Bound in leather 11 | tight stockongs bondage story
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| Back at the house, Dick and I
were shooed into the library and told to wait while Vicki and Fifi
"turned Nicki into a puppet for the ceremony." I looked at
Dick; he looked at me and shrugged. "Search me. Let's go get a drink." Dick and I had time for more than one drink. It was well over an hour before Fifi tapped at the library door and opened it to announce, "M'sieur Ted, your puppet ees waiting for you." Fifi was most attractively dressed as a musical-comedy `artist' with black patent, ultra high-heeled pumps, black mesh tights and a powdered blue linen smock, which was cut very full, tightly belted around her wasp-waist and came just to the tops of her legs. On her dark curling hair was a blue velvet artist's cap. All in all, a delightful picture especially as she preceded us up the stairs, her lovely betighted hips swaying arrogantly at each step. Vicki was waiting for us at the top, dressed in a similar outfit, save that her smock was pink and her beret black. "What's the idea of the artists' outfits?" I asked, as they led us along the upper half to what I knew was called the "dressing room". "We've been very busy making Nicki into something usually only seen in an artist's studio," Vicki explained. "There-isn't she cute?" Again, I felt my jaw sagging foolishly. In the dressing room, leaning lightly against the dressing table, was what looked exactly like a life-sized artist's figure-save that it had no arms. Aside from a pair of high-heeled, gold kid mules that arched her insteps part the vertical, her figure in a light-coloured latex "skin" that covered her completely from head to toe, but which, by its very perfection of fit, managed to display her figure. |
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| Probably the most startling
single feature was her lack of arms. I assumed, for a second, they were
fastened behind her in some way, perhaps with her hands between her
shoulder-blades as I had once strapped them. But as soon as I entered
the room, the figure began moving toward me, taking the tiniest of
paces, turning to display herself from all angles. There was no sign,
whatever, of her arms; she looked a little broad in the shoulders and
her waist was no smaller than a girl's uncorseted waist. The implication
of utter defence lessness was delightful. "Allright, what have you done with 'em? Her arms, I mean," I asked. "She's wearing a Venus-corset," her mother explained proudly. "It goes from just above her shoulder-blades to a little way below her waist. It holds her upper arms squeezed against her sides and her forearms folded against the soft part of her body in front, just under the ribs. Lace a Venus corset tight enough and the arms just have to disappear." "So I see," I murmured. "She's gagged, of course?" |
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"So tight, I don't see how she can stand it. I couldn't." "Can she see?" "A little-through the meshes of the material. Enough to keep from walking into a closed door; but not enough to, say, recognise faces." "She looks absolutely delightful. But what can I do to help?" "Fifi
and I thought you might care to dress her a little. Here, put these
stockings on for her," As I stood up, after pulling the ankle-straps as tight as I could, Vicki put on Nicki a black elastic, opera-hose supporter with three short suspenders for each stocking. As she hooked the belt around the rigidly corseted figure and adjusted the suspenders as short as possible to pull the stockings really tight, I noticed each of the clips was decorated with a tiny rosette of blue satin. This was "something blue." As I stepped back to admire the effect, the two dainty `artists' came forward with a pair of loosely stuffed `arms,' ending in gloved `hands' with wide-spread fingers. |
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Holding them
against the armless shoulders, they asked me: "Do you think the imitation arms add to the artificial effect?" "They certainly do," I agreed. "That flexible rag-doll look they give her is most attractive." So they began sewing them directly to the `skin' of her shoulders. At this point, Dick remarked, |
| "Okay,
Ted. It's about time for you to go change your clothes. The guests will
be arriving soon." "Guests?" I exclaimed, "what kind of guests?" "You'll see," he grinned. Fifi led me to the Guest Room to change my clothes. t was several minutes before I could persuade her to leave . . . and to do that I had to tie her hands behind her and gag her with a guest towel so that her mouth was so wide open she couldn't kiss any more. Fifi takes her job as the French maid so seriously-and gets so much simple pleasure out of it. As I was dressing, I heard sounds of voices downstairs as the guests arrived and Dick let them in-had had to, since both Vicki and Fifi were busy elsewhere. I noticed, more or less subconsciously as I listened, the voices all seemed to be masculine. "Why no girls' voices?" I wondered idly as I tied my tie. The solution was obvious, as soon as I came downstairs and saw the twenty-five or thirty guests who had assembled. |
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| All the girls were gagged
