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Copyright Oggbashan December 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
I shouldn’t have trusted Laura. Not so soon after what I did to her at her Hen Party. I should have known she’d pay me back. I should have listened to the stories about Peter’s Stag Party. I didn’t think. I asked Laura for advice. We are best friends. That is why I had been her chief bridesmaid.
I helped her choose the bridesmaids’ dresses. The two adults, Sheila and I, wore lilac sheath dresses, close-fitted and high necked with small cap sleeves. The two young bridesmaids wore the same colour with full skirts and a sash in a darker lilac. We looked good on the wedding day but I had to hold my tummy in until we sat down. I admit it. I bulged. That is why I wanted Laura’s advice.
About a month after the wedding she rang me about something, I can’t remember what. It doesn’t matter. What did matter is she asked what she should do with my bridesmaid’s dress. Did I want it?
“I’m not sure, Laura. I felt uncomfortable in it. It showed up my fat tummy.”
“You haven’t got a fat tummy, Carol. You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. Normally I haven’t. In that dress I have. Maybe its because it is so tightly fitted. On the day I spent most of the time consciously holding myself in.”
“I hadn’t noticed. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Perhaps you had other things on your mind?”
“Why not come over, say tomorrow evening if you are free, and try the dress on again? I promise to give you my candid opinion. Peter won’t be around. He’s at an office function; a retirement do I think.”
“OK, Laura. Tell me the truth tomorrow, please. I liked the style. It didn’t seem to like me. I don’t know why.”
“I’ll be as blunt as you want. Seven thirty do?
“Yes. See you then.”
Laura must have grabbed the phone and started making arrangements as soon as I rang off. She had the whole plot well prepared when I arrived the following night. I had walked because I thought we might end up drinking. We usually did when we got together.
After coffee I changed into that bridesmaid’s dress. Standing normally, there was no doubt about it. I had a roll of fat just above my waistline and the dress emphasised it. I twirled in front of her. Laura was as blunt as she had promised.
“You bulge. Sorry, Carol, but it’s true. It doesn’t show normally. In a fitted dress like that it does.”
I sat down feeling miserable. Laura put her arm around me.
“Don’t worry. Now we know the problem I know someone who has the solution. Just when you wear this sort of dress you need to wear something different underneath; something to give you the slimline look you normally have.”
“Who? What different?”
“She’s a lady who makes foundation garments. She used to make them for my mother.”
“You mean she makes corsets! My figure’s not that bad, is it?”
Laura didn’t answer. That told me the worst.
“I’ll think about it.” Then I remembered I was short of time. “Oh no! I’ve got to go to a formal dinner in two weeks. I need a solution before then.”
“I’m sure Kay can help. I’ll ring her tomorrow. She will need to know your measurements beforehand. I’m sure I have a copy of one of her forms around somewhere. Mum used to recommend Kay to her friends. Finish your coffee while I have a rummage.
I drank that coffee feeling very sorry for myself. Imagine me in a corset? It made me feel very old and fat. I’m neither. I’m six weeks older than Laura and she was twenty-three on her wedding day.
Laura returned with a tape measure and a couple of forms.
“Strip to your bra and panties. This can’t be done over clothes.”
I stripped. Laura plucked at the waistband of my pantyhose.
“These are control panties, aren’t they?”
“So you have already been wearing a girdle. A proper fitted corset will do the job much better and less obviously. Seeing you in that convinces me. You need Kay. But you’ll have to take the pantyhose off if I’m going to get accurate measurements.”
I wriggled the girdle down. It’s not a girdle: it’s the panty section of my pantyhose. It grips and holds me firmly. Laura had made me think of the pantyhose as a girdle. It made me less distressed about the thought of a corset.
The measurements seemed to be interminable and I thought some of them were pointless. What need did Kay have for my neck size, the circumference of my head around my mouth, over my nose and forehead? Laura didn’t know. The required measurements were printed on the form. She recorded everything.
“That’s done,” She said at last. “I’ll ring Kay tomorrow morning and talk to her. She’s usually free for new clients on Friday afternoons. Can you do that?”
“Probably. I’m owed some time off in lieu.”
“I’ll ring İstanbul Escort your mobile as soon as I’ve talked to Kay. One last thing. You should be wearing everything that you wore on my wedding day: bra, panties, slip, pantyhose, and shoes. You wore the ones with a high strap above the ankle, didn’t you?”
