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Later Discovery

By: Learningfast



It is a warm morning in July and Phyllis is lying on her bed, propped up with three pillows behind her shoulders. She is beginning to please herself. Her right hand is between her labia and moving rhythmically to create the sensations she desired so very much. The pressure and the rhythm I perfect because she's perfected it: over many years, and now she knows exactly what she likes. In this sense, she is like millions of women all over the world.

And yet Phyllis is unusual and has a special desire, which she is satisfying this morning. Her left hand is moving over her body, from her neck to her thighs, as far as she could reach. Not exactly over her body but over her underwear. Her fingers are tracing out the top edge of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings, which she knows are taut on her legs and held up tightly by the six suspenders of her corset. She can sense the hard bottom edge of a tight, hard laced corset as it tugs across her groin and the top of her thighs with each slight movement of her hands and torso. She's been wearing it all day and now she can enjoy the feel of the fabric, the bones, the rigid front busk, the suspenders and the taut stocking-tops over her thighs.

This is Phyllis' special pleasure. Her palms move carefully over her flat stomach and the smooth shapeliness of her hips. She delights in the sensation of the tight satin fabric under her fingers. She also feels the slighter sense she has on her skin, inside the corset, where the stronger and coarser cotton lining fabric is holding her figure. She is tracing out the positions and the lengths of the bones over her abdomen and round her constrained waist. Pushing her left hand as far as she can under her left hip, she can feel a bone on that side controlling the back of her figure and smoothing out her contours towards her bottom. She traces the length of the bone from its top edge where the corset lies high under her long bra, five inches above her waist; and then moving her fingers down the panel to feel the end of the bone at one of the rear suspenders.

Moving her hand to the middle of her torso, she feels down the row of six clips and pins of the busk; the rigid steel closure that defines and forces her body into a straight-line from between her breasts to the mound below her groin. The same mound and lips where her right hand is bringing her such pleasure. She revels in the rigidity and the strength of the busk. It seems to express for her the control she enjoys over her figure and the new training she has undertaken to be able to wear such a corset. 

Phyllis is now moving the fingers of her right hand to a faster rhythm as her excitement builds and she knows that her orgasm is approaching. As it does, her left hand moves quickly up to the firm cups of her bra, squeezing her own breasts briefly before descending the full extent of the long-line bra and corset until her two hands are together. One hand is now shivering on her clitoris as the final moments pass towards a massive climax. The other is gripping the top edge of her left stocking, holding the nylon and also the suspender that is keeping it taut and shiny.

There is a second source of pleasure for Phyllis; something that is very new to her and has satisfied many of her youthful fantasies. In her rectum, she has installed a big plug. Over the weeks and months since she has been introduced to anal play, she has allowed wider and longer plugs to be inserted in her bottom. This evening, her insertion is a simple sphere of hard rubber, 3-inches in diameter, on the end of a half-inch-wide stalk and a wide flat base to prevent it from disappearing up into her bowels. The pressure she feels has doubled the sensations from the compression of her corset over her abdomen and groin. The plug is pressing forward onto her cervix, through the thin membrane that separates them. And the internal pressure in her rectum is trying to force the plug out, but cannot, and she is aware of stretching in the sphincter muscles. Her entire lower body is contained, confined and shaped but also full, stretched and pressing on all her internal organs.

To Phyllis, at this moment, nothing else matters but her physical senses and the pleasure she is getting. She has all the sensations she wants and needs for her final orgasm and it crashes over her like an ocean wave. Her lips part, her eyes roll back and she is looking at the ceiling, her legs are trembling and moving involuntarily, a little cry forms in her throat as the peak of excitement strikes her, her breathing is ragged partly due to her immediate orgasm but also to the tight restriction of the corset across her chest. She is not in this world. She is in her own universe which is enclosed and contained in smooth and rigid underwear, nylon stockings and pulsating labia. Her vagina opens and closes under her right hand and she pushes her middle finger through the tunnel of her labia and just inside herself. 

Her pleasure is complete and she subsides slowly, still moving her hands, both of them now, over her corseted figure, trying to encircle her small waist, and across her breasts well-held in the long bra. Her nipples are now sensitive and ticklish, and she dare not touch her clitoris. She knows from experience that it also would far too sensitive to give any more pleasure at this time. Instead she contemplates her new sexual life; her new erotic partner and how he has taught her to be free and excited in a new way.

Although Phyllis has been pleasing herself for many years, and enjoying her erotic underwear, this late discovery of hard-laced boned and rigid corsets, coupled to rectal expansion, is new. She has been enjoying her body while dressed in girdles and stockings all her adult life but her recent graduation to corsets and plugs has shown her new heights of erotic pleasure and body control. Her figure is more shapely and extreme than she could ever have imagined. Her waist is tiny, her thighs and hips are the curved quintessence of femininity, her belly is flat, and her breasts are lifted and rejuvenated.

And so we can see that orgasm is not the only pleasure that Phyllis is enjoying. Every millimetre of her body inside the corsetry and stockings, and plugged in her rectum, is tingling with a different but equally powerful pleasure. 

+ + + + +

Since she was a girl in the 1960s, and for many years afterwards, Phyllis had been under her mother's influence in most aspects of life. Her name, of course, being old-fashioned, was chosen by her mother when all her friends were named after the latest pop-stars or movie actresses.

Add to this her mother's views on diet, public appearances and behaviour with her friends; especially any boys.

In her clothing and dressing, mother knew best, of course. As a result, she was dressed in the styles of the 1950s; complete with nylon stockings and suspenders. At a certain age, it was judged that she should wear a girdle to hold up the stockings and also "...to maintain your figure as long as possible." It became a rite of passage to dress in girdle and stockings and Phyllis became expert at choosing her own controlling underwear and her nylons. 

Fortunately, her school uniform made underwear easy to hide when necessary and she was surprised to see how many other girls wore pantie-girdles, when they were changing for games and gym-times. Still, she preferred her open-bottom girdles because they were more convenient in the wash-room and she liked openness to the air between her legs. It felt healthier, somehow, and she liked the extra support and firmness they offered: more than that of typical pantie-girdles of the time.

In fact, Phyllis liked her girdles and stockings very much indeed. They made her feel grown-up. She liked the constant pressure over her tummy, hips, her thighs and under her bottom. 

She liked to run her hands over the taut fabric, the bones and the zip-fastener. The smooth tightness of the stockings also pleased her and she spent many minutes [or was it hours?] rubbing her hands over her legs and thighs.

By the time she discovered her own clitoris and something approaching orgasm, the feeling and pressure of her underwear had become central to her sense of the erotic.

To the rest of the world, Phyllis appeared a mirror image of her mother and even married the man that mother chose for her. She became Mrs Phyllis Montford on Saturday, 15 April 1978 at the age of 21. Her chosen husband was Richard and was a disappointment in all aspects of marriage, so far as Phyllis was concerned. He did nothing about the house, nothing to help her in the domestic needs of their home. She complained but he just accused her of nagging; "Like your mother would."

His so-called lovemaking was tedious from the first time he entered her; just bang-bang and then his sleep. No attempt to give her pleasure; not even a kiss or a cuddle, and certainly no hands or tongue on her clitoris or labia. She wanted him to make love to her fully dressed in her underwear, so that she could feel the firmness of the clothes and the vigour of his body. She wished him to handle her, put his fingers into her, kiss her labia, and maybe push his tongue into her. She had a fantasy of him playing with her body inside her girdle. She wanted him to be positive and assertive and even a little rough with her; forcing his erection into every opening on her body; tying her into postures to please him; crushing her waist with a tight belt until she felt he was cutting her in half. She had heard about anal sex-play and wanted to experience it but no; Richard was either ignorant or unconcerned over any form of discovery or experimentation.

Nothing like these experiences ever came to his mind and she felt unable to ask.

She was left to touch and massage her own body in private, to achieve any pleasure she could manage.

But worse than all that was Richard's dislike for her underwear; "Get that off! You look like an old woman. I want you like a girl."

Phyllis was forced to remove her favourite underwear every night and to dress again in secret next day, before touching herself and coming to an orgasm in the privacy of the bathroom or after Richard had gone out somewhere.

