Her Corset Revenge

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Do you know what it’s like to be at the mercy of a group of women? Do you really? I’m told it’s every man’s fantasy but, believe me, it was the most dangerous and frightening experience of my life. It happened over a year ago but it lives with me and still wakes me in a sweat.

To set the scene, I’d enjoyed myself with Alison enormously at the start because she wasn’t very experienced and had no knowledge whatever of my special likings, so she was keen to learn something new. Whenever we tried something new, she’d become excited and tell me so.

“Oh, Daniel, yes. I’m so excited,” she’d say and I could feel her wetness and her heat as evidence. It happened every time with new experiences, and I got used to knowing that she’d accept anything so long as it was titillating and unusual.

I’m into corsetry on women, especially tight-lacing but I’ll accept girdles, corselettes, even basques so long as they can modify her figure a little. What I really admire is a tight-laced female figure where her waist is tiny and very much smaller than it would be naturally. Alison had a very malleable figure although she’d not known that before meeting me. Gradually, over our three years together, I’d got Alison to wear her corset each evening and through the night, and from Friday evening to Monday morning every weekend.

“Wow, look at me,” she’d smile and run her hands over her figure in front of the mirror and then let me play on her body for my pleasure. She came to orgasm often in those early days.

Her natural waist of 30 inches when we started became 22 inches by the end of a year or so, and by then I corseted her without difficulty. Also, I had two special corsets that could squeeze her waist to 20 inches and 18 inches respectively. Whenever I wanted and asked her, I put Alison into these and reduced her waist progressively from Friday evening so that she became my fantasy woman by late Sunday evening. Then I really pleasured myself on her and exhausted myself during Sunday night, holding her waist in just my fingers, and filling her in every position she could adopt whilst trussed up so tightly.

During these very tight sessions, she’d always be quiet and submissive as she learned to please me with new things. As the corsets became tighter, she’d grunt “Ughh” every time the air was pushed from her lungs by my little extra tension of the laces. And often, towards the end of the tightening, when the second corset was in place, she’d say, “No Daniel; it’s too tight. You’re killing me. Something’s going to burst. I’ve lost feeling in my waist and in my hips.” She was pretending to protest, and it was a little game we played.

I’d say, “Better to be numb inside all this tightness, isn’t it Ali? Then I can do as I want without hurting you. Yes?”

She’d smile and stretch her neck to breathe more easily before I started my grande finale sex on her. It always ended with her lying on her front and her arms and legs stretched out on the bed, and I’d lie on her full weight. I’d pin her arms down with mine and position my legs so that I was lying on hers and my full torso weight on the corseted figure that I held in my hands, as I plunged and ploughed into her. Sometimes vagina and sometimes rectum. I knew every part of her and always emptied myself completely into her. She was amazing and I’d hold her afterwards and tell her how amazing she was.

We’d use our special “violent” language sometimes, talking to her whilst I was plunging and working towards my orgasm. I’d tell her what I’d really like to do to her if I got the opportunity. I used to tell her what it would be like to be squeezed so tight that she could hold her own waist in her fingers and thumbs. I’d talk about her insides being pushed out if it weren’t for me holding it all in with my erection. It was all fanciful, of course, and couldn’t happen but I dreamed of it. She’d lie there underneath me and say nothing but I knew she was listening and accepting all I did to her. Everything we did, and I did to her, she accepted because she was learning and I excited her.

To be honest, she couldn’t take much pleasure for herself when laced to that degree of tightness. She had difficulty breathing and she could never eat very much from the moment we started, so she experienced hunger and some lassitude by the time I was content with her figure. She never stopped me from doing this when I insisted and seemed happy that I was living my fantasy with her. When my orgasm was over, after many hours of build-up, in the early morning hours, she would ask me to release her from the smallest corset and then relaxed totally if I took it off and left her au naturel. Actually, I usually insisted that she return to the 22 inch corset for the rest of the night, until morning, which she agreed.

However, over the past 6 months, she’d become truculent and uneasy when laced, and had increasingly argued to be left corset-free for the rest of Sunday night. I sometimes heard that little noise of disagreement, hatay escort “Tut,” when I went to the drawer to get out the smaller corsets. On a few occasions, she seemed to be crying into the pillows while I bucked and rocked, shagging her to my heart’s content for hours if I could hold back long enough.

