Nylon Conquest Ch. 02

Author's Note - OK readers, for those of you who are still with me, Chapter 1 was the set up. Starting now, if you have even the hint of a nylon fetish, things are going to get sexy. If you don't, well, give it a try!

If you haven't done so already, it would be very helpful for you to read Chapter 1.

Finally, a portion of this chapter (the Gio description) is retold from the woman's POV in my stand-alone work "The Art of Seduction".

***

8:15 PM

Larissa still wasn't home. She's three hours late. She's never late without calling. And she's not answering her phone. I was getting worried. Larissa hates to hear the word "no." I said it to her just before she left for work. Was it enough to make her that angry with me?

And yet, she'd given me that signal on air. The signal that she loved wearing the stocking that I'd just cum into.

Larissa could get any man, any time. I prayed I hadn't pushed her away. If I had, I was in deep, deep trouble.

Finally, I heard the electronic signal as our door flew open. Larissa came bursting in, animated, alive, electric, talking a mile a minute. She ducked her head around the corner of the door to our bedroom, her hands on the doorjamb.

"Hi sweetie. Sorry I'm late. I didn't call, I probably should have, but you knew I'd be late, right? I've been really, really busy. Just a minute." She turned towards our front door, out of my field of view. "Come in Gene, come in, it's OK."

Gene? Who the fuck is Gene?

Then I remembered. Gene is one of our doormen. He was following Larissa into our living room. She was carrying only her purse, but Gene was pulling one of those brass wardrobe carts hotels use. It was laden with boxes and bags.

"Be a dear and put them over here." Gene unloaded the cart and piled the packages near the bedroom door. Silently, he left the apartment. Moments later, he returned with another cart, piled just as high with packages and bags. Larissa gifted him her biggest smile, and a twenty, and Gene was off with a bow, closing the door behind him.

"I see you've been shopping," I said.

"Isn't it exciting? The station's given me a clothing allowance. Sixty thousand a year. I just blew a third of it on stockings. Oh my Lilith, I've got a lot of organizing to do." She bent for a brief kiss. "I've decided to turn the fourth bedroom into our intimates closet."

"But that's my home office," I said.

Larissa froze. Then rising up to her full height, she glared down at me, her hands on her hips. "And why would you need a home office?" Her tone and body language could have wilted a freshly-picked rose.

I hesitated, enjoying the tension. Clearly, she was ready to explode. As I adjusted myself in the bed, she crossed her arms and stood on one hip, waiting silently for my answer. Her gaze was steady and unwavering. A small frown creased her brow and the temperature in the room went to zero.

Larissa. No-one ever says no to Larissa. I briefly wondered if that was what she really needed. Maybe it would do her some good. Maybe she even wanted the challenge.

But not today. "So I can research better ways to explore our fetish, my darling. I have all the time in the world now."

Larissa let out a whoop. Literally. She clapped her hands together and rushed to the bed. Her eyes darted to the pantyhose, still on my body, before she wrapped her hands around my face and sank into a deep, moist kiss. She worked into that kiss as she's never kissed me before, like my mouth was a meal and she was sucking up every morsel. She showered my face with a hundred little kisses. I revelled in the attention, but she wasn't done. She snaked out her narrow tongue and caressed my lips. It's a technique she knows drives me insane and it's often a prelude to one of her spectacular blowjobs.

Still gripping my head, she pulled back slightly, our noses touching. She looked deeply into my eyes. "Thank you for this. You are the fulfillment of my life dream. Sweet Aphrodite, this will be so much fun."

And then she was off to the bathroom. In a flash, she returned with a glass of water and a small pill bottle.

"Here sweetie, here's your dose. A great big double dose of Cialis. I want you ready and able to perform any time, every time. It's supposed to last thirty-six hours, so we'll do it once a day to be sure. I've got a mail order prescription going that'll keep us supplied. Basically, you'll be hard permanently. Now, let's get this off you." Larissa curled her fingers into the waistband of the pantyhose I'd been wearing all day and pulled them off my legs. My skin was exposed to the air, and I suddenly felt naked.

She noticed my reaction. "It leaves you kinda empty, doesn't it? You are getting it, aren't you? OK, time to unwrap the beautiful things I bought for us today. Oooh, I can't wait." She bounded off the bed and cracked open the first package. Reverently, she extracted a shiny cardboard box. It was about half an inch thick and the size of a hardcover book.

