Bound In Leather 9 | elbows bondage story

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Early next morning I was in a jewellery store. The owner objected at first that he did not have time to make up what I wanted. But I finally talked him into having it ready by six.

Right on the dot of seven I was ringing the doorbell at the Roberts' house. In a second, Fifi opened the door, ushered me in, closed the door and then preened herself for my approval. She was worth approving too. The main part of her uniform was a full-length set of black mesh tights, reaching from high about her neck to her toes, which were well displayed because she was shod with the lightest of black patent sandals with the usual six inch heels. She wore a little frill of white lace at the collar, cuffs, and on top of her high-piled black hair. Her tiny waist stringently an almost invisible flesh-coloured corset, was set off by a four-inch wide belt of black patent, shaped to the corset beneath. A very frilly, crisp white apron came down in front. She was, of course, restrained. She wore the usual ankle chain to curb her stride, while her elbows were strapped together behind her back making her pull her shoulders back and thrust her bosom forward arrogantly. Her hands were free, so she could do a good many things, like opening doors, etc.

"Good evening, Fifi," I smiled. "You look pretty enough to kiss."

She drew back and said, "Un moment, monsieur. Madame thought you might care to put ze bit in my mouth before you kees me."

"Bit? What bit, Fifi?" "Ze Flirtation Bit,' monsieur. Eet make Fi i-'ow you say more kissable."

She pointed, having to turn slightly to do so, to a silver tray on the slide-table. On it was a metal device like a square-bottomed "U"; the bottom being rather thicker than the arms. These latter were bent steeply outward at the top and had little rings attached, on these were the two ends of a narrow black strap. The method of application was obvious. As I picked it up, Fifi's mouth opened eagerly to receive it. Slipping it in, I buckled the strap tightly behind her head, so the thick bar at the back of her mouth pressed against the hinge of the jaw. Her mouth was forced to remain submissively open, with her teeth invitingly parted.

As I adjusted it, her dark eyes encouraged me tremendously and heeded the invitation on her lips, smiling around the bit and gave her a kiss full on the lips. She was quite right. She was amazingly kissable.

Fifi and I were surprised when a cool voice behind us spoke.

"Well, greeting the French maid in the traditional manner, I see."
Startled, I pulled away from Fifi and looked around. Vicki was smiling at us from the foot of the stairs. I'll admit I stared at her; but I believe with good reason. From her toes right up to her bustline, she was poured into a single leather garment, which combined boots and tights. The rigidity of her pose, the fullness of her bust and the wasplike proportions of her waist indicated that she wore a severe corset beneath it, though the latter failed to show at all, or to mark the skin-like fit of the boot-tights. Her arms were moulded, right up to the shoulders, in matching black kid gloves; while a helmet of the same leather covered her whole head, save for the face.

Her arms were stretched straight outward from the shoulders by a steel bar fitted with cuffs, encircling the arms at wrists, elbows and shoulders. The bar was held rigidly horizontal because it was attached to a steel upright, which extended from a tight metal hoop around her waist up to the top of her head. A wide steel collar attached to it forced her to carry her chin very proudly, while she was prevented from turning her head, even slightly, by a "U" shaped steel bar coming forward from the bar along her cheeks at jaw level ending in an eyelet about an inch back of the corners of her mouth. To look to the side, she had to turn her whole body.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked, parading stiffly, like a mechanical figurine front of me.

"Utterly delightful," I answered, then asked, "But isn't that very tiring to wear?"

"Extremely." "How do you get any rest? Can you manage to sit down?"

"Absolutely impossible. I can't even take a long step. Until somebody takes pity on me and releases me or lays me flat on my back, I have to stay like this. It's exhausting, but thrilling."

Dick appeared on the upper landing and as he came down the stairs, he ordered, "Tell Ted what happens if you make any complaints."

"I-I end up behind the Eight-Ball, Ted," murmured Vicki softly.

"Behind the Eight-Ball? What does that mean?" I asked, purposely dense.

"Let's show him, shall we, Vicki dear?" suggested her husband going over to her.

"Of course, Dick, anything you say," she sighed miserably. "But please, it's so early, you won't make me wear it all evening, will you? It makes my jaw feel like it's breaking."

A few minutes later, Dick and I were seated in the living room, having a before-dinner drink.