I was beginning to think she didn’t enjoy my pleasures quite so much any more, and perhaps not the tightest corseting at all, but we didn’t speak of it. I took my pleasure and she gave it, willingly it seemed to me. I’d already calculated that the minimum waist on a woman needed only to be about 12 inches round, under 4 inches across, to accommodate her spine, her aorta or was it vena cava, one loop of her bowel and a few ligaments. That had been my goal, fanciful again, but her reluctance had prevented me from going down that route. I was a bit resentful, to be honest.

Anyway, after over three years together, on a weekend in October, I was finishing with my Alison. Well, really, we were finishing with each other because we’d become stale and she was 11 years younger than I was. She said she wanted to see how life could be with men her own age.

Her agreement that we split up was timely.

“Fair enough,” I thought to myself, “I’ll get more women before I’m too old. Another corset virgin, perhaps. Maybe a really tiny waist next time.”

I pretended to be hurt and disappointed, and I think so did she, but we both knew it was the right thing. As we were going through the exercise, one evening, of splitting our things, she said, “Shall we have one last fling before it’s all over?”

“Like what?” I asked, expecting a final visit to her mother’s or some such pleasure!

“I’ll arrange a nice exciting weekend for you. Somewhere you’ll like and an encounter you’ll never forget. What do you say?”

Without thinking too much about her words, I replied, “That could be nice. Do you want me to book somewhere?”

“No, no, I’ll do it all and then it’ll be a surprise for you. OK?”

“Fine,” I said, and we got on with the dividing and packing.

The following weekend, she moved out and into a flat owned by her parents in the city, which they hadn’t visited for over a year. It seemed a convenient and amicable end to a friendship that had started with lust and deteriorated into dullness.

Two weeks later, she called me at work and said, “Are you OK for this weekend. I’ve fixed it and it’ll be really interesting, I think.”

Again, I didn’t dwell too much on the words themselves, only the idea of free weekend away with a woman I once really cared about and now who seemed keen to please me one more time. I might get her to one last tightest of tightlacing sessions with me.

“Fine, “I said, “Where is it?”

“Secret,” she said with the conspiratorial voice she used sometimes, “I’ll collect you at 6 o’clock Friday evening, from work. OK? Don’t forget to pack your bag. I know you.”

“I’ll be there – with bag,” I pretended to be offended.


I found myself whisked off to a very pleasant country house hotel near York; about one hour’s drive from the office in Leeds, on a Friday evening, in the rush hour.

As we turned into the grounds of the hotel, she said, “Right, it’s room 18 in the Annexe. Like a separate chalet, really. It’s over there – there are signs. You go and take the bags. I’ll park the car and check in properly.”

That’s what I did. Lifted her bag and mine out of the car and walked to a separate cottage, with the number 18 on a post near the door. I realised that I didn’t have a key but pressed down on the handle and the door opened. It wasn’t dark, but it was shadowy inside, so I walked in and placed the bags down, looking for a light.

Suddenly, I was grabbed by many pairs of hands. My arms were pinioned behind my back by these hands and others grabbed my head and pulled it forward so that I would have fallen forward except for other wrestling with my legs. In a moment, shorter than this has taken to tell, I was on the floor with my face down. I was held immobile by hands and body weight on my limbs and the middle of my back, and my shoulders.

“What the hell……,” I started, but someone smacked me across my head with something hard. I was taken aback and had no breath for another utterance.

“Just you lie still, and we’ll see to you. If you struggle, you’ll get beaten some more. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” was all I could say in that predicament.

“We intend it to be fun for us, OK? You may as well join the fun. It’ll all happen our way, anyway. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I repeated, wondering what they had in mind. And what would they do to Alison when she arrived. “Please don’t hurt me or my girlfriend.”

Someone laughed and there were many sniggers. These people seemed dangerous.

Less than a minute had passed since I walked through the door and the shock of it all was wearing off a little. I realised hurma escort two things: first, the voice was a woman’s and second, all the bodies round me seemed too slight for men. I deduced I’d been set upon by a group of women and my imagination began to race.