“I’m surprised you remember, Laura. Yes, I did.”
“I only noticed because I kicked off my shoes. You had to bend down to undo them.”
“So I did. OK. I’ll wear or take everything. Shall I take the dress?”
“You walked here, didn’t you?”
“Then don’t bother with the dress. I’ll deliver it, and the form, to Kay when I’m next in the High Street.”
The rest of the evening we discussed people at the wedding. We enjoyed ourselves, laughed a lot and probably drank too much vodka in seemingly innocuous combinations. I left shortly before Peter was due back. We never mentioned Laura’s Hen Night. I didn’t want to remind her.
Next morning I wasn’t feeling too bright when Laura rang.
“Hi Carol. Got a pen and paper?”
“Kay can see you at one thirty on Friday afternoon. That OK?”
“She’s in that courtyard off the High Street. You know, between the bank and the jewellers. Can you find it?”
“She doesn’t normally advertise. She’ll put a sign in the window beside her front door saying ‘Kay’s Dress Service’. Written that down?”
“There’s one important thing. She has been caught recently with a couple of bounced cheques that hurt her. Her consultation fee is seventy-five pounds up-front. Credit or Debit cards accepted.”
Before I could object to the size of payment Laura went on.
“For that you get the whole afternoon. You should expect to be unavailable until about six thirty. If you come straight on from Kay to me I’ll feed you. We can chat about your experience. Kay thinks you might need me as someone to appreciate your new improved figure or less likely, a shoulder to cry on. Is that a date?”
“You sound very subdued. Got a hangover?”
“Then we’ll stick to wine on Friday night. Vodka seems OK until the next morning.”
“You’ll feel better after lunch. See you Friday.”
She was right. I was better after lunch. I was actually looking forward to an afternoon with Kay. Even if it were only for me to be fitted for a corset, the prospect of several hours of someone else’s attention would be worth the price for the boost to my morale.
Friday lunchtime I walked down the High Street in the drizzling rain. I was cowering under a large umbrella and mentally upbraiding myself. The rain had been forecast since Monday yet I hadn’t taken a coat. Luckily the sports bag I was carrying was waterproof.
I had to walk carefully around the puddles. My bridesmaid’s shoes weren’t designed for rain. I ducked down the passage leading to the courtyard just in time to miss being soaked by the spray from a passing heavy truck.
Kay’s sign in the lighted window lightened my mood. I rang the doorbell. Kay opened it immediately. She was much younger than I had expected, possibly late thirties and looking very professional in a light blue uniform dress with a wide white belt buckled at the front. She looked like a nurse’s assistant might dress except that the belt emphasised her figure.
“You must be Carol,” Kay said, holding out her hand. I shook it, noticing that she was wearing white latex surgical gloves. She noticed my surprise.
“Sorry for the gloves. Normally I wear white cotton ones so I don’t mess up the clothes. My tumble drier packed up yesterday so the cotton gloves aren’t dry yet.”
Kay took my sports bag. I followed her into a room that looked almost as if it could be in a hospital. The fluorescent lights reflected off the pale green walls. There was a curtained area and a door leading to an en-suite bathroom. The furniture was a bed or couch like the ones doctors use for consultations, a desk, a swivel chair and a tubular chair with arms. The one thing that didn’t fit was a camera mounted on a tripod. Laura waved at the tubular chair.
“Sit down please, Carol. Sorry about the room. One of my friends does body massage in here. My usual room is being decorated.”
She took her notice from the window, stood it against a wall between two filing cabinets, and drew the curtains. She sat down on the swivel chair.
“Let me explain what we will be doing. We will try on a standard corset, possibly some others, and then I will design one just for you, if you need one. The camera is to take pictures of you as you are, and as the different garments mould your body. The pictures will help me, and you, to decide what to do. First things first though: have you brought a credit card? Did Laura explain my fee?”
“Yes to both,” I said, opening my handbag. I passed my credit card to her.
She opened a drawer on the desk and produced a credit card machine and pin keypad. She inserted Escort Bayan the card, typed in the about and pushed the pin keypad towards me. I walked across to the desk, entered my pin and waited. The machine spat out my receipt with authorisation code number. I put it and the credit card back in my wallet.
