A Wife's Corset Mistake?

"That's very tight now. Stop now," she said, forgetting our arrangement that I was in charge of her figure.

I looked at the opening in the laces and saw that her waist had been reduced by only one inch. The gap was still three inches.

"No. It's only just fitting on you. No change to your waist at all. Perhaps it's the stiffness and the weight of the corset that you've noticed, " I lied to her, "I'll tighten it a little more, you'll see."

I crossed over the laces to gain some leverage on the opening, and with a great pull managed to reduce the gap to just one inch. A reduction on her waist of three inches: now I was getting somewhere.

"No. Stop. Too much. No. Let me out," she began complaining. I ignored her wailing.

"Nearly finished," I lied again, "just tying off the lace now."

With another strong pull, I got the opening closed but for about half an inch, and then tied off the laces in a bow in the middle of her back. Only a half-inch of a lie, after all; so not serious.

"Let me out, please. I can't stand it. It's cutting me in half," she continued to complain.

"Look in the mirror," I told her, "see what it can do for you."

So she looked in the mirror and placed her hands on her reduced waist. She became silent again, and I watched her face. She was amazed and pleased with what she saw and how it made her feel. The tightness and the sense of panic had disappeared. She was turning into Kate the corset addict. At least, that is what I hoped at that time.

By this time, my erection was painful and straining to escape from my clothing. I took her to the bed, of course, helped her to lie down, got undressed and gave her everything I had. Full length, stiff and active. Man; I ploughed Kate like a fallow field, plugged her like an open drain, filled her like an empty barrel. I could feel the bones of the corset against my skin, and the tension in the fabric, and the immobility it imposed on Kate. I held her waist, her bottom; I turned her over and took her from behind, holding onto her figure inside the corset.

For an hour I plugged and filled my wife against her constant complaints and grunts until, at the end, I was exhausted and she was crying. I think I overdid this first time, but it was just the beginning.

Next morning, she was unusually quiet and still corseted, although I'd loosened it somewhat in the night.

"Why did you do all that? You hurt me," she complained.

"I'm sorry. You were so exciting. But I think you will get used to it, anyway. As you become accustomed to the corsets; don't you think so?" I asked, hoping she would say something conciliatory and promising.

Instead she was just silent and went about the business of making breakfast. Before we ate, I took the corset off her, and massaged her skin a little with her favourite moisturiser. Soon, she would take a shower and get into the daytime outfit of girdle-stockings-bra. Sometime in the future, I knew that she would don her daytime corset, to maintain her figure at the desired 21 inches. Actually, I had a plan to get Kate to a waist measurement under 20 inches, but that was my secret.

For the next two years, I ordered smaller corsets every few months. The next one was at 26 inch, then at 24 inches and finally at 20 inches. Kate looked at each of the new purchases with disbelief and, of course, I lied about the actual waist-size each time.

The typical new-corset scenario was like this.

Kate: "It looks too small. I'll never fit into it."

Me: "Trust me. It's made to you figure and it'll fit perfectly. You'll never know you're wearing it."

Kate: "It's beginning to feel tight now; don't lace me any further."

Me: "I'll just tie it off them. One more pull for the knot. OK?"

Kate: "OK, but it feels really tight."

Me: "Ready for the knot. Just a little pull." I take the laces, cross them over and exert the maximum leverage against the central eyelets; reducing her waist by another inch.

Kate: "Ow! That's really tight. You're hurting me. Let me out. For God's sake, let me out. Stop now. Aaargh."

Me: "Lie down here. Let me help you. Raise your arms over your head and breathe slowly. Isn't that better?"

Kate; with sobs and grunts: "It's killing me. Please let me out."

Me: "Soon. Let me look and feel at you; and see how this corsets fits. Now lie still"

Each time, I end up to my balls pressed against her with my erection crashing into her interior. And the tighter the corsets became, the more her uterus and bowel were both pressed down towards my erection. For me to feel like spongy walls in front of me; before I emptied myself into her with one final thrust. Like a rocket going off. Amazing for me and maybe a little uncomfortable for her.