into silence and had their arms helplessly bound; mostly, they had
enough leg room to move around on their super high heels. That was
lucky, because it gave them full opportunity to show off their tiny
waists, bosoms, and lavishly displayed legs. One girl, for instance, had
on black, patent knee-boots, buttoned to the tops, black stockings which
disappeared under the edge of her very short, full, black velvet skirt;
this fitted in the typical "princess" line, skin tight over
the body and up to a collar that was so high it came right to the base
of her nose, covering her mouth completely. Her arms were doubled at the
elbows and laced into "short-arm" gloves that held them in
that position. Another one was in a sort of harem outfit, of very
high-heeled Eastern slippers with turned-up toes, transparent baggy
pants (under which could be seen tightly suspendered dark stockings), a
short coatee that hugged the wasp-like waist which was open at the top
to display a cloth-of-gold brassiere. Her wrists were circled by gold
cuffs which were attached to short chains which went under her body and
up to a gold belt around her waist. Her Eastern veil, which half
concealed her face below the eyes, was thin enough to allow a pair of
smiling lips to be seen. Only on second glance did you see that the lips
were actually painted on; the entire lower part of her face being
tightly but smoothly covered with adhesive tape. "Wow!" I said to Dick, as he prepared to take me around and introduce me. `Who are all these charmingly helpless creatures?" "Oh Members of the Society "he answered airily. "Social Register Society?" I acquired doubtfully. "Oh no. Another kind of society altogether where a tiny waist counts for more than family history, pretty legs take the social place position, and a tight gag is the passport to complete acceptance." At this moment somewhere, a piano started to play "The Wedding March." As the music began, Dick took my elbow and hurried me over to one side of the big hall, where a low dais, banked with flowers, had been prepared. Hearing a masculine murmur of appreciation behind me, I turned to see the bridal procession slowly descending the stairs. First, by herself, came my human puppet. She was quite a sight. Instead of a conventional wedding |
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| gown, she wore a skirt and halter bra arrangement.
But the skirt, of pale grey satin, while very full, was less than ten
inches long, so that it came near the tops of her pink latex legs and
allowed a startling display of her black stockings. The halter was made
of strings of large imitation pearls in a wheel design over each breast.
You might say it was an unusual bra. Her head and face were covered, at
the moment, by a rather heavy veil in white, kept on by a chaplet of
orange blossoms. The dark wig beneath could be seen, but that was about
all. Her artificial arms were pinned up in such a manner that they
seemed to be holding a bouquet of obviously artificial roses, with grey
satin blossoms. (A rather subtle piece of symbolism, I though.) Behind her came a page, dressed from high, rigid collar to toes in one-piece tights of a deep wine colour which were made to look like a uniform by a row of gold buttons all the way down the front and gold piping sewn on to indicate the edge of the jacket, pockets etc. Her feet were in high-heeled, black kid pumps and a matching discipline helmet enclosed the head. A round pill-box hat was perched rakishly over one narrow eye-slit. The arms were secured with the straps at the elbows and wrists. In front of the page was a little tray, suspended from straps around the neck. This, I realised, must be Fifi. Back of her, came four bridesmaids, two by two. They were all alike in a form of Maid's costume, in pale pink. From the bosoms down to the severely corseted waists, the satin fitted like it was sprayed on. Below this, the skirts |
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which were just long enough to reach the tops of the legs when the
wearers stood still, sprang out till they were a good three feet across. The hems were stiffened
with wire hoops and so swayed interestingly at each tiny step, so that
the super tight stockings were frequently displayed. The stockings,
rather less than full "opera" in length, were of a pale beige
tint and, in spite of very tight light blue suspenders, allowed an
intriguing band of pale thigh to show. The feet were in pale blue suede
pumps with seven inch heels while matching shoulder-length gloves
covered the arms. The hands were pulled as high up the back as the
wearers could stand and anchored by straps which ran up to high, stiff,
suede collars about the; necks. The four pretty "maids" wore
little white aprons, which were now pinned up in such a manner as to
hold the bouquet of artificial blue roses that the girls couldn't carry
in their arms in the usual manner. To keep them fashionably silent, each girl's mouth was stretched wide open, probably by a choke-pear, then covered by a wide, smooth band of flesh-coloured suede, right around the head. A pair of full smiling lips was stuck in the proper position, but the happy expression was belied by the staring eyes, wide open in the smart "gag look." |