“Thank you, Carol. I’m sorry that I had to ask for payment first. My bank has been awkward recently.”
I waved a hand as if that was unimportant.
“Thank you. Please strip to your bra and panties. Then we can start.”
I stripped, leaving my shoes and pantyhose on.
“Stand over there, in front of the larger filing cabinet, please.”
I stood where she asked. Kay bent down and adjusted the camera.
“That won’t do,” she said, “come about three feet closer.” She walked across to the wall. She turned the notice around before returning to the camera. The flash startled me. She took pictures of me standing looking left and right. She walked back to the space between the filing cabinets and slid the notice behind the larger one.
“I think that might show on the photos. It doesn’t matter for the before poses. It might when we get going. One more, this time a back view, please.”
I faced the filing cabinet. The flash reflected off the wall.
“OK. That’s done.” Kay moved the tripod to the edge of the room.
“I see that your pantyhose has a support function. Could you take them and your shoes off, please. Put them on the swivel chair. We’ll need them again in a minute.”
I complied. Kay went into the curtained area and returned with a corset folded in her hands.
“This one is extreme. It does everything. It flattens the tummy, reduces the thighs, pushes up the breasts: the lot. I don’t think you will need anything as severe as this. Before we start. Those panties won’t do. They have prominent seams. They could dig into you.”
She opened the filing cabinet and pulled out a three-pack of panties. She opened it and handed a pair to me.
“Swap yours for this. You’ll find them much more comfortable.”
They were. I wasn’t sure that I wanted panties with that much material. They covered me to my waist. The gusset was still as skimpy as my panties.
Kay knelt down and fed my legs into the legs of the corset. She wriggled it up until it reached my waist.
“We need to get the full effect with your dress. Please put your pantyhose and shoes on, Carol, but don’t pull the pantyhose up further than your knees. Not yet. The corset has to be exactly right.”
I felt stupid, standing there on my strappy high heels with my pantyhose locking my knees together. I could feel the legs of the corset compressing my thighs. One leg had a crease in it. I reached down to adjust it. Kay stopped me.
“Not like that, Carol. Here’s a tip. With a legged corset, it is always better to ease the leg from the inside. If you pull at the outside you are likely to wrinkle the corset or it will pull on your skin. If you put your hand inside you can lift and spread the leg so it fits properly.”
She took my hands and fed them down inside the corset. The resistance was strong. When I lifted the front of the corset leg and lowered it again I could feel the difference. Before the corset had dragged on my skin. Now it held without pulling. Kay moved my hands around to the back. She had to pull the corset away from my waist before my arms could move. I slid my hands into the back of the corset’s legs.
The next few seconds were astonishing. Kay flipped the corset’s straps up over my shoulders and closed the front zip in a blur of movement. My arms were squeezed against my back. My hands were completely trapped. I opened my mouth to object. Kay stuffed it with a flesh-coloured ball-gag. I shook my head violently as she tightened the strap behind my head under my ponytail. I tried to run from her. My pantyhose hobbled me to a shuffle.
Kay pushed me back to sit in the tubular chair. She unfastened my shoes’ ankle straps as I tried to kick. She buckled them together. Once that was done I doubted that I could even stand without help. Why was she doing this? What did she have to gain? I didn’t understand. Then I did.
Laura walked out from behind the curtain.
“Hello Carol,” she said calmly. I glared at her.
“What’s up, Chief Bridesmaid and Best Friend? Can’t you speak? What a pity.”
Laura brought her hand from behind her back. Dangling from it was a pair of handcuffs.
I did. She’d worn them for most of her Hen Night. I’d arranged it. The male stripper had played policeman and had ‘arrested’ her with my handcuffs. Long after he’d left she was still cuffed. I hadn’t removed them until we got out of the taxi at her home.
“Kay?” Laura asked.
I felt Kay’s gloved fingers pass something silky around my elbows. They were forced together and fastened in place. Kay lifted me to a standing position and the two of them helped me across the room until I was leaning against the filing cabinet. Kay positioned the camera where it Eskort had been. I shook my head. I would have fallen if Laura hadn’t caught me. She stood me back up and reached behind the filing cabinet to pull out Kay’s notice. She held it out of my sight.
“Carol. I want you to get one thing straight. This is my retribution, not Kay’s. She is helping in her professional capacity. When she took her first three pictures this notice was in the background.”