Then, within a week, she would be acclimatised and accustomed to the new tightness and began to revel in her new figure. I would see her standing in front of the long mirror running her hands over her waist and onto her smoothly prominent hips. And even, a few times, pressing her middle finger under the front bottom edge of the corset and onto her clitoris. You see how addictive this corset-wearing can become, even for a strong, wilful and resistant woman like my Kate.

So let me recount the final corset's arrival.

Of course, she thought it was the final 21-inch waist. In fact, it was 18 inches when completely closed at the waist. I was looking forward to holding her waist in my two hands, which I can span to 18 inches. Just about. And then shagging her to heaven [or would it be hell?] whilst holding onto that figure.

The corset was delivered on a Saturday. I was at home and Kate was out shopping. I opened the parcel and just marvelled and revelled at the construction. It was covered in black satin, with 36 spiral steel bones and six solid steel flat bones, a rigid front busk, 28 lacing eyelets at the back, and no fewer than 12 suspenders attached to the bottom edge. I had ordered it to fit 6 inches above her waist and 10 inches below; from her bra line to her widest hip. With an 18-inch inside measurement at the waist, double-boned overall, rigid waist band inside the soft cotton lining. This corset looked beautiful and stylish and soft and gentle but I knew she was going to be totally contained, controlled, constricted and trussed into this corset. And I was going to get into her as much of my body as was possible, regardless of her protestations and complaints.

The usual preamble conversation took place:

Kate: "It looks too small. I'll never fit into it."

Me: "Trust me. It's made to you figure and it'll fit perfectly. You'll never know you're wearing it."

As normal. But then things took a more serious turn.

I helped her undress, removing the corset she'd been wearing all morning; whilst shopping. It was still fresh and clean after the one she'd worn through the night, but now got in the way of my plans.

I massaged her waist with our usual moisturiser cream that we used whenever a fresh corset was fitted onto her. She always likes this part of the routine; the massage and the soft gentleness of the cream and its effect on softening her skin. She mewed softly, like a kitten.

I stood her facing me at the bottom of the bed and took the corset in my hands; having made sure the laces were sufficiently open to allow it to fit without any apparent strain. Reaching round her back and holding it in both hands, I raised it to her figure and brought the front busk together at the top clip. I noticed as I did this the marks on her skin from her previous corset. The little wheals and indentations where the bones had controlled her shape, and pulled her skin a little.

Then I clipped the rest of the busk into place. Six clips altogether, and so apparently loose at this stage that she made no murmur at all.

I rotated her by her hips so that she stood facing away from me but looking at herself in the long mirror. She raised her hands to feel at the fabric and the looseness. She pressed a little into the slack waist and I could see her face was composed and un-worried. Now the serious process of closing the corset would start but only I knew it.

Taking the loose lace between the eyelets at the top edge, I gradually tightened the top 3 or 4 inches of the corset until it settled onto her skin, with very little pressure. And I did the same with the bottom 3 or 4 inches, over her hips and onto her sacrum. No murmur nor even a sigh. The waist was open by about 8 inches in a great elliptical shape, but she didn't know that. The top and bottom edges were open by perhaps 3 inches each. I had an idea that this process would be easier for her and me if she were lying down and I could control her reactions better. So I said casually,

"Come over here," indicating the bed, "lie on your front and I'll be able to kneel. Instead of you having to stand. OK?"

"OK," she responded and lay down on her front with her chin on her crossed arms on top of a pillow; and her legs slightly apart.

I knelt across the back of her knees and took the laces again in my hands. I gathered the loose laces around her waist into my right fist and made a turn around my wrist. Then pressing on her spine with my left hand, at waist height, I stretched my thigh muscles and lifted myself off her legs; pulling with all my strength. About 18 inches of lace came through the eyelets and her waist shrank before my eyes.

"Ow; that's tight," she almost shouted, "is it closed now?"

In fact it was still open by 6 inches so I lied, as you do.

"Almost," I replied without showing the strain or the excitement in my breathing.

