Archive for corset

No pressure

Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , , , on August 4, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I had a few firsts the other night. I spent a night tied to a bed, knees tied together with yellow rope (“for my own protection”), wrists tied to the headboard. I slept in rope and restraints for the first time. This was also first real experience with rope (I already knew I loved it, Styrn and I experimented very briefly). I also had my first paddling, albeit very lightly. (Delicious.)

He woke up periodically to check my extremities and see that I was comfortable. That’s consideration. We went through three or four changes of restraint, different ties, different cuffs, different levels of freedom of movement. He also made some discoveries by accident, most notably my love of breath control and my addiction to corseting. The best part of having a new lover is the discoveries you make about each other, usually inadvertently, just running hands over skin and listening to breathing. The confirmation of eye contact.

He tied two ropes around my waist and ribcage (about four wraps each, doubled), which felt divine. I wondered aloud about creating a corset for waist training out of something flexible like rope- the point is the pressure on the ribcage and organs, not the posture. If I had a corset that was comfortable to sit in, I would definitely wear it all the time.

I also loved the blindfold. I don’t normally like to have things on my face, so I struggled with that for a bit, but finally I was able to relax enough to enjoy my other senses being heightened, as well as fall asleep in it.

He’s rough enough with my nipples. It’s not necessarily about the amount of pressure, but how long the sensation goes on. Like a light spanking that goes on and on.

Tomorrow night I’m going to have a few more firsts. I’m going to be tied up by a rigger at a bondage club. I’m excited about it. Because it’s my first time working with this guy, we’re not doing suspension (in the name of safety). Regardless, this should be thrilling. It’s also going to be my first time playing in public, which might be overwhelming. Plus it’s going to be in front of one of the Doms I most admire, so I have to be on my absolute best behavior to make a good impression. No pressure.

Corset

Posted in Fiction with tags , , on July 4, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I’m anxiously awaiting my new corset. It’s going to be beautiful- black on black floral satin. Overbust.

We went to an excellent party. I debuted my new corset. Because it’s my first overbust, I don’t have to wear anything under it, which is a new experience for me. It’s very tiny, only 17 1/2 inches, and deliciously curvy. I laced it myself today, which was very difficult. Lacing my own corset is not the difficult part, it’s that an overbust is so much longer than my waist-cinchers, so it’s hard to reach the top. But it was well worth the struggle and, although it’s not quite closed (it shouldn’t be!) it was lovely and I got lot of compliments on my tiny waist. It’s a point of pride for me.

Wearing a corset is tiring. I’m ready to be done now. But first we need to break it in a little bit. I love underwear in general, but I especially love to wear a lot of it at once. My preferred underclothes include: bra, undershirt, corset, garter belt, stockings, slip, and petticoat. Styrn jokes that my underwear is less revealing than most people’s outerwear, and I have to say I like it that way.

He pulls my skirt up over my ass, petticoat falling away in folds. His hands trace the shape of the corset, cupping my breasts, sliding over ribs and waist and hips, stopping there to pull my hips back towards him. His hands feel good and solid around my hips. I’m terribly off balance and he knows if he let go, I would fall.I think about what he can see; the contrast between black satin and skin, the interesting texture of the lacing, the white lace petticoat, my exposed rear, backseamed stockings. It sounds like art.

Leaning over my back, he slides his hands around the front of my thighs and up to my pussy, rubbing hard with the side of his index fingers. It’s time to undress. Right now. He unzips my skirt as I fumble with my laces. He unlaces me (huge breath of air), yanks down petticoats, unhooks garter belt, rips my stockings off. Down to just panties, he grips my waist tightly, fingering the indentations left by the stays, bright red marks on otherwise pale skin. These places are very sensitive; having been deprived of full circulation for so long, they are thirsty for blood and exposure to air.

I touch them gingerly. He touches them roughly. The sensation is intense.