She lies quietly in the subdued lighting of the room. Not comfortably but making no sounds or movements. She knows that is the right thing for her, at this time. Already, this evening has gone further than she expected, so she is cautious and watching events as they have unfolded. She loves him and he has brought her much happiness after an early life of deprivation and poverty of spirit.
His voice comes softly out of the darkness. "And what will happen next?"
She stumbles to find the answer she knows he wants but will not suggest her total agreement with it. His voice hardens a little.
"Speak to me. What will happen next?"
"You will tighten my waist."
Then it is quiet again and she can recount her arrival in this situation. Here she lies, in a warm room, on a beautiful comfortable king size bed with silk and satin covers and pillows. But there the comfort ends. Her feet are laced into boots of such stiffness and length that she can make no movement of her ankles or knees. The heels are so high that her feet are held almost in the position of a ballet dancer, and her calf muscles became numb many hours ago. But only after other hours of cramp and strain.
Her wrists are attached to the rails at the head of the bed, with so much rope that her fingers have disappeared inside the coils. All she could have seen would be her arms disappearing into mighty knots as big as her head. He fingers are immobile.
But she cannot see anything, because he has covered her entire head in a hood. It is zippered down the back from the crown of her head to the beginnings of her shoulders, and all her hair is held tight inside it. It must be made to fit her because it is taut across her features and holds her head as immobile as the boots do her legs and feet. Only there are openings for her mouth and nose. She can breathe and speak but hearing is difficult.
Her breasts are tied up as globes by yet other lengths of rope. It took him a long time, she remembers two hours at least, for her breast to be finished and for them to swell into discoloured spheres. And now they are contained also inside a long-line bra which is held away from her body by the purple orbs. They are pointing to the ceiling but she cannot see them. Only she can feel them tight and bloated and held rigidly. A few times he has come to her and fondled her breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of the bra, as if they are melons or great pomegranates or even bowling balls. She has no way of knowing how they look by now but they are heavy and the skin is pulling across her shoulders as well as over her chest muscles and upward from her stomach.
Her ankles are tied to the bottom of the bed, with lengths of soft rope attached to castors at both corners. Her legs are splayed out so that she can feel the cool draught as he moves about, blowing against her labia and her clitoris. She is excited to be so spread out and to be so vulnerable to his gaze and to his hands, if he wishes to touch her.
And now there is the corset. He had made her stand in her boots and hood, and with her breasts pointing forward, whilst he fitted it around her from bra-line to hips. It is so long and so rigid. The busk front fastening has no flexibility. She is hard and straight from her breast bone to her pubic bone. The corset is lifting her back off the bed, as the straightness of its front is exaggerating the curve of her spine at the back. She is an experienced and accomplished fetishist but has never seen or felt such a corset before. There are laces at the back and already he has closed those completely. As he laid her down on the bed, she could tell that there were other laces at the sides, and now she is expecting him to tighten her more. He has told her to expect it, and invited her to imagine how much tightening there could be.
She is imagining. Her waist is tractable; she knows that from all her experience as a tightlacing fetishist. In her normal daily corsets, she lives with her waist at 20 inches or less. For special occasions, she can lace to 17 inches if she has an assistant to exert the force on the laces for her.
About two hours ago, he said quietly, "You'll be surprised, my dear one. Your figure will startle even you. And you will please me more than you can ever imagine. Or perhaps I will please myself if you can't."
So now she is waiting. She senses him near to her and is not startled by his voice.
"How much will I tighten your waist?"
Quietly but quickly she replies, "Very tight."
"Tell me how tight it will be."
"Tighter than I ever had?" she questioned.
"Tell me. Don't ask me. How tight will it be?"
"Tighter than I ever had before."
"How will you know it is so tight?"
"My waist will be tiny."
"Tell me how you'll know that."
"You'll crush me."
"When will I know to stop tightening you?" "I don't know -- I can't answer you. Forgive me, please."
"Shall I tell you?