"My heart is actually pounding," Larissa said as she sliced open the tape on the box and extracted a plastic bag. Inside was a neatly folded nylon garment wrapped in tissue. She held the nylon up and let it unravel. It was a body stocking. It looked about half her size, but I guessed it was stretchy. She sat on my chair and stripped the whirlpool holdups off her legs, then put her legs into the stocking. Just like pantyhose, she pulled the body stocking up to her waist. In a clearly practiced moment, she put her hands into the fingers of the one-piece suit, pulled everything tight, and buttoned it up the back. She was fully enclosed in body-hugging transparent oil-shine nylon. The nylon was so tight, it even hugged the full shape of each breast. Her vagina was squeezed and bulging inside the garment. Fortunately, there was a convenient Velcro seam at the crotch.

She then grabbed the stockings she had been wearing today, the ones with the whirlpool design, and pulled them on over the body stocking.

Larissa hugged herself. She put on a pair of shiny back five-inch heels and stood in front of a full-height mirror. Her gorgeous bum was beautifully defined in the skin-tight nylon. Not taking her eyes off of herself, she began to muse. "This is so sexy. I love this. We'll get one on you soon. I bought several. But first, I want to figure out how deep we can go with our nylon fetish."

She spun around to look at me. The sight of her wearing just her transparent oil-shine nylon body stocking, her hold ups, and her heels was mesmerizing. She gestured toward the twenty thousand dollars worth of packages strewn all over the floor and piled high against the wall. "How far can I take you and how fast? I want to know what turns you on the most. Which stocking, which pantyhose, which sexy outfit will drive you to the highest state of arousal? I can't wait to find out.

"Will you like silk? Nylon? Lace? Five denier? Ten? Twenty? Glossy? Oil shine? Satin? Matt? Will you like stockings? Pantyhose? Hold ups? How about a bodystocking? Garters? Fully-Fashioned Stockings? Seams? No seams? Sheer? Ultra-sheer? Modern? Vintage? Black? Nude? Brown? Coffee? Patterned? French heel? Oooh, Manhattan Heel! And what brand will turn you on the most? Wolfords? Cecilia de Rafaels? Rosekana? Cervin? Maison Close? Gio? Or just Hanes? Leggs? Secret Silks? I got them all. Two hundred unique sets of hosiery and multiples of lots of 'em. We're going to try every last one. Both of us. We've got the long weekend to ourselves, so we're going to turn off our phones, lock the doors, and shut out the world. Take our time.

"We're going to get scientific here. Which stockings make you cum the fastest? Which ones race your heart the most when I dress you in them? And which stockings make me the horniest, seeing them on you? I'll take notes, record our reactions. I'm going to manage your arousal. I want you in a constant state of edging. You'll see that wearing super-tight pantyhose will keep you constantly there, right on the edge. You'll want to cum all the time. The tighter the pantyhose, the more you'll want to cum. But you don't get to cum unless I say. I want that glorious cock of yours hard for the entire long weekend.

"I find vintage silk drives me right over the edge. What about you? Will a man be turned on wearing the softest silk? Or will you prefer the heavier tights? We'll test that. I'll organize all this for you. Don't you worry. Once we know how you respond, I'll know exactly how to manage you. Later, I don't want you to cum too fast when we go out. But I do want us cumming together in public, so I've got to find the things that work best."

Listening to my wife go on with such enthusiasm gave me mixed feelings. Her fixation on getting me in stockings and pantyhose - and in such volume and variation - made me afraid. Would I be emasculated in her eyes? But if I liked it, would I begin to question my own sexuality?

I was scared to death my wife might begin to look at me with different eyes. That she might lose sight of me as the true man in her life, instead just see me as some feminized fetish plaything, only to grow bored with me and move on. What if the love of my life, this stunning woman, what if she began to see me that way, might she just turn to a more manly partner?

Or would she turn away from me if I didn't go all in on her fetish?

I didn't know how to deal with it. Do I refuse her and risk immediate rejection? Or do I go along with her fetish and hope her feelings are strengthened because we've done that together? I didn't know.

Larissa had been routing around another bag. She pulled out her prize and held it high over her head. "I bought you this absolutely gorgeous garter belt. Lacy and soft, with four garters per leg. Isn't it lovely?"

