Later Discovery

It is a warm morning in July and Phyllis is lying on her bed, propped up with three pillows behind her shoulders. She is beginning to please herself. Her right hand is between her labia and moving rhythmically to create the sensations she desired so very much. The pressure and the rhythm I perfect because she's perfected it: over many years, and now she knows exactly what she likes. In this sense, she is like millions of women all over the world.

And yet Phyllis is unusual and has a special desire, which she is satisfying this morning. Her left hand is moving over her body, from her neck to her thighs, as far as she could reach. Not exactly over her body but over her underwear. Her fingers are tracing out the top edge of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings, which she knows are taut on her legs and held up tightly by the six suspenders of her corset. She can sense the hard bottom edge of a tight, hard laced corset as it tugs across her groin and the top of her thighs with each slight movement of her hands and torso. She's been wearing it all day and now she can enjoy the feel of the fabric, the bones, the rigid front busk, the suspenders and the taut stocking-tops over her thighs.

This is Phyllis' special pleasure. Her palms move carefully over her flat stomach and the smooth shapeliness of her hips. She delights in the sensation of the tight satin fabric under her fingers. She also feels the slighter sense she has on her skin, inside the corset, where the stronger and coarser cotton lining fabric is holding her figure. She is tracing out the positions and the lengths of the bones over her abdomen and round her constrained waist. Pushing her left hand as far as she can under her left hip, she can feel a bone on that side controlling the back of her figure and smoothing out her contours towards her bottom. She traces the length of the bone from its top edge where the corset lies high under her long bra, five inches above her waist; and then moving her fingers down the panel to feel the end of the bone at one of the rear suspenders.

Moving her hand to the middle of her torso, she feels down the row of six clips and pins of the busk; the rigid steel closure that defines and forces her body into a straight-line from between her breasts to the mound below her groin. The same mound and lips where her right hand is bringing her such pleasure. She revels in the rigidity and the strength of the busk. It seems to express for her the control she enjoys over her figure and the new training she has undertaken to be able to wear such a corset.

Phyllis is now moving the fingers of her right hand to a faster rhythm as her excitement builds and she knows that her orgasm is approaching. As it does, her left hand moves quickly up to the firm cups of her bra, squeezing her own breasts briefly before descending the full extent of the long-line bra and corset until her two hands are together. One hand is now shivering on her clitoris as the final moments pass towards a massive climax. The other is gripping the top edge of her left stocking, holding the nylon and also the suspender that is keeping it taut and shiny.

There is a second source of pleasure for Phyllis; something that is very new to her and has satisfied many of her youthful fantasies. In her rectum, she has installed a big plug. Over the weeks and months since she has been introduced to anal play, she has allowed wider and longer plugs to be inserted in her bottom. This evening, her insertion is a simple sphere of hard rubber, 3-inches in diameter, on the end of a half-inch-wide stalk and a wide flat base to prevent it from disappearing up into her bowels. The pressure she feels has doubled the sensations from the compression of her corset over her abdomen and groin. The plug is pressing forward onto her cervix, through the thin membrane that separates them. And the internal pressure in her rectum is trying to force the plug out, but cannot, and she is aware of stretching in the sphincter muscles. Her entire lower body is contained, confined and shaped but also full, stretched and pressing on all her internal organs.

To Phyllis, at this moment, nothing else matters but her physical senses and the pleasure she is getting. She has all the sensations she wants and needs for her final orgasm and it crashes over her like an ocean wave. Her lips part, her eyes roll back and she is looking at the ceiling, her legs are trembling and moving involuntarily, a little cry forms in her throat as the peak of excitement strikes her, her breathing is ragged partly due to her immediate orgasm but also to the tight restriction of the corset across her chest. She is not in this world. She is in her own universe which is enclosed and contained in smooth and rigid underwear, nylon stockings and pulsating labia. Her vagina opens and closes under her right hand and she pushes her middle finger through the tunnel of her labia and just inside herself.

Her pleasure is complete and she subsides slowly, still moving her hands, both of them now, over her corseted figure, trying to encircle her small waist, and across her breasts well-held in the long bra. Her nipples are now sensitive and ticklish, and she dare not touch her clitoris. She knows from experience that it also would far too sensitive to give any more pleasure at this time. Instead she contemplates her new sexual life; her new erotic partner and how he has taught her to be free and excited in a new way.