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| As I watched this
lovely procession approach, I found myself wondering, "But where is
Vicki?" The procession slowly crossed the hall to where Dick and I
were waiting by the dais. As my bride arrived beside me, I turned, so we
were both facing the flower-banked platform. |
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At this moment a figure appeared from behind the flowers at one side and minced slowly to the centre, where she turned to face us. From her toes to about half way between knee and thigh, she wore black, patent knee-boots, with eight-inch heels. Her legs were covered, apparently up to the waist by the mistiest of black nylon tights. The corseted body was covered to just below the bust by a brief, skin-fitting leotard which was a solid mass of silver sequins; the legs were cut so high at the sides as almost to reach the waist. From the bosom, right up to a high neck, she wore the same black nylon which covered her legs, the centre of each bosom being decorated with a rosette of rhinestones. The head was covered by a sort of helmet of black patent, which came down in front to form a domino eye-mask, and also covered the neck and ears, though it left the mouth uncovered. From the shoulders hung a long cape-like garment of black lace which was caught around the waist by a narrow rhinestone belt, but arranged to hang so far open in front that neither the bosom or legs were concealed. Perhaps the strangest part of the costume was the huge, black lace collar, in the form of a scallop shell; the wearer's black-gloved arms were made of part of the lower frame, so subtly, you didn't realise she was helpless, or indeed what had been done to get rid of them. |
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Obviously, this was Vicki. You
couldn't tell directly, but it could not be anyone else. Glancing over
the assemblage, then down to her daughter, she began: "Subjects and gentlemen, we are gathered here this evening to witness the formal acceptance of this Human Puppet before me by the young man beside her." Speaking to me, she asked solemnly: "Do you, Edward Walk, take this puppet to be your property, to lace and to corset, to gag and to bind, in satin and in silk, in leather and in steel, from this day forth?" "I do," I answered, my heart pounding with excitement. "Very well. Remove her veil and signify your acceptance by making her a face." Eagerly, I swept the concealing veils back from Nicki's long, black curling wig and blank face. At the same time the page stepped forward; on the tray hung from her neck were some various coloured grease-pencils. I'll admit I'm a pretty fair amateur artist; and in a very few minutes I had drawn her a very pretty cartoon-style face; the expression was one of pleased surprise, with big, wide-open eyes, arching brows and a full, smiling mouth. The job complete, the page melted away and Nicki and I turned once more to the High Priestess. "Do you, Puppet Nicole," she asked in measured tones, "give yourself, wholeheartedly and completely ,to this man, with no thought but to make him happy?" The rigid figure nodded her silent head. "And do you further promise to love him implicitly, honour him completely, and obey him abjectly?" Another nod. "And do you further promise to accept the most stringent bondage and severest of silencers to make yourself more desirable to him?" Again a nod. "Very well. Accept from your owner the symbol of his domination." There was a faint sound from behind me. I turned to see the page had returned On her tray was a pair of gold-plated ankle cuffs, joined by a short chain, Kneeling, I snapped the cuffs about the trim ankles as the pretty legs moved far enough apart to draw the chain tight. The Priestess spoke again. "By the authority vested in me by this Society, I now declare you Owner and Property. ' Nicki turned toward me and I locked her in a crushing embrace. From somewhere I heard the Priestess say: "Let the celebration commence." Under Dick's guidance, my wife made a move across the room she taking very small strides by reason of the short chain between her ankles-and formed part of a Reception Line, together with the four helpless bridesmaids. (The page seemed to have vanished.) In a few moments the Priestess joined us and Dick stood beside her. There was a special etiquette observed by all the delightfully helpless girls. When a girl guest greeted a bridesmaid, or the bride, they bowed slightly from the hips. But when a girl greeted a man, she curtsies-not a full, deep court curtsey, which most of them were too stiffly restrained to manage anyway, but a very definite curtsey, just the same. Even Nicki, as Guest of Honour, curtsied to the gentlemen with the rest. Vicki, however, did not. I found out this was because she was not gagged and so could greet them verbally. When the actual receiving was over and it took quite a long time, since all the men had to compliment Nicki on her delightful costume and the charming arrogance with which she wore it. The bridesmaids, at a signal from Vicki, filed out. Shortly afterward they returned, without their pinned-on bouquets, with their aprons smoothed down in front. |