It was this aspect of their marriage that brought it to an end. One day, Richard announced simply that he had found a young woman who would dress and behave as he wished. Within a week, Phyllis was single again and, to be honest, she was relieved. Of course, her mother blamed her for the failure of the marriage and Phyllis didn't feel able to explain any of the circumstances.

That was 30 years ago and now Phyllis, at the age of 58, has grown accustomed to being alone in her nylon stockings and firm control underwear; pleasing herself with her hands and with her "little toys" in recent years. These included small vibrators and a variety of dildoes. She has found ways to hold a "little toy" inside herself using her girdles and suspenders and thongs. Sometimes, she has even spent a whole day stimulated in this way, and finished the day with a "serious pleasure event" as she calls it to herself.

All these features of her life have been kept strictly secret, of course, and she is content to see herself as strange, even weird, and maybe perverted. Her mother died many years ago and now she is her own woman, with no need to justify herself to anyone. She has become a senior administrator in the publishing company where she has worked all her adult life.

She has dated a few men over the years but found them all unsatisfactory and boring; especially when it came to her needs for sexual excitement and fulfilment. Her underwear and stockings seemed to be a problem for all the men she met, despite the fact that her figure was good. Her waist was still only 28-inches and her hips a little under 36-inches but, even so, all the men had expected her to undress completely before they could engage in any sexual activity.

She could dismiss these men from her mind and from her emotions. And so she had done.

+ + + + +

Last year, Phyllis was invited by the Chief Exec to sit in on an interview to recruit his Deputy. It had been decided by the Board that the company should engage on a series of mergers and acquisitions; and a Deputy CEO should manage the current business.

Accordingly, Phyllis got together all the papers she needed for the interview and dressed herself in the manner she had developed for herself over many years.

Her girdle was a vintage but new white Crown 16 zippered open girdle; 16-inches in length and so fitting high over her waist. She has struggled into it that morning, feeling the firm and gripping fabric, with the bones over her tummy and down the back. As she finally fastened the last hook-and-eye, she revelled in the movement of the zipper to close herself into the garment.

Then came her fitting of the stockings. Sitting on her bed, each was slowly positioned and eased into place, to be clipped with difficulty to the six suspenders as she bent and writhed to reach each of them. In her long mirror, she checked the straightness of the dark seam up the back of her calves and thighs, and she was happy.

She picked up the long white Triumph bra, with its row of eight hooks up the back. As usual, she fitted it onto herself at the front, and then rotated it so that her breasts filled the cups and she could put her arms through the shoulder straps. It overlapped the top of the girdle by four inches and she felt at the extra control and firmness around her waist; and she was pleased with the sensation in her hands and fingers. Momentarily, she felt down between her legs and noted with pleasure that she was moist. As usual.

The interviews went along as planned and she found her natural role after all these years. The senior administrator who knows more about the business than even the CEO but who plays her part in judging candidates in the knowledge of what the CEO wants.

At one stage in the interview-day, Phyllis was expected to mingle with the candidate group and then comment to the CEO on their social abilities. It was during this session that one of the candidates, aged 32 she knew from the papers, sat next to her and moved his head a little closer to hers, when everyone else was queuing for coffee, and spoke softly.

"Forgive me if it's too personal, but I like your dress sense very much. My compliments on your outfit and the way you look. Is that alright?"

She replied, "Thank you. I'm rather old-fashioned so you surprise me."

His response gave away his secret knowledge, "Rather I would say fully-fashioned. Am I right?"

She tittered quietly and looked into his face, "Yes, you're right. Thank you again. How do you know?"

"I've been watching you and I can tell," he admitted as if it were an insult, "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. That's interesting in a young man like yourself," she responded and then they needed to go back to the business of the day.

Even so, in her mind, his words continued to ring and she took special interest in his details.

He was Mark Keighley, pronounced Keithley for some reason. He was unmarried and listed his interests as amateur dramatics and photography. She watched him more carefully than the other candidates and wondered what he was like in his private life. 

That evening, Phyllis spent some more special time at her house; slowly undressing, checking her stockings and her figure; before taking off the very firm girdle and bra. She was pleased with her appearance, and lay down to play on her body for some time with one of her larger dildoes. Although she could not admit it to herself, she wondered if Mr Keighley would understand her any better than all the other men she'd know. Today's brief comment seemed to be a good sign.

And then she made a decision: she would wear a girdle through the night, and stockings. After all, it was her pleasure and her life, and she had been noticed for the first time by a man who was not repelled by her underwear. 

"I'm allowed to be excited and pleased with myself after all these years," she said out loud to herself.

And so, quite late in the evening, she went to her underwear drawer and selected a gentle girdle for this first time: and some older stockings, just in case she caused damage on this occasion. From that evening, she dressed in a fresh girdle as soon as she returned from work, and graduated to more and more firm models as the weeks went by. Eventually, she was wearing as firm and controlling a girdle during the night as she did in the day.

In the event, Mark Keighley was appointed and joined the business 6 weeks later as the most senior executive in the head office. And he was to be Phyllis's immediate boss.

Later Discovery Ch. 02



Since Mark joined the firm, he and Phyllis have had regular business meetings; every few days; just the two of them. Company things moved quickly between them and so did their friendship.

In only the second meeting, on a Wednesday, Mark said, "I hope you're not offended by my comment on your stockings, at the selection sessions."

"No. Not at all. It's nice to have someone notice," she replied.

"May I ask something on the same subject?" he ventured with a little break in his speech, as if expecting a rebuff.

"Ask me and I'll let you know," she smiled and chuckled. 

"Well; how do you keep your stocking in place and looking so good?" was his query.

"I wear a girdle, of course," she felt able to say, and quite relaxed about it, against her own expectation.

"Will you have dinner with me one evening, or lunch at the weekend?" he asked her, straight out with no hesitation in his voice this time.

"That would be nice," she agreed and so it was arranged for Saturday lunchtime. They would visit a local country restaurant that she knew already. He would collect her from her house, and he seemed to know her address before she told him.

"Can I call you Phil?" he asked, "or do you prefer your full name?"

"No one has ever called me Phil, but I'm happy for you to do it," she assured him.

At that moment, for the first time in many years, Phyllis felt coquettish, frisky, alluring and enticing in the presence of a man she liked. She stood up in front of Mark, looked him steadily in the face with a little smile, reached backwards to her left back-suspender and adjusted it under her skirt. First, she unhooked the stocking, moved the welt around a little, and then did up the suspender again. All the time looking straight into his eyes and smiling. Mark couldn't actually see what she was doing except that he saw her movements and seemed to understand the process. He smiled back at her, stood up as if to leave, took hold of her waist and kissed her gently on her lips. Not a mad passionate sloppy kiss; just a quick brushing of their lips and then he moved away.

"I think you're lovely and special, and I look forward to Saturday," he said softly and then left, looking back at her all the time.

On the evening after that conversation, Phyllis was in a turmoil of excitement and apprehension. After all, what did she know about him? Only his age and his liking for her nylons. And maybe her underwear. Hardly enough to risk spending time alone with him so she was relieved that they arranged a public place. After all, she was old enough to be his mother.

She began to plan her outfit for Saturday and got herself into a more relaxed frame of mind.

In bed, later, she slept through the night in her girdle and stockings, but not before she had brought herself to a long slow orgasm with one of her "toys." This time, thinking of Mark, she allowed herself to wonder what would he be like as a man-with-a-woman. The girdle and nylons were there, reminding her through the night as she awoke from time to time; and the same question came to mind.

On Saturday, Phyllis decided to make a big effort to please herself in her clothes and maybe to please Mark as well. She chose her firmest and most difficult girdle, made by Spirella in the early 1980s, when she was still a young woman. High-waist in style, rigid front panel with bones down the front, at the sides and all the way down the back from top edge to the rear suspenders.

Donning this girdle took over an hour: getting it into place correctly, connecting up the eight hooks over her left hip and ribs, finally sliding the zipper up the whole length and feeling herself totally contained. 

Bending round to fasten the tan-coloured fully-fashioned stockings was no easy task but she revelled in it, partly because the movements exaggerated the tightness on her waist but mostly because she always enjoyed the smoothness and the precision of these nylon stockings, with their dark line up her calves and thighs.