Oh my god. She really was asking me to go all in with her fetish. In fact, she'd assumed I'd already done so. But that was Larissa. She's an "all in" kind of woman. But I'd never considered she'd want me to wear a garter belt, with all that goes along with that. I was so afraid I'd look and feel absolutely ridiculous, even in her eyes when she sees me wearing it.

Larissa's expectations for my commitment to her fetish were making me nervous. I was having doubts. Yes the pantyhose felt nice. Yes the nylon stocking over my balls was sexy and stimulating. But this? Could I really do this?

"But a garter belt needs stockings!" Larissa continued. "Let me see. Somewhere in this mess I have something really special. You won't believe what I found. Oh my Lilith, I nearly dropped a snake when I found them."

"Larissa, you say that a lot. What do you mean, you "nearly dropped a snake?"

My wife hesitated for a split second. "Just an expression, that's all. I just say it when I'm horny. But look, I bought every last one of these beauties they had. Every single one. Hmmm, let me see, where are they, I think, I think, oh yes here they are, riiiiiiight here!" Triumphantly, Larissa pulled out a glossy black shopping bag. It was packed tight with shiny silver and blue flat cardboard boxes the size of my hand. She opened one and carefully extracted a small plastic bag. Inside was a pair of nearly-transparent, light beige stockings mounted on cardboard. Larissa slid the contents out of the bag, grabbed the stockings by their welts, and held them high with a flourish.

"Hold out your arm," she commanded.

She draped the stockings over my bare skin. The length of them wafted in the air, light as feather. Goosebumps raised on my skin from their glossy touch as they settled softly on my forearm. They were so light and airy, the legs floated in the air for a moment before nestling into my groin. Their effect was instant. My heart began to race. I took in a sharp breath as shivers raced up and down my body.

"Well," Larissa said. "That was interesting. You do have a nylon fetish. Or in this case, a silk fetish. These are 1930's-era super-sheer, six denier, fully-fashioned vintage silk stockings, with red seams along the front of the toes, the undersides of the feet, and all the way up their backs, with woven Cuban heels and lacy tan welts, hand-sewn with triple custom stitching, complete with four keyholes on each leg for garters, crafted from the finest French Mulberry monofilament silk. Floaty and soft, they are woven in the crepe-de-chine style with a muted lustre in the Moroccain crepe tradition. They were crafted in the finest Parisian atelier in an era when making stockings of pure silk was at the highest form of art. They are the finest, the filmiest, the most diaphanous of silk stockings. When you wear these, you feel like your legs are made of mink. Smooth, slippery, and sensuous, these, my love, are sex on legs - the ultimate stocking - gifting any girl who wears them superpowers beyond male comprehension. Stockings for a goddess."

Larissa touched my chin and turned my head so that she could look into my eyes. "But my love, you...Sweet Aphrodite, I can see that you do get it. You understand, don't you? You want these. You need these. You want me to put these on you now, don't you?"

I had to admit it. She was right. My cock had responded instantly to the ultra-feminine touch of the silk. My eyes must have betrayed my thoughts. Manliness be damned, I wanted these on my legs.

She shook her head gently, as if to cushion the bad news. "I'm sorry my love, but no. You aren't nearly ready. These stockings represent the ultimate in female power. You are nowhere near prepared to survive the level of feminine potency these represent. Their raw female sexuality would overwhelm you."

She sighed and took my hand. "Think of it this way: when you have graduated to these, your conversion will be complete, and my fetish will have fully absorbed you. Your enslavement will be total because you will have surrendered willingly to the goddess of silk and nylon."

I swallowed hard. She was talking of enslavement and goddesses. Was this some secret female world, existing right beneath the noses of men everywhere? Larissa: high priestess to a sexy goddess.

But she was right. I wasn't ready for these. We both knew it. And there was more. Larissa's description of her silk stockings was hypnotic. She was deeply enmeshed in her fetish. She was desperate for me to embrace her legends and submit fully to her and her ethereal goddess Aphrodite. It's true: the silk stockings encircling my genitals had had a powerful pull. I knew I had to decide. Either give myself and my soul to my wife completely and utterly, or risk exclusion from her most intimate dreams and desires. And when I finally realized that was my choice, there was really no choice at all. I was hers, completely, utterly, devotedly hers. I was ready and willing to submit - no to commit - to her fetish, to surrender to her lusts and make them all come true. Of course, there was no choice. I was all-in on Larissa.