Although Phyllis has been pleasing herself for many years, and enjoying her erotic underwear, this late discovery of hard-laced boned and rigid corsets, coupled to rectal expansion, is new. She has been enjoying her body while dressed in girdles and stockings all her adult life but her recent graduation to corsets and plugs has shown her new heights of erotic pleasure and body control. Her figure is more shapely and extreme than she could ever have imagined. Her waist is tiny, her thighs and hips are the curved quintessence of femininity, her belly is flat, and her breasts are lifted and rejuvenated.

And so we can see that orgasm is not the only pleasure that Phyllis is enjoying. Every millimetre of her body inside the corsetry and stockings, and plugged in her rectum, is tingling with a different but equally powerful pleasure.

+ + + + +

Since she was a girl in the 1960s, and for many years afterwards, Phyllis had been under her mother's influence in most aspects of life. Her name, of course, being old-fashioned, was chosen by her mother when all her friends were named after the latest pop-stars or movie actresses.

Add to this her mother's views on diet, public appearances and behaviour with her friends; especially any boys.

In her clothing and dressing, mother knew best, of course. As a result, she was dressed in the styles of the 1950s; complete with nylon stockings and suspenders. At a certain age, it was judged that she should wear a girdle to hold up the stockings and also "...to maintain your figure as long as possible." It became a rite of passage to dress in girdle and stockings and Phyllis became expert at choosing her own controlling underwear and her nylons.

Fortunately, her school uniform made underwear easy to hide when necessary and she was surprised to see how many other girls wore pantie-girdles, when they were changing for games and gym-times. Still, she preferred her open-bottom girdles because they were more convenient in the wash-room and she liked openness to the air between her legs. It felt healthier, somehow, and she liked the extra support and firmness they offered: more than that of typical pantie-girdles of the time.

In fact, Phyllis liked her girdles and stockings very much indeed. They made her feel grown-up. She liked the constant pressure over her tummy, hips, her thighs and under her bottom.

She liked to run her hands over the taut fabric, the bones and the zip-fastener. The smooth tightness of the stockings also pleased her and she spent many minutes [or was it hours?] rubbing her hands over her legs and thighs.

By the time she discovered her own clitoris and something approaching orgasm, the feeling and pressure of her underwear had become central to her sense of the erotic.

To the rest of the world, Phyllis appeared a mirror image of her mother and even married the man that mother chose for her. She became Mrs Phyllis Montford on Saturday, 15 April 1978 at the age of 21. Her chosen husband was Richard and was a disappointment in all aspects of marriage, so far as Phyllis was concerned. He did nothing about the house, nothing to help her in the domestic needs of their home. She complained but he just accused her of nagging; "Like your mother would."

His so-called lovemaking was tedious from the first time he entered her; just bang-bang and then his sleep. No attempt to give her pleasure; not even a kiss or a cuddle, and certainly no hands or tongue on her clitoris or labia. She wanted him to make love to her fully dressed in her underwear, so that she could feel the firmness of the clothes and the vigour of his body. She wished him to handle her, put his fingers into her, kiss her labia, and maybe push his tongue into her. She had a fantasy of him playing with her body inside her girdle. She wanted him to be positive and assertive and even a little rough with her; forcing his erection into every opening on her body; tying her into postures to please him; crushing her waist with a tight belt until she felt he was cutting her in half. She had heard about anal sex-play and wanted to experience it but no; Richard was either ignorant or unconcerned over any form of discovery or experimentation.

Nothing like these experiences ever came to his mind and she felt unable to ask.

She was left to touch and massage her own body in private, to achieve any pleasure she could manage.

But worse than all that was Richard's dislike for her underwear; "Get that off! You look like an old woman. I want you like a girl."

Phyllis was forced to remove her favourite underwear every night and to dress again in secret next day, before touching herself and coming to an orgasm in the privacy of the bathroom or after Richard had gone out somewhere.

It was this aspect of their marriage that brought it to an end. One day, Richard announced simply that he had found a young woman who would dress and behave as he wished. Within a week, Phyllis was single again and, to be honest, she was relieved. Of course, her mother blamed her for the failure of the marriage and Phyllis didn't feel able to explain any of the circumstances.

That was 30 years ago and now Phyllis, at the age of 58, has grown accustomed to being alone in her nylon stockings and firm control underwear; pleasing herself with her hands and with her "little toys" in recent years. These included small vibrators and a variety of dildoes. She has found ways to hold a "little toy" inside herself using her girdles and suspenders and thongs. Sometimes, she has even spent a whole day stimulated in this way, and finished the day with a "serious pleasure event" as she calls it to herself.