"Until I can reach my fingers around your waist. Does that sound very tight?"
"Yes. Very tight."
In fact, they both know that her waist at 17 inches is capable of being spanned by his finger and thumbs already.
"Did you say I shall make it tighter than ever before?"
"Shall I make it for you to reach your hands around yourself?"
She delays, afraid to agree but also afraid to argue.
"Will you answer me?"
"So shall I make it for you to reach your hands around yourself?"
"Shall I make it equal to my collar measurement?"
Quickly, she remembers that his collar was 16 inches and says very quietly, "Yes," wondering if this is even possible.
He is silent for a few minutes, as if he also is waiting for her to ponder on what that will mean.
"How do you think this will make you feel?"
"Very tight and tiny," she offers but without the question mark, so as not to invite a sarcastic response.
"Oh, yes: certainly that; and I intend to please myself in your tiny waist. You know this, don't you?"
"Yes; I know."
Nothing further is spoken but she knows he is close by, looking at her and planning his next adjustment to her situation.
His hands settle on her hips as he leans over the bed, and then runs into her waist and up over her ribs to the swollen spheres of her breasts. She can feel him reaching for the knot in the corset laces, at the front of her waist. He unties it and draws the two halves out to the side of her on the bed. She feels him kneel across her legs, and then hears him straining to pull the laces tighter and tighter. Millimetre by millimetre she feels the laces sliding through the smooth stainless steel grommets down the back of the corset, underneath her.
He has explained already that the top and bottom edges of the corset are closed. Only her waist is now being forced into a smaller and smaller circumference. And she can feel that with every minuscule movement of the two sets of laces, either side of her waist, over the front of her hip bones.
Neither speaks as he continues her reduction. He is exerting his maximum strength on the laces and she is beginning to feel the consequences in her abdomen. All sense of feeling, pain or pleasure, has long disappeared from her skin but now she feels her organs moving into new positions within her increasingly confined waist. In addition, she feels the pressure at her anus, as if her intestines are trying to expel themselves, to make room for further reductions later.
From experience with corseting in the past, she knows that would not happen, but the sensation always surprises her and today it is magnified. For the first time, she feels the same pressure and expulsion sensation at the front of her abdomen as well. It is as if her uterus and ovaries are being ejected through her vagina. She grunts and tries to move to accommodate the sensation and he speaks.
"Are you turning your insides out?"
"Yes -- it feels like it."
"It will not happen -- but if it did I shall press everything back inside you with my own stiffness. You know this."
"Yes." "The corset will save you from things I have in mind for you. Your body will be supported and strengthened by it. You will accept all that I have planned. Yes?"
In her own world, inside the hood and the corsetry, she can hear her own intestines rumbling and complaining at the every-increasing pressure. And the readjustment in the positions of her organs. He must hear it also, and lays his hand flat on her abdomen, on top of the straining corset as it flattens out her tendency for a little tummy. Certainly, there is no tummy apparent now; not with the ferocious pressure of the corset over her entire torso.
She makes a grunting noise to indicate her discomfort and he lays his hands on her ribs and on her breasts, and on her head.
"Only a short time now before we shall be finished. Are you comfortable?"
She wants to answer honestly, that she is in some discomfort and also in some fear over the displacement of her internal organs, and over their possible injury. But she knows the correct answer.
"I am comfortable," she lies.
"Then I shall continue. Can you feel the pressure increasing?"
"I shall feel your waist now," and she can detect the movement of his hands onto the narrow stem that is her waist, connecting the upper and lower parts of her torso. But only just connecting them; as if she is already broken in two and the corset alone is holding her together.
She can detect, but not really feel, his hands circling her waist and pressing onto the corset. She knows that her waist is smaller than she has ever known it before. Surely, now he is coming to the end of his reduction in her circumference. But he resumes his tightening, and she can feel the laces once more sliding through the grommets. Her discomfort is being overtaken by a sense of panic and claustrophobia as her body becomes confined further into the minute dimensions of this amazing corset.