On top, she added a midi-bra that settled into her already-gripped waist and a pair of silky satin panties, which met the bottom edge of the bra on her waist. 

A long scrutiny in the long mirror convinced her that she was "properly dressed" for this man and this occasion. In fact, she was slightly breathless and she knew it was partly excitement but also a consequence of her firm girdle. And she was elated, with warmth and moisture under the panties.

Over all these delightful underpinnings, she wore a mid-calf shirtwaist dress with long sleeves, buttons all the way down the front; and a wide belt to show off her girdled waist.

At 12.15, Mark drove up in his SUV and she let him into her little house, while she put on her coat. He took it from her when she lifted it out of the closet, and held it for her as she turned her back on him. It fell into place and she was on the point of fastening a button or two, butMark placed his hands on her shoulders and she stopped, standing still, wondering what he would do next.

In her hallway there is an ornamental mirror and she glanced into it to see that he was smiling and looking into her eyes in the reflection. She smiled back, cocked her head to one side a little, and turned towards him, so that his hands left her shoulders and he let them fall to his sides.

Phyllis put her hands up to his shoulders, although not round his neck, and stood back so that there was still a space between them. Looking into each other's eyes, they both smiled and Mark held out his hands to hold her waist through the coat and all her other clothing.

"Phil, I like you very much. And you must know I'm also attracted to your dress sense and your style," and he squeezed her waist a little.

She smiled back at him and chuckled again, "You mean you like my girdles and nylons. Is that right?"

"You're a clever and fascinating woman," he replied with a big grim across his face, "and yes, you're right. But more than that." 

He pulled her gently towards him and she leaned forward so that their lips met. Just for a moment; again not a long lingering deep kiss. Just a quick recognition between them, that there was an attraction. And they left for lunch.

During the meal, Phyllis became increasingly excited by Mark's presence, even though they spoke mostly about work and life. She learned that he was single, having been stood-up during wedding plans ten years before. She heard of his education and career, and his parents, and he began to speak of his desire for happiness. But he stopped short of saying anything that might be interpreted as an invitation to her.

She told him a little about herself but didn't feel able to expose her life too much at this first meeting. She spoke mainly about her long career with the publishing company.

And yet she noticed one thing about the meal: they both chose light food from the menu. He didn't gorge himself on steak and potatoes as her previous male acquaintances would have done. And she was careful to choose light items also; salad, poached salmon, white wine, and ending with a sorbet and Earl Grey tea.

For a moment, she wondered why they were eating like this and then she realised. They were both careful not to overfill their stomachs in case there would be physical closeness later in the afternoon. This realisation made her like Mark even more. It made him seem likely to be a careful and caring lover, and that thought excited her so that she could feel again the warmth between her legs, between the suspenders and the back edge of her girdle.

"Shall I take you home now?" Mark asked and she wondered for a moment what he meant. Did he mean, "...take you home and see you at work Monday..." or "...can I come home with you?" or "... shall we go to my place instead?"

She took charge of the conversation and said, "Please come home with me."

And that's what they did.

During the short drive, Phyllis was worried that her excitement and moisture would seep through to her dress and onto the car-seat; but it didn't.

Inside, she took off her coat and hung it in the hall-closet.

As she turned, Mark took hold of her waist again and pulled her towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, this time, the kiss was real and passionate between both of them. It obviously meant something more than kind friendship. And then things developed very quickly and gave Phyllis all the clues she needed about this man.

It started when she whispered after the kiss, "I need to go to the loo - a wee."

His response was shocking and exciting, "I'll come with you" and he propelled her gently towards the bathroom door.

Inside, with the door still open and him standing there, she turned with her back to the seat, unbelted and unbuttoned her dress, and opened it to show her underwear.

She bent forward to push down the satin panties and began to sit down, knowing that he was watching. 

He didn't watch long. As she sat on the seat he moved, almost dashed, forward and knelt in front of her with his right hand stretched out between her legs. She gasped as he cupped her labia and vagina in his palm at the very moment her flow of urine started. He held her warm wet flow in his hand until it overflowed into the toilet, and then kept his hand in place as she emptied her bladder over his fingers and wrist. She noticed he was careful not to allow the urine to flow backwards onto the bottom edge of her tight girdle.

She had never experienced anything so erotic before and yet there had been no sex activity; just herself taking a pee with a man holding her between her legs.

She finished, and they looked into each other's eyes as he reached over for a hand-towel and smiled broadly with his face only a few inches from hers. As he dried his hand, he leaned forward from his kneeling position and kissed her again. She took hold of his head and kissed him with a passion she didn't recognise in herself. She knew that she was changing.

She stood, let the panties fall off her feet, and Mark wiped between her legs with the same towel, turned carefully to a dry part; gently and sensuously.

They moved back into her bedroom, with Mark holding her waist and walking backwards. There, next to the bed, he slipped the dress from her shoulders and arms, and laid it on the chair in front of her dressing table. He held her at his arm's length and looked over her corseted figure.

"You look wonderful. I've been dreaming of you all my life and now here you are," he said hoarsely, as if his excitement and anticipation was affecting his throat and his breathing.

"Mark, no one has ever said this to me before," she responded and blushed as her own excitement grew every second.

Quickly he undressed and simply threw his clothes into a pile near the mirror, until he was naked and embracing her girdled figure. His erection pressed firmly into her underwear as they kissed again deeply and long.

Mark leaned her towards the bed and she lay down. It was such a long time since she had been in this situation that she was uncertain how to behave. She just lay back with her head on the pillow, her hands reaching out to hold Mark's arm, and opened her legs a little. Enough for his hand to move there, if he wanted.

But he didn't do that. Instead he kissed her throat as she bent her head back. He moved his hands all over the front of her body, feeling at her breasts through the long bra, the tightness of her girdle, the firmness of the boning and the long zipper, and lingering over the suspenders. He ran his hands over the tops of her stockings and down her legs to feel the smoothness and the taut nylon as it held her thighs and calves.

He moved his lips to her upper chest and kissed over her bra cups, then down to her waist and over her stomach, and all the way down to the suspenders and the bottom edge of the girdle. Kissing all the time and breathing onto her figure. Phyllis held his head gently as he moved his lips over her girdled figure and revelled in the sensation of a man treating her as she's always wanted; in her underwear and enjoying it as much she did.

As he was kissing her front left suspender and the top of her stocking, he moved his hand between her legs and probed towards her labia. He probed towards her labia and Phyllis opened her legs a little more. By now she was dripping wet and Mark slipped his middle finger inside her with ease and pleasure for them both. She squirmed and mewed like a kitten although she wasn't aware of the sound herself; she was now miles away in a world of desire and surrender.

Mark moved his lips down to her mound and then to her clitoris as he pulsed his finger slowly in and out of her. He licked and swirled his tongue around and could tell from her movements and sounds that he was achieving her pleasure. She placed her hands on top of his head as he worked on her and pressed him closer: down into the fold of her thighs and into the tautness of her girdle edge. And then her climax took over and she writhed in pleasure with her eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, and cry clutching in her throat. The best-ever pleasure swept over her and through her, from her lips to her breasts, to her belly and her bladder, to her clitoris and down into her thighs where Mark was still imprisoned under her hands; next to her tight girdle edge.

She relaxed and took her hands from his head, leaning back with her head turned slightly to one side. Mark raised himself with his face wet and flushed from its closeness to her now-tranquil sex. With a smooth movement, he raised himself over her and leaned his legs between hers, forcing them further apart. She raised her knees to make way for him and he entered her with the fullness of his erection. She became aware of the swelling inside her and the movement back and forth; much better than any dildo or vibrator she had. She put her hands on his head again only to find that he was nestling his face onto her bra cups, and holding onto her girdled waist. His hands moved to massage and caress her clothing as he took pleasure from the extra sensation in his fingers and palms. Phyllis was pleased beyond her expectation at his desire and that he took such pleasure from her underwear. Here was the man she'd been waiting for, for all her adult life.

She could feel the pressure of her girdle edge on his erection as he moved, and he needed to move the girdle slightly out of his way at each thrust. Phyllis was delighted and pleased again to feel the effect of her underwear on this man; and she could tell that he was pleased also with the constant tension of the girdle against him.

