Pinky - Bowing Out

"Well, is that enough?"

He shrugged, and pointed. "Now your laces are not even and it's loose at the top and the bottom."

Pinky looked in the mirror and saw that the over tightening at the waist had forced the busk away from her body at the top and the bottom. She sighed and, once more, backed up to the hook and repeated the tightening process. There was now no way Pinky could see if she had succeeded, and she kept looking across at her Master until he nodded. With some relief, Pinky backed up, unhooked and tied off. The stretching round to reach the higher loops had made her short of breath, and now the corset was even tighter across her ribs. She struggled for air, and stood for a minute taking short pants. She also rubbed the corset at her waist and ribs with both hands to try and ease the tightness. It did not help, and she could not even feel her hands through the tight boning and heavy fabric of the corset.

When her panting had slowed, she turned her Master and he held out the belt. Pinky slowly minced over to him and grabbed it. It was made of stiff leather, about 3″ wide, and was covered in the same blush pink patent leather as the ballet boots. There was no buckle, just a slit and a matching hasp with an unlocked padlock hanging from it. The front of the belt had the word 'Pinky' picked out in pinky-red rhinestones and, in between the 'n' and the 'k,' was a solid metal half-loop. Pinky held the belt with a look of disgust on her face, but eventually she wrapped around her waist; the hasp nearly met the slit but however hard she tried, she could not make it meet.

Her master sat through all this offering no help.

With a screech of annoyance, Pinky tottered back to the hook, loosened the knot, hooked up, and pulled forward once again. This time she did not jerk, as the tightness of the corset after the last tightening was really beginning to make itself felt. Eyeing up the one-inch gap remaining at the waist, she slowly leant forward and eased the loops through until the gap had closed to just half an inch. She eased back, gripping the laces tightly, unhooked, and knotted the laces. Still panting rapidly, Pinky tried the belt again, and the hasp slipped through the slip. Turning to the mirror, she centred the 'Pinky' to the front, and then clipped the padlock closed.

"What do I do with all this extra lace?" Pinky indicated the yards of lace trailing behind her.

Her Master held up a pair of scissors, making no move, and Pinky had to flounce over to him to get the scissors and then snip off the extra lacing.

"While you're here you might these." He held out a massive pink, frilly bow 18″ wide. "The bow attaches to the belt to hide the padlock." He also held out a neck corset.

Pinky gave back the scissors and took the two items. She reached behind and clipped the bow to the belt; it stuck out either side of her harshly constricted waist. She then examined the neck corset: this was new. She had never worn anything like this before. It was pink leather and only lightly boned, but she could not see how she would manage to lace it on her own. Then her master stood up and took her arm.

"Kneel down."

With her Master's support, she pivoted forward on the ballet boots, and then he took all her weight until she was on her knees, the tight leather of ballet boots squeaking under the strain. Pinky knelt straight upwards, the unbending corset not allowing her to slouch. Her Master fitted the neck corset, which forced her chin up—the rim of the neck corset then swooped upwards under her ears and higher up the back of her neck. He laced until it became rigid and Pinky's chin was forced upwards and she sought for air. When he was satisfied, he grabbed her arm again and hauled her up. Holding her tight, he spun her around, grasped her waist and pulled her forward, squeezing the bra against his chest, crushing it. Pinky yelped as she was powerfully reminded about the nipple clamps.

"And now the jacket."

Pinky pushed off, wincing, and staggered back to the table, gasping for air again. When she had calmed, she picked up the jacket. It had taken her weeks to make, and still she had needed help from a retired seamstress down the road. It was in pink satin, with pink trim, a short bolero reaching to just over the top of the corset, with a cut-out to allow the cone bra to thrust through. It had a loose 2″ stand-up collar, which would now be tight over the rigid neck corset. It had massive puff sleeves that were stiffly padded; these narrowed down to the elbow, where the sleeves became incredibly tight and were fastened by closely-packed loop buttons. At the end of the sleeves was a froth of pink lace, which would stand out from the wrist like the skirt flounce. The front, above and below the cut-out, was closed by the same buttons. Following the theme of the skirt, the padded sleeves, which stuck out 4″ upwards, sideways, and forward, were decorated with pink bows, starting small at the elbow and getting larger at the widest part of the padded shoulders. The hidden features of the jacket were that it had been cut short across the back so that Pinky would have to pull her shoulders way back to get it on; in addition, the puff sleeves were sewn to the bodice of the jacket, so that she would be unable to raise her elbows. As with the skirt, there was 2″ of padding from under the arms downwards, to make her waist look smaller.