Laura lifted the notice to my eye level. I opened my eyes wide in shock. Instead of ‘Kay’s Dress Service’ it read ‘Kay. Dominatrix. Enforced Feminisation. Erotic Bondage’ with a picture of Kay in a black leather cat suit wielding a lash. They both laughed at me.
“You remember the fee?”
I winced. What next?”
“Your credit card statement will show a payment to ‘Kay’s Bondage’. So you can’t claim you didn’t come willingly. All Kay has done is to provide the service you paid for.”
I knew I couldn’t get out of that. Apart from the photos, I’d entered my pin number in Kay’s premises.
“Kay’s task is nearly done. Apart from a few photos of we Best Friends side by side, the rest of my retribution will be my pleasure.”
Laura rested my head beside mine as Kay took more pictures of me in various poses held in Laura’s arms. Finally Laura pulled my pantyhose up and settled them in place.
“It is just possible that you might be able to wriggle out from your predicament. So…”
Kay went behind the curtain. She returned with a white slip. They tugged it up my legs and past my hips. It reached below my knees. It clung to me as hard as the corset. My thighs were jammed together.
“This is a control slip. I think it controls you quite well.”
Laura pulled the back zip up. My breath whooshed out through my nose as my lungs were compressed. I could still breathe. Each breath had to be fought against the constricting slip and corset as Kay took more pictures.
“Nearly done. You haven’t tried on your dress yet.”
They zipped the bridesmaid’s dress over my bonds.
“Remember the measurements? Including your face and head?”
Kay handed Laura some things from a desk drawer. Laura covered my mouth and chin with a flesh covered silk scarf, modified so that it fastened with Velcro behind my head. She removed my scrunchy from my hair and let to fall. A similar silk scarf hooded my head and fastened under my chin. Only my eyes and nose were visible as Laura held a mirror in front of me. Finally they stuck a short black wig to the hood. The black hair fell as wings beside my cheeks. I felt as if I was wearing blinkers. I couldn’t see to the sides unless I turned my head. I did see Kay folding up my clothes and putting them into my bag.
More photos. Kay removed the camera from the tripod and handed it to Laura. She put it in my sports bag.
“Now we are almost ready for your public debut.”
I shook violently. It was bad enough for Laura and Kay to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone else to know, nor for anyone to see those photos.
“Too late, Carol. You haven’t got any choice. Just as I didn’t have once those handcuffs were on me.”
Laura left the room leaving the door wide open. I heard a whirring noise. She returned with a large wheelchair. I remembered that it had belonged to Laura’s grandmother who had died a couple of years ago. The old lady had been suffering from something that made her limbs twitch uncontrollably. The wheelchair enabled her to be taken out and about. I remembered her bright eyes still showing intelligence long after she had lost her speech.
Kay and Laura lifted me into the chair. It was covered in a blue nylon material that dropped over the arms. A waist strap held me. They buckled other straps around my legs and torso below my breasts. I was fixed to that chair even more immovably than I was held by the corset and control slip.
Kay slotted the headrest in position. My head was between two blue plastic blocks. A strap over my chin, another over my forehead, and I couldn’t even nod or shake my head. Laura gathered the blue nylon around me with a practised ease. It zipped up to my chin, sheathing me and my lilac bridesmaid’s dress. She pulled further. The nylon stopped at my nose. She held the mirror up again and showed me that apart from my unfamiliar black hair I was completely hidden. My fair eyebrows were almost concealed by the wig’s fringe.
Laura noticed that almost as soon as I did. An eyebrow pencil soon made the fair turn black. She added blue eyeshadow. Apart from screwing up my face I couldn’t resist as she subtly changed my makeup to suit the black hair. She even sketched a pair of lips on the scarf wrapping my lower face. Finally she eased a blue hood, matching the nylon coverall, over my head. It had a peak that shielded my eyes. She arranged it carefully so that the gag was hidden. All that was left of me was my nose and eyes. Under the unfamiliar cosmetics my mother wouldn’t have recognised the tiny part of me that was visible.
Laura was satisfied.
“Thank you for everything, Kay,” she said as she started the motor to drive me from the room. “I’ll make sure Carol won’t blame you. And thanks for what you did to Peter at the Stag Party. If ever I have a row with him the photos will be useful bargaining counters.”
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