She expected him to come to climax and to pump his sperms into her. That's what all men had done before. But he didn't. Instead, he controlled his movements and slowly lifted himself off her. He motioned her to kneel up in the bed and soon she realised that she was positioned doggy-style. She'd heard of this but never experienced it and wondered how it would feel. Within a few seconds she knew.

Mark took hold of her contained waist and guided his erection up the tunnel of her girdle, between her thighs, and back inside her hot wet vagina. He continued his moving in and out with more vigour and she could tell that his climax was coming. His breathing became ragged. His hands roamed over her waist and her thighs and her bottom and underneath her to feel her taut flat stomach. He was taking pleasure through his hands as much as from his erection inside her.

Phyllis put her forehead on the pillow and reached one hand down to her clitoris, rubbing it furiously in the hope of reaching her orgasm at the same time as Mark. The stimulation of his erection inside her, and with his hands squeezing and moving over her firm underwear, coupled with her own rubbing was sufficient to bring her to orgasm in a few seconds. For a second time that evening, her mind was overwhelmed and her body shuddered with the tension and release that came with her orgasm. Mark's followed in a few seconds, even as she was enjoying her own shaking and the tingling in her skin. To add to those sensations, she could feel his flood pouring into her and, in her imagination, he was pumping her up with his sex juices. It seemed to her in her semi-conscious state that he was inflating her and making her girdle even tighter.

They collapsed together on the bed and Mark rolled to one side as Phyllis spread out her limbs to relieve the tension and to sense the feel of her firm girdle against the cool sheets. Lying on her tummy, she was aware of Mark's hands wandering over her body again, feeling at the features of her girdle and bra, and the tightness of her figure. He ran his hands over her thighs and down her stockings to her knees, pressing on the taut nylon and following the distinctive back seam. She slept and he covered her with the thin duvet she used in the summertime.

When Phyllis awoke, half-an-hour later, she glanced to one side and saw Mark propped up on one elbow, watching her and with one hand on her waist. He leaned towards her and breathed into her ear, "You are wonderful. I want to be with you all the time. Please."

For a moment, she wondered if that was a proposal or a proposition. She didn't care: this man was treating her as she'd always wanted.

She just murmured, "Mmm. You're wonderful too," and then she giggled, "You do realise I'm old enough to be your mother?"

For Phyllis, his reply was perfect again and she liked him even more, "You're age is only a number. You're the woman I've been looking and waiting for. Now I don't want to lose you."

The rest of the evening and night confirmed to both of them the value of their discoveries. And Phyllis knew then that she was on a discovery trip; she would do anything that this nice man wanted of her.



Later Discovery Ch. 03



After that first day and night, Phyllis and Mark have spent all their free time together. His home has been over 20 miles from hers; say 40 minutes driving. She has visited his place and they've stayed in nice hotels some weekends. 

The theme of their friendship, and the centre of their excitement has been her firm and controlling underwear; and her tan nylon stockings. Girdles, the firmer the better. Black or white; no other colours seem to please them. Mark has dressed her for their times together, often taking girdles, stockings and bras from her cupboard and drawers; but also he has bought her new ones that she has enjoyed. 

Phyllis has been happy with his ability to please her and his apparent happiness to be with her.

They have become a truly sexual couple and their age-difference has not once presented any difficulty.

After a few weeks together came their second progress-point. In fact, it marked another fantasy for Phyllis, dating from her earliest times when she desired to try every sensation for pleasure.

One evening, Mark was playing on her girdled body. He ran his hands over her figure and especially down her legs, contained in their fully-fashioned nylons; and attached firmly to the six suspenders.

He kissed her throat, her breasts through the long bra; he moved down to her waist and kissed her girdle, all along the bones over her tummy and so down to the bottom edge. Holding onto her figure, he moved his mouth to her clitoris and started the rhythm she always enjoyed so much. Her orgasm began in the distance, slowly creeping through her body from her breasts towards her groin.

But then Mark did something new. He was lying on her left side, and slowly he pressed the middle finger of his left hand into her wet vagina and moved it around before shifting it to her anus. Just as slowly he pressed his now-slippery finger into her bottom. Phyllis was partly startled by this development but also intrigued and pleased. It was something she'd always wanted her useless husband to do; just to feel the sensation and see what it was like. Now she knew and she liked it.

Mark liked it as well, and was pleased to feel the contents of her bowels. Hard, warm poop pressing on his finger-end. All his life he'd wanted a women who would take this pleasure while he felt at her excrement.

Then he opened out his hand and cupped her buttocks in his palm and fingers, while keeping his middle finger deep inside her rectum. He pressed his thumb into her vagina and she was completely held in his hand. He continued his licking rhythm on her clitoris. The sensations were overwhelming.

Phyllis had a flashing thought in the midst of her rising pleasure, "This is it. This is what it feels like to be filled back and front. I always wondered."

And then her orgasm burst over her like a wave crashing on the seashore, with a new force and duration. It seemed to go on for ever and she just wanted him to stay resting his head on the bottom edge of the girdle, his mouth now nibbling her stocking-top and with his fingers still deep inside her bowels and vagina.

Mark, the clever lover that he was, sensed all this and stayed still with his hand under and inside her; until her spasm passed. As she subsided and relaxed, he withdrew his fingers, wrapping them in his own fist to hide any waste that had attached to it. Phyllis moaned contentedly and turned her head to one side, to rest on the pillow. Mark got off the bed, went to the wash basin and cleaned his hands carefully. He picked up the little hand towel from the rail on the wall.

Returning to the bed and lying next to Phyllis, he pressed the towel under her bottom and quickly wiped her, in case there was anything left of his ministrations.

When she seemed clean, he took hold again of her girdled figure and moved his hands down to her thighs. She opened her legs further and he gently lifted himself onto her, and entered her for his own pleasure. As he moved in and out of her, she looked up into his face, smiled and whispered,

"Do anything you want with me. You make me so happy."

He came explosively in her and they collapsed together, for a short time, that is; before continuing their pleasures.

+ + + + + 

The anal features of Phyllis' discoveries evolved well. After only a few days, Mark produced a set of graded butt plugs and introduced her to the first size. During their lovemaking one evening, he lifted it secretly from under the pillow, moistened it in his mouth and then slipped it into her.

In the middle of her other sensations, Phyllis became aware of the new intrusion. Not the feel of the usual finger. This was cool and more rigid. She opened her eyes and made a little sound of query, "Mmm?"

"Relax Phil and see if it gives you nice feelings," he urged her; and so she did.

In fact, it was less than satisfying. Phyllis couldn't work out why at first, but then realized the object was too small, too narrow.

Afterwards, she asked him, "Show me what it is."

It was about 5-inches long and ¾-inch across, with narrower neck and a flat base about 2-inches across.

"Are there bigger ones?" she asked him and he showed her the entire set of five plugs.

"Hmm," she pondered as she fingered them and weighed them in her hand, "I'd like to try that one some time."

She gave him the third plug in the set; it was about 1½-inches across and 6-inches long.

"Are you sure? It's much wider," he cautioned her.

"I'd like to feel it definitely, pushing me a little and stretching me. Yes?" she asked of him.

And that is how it started. 

Their later conversations led them to use bigger plugs in the set. Within a month, Phyllis was accepting in her anus a love-plug that was 2½-inches diameter and 7-inches in length; every time they made love.

For both of them, this development gave additional sensations and new pleasures.

For Phyllis, the slow insertion of the plug became part of her preparation for orgasm. Always she insisted that Mark should do it for her before dressing in her firmest girdle, her nylons and the long bra.

She then walked slowly to the bed, feeling the pressure inside her and the flat base pressing against her labia as she moved.

In bed, with Mark performing his "pleasure miracles" on her, she could feel the swelling inside her body. And then the overwhelming pleasure of his erection pressing against the plug through the thin membrane separating her two openings.

For Mark, the extra sensation was the hard plug pressing against him in his movements. The more vigorous his plunging, the harder it seemed to be and the greater pleasure he got from knowing as well as feeling it inside her; almost alongside his penis. 