I thought, “If I play their game, they might give me some nice times, as well. I’ll pretend to resist but then I’ll enjoy it all the more.”

I began to wriggle, as if to throw off some of the body weights. All that happened was another smack about my head; this time further down the side so that my ear was caught by the object, and that really hurt.

“Ouch,” I shouted, or something like that. I took a quick look over my shoulder and saw she was holding something like a table-tennis bat, but in black hard rubber or plastic. It wasn’t soft.

“You’ve not been listening to me, have you? You’ll get hurt if you’re not more co-operative; hurt badly if I need to. Now do you understand me? Are you listening?”


“Lie very still now or this really will injure you.”

Whilst still under the weight of so many hands and bodies, someone began to cut my trouser legs from the bottom. Some very sharp scissors were just parting the fabric and I could feel the back of one scissor blade against my skin. Within a few seconds, my trousers had been cut all the way to my waist and folded sideways. Then my briefs were treated the same way and I was exposed all the way down my back. Someone slipped off my shoes and socks. My ankles were tied together, and my knees, so I wouldn’t have got very far even if I had the use of my hands.

The scissors started on the golf shirt I’d chosen to wear and that was shredded within a few seconds. My hands were tied behind my back and my elbows pulled together with a length of rope, I thought. By now, I was practically hogtied and truly immobile. The hands and bodies let me go and I became aware of numerous people standing around and looking down at me. Then a brighter light came on and I could see maybe ten pairs of feet. No one spoke but one of the pairs of feet came to my head and stood so that the shoe toes were right up against my face.

“Now it’s my turn to take pleasure and your turn to be deformed.” Alison said. Alison? Alison??

“Ali,” I said, “what’s all this? What are you doing? Is this your idea of a joke — a game?”

“No. This is my idea of teaching you something about the human body.”

“What do you mean? Untie me and we can talk about this.”

“No talking for you but lots of pleasure and exploration for us. Me especially. Now open your mouth as best you can. NOW!” This was first time she’d ever raised her voice to me.

I did as she said by lifting my head off the floor and pushing my jaw down. From behind my head, a ball-gag was pushed into my mouth and fastened by a strap behind my head. Then my mouth was forced open all the time and I couldn’t get it comfortable by just resting it forward. I grunted my discomfort.

I was lifted by many hands and I just stood there naked, looking at all these women. I didn’t know then, and don’t now, how many there were but there must have been eight or ten. They were an attractive group, I had to admit, and all dressed for sex of some kind. All must have been wearing tight corsets, even if not visible. Some were in swimsuits, others in leotards, one in a wetsuit, and another in full set of girdle, stockings, bra and high heels — very high heels — over her corseted figure. The most erotic for me was a woman clearly tight-laced inside a heavy rubber outfit that covered her from her feet, including all her toes, to her throat and wrists. She was encased and rigid over her torso. She wasn’t young or petite, but she showed all my favourite corset likings. Her waist must have been 24 inches less than her hips, and her breasts were colossal. She must have felt a ferocious pressure inside that outfit.

Alison had on a cream silk dressing gown that hid whatever was underneath, and she had on high heeled mules. I’d never seen her dressed this way, not in our time together.

The women were all touching me and one of them brought a black corset and reached it around me, fastening the busk pins easily at the front. Because I know about corsets, I thought, “That’s hardly going to tighten on me if it fastens so easily to start with.”

“Did you ever wonder what it was like for me to be crushed every weekend, for your pleasure? I couldn’t breathe, or eat or even crap properly. Did you ever think about that, Danny boy?”

I couldn’t speak but I wagged my head and mumbled through the gag.

“No you bloody well didn’t, but now you’ll find out for yourself. What was my waist when you finished with me at 3 o’clock on Monday morning, Danny boy? Was it 20 inches or 18 inches, Daniel? Well, you’re going to find out what that’s like. And we’re all going to enjoy it, and we’re going to explore every part of your body; inside and out.”

I ığdır escort wagged my head more vigorously and tried to shriek that my body wasn’t a woman’s and couldn’t take so much restriction. The male physique doesn’t have so much shape or flexibility. She needed to know, and I tried to scream at her through the gag.