Pinky could not get the jacket on without help, and, hence, her Master had moved around behind her, whereupon she handed him the jacket. Putting her arms low and behind her, he guided her arms into the sleeves and worked them up her arms. Moving round to the front, he dragged one shoulder of the jacket over her shoulder, forcing it back, and then the other. This forced her shoulders back and propelled her cone breasts out even further. Her Master carefully fastened the top buttons, while Pinky fastened the lower ones. Her Master quickly finished and stepped backed, while Pinky took an age. The buttons were small, closely packed, and 'fiddly'. Her reach was restricted by the fixed upper sleeves, and she could not look downwards due to the neck corset and the oversized false eyelashes. Getting nowhere by feel, she gave up and tottered over to the mirror, but still it took a long time to finish the front buttons. She then started on the sleeve buttons, which were nearly impossible, one-handed.

Her Master made no effort to help until she was nearly down to her wrists; he then picked up the pink leather gloves from the table and came over. Holding out her hands, he forced the tight gloves onto them. At her Master's request, Pinky had modified these as well—the fingers were sewn together to the first knuckle and the thumb was sewn to the first finger all the way down, making her hands practically useless. With some difficulty, he forced them onto her hands and then buttoned them closed at the wrist. He then finished buttoning the tight sleeves of the jacket over the gloves and arranging the wrists' flounces so that Pinky could hardly see her hands even when she held them up.

Her Master returned to table and picked up the jacket collar; this was a large ruff of the same material as the skirt flounce, with a stiff deep collar. He fitted it around her neck; the ruff nearly covered all of the neck corset. The stiffened flounce stood out 6″ all the way round. Her master first adjusted the angle of the stiffening wires so that it stood straight upwards at the front, so that it covered Pinky's eyes.

"Well what do you, think?"

Pinky replied in a muffled voice, "I don't think I will be able to walk on my own or eat, Master."

He then laughed and adjusted the angle so that at the front it was level with her chin, and it then rose until it was vertical at the back, framing her face. Next came some broad, pink ribbon: this he wrapped around and around Pinky's neck and then tied a massive frothy bow in front that was so big it was wider than the neck 'ruff'.

"OK, let's see how it looks."

Pinky started off around the room, but soon lost her balance and stumbled—the neck flounce and the lack of movement in her arms for balance, on top of the hobble skirt and the ballet boots, was too much. Master jumped to her aid and, with support, Pinky was much more stable; she flounced around the room with many tottering tiny steps. Master led her round to the mirror.

Pinky looked in the mirror and saw her reflection—she was totally appalled. She looked completely tacky. The two flounces, along with bows, made her look like a fancy-wrapped pink toffee. The whole pink outfit with the flounces and the bows made her look like Barbara Cartland on acid. What would people think when they saw her?

"By the way, get used to that corset, as the cincher is now going in the bin and that is your new daily corset."

Pinky groaned. She would not be able to do anything—bend, sit down, breathe.

"And you better keep it laced tight so that you can manage the next one, which is already on order that has got an 18″ waist."

What was he trying to do, kill her? She would never be able to manage an 18″ waist. She could not breathe at 21″!

"Let's finish off then."

He came up behind, holding the leather wristlets, anklets and chains that were kept in the bedroom.