"I do understand, Larissa. I'm with you. But I have a lot to learn."

"My goddess does have power over you," Larissa said, a twinkle in her eye. "It is a dichotomy. Over the unenlightened, Aphrodite's influence has little power. But for the true believers, for those who have submitted to her fetish, she has ultimate control. For us, it's not a choice. It's a calling, and we are slaves to her underworld of dreams, passion, and silk. We shall see if you are really able to join me in this journey. So far, no men are part of our coven. I so hope you can. I've bet our marriage on it."

That was a startling statement. And what did she just say?

"Wait. Coven? What coven?"

"Don't worry. I have a bunch of girlfriends in the business. We get together every now and then for socials and gossip." My wife retrieved the stockings from my arm. "I have to put these safely away for now. They represent the ultimate in Fem power. You could not possibly function rationally while wearing them. If I were to put these girls on you now, the power of Aphrodite would render you helpless. They would utterly overwhelm you. If I left you alone, even for a minute, I'd find you writhing on the bed, drooling and babbling, hugging your knees in a puddle of your own cum. And I wouldn't blame you. They have that kind of power over true believers."

It was a stunning image but given my reaction to even incidental contact with these stockings, I believed her. But maybe she could do something else for me.

"Could you put these on? Can I see them on your legs?"

"Sweet Aphrodite, that's a fabulous idea." Larissa leapt off the bed and unfastened the garters from the stockings she wore. With the shiny bodysuit beneath, they slipped right off her legs. She walked around to her side of the bed and crawled over to sit beside me, both of us propped up on pillows. On the night table was a pair of silk gloves, which she put on. Taking one of the silk stockings, she carefully gathered the full length of the leg into her fingers, then inserted her foot through the stitched welt and into the foot of the stocking. She lay back and raising her leg into the air, gently pulled the stocking up its length. The silk on nylon was nearly frictionless and she was able to slide the welt to within range of her garters. There she found small, stitched keyholes in the welts of the stocking and secured it to her body, repeating the process on the other leg.

The effect on me was startling. Her legs were at once transformed into something soft, diaphanous, and silky. The shine from the ultra-sheer weave of the silk was mesmerizing.

Larissa moved some pillows for support, then swung her legs around and draped them across my lap. I started to reach for her legs, but she stopped me. She removed the stretchy gloves and gestured for me to put them on first.

Larissa loved it when I caressed her legs. I grasped one of her feet and pulled her knee up to my face, swishing it all around her knees and calf. She liked that, so she bent her knees and lay them across my chest, with her feet on the far side of me to give more access. I couldn't get enough of her legs as she slid them across each other. The swishy sounds of the silk on silk turned my brain to mush. Electricity jolted my cock. I hugged her legs and kissed her knees and thighs. She crossed one leg over the other with a soft swish, encouraging even more access. I caressed her legs and knees with increasing ardor. Larissa loved the attention and swept her upper leg to my face so I could slide my cheek down her silky inner thigh. Her legs turn me on in normal circumstances, but with this level of facial contact and access to the ultra-sexy vintage silk stockings on her thighs, my lust burst out of control.

Too quickly, my cock erupted in a ropey mess all over myself.

Larissa laughed, not in derision but in fun. "And you thought you might be ready to put these on. You can't even touch my legs while I'm wearing them without cumming. Think of the effect these would have if they were in full embrace of you."

"A drooling, babbling thing, hugging my knees in a puddle of my own cum."

"We've obviously got a long way to go. I loved that you reacted the way you did. It makes me so happy. But I've really got to start at the very beginning."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We'll start with the more commercial stuff. I have here a bagful of Secret Silks, 10 Denier, ultra-sheers. These are glossy, nude pantyhose with reinforced toe. I really love these, they're my inexpensive every-day go to, they're slippery, very filmy, with a soft sexy feel. And I have bushels of them. I think these will be a really good start for you. I'm pretty sure I can get these on you without you - well, you know. Then I'm going to layer you up with these Secret Matte finish, 15 denier, tall nylon and spandex holdups. If I can get those on you without you cumming, then we'll move to something sexier. But frankly, I'm not convinced you'll make it that far on this round."