Taking the laces again in a tight wrap around my hands and wrist, I pressed again on her spine and lifted myself off her legs. Thrusting my hands towards the ceiling, I took about 24 inches of lace through the eyelets.

You can work it out by now. I had taken over 40 inches of lace through 8 pairs of eyelets nearer waist. That's a 5 inch average reduction between the two rows of eyelets; 5 inches of reduction in her waist.

"My god, what are you doing to me?" she moaned, and then screamed, "let me out, let me out. It's too tight. Philip, let me out."

She only ever calls me by my full name when she's really angry or disturbed with what I'm doing. Usually I'm just Phil; but here was a Philip.

"No," I was quite clear and spoke loud enough for there to be no mistake as to my intention, "I'm going to close it on you and you'll have a figure like an hourglass. It'll take some time and it IS going to happen. You understand?"

"Phil, please don't hurt me. Please. This is fun for us, so don't hurt me, please," she was almost crying.

"You're only a small fraction from closed now. You'll be amazed at yourself. Very close now," I responded reassuringly, "and this is the figure you've been dreaming about all your life."

I pressed down on her back and pulled with all my strength again at the bunch of laces from the still-elliptical opening at her waist. I turned my arm over to point my fist at the ceiling, with my elbow at my side and made a gesture not unlike the victory punch of a sportsman. She changed shape again even as I watched. Her waist shrank further, and her hips began to stand out like shelves either side of her figure.

"Aaaaw, Phil, no; no more. Let me out. Let me go. Phil," she was shouting now.

"That's it now," I lied a little more, as I pushed my arm upwards again with its bundle of laces. Her figure also changed again. Now I was close to my target and my pleasure was about to start in earnest.

I closed the gap at the back of the corset and quickly tied off the enormous length of lace, into a big bow. Then I tied the loops of the bow into a reef knot. They were never going to come loose by accident.

"Phil, this is killing me. It's too tight. My waist is really pressed. It's started to go numb," she complained, not realising that numbness was an attribute in this situation.

"In a few moments you'll feel comfortable. Promise. Remember how it is with all your new corsets. They seem impossible and terrible, but then you get to like them. They start to feel comfy. Remember?" I prompted.

"Hmmm. Suppose so. This seems much tighter than any other time," and of course she was right.

I took hold of her tiny waist and rolled her over onto her back. I took away the pillow so that she was lying flat out on our bed. Then I lay down with my shoulders between her ankles and my mouth on her labia: a position and sensations she always liked. But how would the tight corset affect her, I wondered?

I started to lick and nuzzle at her labia and clitoris, in the way she taught me many years before. At first no response; then a little mew-sound; then she stretched a hand down and pressed on my head between her legs. I knew then that I was on the right track for her to gain pleasure. It came slowly and gently to her, and she raised her hips a little; as much as the new corset would allow her to move. She made her usual deep breath-in and then a long slow breath-out with a humming sound. That was her orgasm and she relaxed immediately.

Down among her lips and vagina, I could feel the running of her juices; down my chin, so that I could lap it as I tongued her. With a little tap from her hand, I stopped my ministrations and relaxed my face into her body. I could smell, taste and feel the moisture of her excitement. Within that corset, her body was responding as it always did. Now it was my turn.

Taking hold of her waist in my hands, I pulled myself up to her face and kissed her through the wetness over my jaw and nose. As usual, she made the little gesture to get her face out of the way of the juices, but I persisted; also as usual. So I kissed her full on her lips, with her lubrication slipping and sliding between our faces.

My erection was raging and pole-like at this stage. As I manoeuvred into position to kiss Kate, my pole was presented as her opening. With the slightest of thrusts, I was in her and she tensed up immediately. Her body felt taut and tiny; as if I were entering a virgin or a woman who'd had the pussy-tightening operation. Everything was pushing me out and I pushed back to keep inside her.