+ + + + + 

After they had been together and taking pleasure for another month, Mark made a suggestion to Phyllis and backed it up with a purchase.

"I got something for you to wear. Would you wear this for me?" he asked quietly one day when they were looking through her collection of underwear.

"What is it?" she asked, and he presented her with a wrapped parcel.

Phyllis felt at it and noticed its weight. It clearly was not a woollen cardigan or a pair of jeans.

"Anyway," she thought to herself, "he wouldn't want me in jeans, surely."

She unwrapped the parcel and found it contained a white satin corset. Not like her usual girdles, but a rigid boned and laced corset; like those she'd seen advertised in women's magazines as a girl. And sometimes on period films, when saloon-girls or burlesque dancers had tried to look the part of an old-time mistress.

She spread it out on her lap and Mark reached over to touch it with her. It looked so smooth and innocent with its white satin cover-fabric. Then they ran their fingers over the bones and over the stiff busk fastening, with its row of pins and clips.

Phyllis turned it over and they saw the laces, like flat shoe laces, running through twenty-six pairs of eyelets down the back. At the bottom edge were six adjustable suspenders, broader than any on her girdles. Maybe they were 1¼ inch wide.

And they noticed that it was made with multiple layers of fabric. The inner layer, next to her skin, would be a strong cotton fabric. Later, they would learn that it was called coutil.

She looked into his eyes and asked, "I've never had anything like this. Will it fit me? How do we know?"

"I checked in the shop with your measurements and it should reduce your waist a little," he explained, "When shall we try it?"

"Now. Let's put it on me now," she was intrigued and her eyes sparkled over an anticipated new experience with this man she had learned to trust and enjoy.

She undid the stockings from her girdle and unzipped it. After peeling it down and removing it, she stood before him in her stockings, panties and bra. Mark wrapped the corset round her but they found that they back lacing needed to be let out. It was her first lesson in corseting but she could tell it was not his first time.

When the lace was open sufficiently, he wrapped it around her again and clipped the front busk, and its six pins and clips. At that stage, the back lacing was very loose and the suspenders stuck out loosely. It was not elegant at this point and they smiled at each other.

Going round her back, Mark began to pull the laces through the eyelets. From the bottom to her waist; then from the top down to her waist, which created two loops of lace at that point.

"Is that feeling OK?" he asked.

"I can't feel it. It seems loose. Does it go tighter, a little?" she encouraged him.

Mark recommenced the lacing from bottom and top edges, and soon the corset was clearly pressing on her figure. The gap at the back was about two-inches at top and bottom edges but at least five-inches at her waist. Mark knew what he would have to do, and decided to get her involved in the process. 

"How does that feel? It's open quite a lot at your waist," he told her.

"Well, make it closer then, until I tell you," she replied, still intrigued at the feeling and the new sensations on her skin.

Mark crossed over the two loops and exerted a leverage on the gap at her waist, so that it slowly reduced by a fraction at each pull.

"Stop now," she said, and he did so. The gap was the same at top and bottom edges; about 2 inches. But the waist gap was now reduced to about three-inches.

"There's a little further to go but let's see how that feels for now," he suggested, and drew the laces into a bow at the back.

He kneeled in front of her and connected her stockings, adjusting the broad suspenders until her nylons were taut and elegant again. 

The corset didn't reach as far down her body as her girdles. The bottom edge was just below the widest part of her hips; across her groin; just above the mound with its slight covering of curly hair; not holding her bottom at all which girdles always had done.

He pulled up her panties as high as they could fit, over the bottom edge of the corset and into her now-reduced waist. He walked around her, and she twirled for him to see her from all angles.

"It looks wonderful," he said, "you look amazing."

Phyllis felt at herself and was surprised to feel new shaping to her hips and waist. The corset was not overly tight, although she could feel it pressing on her more than any girdle. Most surprising was the shelf formed by her hips below her reduced waist. She pressed her fingers and thumbs into her waist and then smoothed down over the hips to feel the difference.

Then she pressed on her stomach and down to her groin; she was perfectly straight and rigid because of the steel busk fastener and the bones either side of it.

Then she made the obvious move and reached round to feel the opening at the laces. Immediately, she realised that the gap at her waist was bulging.

"Why is it open," she asked him, "what size is it?"

"What is your waist measurement in your girdle?" he responded.

"I get them at 28-inches and I suppose they fit me like that," she said.

"Well, this corset is made to 24-inches and it is open about 3-inches right now," he told her, "so you are about 27-inches now. Not much pressure, is it?" he asked hoping for her to suggest a reduction. She obliged without knowing his hope.

"Take it in a little more," she suggested and he did so, by one more inch or so.

"There. Your waist is reduced by about 2-inches. How does it feel?" he enquired.

"Feels nice. How does it look?" she faced him with bright eyes.

"Very VERY beautiful. You are beautiful. It makes you such a lovely figure. You are special," he took hold of her waist and kissed her gently, "Will you be all right to lie down, do you think?"

"Hmm. I think so. Come on," and she led him towards the bed.

In her head, she knew already that he wanted to hold and handle her.

And she wanted it also, to see what it would be like.

For both of them, their sex and their talk that night was different and more confident. 

For Phyllis, the new sensations of rigidity, smoothness and immobility enhanced the feeling she got from her hand on her clitoris and labia. She ran her hands over the hard corset bones and the smooth fabric; even harder ad smoother than her usual girdles. She felt again at her hard reduced waist and the shelf of her hips. It was exciting and hypnotic.

Her orgasm came quickly and with greater impact than for some days and weeks.

For Mark, the sensations were a new and enhanced mixture through his hands and his skin. He handled her waist and her ribs, held as they were rigidly and shaped. 

He kissed her from her forehead to her knees including over her breasts, corseted figure and her stocking-tops.

As he entered her a short time later he was conscious of two new feelings. First, a slight extra tightness inside her vagina which he supposed was a little pressure from the corset on her belly. Second, a new immobility in her body; she didn't move around so much as usual. She couldn't; the corset was holding her straight on the bed with a different response as he pushed in and pulled out of her wet vagina. 

He always came easily when making love to Phyllis but this time his climax and ejaculation was also more definite; like her pleasure had been.

They smiled at each other and both of them knew that a fresh chapter had opened in their loving relationship. From now, corsetry was to be central to their times together.

In fact, for Phyllis, it signalled a need for a new underwear collection.

"I like this corset very much," she told Mark, "I think I'll wear it to work sometime."

"And I'll get some more for you when this one is comfy and fitted nicely on you," he replied.

"Yes please," she held him and kissed him passionately.

Of course, it was only a matter of a short time until they combined all the discoveries they had made together. A typical evening or weekend together would start with undressing Phyllis from her girdle or corset of the day. She would shower or bathe quickly, and lie on the bed for Mark to insert the biggest plug she could take in her bottom. Strangely, sometimes she could accept a bigger plug than at other times. But they accepted that variability and she always encouraged him to insert the biggest possible on that occasion.

All the time that Mark was slowly pressing the plug into her, he would play on her labia and between her legs with his tongue. She would hold his head and press him into the location she wanted him to stimulate. They were careful not to bring her to orgasm too soon and she would pull his head back a little if she felt it approaching. And so the plug would slowly but inexorably press her sphincter outwards, and then move into the tissues of her rectum; until it suddenly would pop through into place. Phyllis always found this exhilarating and would utter the same little cry, "Aaahh" as it slid fully into place.

Then came the fitting of the corset. Phyllis was helped to stand, feeling all the time the stiffness and swelling of the plug backwards against her bowels and forwards against her cervix. As she walked, the familiar sensation returned and she needed to prevent the orgasm from returning.

Mark would fit the corset round her and lace it until it was tight on her but not closed. The stockings were attached and the lacing tightened a little more. Then the long bra that they always liked for their loving-times together. As soon as the bra was in place, the laces were tightened some more. As soon as she walked to the bed, only a few yards, came another tightening. And so it went on, every few minutes, until she was totally laced down to the waist measurement of the corset.

Phyllis could feel every sensation she had used in fantasy throughout most of her adult life. She felt full in her rectum, tight in her waist, smooth and shiny along her legs inside the stockings, the pull of the suspenders; and now she was ready to accept this man and his tongue and his lips and his penis. Whenever and whatever he wanted.