The panic is rising in her chest and her lungs, and she is on the point of screaming out her fear. She cannot move; she can hardly breathe; her rectum and vagina are bulging with her internal parts pressing on their sphincters; her back is arched away from the bed by the shaped rigid steels and bones of this terrifying and amazing corset. She takes a breath, preparing to scream and writhe to indicate her terror but, before she can form the scream in her throat, he speaks.
"You are finished my beautiful darling, now your waist is as I wish it to be: for now. There may be more later. Are you comfortable?"
"Yes," she lies again.
She almost relaxes in the knowledge that her crushing reduction ordeal is ended, although all the fear, horror and discomfort are as real as ever.
"I shall release your hands. You must hold your waist. Will you hold your waist?"
He spends some minutes untying the massive knots that have held her arms in a half-crucifix for many hours. She expects to feel release and relaxation but is disconcerted to realise that her arms and hands are numb, and her elbows too stiff to bend. He helps her bring her hands down from the bed head, towards her own hips. Slowly he massages her elbows and wrists, and places her fingers on her waist, with elbows akimbo. She feels nothing through the skin of her fingers but she can tell by the positions of her arms and elbows that her waist is tiny.
She is still masked, blinded and partially deafened, but is aware of his moving around her. Suddenly, she is aware of him moving between her spread legs. She can feel his skin next to hers; his thighs next to hers. He must be supporting himself on his forearms above her corseted body, and she can feel an urgent stiffness pressing into her engorged and swollen labia.
"May I enter you now?" he asks.
"Can you feel your waist?"
"I can tell it is very small."
"Are your fingers numb?" he asks, seeming to understand her meaning.
"Keep holding it and you will feel something amazing."
Slowly, he urges his erection forward and between her labia until he is poised and pressing at the bulging opening of her vagina. She can tell that he feels resistance in her body, as her uterus and maybe other organs are pressing against him. He leans forward on his arms, either side of her chest, and gently squeezes into her. She is suddenly aware of feeling coming back to her fingers, as her tiny waist reveals itself to her sense of touch and the curve of her own fingers and thumbs. She presses onto her waist and realises that she can feel her thumbs touching at her back, while her middle fingers are touching at the front. She is circling her own waist.
Then another sensation is forced onto her awareness. This man's stiff erection is increasing the pressure in her abdomen, and she can feel it through her hands. It is almost as if she can feel his erection through the corset, through the layers of fabric and the amazing bones, through her own skin, and through the coils of her own intestines and other organs. She knows that is not possible but the increased pressure in her body has the same effective sensation.
"What can you feel?" he asks softly.
"I think I can feel you inside me with my hands."
"Now hold tight and be ready for my pleasure," he says firmly.
She holds her own waist even more tightly, and he begins his thrusting and pulling in earnest. She can feel his climax approaching, as his erection becomes stiffer and longer. She can feel his scrotum banging against her perineum. He is leaning more of his weight on her now, with his arms bent, so that her globular breasts in their long prison-bra are being flattened by his own chest. She can feel his abdomen settling onto her corseted lower body at each thrust, and feel his breath on her throat.
In her darkness and blindness, holding the miniscule stem which is her own waist, she can feel his orgasm reaching its final moments as he shouts out in his ecstasy.
"Yes. Amazing. Oh. Oh. Oh. Wonderful. You are wonderful."
She is compressed, flattened, bloated, tied and filled, and is hardly aware of what is happening to her. Except this man has done things to her body she could never imagine. And he thinks she is wonderful. In truth, she feels wonderful and she squeezes her own waist again many times to feel the ferocious attenuation that he has achieved on her with the corset and with his own strength.
He leaves her body and rolls to one side, resting on one elbow and fondling her corseted body with the other hand. He lets his hand roam over her figure and then takes her hands away from her waist, so that he can hold her instead.