My hands could feel the bones of the corset at her waist. Every knuckle of both hands was pressed against a steel bone that was holding her in shape and rigid. Her waist felt like warm wood to me; no flexibility, no "give" - only a hard circle of steel and stiff fabric with her reduced waist inside it somewhere. I spanned her 18-inch waist and tugged myself into her. She grunted with some discomfort as my weight fell on her solid waist and her abdomen.

I started shunting her in and out. Shagging with strength and pace, for my own pleasure. My hands could feel the stiffness of her figure but also my groin could feel the flat solidity of the busk and the bottom edge of the corset. It was digging into me at each thrust, and I loved it.

My balls were loose, hanging low, and banging against her rump as I filled her with my engorged penis. I could feel her insides with my erection and her outsides with my hands and my body. She felt magnificent and shapely and rigid and totally at my whim to do anything I wanted.

Kate stretched her arms out either side of us and lay with her head also stretched back onto the mattress, showing me the long underside of her throat and chin. She was just laid out for me and my pleasure; as if she were on the rack. She made no sound apart from an occasional grunt as I thrust too deep or pulled too hard against her tiny waist.

My orgasm was building. It seemed to start in my hands, in my palms, even in my individual fingers around her waist. The growing sense of urgency quickly transferred to my solar plexus and to my groin and to the space between my erection and my anus. What is that flat bit of body called? Don't know but it was raging with sensation and urgency. I knew that very soon I would pour my full load into her. No, not just into her: into the corset, into the waist, into this shapely woman laid out on the rack for me to impale. Man, I was going to enjoy every millisecond of this.

Slowly, my fluid started to move down the tubes inside me and I could feel every twist and turn of their progress. The tip of my erection grew massive; so big I could only just manage to move inside her even with her lubrication. My stiffness grew more pronounced and I realised that she was crying and speaking to me through the haze of my pre-orgasm.

"Phil, you're going to break me. Burst something. Phil, you're too big for me. Let me out. Please. Let me out now. Oh my god, I'm going to burst wide open. Phil. Phil," she was crying.

I couldn't let my orgasm go away; not after all the effort and waiting I had put into it. I continued thrusting and tugging on her waist. My orgasm was building into a flood and eventually it poured out of me and into the small space left by her tightened corset.

"Oh my god," she repeated, "It's too much. You're pumping me up. Oh. Oh. Ah. AAAARGH," she was becoming hysterical.

I finished pumping into her and held onto her waist as my erection subsided. Maybe it took three or four minutes. All this time, she was sobbing and holding her own chest and pressing on her own hips. When eventually I moved myself down and off her, she let out a great sigh.

"Why did you do that to me?" she asked, "I thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't," I replied, "Did you? And you're still all right now. Yes?"

"Hmmm. Suppose so," she conceded, "But don't do it again, please Phil."

"It's what I want; you know that," I said, "and our agreement is that you get the 21-inch waist and I get to make love to you when I want. So let's measure you. Yes?"

Slowly and with my help she got off the bed, dripping both our fluids as she did so. The tape measure showed 19½ inches over the corset. She was shocked.

"Phil, that's less than we agreed. What have you done to me?" she wailed

"I've given you the figure every man searches for and every woman envies. Your waist is half of your hips. You look and feel wonderful. I want you like this for ever, from now on. Do you understand me?" I asked, whilst holding her from behind in front of the long mirror.

"I don't know if I can, Phil," she responded, "it's so tight. I'll have to get used to it slowly. Please?"

"We've all the time in the world," I tried to reassure her again, knowing full well that I was committed in my head and my groin to fucking her every day in this corset -- and the replacement I would order soon, so that she could have two on the go.

Forget 21 inches. I was and still am a committed 18-inch man. That's the waist I want to cling onto, and to fill every day and night with as much of my body as I can get inside it. In fact, if I thought I could go further, her waist would be 16 inches or less. But let's be reasonable, eh?

I think I've made the erotic discovery and achievement of my life, but Kate thinks she's made her biggest mistake. From now on, her waist will be tiny and her husband will be engorged to massiveness every day and night.

She'll get used to it. She'll have to. And I'm sure she will.

After all, we're very much in love my wife and I.

We're the loving couple.