"I wonder where we'll go next?" she asked herself as she slipped into her excitement and the oblivion from Mark's activity on her body and the thunderous orgasm that came soon.



Later Discovery Ch. 04



Phyllis' erotic training is progressing every day and every week. It has become big fun and the joke between her and Mark,

"All this has been amazing for me; and exciting. I can't wait to see where we will go next, Dear Mark."

"No," he replies, "it's YOU that's amazing. You're the woman of my dreams and I'm in love with you. We'll take so much pleasure with each other; you'll see."

Before dressing in the evening and the morning, Phyllis is now accustomed to being plugged in her rectum. It had become a routine with much affectionate holding, kissing and pleasure on her clitoris and labia. Every day and night, she felt the pressure and the weight of a large plug slowly installed into her. Of course, she needed to evacuate each day and that was also part of their lover-method. Mark had first held her pee in his hands many months ago, as she sat on the toilet. Now he dosed her with suppositories and ensures that she is empty. Then he uses their douche nozzle to make her smooth and clean before the plug goes into her. Only then is she ready for corseting. But Phyllis likes the corset so much that always she wishes these preparations to be completed quickly. But she would not miss them because they add to the pleasure she gets from the sensations of corseting. 

After being cleaned, Phyllis kneels while Mark spreads Lubrigel around her bottom. He gently pushes a finger into her and then two and then three. As a final part of the preparation, he kneels behind her and slowly presses his erection into her, so that he can feel the sphincters and the clever ridges inside her rectum. Phyllis mews like a kitten, "Hmmm, that is so nice to feel." And she pushes herself backwards to gain more of his erection into her.

Mark is careful not to ejaculate into her; that will come later when she's had her pleasures. This is just preparation for her plug.

He withdraws and lubricates the chosen plug for that day. His choice: increasingly it is a simple sphere about 2½-inches across, with a long stalk of about ¾-inchand a flat circular base also 2½-inches across. He presses it into the opening he has made in her anus with his erection. She is still a little open and he urges the plug into her. Slowly at first and then with greater pressure. Phyllis feels the force against her muscles and knows that it must go through. She cannot stop her throat from showing her feelings, "Oh, it's tight. Will it go?"

"You push out now, as if you want to stop it," Mark urges, and she does so.

That is the secret and they both know by now. With her pushing her rectum outwards, the outer sphincter muscles relax a little and the plug makes progress.

Suddenly, almost by surprise although they know it will happen, the plug pops through into her rectum. It settled into place with the broad base tight up against her bottom. She gives an audible indication of her satisfaction, "Aaahh, very nice," she murmurs.

She can feel the hardness and the slight bulging inside her body, and the effect it has on her vagina and cervix. She is aware of the increased bulk in her body and she knows that Mark will soon join it in her front opening, adding more sensations still. 

And so she is ready for the corset and everything that comes later.

+ + + + +

On the advice of an on-line corset maker, Mark measured Phyllis carefully and sent off for two more to be made. Both new corsets would just touch on her skin at top and bottom edges but would press nicely on her waist and abdomen; to create a noticeable hourglass figure. Both reached up to her bra-line at the top edge and down to the widest part of her hips at the bottom. 

The first time Mark put Phyllis into one of the new corsets, her eyes widened with surprise and wonder. They were not so tight as to cause her discomfort but tight enough to change her shape. The first fitting was gently laced into her waist and she kept one of them on for every hour of the day; replacing it with a girdle for their night-time pleasures. She didn't realize at that time that she would soon be wearing a tight corset for the rest of her life for about 23 hours a day, and that her figure would be modified radically.

Phyllis stood in front of the long mirror and felt at her figure inside the corset, with the hard boning and the shaping over her waist and hips. She liked what she saw although she knew the corset was closed on her waist by only a couple of inches. By reaching round, she could feel the gap in the lacing and knew that more was to come. Even so, she pranced about and bent her figure as much as the corset would allow; revelling in the new shape she'd acquired. Mark laid her down on the bed and played with her body; touching and working her clitoris and kissing her labia and sucking on her vagina; until she came a lovely orgasm inside the corset. Then she knew again that corsets would be another part of their learning in special pleasure.

The white satin corset was the first to close completely on Phyllis. Mark closed it slowly one evening after she'd been wearing it daily for about a week. It made her a little breathless, but breathlessness was a common experience for Phyllis and she marvelled at her figure as her waist reduced to 22 inches. She placed both her hands on her waist and hips and pressed downwards, as if to shift her breasts and breathing upwards.

Mark simply had to get his erection inside her, inside the corset. So he took her to the bed and helped her kneel on all fours while he filled her from behind and clung onto her waist. The sensation was amazing for many reasons. First, Phyllis could not move very much. Second, the pressure of the new tighter corset seemed to transmit to her entire abdominal region, to her vagina and to the muscles of her bottom. She felt tighter than he'd ever felt her. He tugged at her waist and plunged as much of his body as he could into her waiting vagina; his erection right up to his testicles banging against her buttocks. 

And so he filled her. When he let go of her waist, she slumped forward exhausted from his treatment and the tension in her thighs. But not so exhausted that she couldn't reach down under own body and please herself for two minutes, until her own orgasm arrived that quickly.

After then, the corset-training moved on relentlessly and predictably towards their goal; or rather his goal. The next set of corsets was made with smaller waists, and the ones after that smaller still. Changing her waist measurement every three or four months. Not always comfortably, it must be said, but they took seriously her waist training and the closure of the corsets over days, weeks and months. Eventually, each corset would be closed at the end of the day, after gradual tighter lacing during the day. For a few minutes, her waist was small enough for Mark to place his hands around it and to feel his fingers and thumbs touching. 

And filling Phyllis while trussed up like that has added to his pleasure. As he enters her, he can feel the extra resistance from her internal organs. Her cervix is pressed downwards a little, so that he can feel it firm against the end of his penis. And, as he moves in and out of her, he can senses also the added tension of her lower bowel and the plug in her rectum. His hands are tingling with the pleasure of the firmness and immobility of her waist; his groin presses against the bottom edge of the corset and into her labia. His erection grows further from the summation of all the sensations; and the extra knowledge that she is his and that she is enjoying the enclosure, the containment and the shaping of the corset on her body.

Within a few months, Phyllis was laced to her minimum and the corsets all fully tightened on her. During the day, she has always been plugged up in her rectum and a nicely-fitted dildo in her vagina, held in place by lovely chocolate-coloured little tight Lycra panties. Then her corset and stockings. Sometimes over the corset is the zippered girdle and more nylon stockings. Of course, the outer girdle is loose over her waist but it holds her nicely up to her bra and down over her bottom, and onto her thighs. She looks incredible: dressed and laced up like this. Shaped; held; controlled; plugged back and front; walking like a mannequin; available to Mark whenever he want her body; marvellous to touch and hold; like a walking statue or a carved erotic figure. 

+ + + + + 

Anyone who knows about figure training, or tightlacing as it is called sometimes, will understand the progress that can be made with careful and prolonged corset-wearing. So it has been with Phyllis. Now, at the end of the year since she first met Mark, she has "worked her way" through four corsets, each progressively smaller at the waist and more controlling in its bones and design. Phyllis now wears a laced-up corset every day, under her work clothes; carefully planning her accessories and movements to prevent too obvious a display to her colleagues. Her relaxed un-corseted waist is now 24-inches but in her workday corset she is 21-inches. And every night through the night, and every weekend for the whole weekend, her waist is laced-in to 22-inches or a little less. 

Also, she has been wearing increasingly loose clothes over her tight corset and tiny waist. Mark is spellbound by Phyllis and their love-making. He wants to spend his entire life with her and it becoming clear to other people that they are a couple.

In the past few days, the latest corset has arrived and they are enjoying their time together as they prepare a time to fit it onto Phyllis. 

