Tight

Milord has decreed that for the next week I wear corsets. He has adjusted my lingerie cabinet to match his instructions. I must say, I do not find corsets comfortable, but I do find them humbling. Naturally, Milord has also instituted a ritual. I am not allowed to leave the bed in the morning until Milord has fucked me. He always wakes up horny and this situation must be attended to! This morning he was in the mood for slow and gentle, which was just fine with me! He pulled me on top of him and had me ride h41f407b9833986d807f1dfb56d95b053im, easing my body up and down his. Generously, he allowed me to come several times before he emptied himself inside of pussy. Next, he showered while I fixed breakfast. He came out wearing his robe and sat at the table. He motioned for me to sit next him and together we sipped coffee and chatted about our schedule for the day. With breakfast finished, Milord cleared the dishes while I showered. By the time I was finished and back in our room ready to dress, Milord was already dressed for work, much to my disappointment. He smiled, seeing this, then told me to put on the corset he had ready for me. He watched as I struggled with the laces. Finally, I had the blasted thing on. It was tight, but not uncomfortably so, restricting, but also flexible.

“Turn around,” he ordered, “hands on your head.”

I did as he said then gasped as he tugged at the laces, tightening them even more.

“Now, go fix your face and hair. You have 30 minutes before I must leave. I want to check your laces again before going.”

Seriously? How tight could they go? As I went about brushing my hair and styling it, adding simple touches of make-up, I had to admit that what I had thought to be unbearably tight became looser, more comfortable. Sure enough, before he left for work, he again tugged on the laces until I thought they would break. When he finished tying them off, he kissed my neck, told me he loved me, and that he was proud of the my lack of complaint.

After he left, I slipped a dress over my head and went about my day, constantly aware of my improved posture and well supported breasts. At the grocery, I received many complimentary looks from both me and women. I held my head up high. I felt proud and beautiful. When Milord got home from work, he swept me off my feet and kissed me before asking how my day went. I explained how the corset had made me feel. He smiled, pleased with my words.

“Good. I hoped you would like it, but even if you didn’t, you would still obey, wouldn’t you?”

I grinned, and said, “Of course, Milord.”

“Each day, you’ll wear a corset for me. I’ll lace it tighter each day as well. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Yes, Milord,” my voice growing husky, my sex growing plump with need.

He spun me around and bent me over the kitchen counter, my back straight, my ass out. He flipped the hem of my dress over my hips and ran his finger down my wet slit. I heard the metalic zing of his zipper then he was in me, filling me with his glorious manhood. He grabbed a handful of my hair, tugging my head back as he fucked me. He bent over me, whispering into my hear, “That’s my good little slut. You’ll do what I want because it makes you wet, won’t you?”

“Yes, Milord.”

He fucked without mercy, without gentleness, with a primal need for satisfaction. In a moment he released inside of me, filling me with his sweet, sweet cream. Without thought, I slid to the floor, puddled at his feet and opened my mouth, desperate for the taste of him. He allowed this, letting me lick his cock clean. I was careful to keep my eyes open, looking up at him. He smiled down at me, and said, “If this is an indication of how being laced affects you, you may be corsetted for a long, long time.”

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