Suddenly, from the direction of the open door behind me, I heard one of the most attractive sounds in the world -the whisper of one opera-hosed thigh against another. I turned my chair to see Nicki approaching. She was not recognisable directly, but from the costume and restraint it couldn't be anybody else. Her high-arched insteps were stretched past the vertical by the thin seven-inch heels on her black kid ankle-strap sandals.

Her legs were delightfully displayed for their full-length by a single black suspender on the outside of the thigh. The major part of her costume was of the "peasant" style; the ultra-short skirt, which came just to the tops of her legs in front, was stiffened at the sides and stuck out so that the high-pulled tops of her stockings were easily visible. Above this, was a rigid black leather bodice displaying the tiny waist and extending up to the base of the bust. This latter welled out of a froth of white lace, which left the arms and shoulder bare. The arms themselves were covered for their full length by tight flesh-coloured kid gloves. These latter were unusual because they had no fingers, ending instead in a closed, mitten like bag. Thus, while she could, say, open a door by using both hands, she could not use a key, pencil, or untie a knot. The head, face and neck were covered by a skin-fitting helmet of flesh-coloured kid, to match the gloves. The only openings were two nostrils and a tiny round opening in front of each eye. As I rose, this startling vision minced up to me, as light as thistledown on her towering heels, placed her useless hands behind her and offered her mask for a kiss. Then she pushed me gently back into my chair and sat gratefully on my knee, indicating that I should finish my drink. During the next few minutes she displayed her lovely figure, crossing one knee I lightly over the other, folding her gloved arms behind her back and so on. My drink finished, she stood up, started for the door and beckoned me mysteriously to follow.

"What's the idea, Dick?" I asked. "What does she want?"

"Probably wants you to give her a face," he answered.

"To do WHAT?"

"Why don't you go with her and see?"

Actually of course, I was more than eager to follow. She led me across the hall past the rigid and silent human lamp, up the stairs. As I went up the stairs behind her, I marvelled afresh at the utter perfection of her legs and feet and the easy grace with which she moved on those ultra-high, spindle heels. In the upper hall, she led me to a cross between a dressing room and a beauty parlour. Three walls were lined with closets, the fourth was mostly a dressing table. On it were lined up a whole row of wig stands, each with a different colour and style of female wig. In the centre was a large, glass-covered, shallow box. In it were rows of feminine lips apparently in rubber, full, narrow, smiling, pouting all expressions, all shades. Above them were pairs of eyes, complete with lashes, whites, irises-but the pupils were openings. Some eyes were wide open in surprise, others were sleepily half closed. Every imaginable expression was here and above each pair was a pair of eyebrows to match. In the centre of the floor stood a steel upright, with a short, narrow bar sticking out for the subject to sit on and clamps for her arms neck and ankles. In a second, I had Nicki rigidly locked in place, legs far apart, her full weight resting on the narrow bar. Then I turned to the display of features, trying to decide how I wanted my silent subject's face to look. I found the features were delightfully easy to apply. They were all backed with a permanent adhesive, all you had to do was peel them off the backing and smooth them into the proper place on the smooth leather mask. By turns I made her look surprised, laughing and frightened; adding what seemed to be the appropriate wig for each face. I finally settled on a sultry, faintly smiling expression, with high arching brows, sleepily half-closed eyes and a generous, full-lipped mouth with the corners slightly turned up. For hair, I chose an almost white blonde wig with the hair in a mass of very short, tight curls. Stepping back to admire my handiwork, I was very pleased. Save for the charming fixity of her expression, Nicki looked amazingly normal, like a girl who is lovely, knows it and expects to get kissed. As I was releasing her from the post, I had an idea.

"Hey, you know the way I got your arms up behind your back the last time? Well, let's try to get them a little higher, so your elbows actually touch."

Rather hesitantly, she nodded. I could see she liked the idea, but was afraid it would hurt. I had noticed a lacing-bar hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the room and at my request, Nicki showed me a whole drawer full of straps, cords, and bondage material. In a very short while, my subject's arms were high up behind her back, with a separate cord from each wrist to the bar. As I pulled it upward, her hands were forced higher and higher between her shoulder blades, while her elbows came closer behind her back. Soon she rose on the tips of her toes; still I kept pulling. Finally, when her elbows were about three inches apart, her self-control seemed to snap and she squirmed and fought wildly to release herself.