First, Mark helps Phyllis to undress until she is naked apart from her stockings, bra and panties. This is their usual routine for dressing her each morning and each evening. As the day corset is removed, she smooths her skin and feels the indentations from the bones and the tight fabric. To be honest, this aspect of tightlacing is the least attractive; there is simply no way to prevent the corset from leaving its impression on the wearer's skin. And yet, Phyllis is not concerned: the effects of the corset on her figure and her sex-drive are so pronounced that a small skin-effect is negligible. This evening, she is looking forward to the new corset and its "installation" on her body. They have joked frequently as to whether it is rather a matter of Phyllis being "installed" inside the corset.

Mark kneels and peels of the stockings, which have been worn all day. From the stool next to the bed, he lifts a pair of firm compression stockings. They have found it helpful for Phyllis to wear such stockings when tightlaced: they prevent fluid retention that has been said to occur. Although Phyllis has never experienced the problem, they are cautious and conscious of her comfort and her health.

Slowly, the compression stockings are eased into place on her thighs, ready to be attached to suspenders in a few moments. These are a special design, and very expensive. They are made in the fully-fashioned style with the decorative seam up the back of her legs.

Next, Mark takes the new corset from its box. It is black, covered in smooth satin, containing 20 bones and longer than any previous corset. There are 7 clips on the busk. But most obvious is the waist measurement. Mark loosens the back laces to make a gap sufficient to allow the first placing around her waist.

Phyllis is accustomed to the process of donning her corset each morning and evening, and she stands upright with her arms relaxed, slightly out form her body. But before she adopts this stance, she has a good feel over her figure and especially her new waist. She is very pleased and then stands still, ready for Mark. He wraps it around her and adjusts the flat panel under the laces. This is design feature he has introduced in recent corsets, to protect Phyllis' skin from the excessive tightness of the laces. The corset is loose at this stage, hardly noticeable to Phyllis.

Gradually Mark laces the corset as always; from bottom to waist and then from top to waist, until it fits on her skin. Only then does Phyllis ask the question that he was expecting, "What size is this waist?"

For a moment, Mark contemplates lying, so as not to alarm her. But he decides that honesty is more important.

"It's 20-inches, but we won't close it today or maybe for some time. "

"Oh, Mark, that sounds too much for me. Please don't overdo it," she pleads.

"Dear Phil, you know that you're in control of what we do with your corsets," he reassures her and wraps his arms around her, giving her a gentle kiss.

Actually, Mark knows that they both wish to close this corset as soon as possible but he will not let that become an issue between them. It will happen, and she will be happy. And he will satisfy himself with her, on her, in her.

He kneels again and attaches her stockings to the six broad suspenders, before standing behind her to complete the lacing. He continues gently until the wait-gap is about 4-inches wide. All this time Phyllis has not uttered a single sound of complaint. He assumes she is comfortable to be laced a little tighter than before; but he thinks he'd better check.

"Does that feel right for you?"

"Ye-e-es," she says a little uncertain, "It's tighter than usual, so what's the measurement now?"

"About one inch less than before and it seems to be comfy on you. Yes?" he hopes.

"Hmm. It's alright. I can tell it's smaller but I like the feeling," she admits to him and to herself.

"I'll just tie off the laces," he says, and then goes on to pull a little more at her waist so that it reduces by a further fraction of an inch.

She says nothing so he ties off the laces in a bow at the middle of her back.

"You look wonderful, amazing, very exciting," he tells her.

"Hmm, let me walk about a little," she asks and starts moving around the room.

Of course, she ends up lying down and Mark gently removes the dildo from her vagina. He spends many minutes pleasing her with his lips, tongue and his hands. He jiggles the plug in her bottom as he kisses and nibbles on her clitoris. His erection matches her excitement and he knows that he will exhaust himself on her later.

Phyllis holds her new reduced waist throughout and even squeezes it from time to time, as if to see how much slackness there may have been in the corset. No; there seems to be no looseness at all. Her waist feels as if it is made of carved wood. Solid, warm, round and small. But she knows the prospect for her future and so does Mark. Her waist will be made to fit this new corset, and then there will be others after this; smaller still. She knows and accepts it, partly to please him, but also because now it is part of her own sexuality and her excitement.

Holding her own waist, her orgasm is colossal and exhausting; almost frightening in its intensity. She relaxes as a spent woman under his control and the control of the corset.

Mark's erection is getting stronger every time her figure is changed; whenever her waist is reduced further. They both know this and her reactions intensify also.

She lets him do as he wishes on her body and he is rampant. Lying full-length on her corseted form, he holds her waist and crashes into her like a primitive animal. 

To himself, Mark thinks, "She is incredible. This is what fucking is about."

Then Phyllis is moved around on the bed as he changes her position and enters her from every angle. But always hanging onto her waist. For Mark, the feeling of his legs against hers, contained in their smooth stocking, adds to his excitement. They are shiny and slippery against the hairs and skin of his thighs and calves, and he rubs them deliberately to get even more sensations. And his hold on her hard small waist under his hands is as erotic as any sensation he feels through his groin and his penis. 

+ + + + +

They are now both corset, nylon and anal addicts, and they know it. In her underwear drawer, there is the other corset, waiting for her; it measures 18-inches and she wonders if she will ever wear it. But that is their plan.

As they snuggle together for sleep, Phyllis murmurs to Mark with a big grin, "You're turning me into a pervert. It's a bit disturbing for an old lady."

"Lady," he jokes with her, "you were three-quarters on the way before we met. And you're definitely not completely perverted yet."

"Oooh, is there more to come?" she asks pretending to be alarmed, but grinning even more broadly.

"Let's watch what happens and enjoy it whenever we can. Yes?" he replies. 

And so it is agreed. 

There is more to come.



Later Discovery Ch. 05



Phyllis and Mark have been together for a year, and they have a joke, that isn't really a joke. It is serious but also enjoyable.

Every time they attempt or experiment with new experiences, she asks him, "Is this part of my perversion?" And she smiles.

"Oh yes," he replies, also smiling into her eyes, "you are perverting wonderfully. You're my dream woman" and he kisses her, and plays with her body; and helps her to orgasm whenever there is time and opportunity.

Mark has more progressions in mind for Phyllis and he has considered it carefully. He is a considerate and careful lover.

Phyllis has been married but never pregnant; and certainly has never given birth. On a few occasions, he has explored her vagina after removing her dildo-plug.

Wrapped in each other's arms, he has pressed one finger, then two fingers into her labia; to see how much of his hand will enter her.

"Ooh, too much. I'm tight, aren't I?" she protests and asks him.

"You're beautifully tight. It's just one reason I like to make love with you, dear Phil," he reassures her.

And so Mark has decided not to pursue fisting of Phyllis' vagina.

+ + + + +

It is a Saturday morning and they have slept well after a delightful Friday evening of fun and excitement.

Phyllis is corseted and wearing her night stockings; but no panties and no dildo in her vagina. They are missing in case they wished for further easy sex in the night.

In the event, they had slept soundly. Mark woke first and rolls over onto his right side, to hold Phyllis from behind. She too is lying on her right side.

She murmurs lazily with affection as he wraps his right arm underneath her waist, in the gap made by her corseted figure. He pulls her close to him so that his chest is pressing against her back.

Mark does not know that under Phyllis' pillow is a Lube-gel pump-bottle, and also a face-towel. Her plans had started the previous evening.

She reaches her left hand round to his and leads Mark to play with the plug in her bottom. He presses on it gently and then holds the wide base and jiggles it a little.

Phyllis murmurs again with pleasure as she feel her rectum and sphincter muscles moving around with his actions. He pushes and jiggles the base even more strongly, and Phyllis feels her colon being stretched and displaced a little. And her cervix reacting up the front of her torso, inside the pressure of her corset. She imagines that her uterus is pushing up and down with his movements; and she is pleased with all the sensations he is giving her. She reaches her left hand down to press on her clitoris and to massage her labia in time with Marks movements behind her. She is close to another orgasm but waiting for Mark; to see if he will do what she wishes with the plug in her bottom.

"Can you take it out from here? Slowly?" she asks quietly.

"Mmm. I'll try," he responds.

Gently, and still holding her around her corseted waist with one arm, Mark takes a firm hold on the plug's base with his left hand. He pulls backwards on it so that Phyllis can feel it pressing from the inside against her sphincter. She knows that he is pulling it out of her and she is pleased. He hasn't done this in bed before. She moves her upper leg, her left leg, forward to make more space around her anus.

