Archive for tightlacing


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.