I'm sure she tried to scream, but not the least sound penetrated her smiling mask. I secured the rope as soon as she started struggling, feeling that the violent motion would help her tendons stretch and allow her arms to settle into the proper position. After a few minutes, she stopped fighting and hung, more or less relaxed. I took this as a signal and threading a wide strap through her elbows, I pulled it tight; her elbows came together more easily than I expected. Then, a second strap around her wrists held her arms anchored behind her back, completely rigid, the forearms touching from wrist to elbow. Then, I took off the ropes that ran up to the lacing bar. Nicki seemed weak in the knees, so I put her gently on a couch and told her to rest a few minutes while her arms adjusted themselves; meanwhile, I'd go and rejoin her father. As I left the room, I was impressed with the fact that even with her arms behind her, she could lie flat on her back. Her elbows fitted neatly into the arch of her back made by her stiff, straight-fronted corset.

About ten minutes later, she came mincing into the living room, apparently quite comfortable, silken thighs whispering together at each tiny step. She was quite a sight. From the front, she appeared to have no arms, while the way her shoulders were racked into a steep rearward arch, made her amazingly high bosom thrust forward in an incredible manner. There was an air of pride and arrogance about her helplessness that was delightful.

"Wow?" was all I could say. The next few moments were devoted by Dick and myself, to telling Nicki how delightful she looked. While she minced proudly around in front of us, displaying her pretty "face," amazing figure and stringently bound arms from every angle,

Dick was most impressed with the position of her arms, remarking, "That is, without a doubt, the best possible position for a girl's arm. Escape is impossible -even the slightest movement is out of the question. She's quite helpless, yet, at the same time, forced to make the best display of herself. I'll start Vicki on that position tomorrow."

Then he rang the bell for Fifi, explaining, "I thought we could have dinner in here; the girls can serve us."

In a second, Fifi appeared in the door. Her elbow-strap had been removed and in its place she wore the harem belt with wrist-chains long enough to give her a good deal of freedom, yet short enough to keep her hands from getting at the mouth -bit. Dick told her to serve dinner, and she beckoned Nicki to follow her. There was a wait of several minutes, which my host filled by setting himself in a big armchair, telling me to do the same. I couldn't see how we were going to get dinner, but was ready to find out. Then Vicki entered the room, her daughter close behind her. The older woman's steel restraint had been removed and her arms were now anchored behind her back by irons at the elbows and wrists. Both she and Nicki had a steel belt around their waists. Metal arms from the sides of the belts came forward and down to support a fair-sized tray in front of each charming waitress. The first course of what turned out to be an elaborate meal was set on each tray. In enforced silence they came to our chairs, Vicki to Dick and Nicki to me. To bring the trays conveniently close, they had to stay in front of us to serve. I never enjoyed a nicer meal, or one more prettily served.

As we finished each course, our waitresses minced out into the hall, where, to judge by the sounds, Fifi was waiting with the necessary apparatus for the next course. When, at last, we reached the last part of the dinner, Fifi released her two charges from the belts that held the trays and brought the brandy and coffee herself. Nicki came over to me and indicated she would like to sit with me in the big chair. I was more than willing. Poor rigid Vicki, unable to bend even a little bit, was forced to stand in front of Dick's chair, where he and I could admire her pretty figure. With Nicki nestled cosily beside me, I was able to appreciate how utterly and charmingly helpless she was and what wonders the position of her arms and shoulders did for her lush figure.

The time, I decided, had come. Turning to my host, I said, "Dick, known your daughter about twenty-four hours. That's been more than enough to convince me I love her. I'd like to marry her. How about it?"

My lovely companion squirmed with silent excitement.

"Well," Dick nodded, "I can't say this is a surprise. A father doesn't have to see his daughter's face or hear her voice to know what's in her heart. I think it's a fine idea. Go ahead."

Nicki offered her smiling mask for a kiss, but before I took her up, I produced the thing I had had the jeweller make. It was a diamond engagement ring with a spring clamp fitted in the band. I clipped it on the septum of Nicki's nose.

"You can't wear it on your finger, for your arms will be behind you almost all the time, so I think a diamond nose-ring is a neat substitute, don't you?"

She nodded and offered her mask again. This time I obliged and Nicki and I were engaged.

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