the bed, he raised her legs and feet until she had her ankles on his shoulders. Then he leaned forward and his erection slid into her, again without any guidance or hand work. They seemed to be perfectly aligned to each other. He plunged into her and she felt him swelling inside her abdomen; against the pressure of the girdle. It was pulled tight against her groin and he was leaning on her with his full weight. The underwear gave her more elastic resistance to his weight, and she realised that the garments were saving her from excess bending or discomfort. He spoke again, smiling as he did so.

"I don't suppose you know what a Viennese Oyster is, Rekha, and I shan't put you into one, but you're very supple. I can see that. One day perhaps."

He leaned and plunged for a few minutes, pressing her knees into her breasts and with her ankles near her ears: maybe 4 or 5 minutes, before raising himself from her. He gently let her legs unwind and lie flat on the bed again, as if he knew her joints would be aching, which they were. He kissed her forehead and her breasts, and then massaged her thighs and hips, through the firmness of the girdle. She smiled with her crooked teeth and met his eyes as he sat up next to her. She wondered what he would do next.

He lay next to her, on her left hand side, and held her hand as they both looked at the ceiling. He let go of her hand and moved it over her stomach area and down to her groin, and finally he hooked his middle down between her legs. They could both feel her wetness and the openness of her labia. He reached over to her right hand and gripped her wrist, pulling on it to make her lie on her left side facing him. Even as she rolled towards him, he slid his hand under her girdled waist and as she stopped moving, he continued with greater force until she was lying on top of him. He reached down her back, feeling at the tension in the long bra, the tightness of the cuff at her waist, the smoothness of her hips and her bottom inside the stretch satin of the girdle's fabrics.

He reached further and parted her legs to either side of his legs. Now she was open and vulnerable again. His erection had built again to the same hardness as 10 minutes earlier. He motioned her to sit on him and she did. With the girdle stretched hard across her bottom and groin, his erection slid into her easily, once more. She placed her hands on his chest and he gripped her constrained waist, pushing her up and down in a rhythmic motion. She took it up for herself and began to ride on him, feeling him pressing against her cervix, now pressed down by gravity and the force of the tight underwear. Her own orgasm began to grow inside her ribs before descending slowly to her navel, then her pubic mound and then inside to the top of her uterus and finally to her clitoris. She exploded on him, and wet him with a spurt of her own sex juices. She was spent and collapsed forward onto his chest. He held her in her smooth but now moist corsetry, and lay motionless but still deep inside her. She was beginning to feel exhausted with her own exertions, with orgasms and with the tightness of the corsetry.

With her almost comatose on top of him, he gripped her waist again and began his rhythmic movements, lifting her entire body with his as she stayed floppy with eyes closed. Gradually, his tempo increased and she was being flung around on top of him so that her hair became tousled all over her face, her breast began to unload from the bra cups, her legs in their stocking sheathes were rasping against his and the stockings themselves were laddered and then frayed at the welts. He was a man possessed by the corsetry, the tightness an smoothness of her figure, the tension in the fabric under his hands, and the knowledge that he had shown her a new set of sensations. His climax was coming slowly and he didn't want to rush it.

The feeling of the corsetry over her ample figure and the pressure of her breasts on his chest; all this combined to increase his pleasure. He started his orgasm slowly and felt the first rush of semen into her; then he slowed down. From experience, he knew that his full load would come in stages, and he wanted her to be full when he was empty.

After a few seconds, that was all, he started his rhythm again and lifted her off the bed totally supported by his body, and quickened his pace. Again she was being tossed like a rag doll on his chest and he felt the full force of his ejaculation into her, even as he got the full sensation of her corseted waist under his fingers and thumbs. He emptied himself up and into her, and she mewed like a pussycat as she felt the inrush of his fluids. Then all was still again.

As she recovered her breath a little and he began to come down from his orgasmic high, he slowly rolled her to one side and she emptied her vagina onto his leg and then onto the bed, and of course over the entire bottom edge of the girdle. They were both quite awash with their joined juices, and the girdle was wet to the point of dripping. She slept and he fondled her through the remains of the corsetry.

In due course she awoke and he undressed her, and they showered each other, in a ritual Rekha had never even imagined, let alone experienced. After that, their relationship would never be the same. Of course, he was still the Sir at the big bungalow, and she was the housekeeper. But they smiled at each other many times each day, and took every opportunity to hold and caress each other in the strict privacy of the bungalow. As a compromised woman, her life hung by a thread in her village community if anyone had evidence of her dalliance. And he would lose so much face if their affair became public knowledge, that he would be obliged to leave the village; maybe even the State.

They were careful and lucky; and enjoyed each other for many years, always with her dressed in firm underwear and he always wishing to please by whatever touching and movement she needed to reach her climax.