She took off the silk dressing gown and underneath she was wearing a very tight white corset, not one that I knew, but easily as small as the smallest I’d used on her all those weekends ago. She’d attached stockings pulled up very tightly to her labia by ten suspenders and the heels were shockingly high. Her breasts were held in a boned long bra, and stood out like great bullets, pointing straight at me.

“Do you see this, Daniel? Do you like it?” I nodded. “This is going to be tighter than you ever made me. My waist can be 17 inches inside this corset, Daniel, just watch this.”

Two other women came to her and laced her further and further until the corset closed and her waist was small enough for her to hold in her own fingers and thumbs. Just as I’d wanted to make her, for three years, and now she’d done it to shock me.

“Can you imagine how this feels, Daniel? I tell you; it’s frightening and it’s exciting at the same time. This is how you’re going to be soon. I’ve grown to like this tightness when I’m in control but you’ll be under my control tonight. Did ever think what that was like for me, Daniel? Just you and the laces making my body do what you wanted. You tightening me to your liking. You crushing me until you were satisfied.”

I tried to mumble again and wagged my head.

“Be quiet now, Danny; you’ll need all your breath in a few minutes.”

A few minutes? I used to lace her over a matter of hours, sometimes 8 or 10 hours. Not minutes. What was she thinking?

Two of the women held my elbows and another began to lace me at the back. I could feel the corset closing on me and still hoping that it would be so easy to close as I’d thought at the start.

After a few moments, I knew I’d got it wrong. These women were going for broke on my body and lacing me straight down to a feminine shape with no resting or breathing space. There was a big mirror on one wall and I could see myself changing shape. My waist was noticeably smaller after just two minutes. After five minutes I was gasping for breath around the gag and my nostrils were flaring with the effort of trying to draw air into my crushed lungs. My vision began to blur and I thought I’d faint, when the woman behind me said, “Laces tight, tie them off. Yes?”

“Yes,” replied Alison and I felt relieved because my first impression must have been correct. This corset would shape me a little but not crush me. The laces were tight now and I was still more-or-less vertical and breathing, and aware of what was happening. I must have made a sound or gesture something like a sigh.

“Don’t worry, Danny,” said Alison into my ear in a loud whisper that they all heard, “this corset is very special — it’s got four sets of laces and that was the first set. Two at the back and one over each hip up at your waist. You’ve never seen a corset like this one, Daniel”

The reality of my situation dawned, and I wondered what four sets of laces could do to me. She seemed to sense the question I was asking myself.

“By the time the second’s closed, your waist will be the same as mine is naturally. After the third you’ll be collapsing and wondering how to breathe and your bladder’ll give way. I don’t think you’ve peed for hours, have you, Danny. Well, you’ll pee now, trust me. We’ll squeeze every drop of pee out of you. And do you remember saying to me that you’d like to corset the shit out of me? Do you remember saying that, Danny? It never happened, did it? Well, after the fourth set’s shut, you may not be conscious but your bowels will still be working and we’re going to corset the shit out of you, Danny. By then your waist’ll be less than 20 inches and there’ll be no room for anything inside you. If you’re very lucky, your entire insides won’t come gushing out of your arsehole, but we don’t care if they do. So try to relax, as well as you can, because it’s going to happen.”

Her voice was different. She used a tone and command I’d never seen or heard before. This was a woman making a point. Why hadn’t she told me about her dislike of the tightest corseting? I may have listened and moderated my demands. On the other hand, I think I’d have found another woman to corset: someone more willing to be corseted to her absolute anatomical limit. Even in my situation there and then, I admitted this to myself.

All this time, I was held by the elbows with my arms still pinioned behind me and my legs tied together at ankles and knees. After a few moments of rest, the woman started to lace the second set. My breathing became more difficult. Numbness began to creep over my skin from the top of the corset under my ribs to half way down my thighs, much lower than the bottom edge. I looked in the mirror and saw that my waist was tiny. I wondered what it measured, as she tied off the final loop of the second lace-set. As if to read my mind, another woman brought a tape measure and said, “Twenty-four inches.”

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