Getting the big plug out of her is always an interesting experience, usually done with her kneeling, and sometimes a little uncomfortable if she has dried out, or if Mark pulls too quickly. This morning, he is moving very slowly indeed, and whispers to her,

"You press slowly. In your time, at your own speed. Be relaxed as much as you can."

And so Phyllis pushes her rectum to expel the plug. She is worried that some contents from her bowel, some poop, will press out of her also; but Mark always seems ready for everything. 

They both know that she cannot press this big plug out of her rectum, just using her own muscles. They know that Mark must pull on the round base at the same time as she pushes. And so that is happening now.

Her anal sphincter is distending to the point where she always feel as if she is going to split open. She can't control her movements or her own sounds,

"Ooh, it's stretching me so much. Aah, slowly, slowly."

But then comes the urgency of the final fraction of an inch, only a millimetre or two, and she is fully widened open by the plug.

At this point, she always feel as if something must break; and the final outward movement is most important. Her words change,

"Now, pull now, take it now."

With one final push from herself, and an increase in the tension Mark is providing, the plug suddenly pops out of her body. Her sphincter begins to contract and she takes a deep breath, and moans while breathing out, "Oh."

Phyllis retrieves the face-towel from under her pillow and passes it to Mark quickly. He wraps the plug in the towel and drops it over the edge of the bed, onto the rug.

Quickly, Phyllis takes the Lube-gel in her left hand and moves it to touch Mark's hand, which he opens. She presses the plunger to deposit a big blob of the gel into his palm. 

"Lube my bottom, please," she requests him; or is it an instruction?

He presses his palm against Phyllis' anus and rotates his hand to lubricate both her and himself.

Mark now understands what she is expecting him to do. This will be new and he is apprehensive but also excited.

Mark presses the middle finger of his left hand into her anus and spreads the rest of his hand open around the globes of her gluteus muscles.

He moves his finger around inside her, buried to its maximum depth. He can tell that there is nothing in there with him; no poop.

Phyllis is pleased with this sensation, although a single finger is not new to her and she murmurs in comfort and encouragement. 

"Hmm, nice," she whispers.

He withdraws his finger and replaces it with two; his middle and index fingers side-by-side. This also has happened before to Phyllis, when he was exploring her body, and he knows it presents no problem for her.

Mark wriggles his two-fingers inside her, pressing against the side of her rectum; feeling as he does the smooth ridges of her internal muscles.

Phyllis is silent because she knows what is coming, if he will do as she wishes.

"Make this shape," she instructs him, holding up her left hand to show her thumb folded inside her grouped fingers. Mark makes the duck-bill shape.

"Now press into me," she says.

Slowly Mark presses the pointed end towards her opening. The first few joints of his fingers slide easily into her.

Then comes the widening bunch of fingers and he presses with more force. Phyllis can feel a new stretch in her sphincter muscles and flinches just a little, so that Mark can tell he is close to her comfortable capacity.

"Ooh, that's big," she says softly.

"Not so big as the plug that just came out, little one, You know what we do. Try to push me out."

Phyllis puts her mind into pushing her rectal muscles into compression, as if to expel the invading hand.

As they both know, this has the reverse effect of the intention: her muscles are forced into a funnel that invites further intrusion.

Mark presses more and finds that his hand is moving into her rectum with greater ease; although the pressure on his bunched fingers proves to him the pressure Phyllis must be feeling.

He gets nervous, knowing that she is close to her limit.

"Oh, oh," says Phyllis, not whispering this time, "it's too big I think. Oh, oh."

"Shall I stop now?" Mark offers.

"No. Don't stop. Make it go. Make me take it. Even if I say No, just keep going," she orders him.

Mark takes a firm hold on her body with his right hand, wrapped under her waist; until he can grip her left hip with it. He holds her firm and rigidly against him and presses his left hand further into her.

His knuckles are now in the opening and she is stretched to her maximum. Fortunately, the lubrication is effective, so there is no catching of skin or his hairs in her anal orifice. He is excited, knowing that he is very close to possessing her body through her rectum. All she knows is that she is being stretched more than ever before but determined to get this new experience and sensation.

"Oh, oh, eeh, no, no, aaargh," Phyllis arches her spine as much as she can inside the hard-laced corset, and forces her head back against his face.

"Press me out Phil, try to push me out if you can," he urges her.

She is close to panic, not necessarily with pain but with the newness of her situation and her inability to move. She is held by the strong young man arm crushing her in her corset.

With a final thrust, Mark's knuckles pass through the muscles and he is inside her completely. Her anal sphincter relaxes somewhat around his wrist and the greater pressure of the penetration is relaxed.

"Ah," Phyllis shows the relaxation, "Oh Mark, that was hard. But now it feels amazing."

He moves his fingers around inside her rectum and she can feel every sensation.

She presses her hand on her own groin, at the bottom edge of the corset, and can feel the bulge of Mark's hand inside her body.

He moves it gently and she experiences something similar to a rising orgasm; and so she presses on her clitoris to see if there is any response.

There is some reaction, but she wishes to keep this total sensation for later; when they are both in a good time and place to enjoy their orgasms.

"Am I properly perverted now?" she asks him, giggling as she does.

"Yes, my lovely woman. I think you are fully perverted now," he confirms.

Mark kisses her and relaxes his hold on her corseted body. For some minutes they stay in that position, him behind her, both lying on their right sides, and with his hand deep inside her. This will become their usual position for this form of sex-play in future.

+ + + + + 

Removing his hand was another careful experience, which they both took gently that first time. There were many "Ah and ooh" sounds from her and much gentle wooing encouragement from him.

There remained one further perverted skill that Mark wished to experience with Phyllis. For some weeks, they practiced the new sensation: remove the plug and replace it with his hand.

Then came the time that he judged would be right to show her the special trick he had planned. It would not be any more difficult or uncomfortable that the plug or the hand. But much naughtier.

On another weekend, Phyllis was relaxing with the big plug inside her, half expecting mark to come with his hand at some stage.

But he got off the bed and went into their bathroom, as if to empty his bladder. In fact, he had hidden in there a long length of broad soft string. Slowly, he started to wrap it around his male parts behind his scrotum, next to the skin between his legs. Immediately, his erection sprang into greater stiffness as the blood supply was affected.

He continued winding the string round and round the stalk of his erection, behind his testicles; until his scrotum and erection were both pushed away from his body. Five feet of broad string pushed him forward and made a tight stalk against his body. His scrotum and erection formed a single package, standing out from his groin. Stiff and hard from the combination of the winding string and also his own excitement.

He returned to her and stood in front of her as she lay on her right side.

"Now the biggest surprise for you," he smiled at her.

"What? That inside me?" she asked a little alarmed at the thought.

"Not THAT, little one. THAT is me," he grinned and joked back at her.

A few minutes later, Mark is buried in Phyllis' rectum up to the skin on his groin. His sex-package is longer than his hand had been in her rectum, and she can feel the tip of his penis pressing into her sigmoid. And he cannot move much without twisting his anatomy and maybe doing some damage. But they are both intrigued by the situation and the sensations.

Mark comes to ejaculation within a few minutes, just by sliding back and forth inside her, by only a small distance; maybe only a centimetre at a time. And so he floods her rectum with his juices as they force their way past the ligature of the wound string.

Phyllis presses and massages her labia and clitoris, while feeling his package hardly moving gently inside her body. Until she too comes to a massive and exhausting orgasm.

+ + + + + 

And so, finally, this is Phyllis' situation.

Corseted to a tiny waist inside a rigid corset, with a long bra and compression stockings.

She has a penis-shaped dildo located in her vagina most days; to be removed only at night or when they exercise their sex needs.

And with a big 3-inch plug in her rectum all day; to be replaced by Mark's hand or else his sex-package as often as they wish.

They seem to wish for that more often as the weeks go by.

Phyllis is proud and fascinated that she has become a "perverted sexual woman" instead of the silent lonely unhappy woman she was only 18 months before.

Mark knows that he has found the woman of his search, of his dream and of his fantasies. One day, if she will have him, he will marry her and they will grow together even more in their sexual discoveries.