He goes to the bottom of the bed and unties her legs which have been spread for so many hours. He returns to lie down, and rolls her over away from him, so that he can hold her waist from behind. His erection is building again and she can feel him pressing against her buttocks. She is expecting to take her in her rectum and prepares herself for the invasion, which she has never enjoyed but agreed to in the past. But he surprises her and enters again through her swollen labia, this time from behind. There is a question, of course.
"Can I do anything with you that I wish?"
With no other word spoken, he grips her waist and presses his erection deep into her. The with a rolling movement, he lifts her until she is lying on him with her head under his chin, her legs, either side of his and her masked face pointing at the ceiling. Her arms are spread out either side of both of them, resting on the bed. His hands are gripping her waist, which she thinks is as small as it will go in this corset.
Taking her whole weight on his chest and abdomen, he begins to thrust quickly into her and to pull out slowly, before thrusting in again. She can feel his erection developing into its full size and is only partly aware that his hands are moving either side of her waist. He asks the same question.
"Can I do anything with you that I wish?"
"Then be ready, my wonderful woman, for something exciting and terrifying."
She feels again the movement of his hands either side of her waist and then becomes aware that the corset is getting even tighter. How can that be? "Surely," she thinks, "this corset is now fully closed on me."
He is pulling the last lengths of the laces from the two side panels, just in front of her hips bones. She has not been aware of the gap but it is 2 inches on either side. He is now pushing outward with all his strength, to close the final gaps and to reduce her waist to an impossible 12 inches if she can take so much pressure. All the time thrusting and pulling his erection into and out of her body, he is holding her central to his torso by the forces in the two laces.
Involuntarily, her hands go to her waist and to her flattened abdomen. She is bending her head back and straining to breathe. The pressure against her anus is now overwhelming: she is certain that her insides must be forced out of her through her bottom even as he is pounding her vagina. She wonders if he will feel the slippery mass of her intestines against his groin and stop his frantic plunging. Her breath is coming in short pants; her vision inside the mask is a mass of sparkling lights and flashes of electronic nervous discharges; her mouth is dry; she can hear nothing except her own pulse and panting. Slowly a great darkness begins to smother her and she knows that she is fainting away. Her last thoughts are about herlife and if this is the end.
Some time later, through a sort of personal dawning, she is aware of light reaching her eyes for the first time in almost two days. The mask is no longer covering her face and head. She is free to move, to breathe, to swallow, and to speak. He is near her and speaks softly, as usual.
"Are you awake now?"
"Yes. What happened to me?"
"When you've recovered a little more, I'll show you everything."
She dozes off into a little slumber; aware of where she was and of his presence, but relaxed and comfortable. For maybe 30 minutes she settles into the soft comfort of the big double bed that has been the site of so much of her terror and her excitement.
"Are you waking now? Shall I show you what you did for me?"
With that, he helps her sit up in the bed, with extra pillows behind and around her. She looks ahead and sees an LCD screen, linked to a player. He sits on the bed beside her and presses the remote. He's recorded their last session together.
She sees herself rocking and bucking around on top of his body. She sees the laces being forces outwards from her waist, and the waist itself gradually reducing even further. She becomes aware that the girl in the screen is no longer conscious: it is she herself at the moment when the darkness overcame her. She watches as if in a trance, to see what happens to her and how it ends.
After a few moments of his plunging and her bouncing around in the air over his frantic body, he brings his hands together and ties the laces at the front of the corset. She stares at her waist and sees that it is less that her own throat measurement. She is not aware of that measurement but he is. He pauses the disk.
"What is your waist in the picture?"
"I don't know."
"Is it small?"
"Yes. Very small."
"Your waist is only 13 inches around."
"It was very tight. I am sorry that I could not take all that you wanted and to stay with you. I think I fainted."
"Yes. You gave me everything I wanted. Will you do it again for me?"
She wants to express her reservations, doubts and fears but she knows the right answer.
"Whenever I wish it?"
"Will you marry me?"
Now she knows that the rest of her life with this beautiful man will be centred on her figure, especially her waist, and his pleasure from her restriction. She is happy.