All these features of her life have been kept strictly secret, of course, and she is content to see herself as strange, even weird, and maybe perverted. Her mother died many years ago and now she is her own woman, with no need to justify herself to anyone. She has become a senior administrator in the publishing company where she has worked all her adult life.

She has dated a few men over the years but found them all unsatisfactory and boring; especially when it came to her needs for sexual excitement and fulfilment. Her underwear and stockings seemed to be a problem for all the men she met, despite the fact that her figure was good. Her waist was still only 28-inches and her hips a little under 36-inches but, even so, all the men had expected her to undress completely before they could engage in any sexual activity.

She could dismiss these men from her mind and from her emotions. And so she had done.

+ + + + +

Last year, Phyllis was invited by the Chief Exec to sit in on an interview to recruit his Deputy. It had been decided by the Board that the company should engage on a series of mergers and acquisitions; and a Deputy CEO should manage the current business.

Accordingly, Phyllis got together all the papers she needed for the interview and dressed herself in the manner she had developed for herself over many years.

Her girdle was a vintage but new white Crown 16 zippered open girdle; 16-inches in length and so fitting high over her waist. She has struggled into it that morning, feeling the firm and gripping fabric, with the bones over her tummy and down the back. As she finally fastened the last hook-and-eye, she revelled in the movement of the zipper to close herself into the garment.

Then came her fitting of the stockings. Sitting on her bed, each was slowly positioned and eased into place, to be clipped with difficulty to the six suspenders as she bent and writhed to reach each of them. In her long mirror, she checked the straightness of the dark seam up the back of her calves and thighs, and she was happy.

She picked up the long white Triumph bra, with its row of eight hooks up the back. As usual, she fitted it onto herself at the front, and then rotated it so that her breasts filled the cups and she could put her arms through the shoulder straps. It overlapped the top of the girdle by four inches and she felt at the extra control and firmness around her waist; and she was pleased with the sensation in her hands and fingers. Momentarily, she felt down between her legs and noted with pleasure that she was moist. As usual.

The interviews went along as planned and she found her natural role after all these years. The senior administrator who knows more about the business than even the CEO but who plays her part in judging candidates in the knowledge of what the CEO wants.

At one stage in the interview-day, Phyllis was expected to mingle with the candidate group and then comment to the CEO on their social abilities. It was during this session that one of the candidates, aged 32 she knew from the papers, sat next to her and moved his head a little closer to hers, when everyone else was queuing for coffee, and spoke softly.

"Forgive me if it's too personal, but I like your dress sense very much. My compliments on your outfit and the way you look. Is that alright?"

She replied, "Thank you. I'm rather old-fashioned so you surprise me."

His response gave away his secret knowledge, "Rather I would say fully-fashioned. Am I right?"

She tittered quietly and looked into his face, "Yes, you're right. Thank you again. How do you know?"

"I've been watching you and I can tell," he admitted as if it were an insult, "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. That's interesting in a young man like yourself," she responded and then they needed to go back to the business of the day.

Even so, in her mind, his words continued to ring and she took special interest in his details.

He was Mark Keighley, pronounced Keithley for some reason. He was unmarried and listed his interests as amateur dramatics and photography. She watched him more carefully than the other candidates and wondered what he was like in his private life.

That evening, Phyllis spent some more special time at her house; slowly undressing, checking her stockings and her figure; before taking off the very firm girdle and bra. She was pleased with her appearance, and lay down to play on her body for some time with one of her larger dildoes. Although she could not admit it to herself, she wondered if Mr Keighley would understand her any better than all the other men she'd know. Today's brief comment seemed to be a good sign.

And then she made a decision: she would wear a girdle through the night, and stockings. After all, it was her pleasure and her life, and she had been noticed for the first time by a man who was not repelled by her underwear.

"I'm allowed to be excited and pleased with myself after all these years," she said out loud to herself.

And so, quite late in the evening, she went to her underwear drawer and selected a gentle girdle for this first time: and some older stockings, just in case she caused damage on this occasion. From that evening, she dressed in a fresh girdle as soon as she returned from work, and graduated to more and more firm models as the weeks went by. Eventually, she was wearing as firm and controlling a girdle during the night as she did in the day.

In the event, Mark Keighley was appointed and joined the business 6 weeks later as the most senior executive in the head office. And he was to be Phyllis's immediate boss.