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| On the
shoulders each had an arrangement similar to an old-fashioned milkmaid's
yoke. But instead of a pail hanging from each side, there was a round
tray. On some of the trays were glasses of champagne; on others, little
plates of sandwiches, etc. With practised ease, the pretty maids slipped
among the guests, supplying the men with refreshments. The poor bound
and gagged girls, of course, got nothing-except for Vicki; when the
Bride's health was proposed, Dick did hold his glass to her lips so she
could take a sip of champagne in her daughter's honour. I was beginning to wonder about the wedding cake when it arrived, under its own power. It was a huge one, about two and a half feet in height, and almost as much in diameter. It was generally in the form of a cone, since the individual layers got smaller as they got higher. It was very elaborately iced and decorated, with a delightful little piece of sugar sculpture on top, representing a man-obviously me-in a light rickshaw, driving a very smartly harnessed human pony, which was, presumably Nicki, but her entire head was enclosed in a gleaming black helmet. The oddest part of the cake, however, was the fact that it had legs. Pretty high-heeled legs in black mesh stockings, legs I recognised at once as Fifi's. The cake was largely hollow inside and was arranged to fit over her like that giant pack of cigarettes fits over the dancer on television. It's quite surprising, but very pleasant to have a wedding cake come strutting up to you. Somebody thrust a cake knife into my hand. I unfastened one of my wife's limp, artificial arms from her bouquet and, holding the gloved "hand" in mine, began cutting the cake. Dick had a stack of plates on a rolling table and the bridesmaids cued up so he could put the filled plates on the trays that swung from their rigid shoulders. In a very short time all the men were served, then the girls went back to serving champagne. As I replaced her arm, I asked my helpless, silent wife: "Happy, sweetheart?" She nodded and nestled up against me as well as her unyielding corset would permit. Her dark wigged head went back and she offered her dumb-painted lips for a kiss. |
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"Hey!" called a voice from across the room, "How about some dancing? Ted, will you and your bride lead us off?" I was wondering how Nicki could manage to dance with her ankles so closely hobbled, when Dick slipped me a key, murmuring: "For dancing, the bride's legs may be released." In a second, I had one cuff removed and was about to take the other off, when I had an idea. I snapped the first one on again, so both cuffs were on the left leg, as a sort of symbol that the chain was removed only temporarily. Then, I unpinned her limp arms and took off the bouquet of artificial roses as well. I put one floppy arm on my shoulder and took the hand of the other in my left and as somebody started a waltz on the phonograph, my puppet bride and I took the floor. The others stood and watched for a while, but they slowly joined in. Soon the floor was full of dancing couples. Obviously, some such fairly slow number as a waltz was necessary; the girls were alt so tightly laced and gagged that any sort of exertion was out of the question. |
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| There is a great thrill to
dancing with anyone as helpless as Nicki; from the hips up she was as
rigid as a poker and though she pressed as close to me as she could, her
movements were still very stiff; then, too, the height of her heels made
her balance a matter of great delicacy and I found it easier to clasp
her very tightly around the waist, taking a good deal of her weight
myself. You grow so accustomed, in dancing, to feel the girl's left arm around you and to do a good deal of your leading through your left and her right arms that it feels very odd when they are not there. But you get a tremendous sense of utter helplessness. Toward the end of the number, I could feel her knees weakening and could sense she was almost collapsing, so I steered her over to her mother and murmured, "I think Nicki's about had it. She'd better rest a while." Vicki nodded and agreed: "It's not surprising. She insisted on being laced in until she fainted. Then she made us gag her so tightly she could hardly breathe. But she ought to be changing into her going-away outfit soon anyway. Oh, here comes Dick. He'll take Nicki around through the kitchen and up the back stairs. Then, with the puppet skin off and the gag loosened a little, she can rest a while before it's time to get dressed again." But even though she was swaying on her feet from exhaustion, my wife wouldn't leave until I had put her ankle-chain back again. For the next hour or more I had a fine time, cutting in and dancing with all the charmingly helpless girls. Many of them managed to be quite flirtatious, in spite of their rigid bondage and enforced silence. It's amazing how eloquent a pair of made-up eyes can be when the mouth below is gagged. Several times I looked for Fifi, but the Walking Wedding Cake had vanished. |
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