He fastened the wristlets above the wrist flounces and attached the chain to one of them, passed it through the belt's half-loop, and across to the other wristlet. The chain was so short that her wrist was dragged toward the belt half-loop. When the other wrist was attached, Pinky found that there was only enough chain for her to hold one arm straight with other tight against the belt loop. He then bent down and fitted the anklets; the ankle chain would not affect her stride, as it was not short enough. Pinky was glad that the anklets would not be on view, as the flounce covered them. Or it did until her Master pulled out another chain, clipped it to the ankle chain and then pulled it tight to the belt's half-loop. The tight vertical chain pulled the flounce high and the ankle chain and anklets were thus displayed.

And then she looked up and saw her master holding the ball gag. She opened her mouth to say something, and he forced in the large pink ball, pulling the ball gag's strap around her cheeks and fastening it behind her neck, in front of the ruff.

Her Master then pulled up a chair beside Pinky to give her support while he went upstairs to get showered and changed. Pinky stood quite still and quiet; the now-tight ankle chain would not let her take a stride. The ball gag restricted her breathing even more, and she snatched air through her nostrils. Pinky was crestfallen. The addition of the chains and the ball gag had completely taken her aback. She did not know how she would cope with the attention of walking up the street with them attached. She could not help but draw attention in the pink outfit, and the chains would be just awful.

After fifteen minutes, he came back down, stood behind her, and viewed her reflection in the mirror over her shoulder. Pinky noticed that he could only just see over her shoulder. Master was a big man, 6′ 1″, but with the 7″ heels, the padded shoulders, big collar and the bouffant hair, he looked small. From the tips of her ballet toes to the top of bouffant hairstyle she must be about nearly 7 feet tall.

Master moved in front and unclipped the vertical chain so that Pinky could move. He pulled out the body spray and sprayed Pinky liberally all over, including her hair. He then led her over towards the door.

Pinky was thinking, "This is it, the whole street was going to see me in this pink monstrosity and, even worse, with chains and the ball gag."

Her Master stopped her and said, "I think the chains and the ball gag are a bit much for Fulham." He took them off and then handed Pinky a long-handled, frilly, pink parasol.

"Well, off you go then."

"What do you mean?"

"You will take for ever getting down to the High Street in that skirt and heels, I will follow you in half an hour."

Pinky sort of nodded and gulped. She had been expecting at least the support of her Master on her first excursion, but it was not to be. Her Master guided out of the front door and then shut it behind her.

Leaning heavily on the parasol, and holding her other arm out as far as the restrictive sleeve would allow towards the wall, Pinky started her slow progress. She could not see where her feet were landing, as her view was blocked by the frilly ruff, and the stiff neck collar held her head up high. She made slow steps, feeling every step - even a small crack in the pavement caused her problems.

An old woman came past and stopped and gazed. Pinky just hoped she would think she was an eccentric, and tried to ignore her. She kept her eyes forward and tried to speed up to walk, but the restrictive outfit kept her progress slow.

Pinky thought of the future with her Master. She knew she would have try to be at ease in the pink outfit, even though it made her cringe. If she showed any major dislike of the outfit in front of him, she just knew he would make her wear it again and again. But, in the back of her mind she already knew that he knew she really loathed this pink abomination, and thus it would see a lot of use in the future. Pinky by name and Pinky by dress.

And so Pinky made her slow mincing progress down the street, her view restricted by the massive eye lashes and the pink net ruff, her neck squeezed by the high neck corset, her shoulders and upper arms pinioned by the tight jacket, her massive breasts jutting out in front of her, her waist crushed by the heavily boned corset, emphasised by the extra padding above and below the waist, her stomach flattened by the too-small girdle. Her legs were squeezed from crotch to toe by the tightly laced ballet boots and pinioned together by the heavily-lined hobble skirt.

She tottered along on 7″ stiletto heels, her progress emphasised by the swirling flounce the bobbing movement of the padded shoulders, led by the cone bra, jutting inches in front of her, finished by her massive bottom, padded and forced backwards by the tight girdle and boned corset. She was a Fantasy in Pink, covered in bows, something out a cartoon, or a Feydeau farce.

One thing is for sure: If you ever see Pinky, you will not forget her!