Archive-name: Bondage/bottier.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Bottier 12





My husband is a bit of a brute. I'm currently laced down to 20", and

done up in latex stockings, latex corselet over my corset, and latex

gloves covered by my calf gloves, and it is quite hot in here- so I'm

really swimming in these things, especially from the effort needed to

keep myself upright! I have my chastity locked on, with my front and

rear vibrators in place, but off for the moment (the rear with

toothpaste smeared on it- argh!), and I'm bound in a kneeling position

over our footstool.  I have my toe-shoes and shoehorns on, and my

ankles are tied up tightly to my waist- so that my knees just rest on

the floor, and my feet are pulled up helplessly behind me. The

footstool is holding my legs well spread, as well as concentrating my

weight on my crotch. I have on my scold's bridle, and my wide collar,

and as a final touch, he's handcuffed me in front, and tied the cuffs

to the base of my front vibrator with a strap. In order to get up to

the keyboard to type (as the footstool is about six inches lower than

a chair woule be), I have to strain as far up as I can with my hands

against the strap, which tugs on the vibrator! He's definitely a

brute, making me type this while bound like this. 



The footstool is an antique- it is wooden, about eighteen inches long

and about 6 inches wide, and about a foot high, with two legs at each

end. The sides are tapered away from the top, and it narrows slightly

in the middle- which was what made my husband originally notice that I

could be tied straddling it with my knees on the ground, when we saw

it in the antique store. I'm convinced that that's what its original

designers had in mind- we couldn't have come up with anything more

perfect had we tried!



If he's being nice to me, or if I'm to be left here for a long time,

he'll put something soft on top of it for my weight to bear down on-

he has pairs of carved wooden wedges that nest together and adjust to

fit most perfectly, which he sometimes pads with terrycloth towels

several layers thick- and sometimes not. Otherwise, he just lets the

edges of the top press into my inner thighs, which allows him free

access to several rather sensitive bits.  When he ties my feet to my

waist, as they are now, I find it nearly impossible to keep my

balance, especially if my arms are really bound. Sometimes he then

ties ropes from my knees forward and back to the legs of the stool,

which stabilizes me somewhat, or if I'm wearing my scold's bridle, he

might tie a rope from the center top ring to something overhead, which

stabilizes me even more.  I have never successfully escaped from

the footstool, and I've been trying for some time- I'm just too afraid

of falling over to try very hard. If I'm tightlaced, the stiffness

really keeps me from being able to maneuver my hips and lower body

very well, so I'm definitely here until he sees fit to release me.



This particular position is pretty stringent- I have to strain against

the cuffs with my hands, and the stiffness of the corset and the

strain in my arms force me to arch my back and actually lean back

quite a bit to reach the keyboard, so it continually feels as if I am

about to topple over backwards. The rear vibrator makes it worse- as I

lean back, more of my weight gets concentrated on it, and even though

it is quite small, its effects are large! At the outset of this, I

could reach down occasionally and support myself with my hands, which

took some of the weight off of my crotch and knees. But he saw me

doing it, and he has now come in and pulled down the cups of the

corselet, and added my nipple clips and a short chain from them to the

handcuffs- so now my hands are held in suspension in front of me at

breast level, and every time I move my them, it tugs on both the

vibrator in my crotch and the clips biting onto my nipples. He's

chosen this time to come back and turn on the front vibrator, and now

he is once again walking away- and here I will stay, at once suffering

agonies and basking in sweet bliss until he sees fit to release me-

struggling to stay upright and swimming in the heat of my

spring-steel, satin, and latex bonds.



---------------------------



I recently finished a most worthwhile addition to our collection of

fabricated toys. I call them glove stiffeners, and they seem to be a

nearly ideal toy for discreet public bondages. Longtime readers know

that I very much enjoy my wife's collection of long gloves, and have

her in them whenever I can. I also enjoy working with metals, and one

day was seized with the inspiration for a nearly ideal way to

incorporate gloves into really inescapable but still very discreet

bondages. 



I got my wife to sit for me while I took tracings of her hands and

forearms, as she held them in a relaxed position, from each fingertip

up to just below the elbow. I then transferred these patterns to some

.064" stainless steel sheet stock that I keep lying about (the same

stuff I used for her shoehorns, in fact), and went to work forming

them to fit the curvature of her fingers, palms, and wrists.  This was

a very time-consuming process, consuming the better part of two weeks

in my spare time, and she was very patient with me as I had her test

each one for fit during the ongoing process- despite her curiosity, as

I hadn't told her wehat it was I had in mind.



Finally, I was rewarded with two perfectly-formed stainless steel

splints, curved to fit her fingers, hands and wrists when they were

relaxed in front of her, as if they were resting on a tabletop. By

this time, she was dying of curiosity- so I showed her what I had in

mind. I placed each of her hands in turn into its splint, and then

rolled a pair of her latex gloves up over them, and up beyond her

elbows- followed by one of her calf gloves.



A few years ago we bought a pair of calf gloves from a vendor who was

not very accurate in sizing things- the gloves turned out to be too

large by a few sizes, and as they didn't fit with the snugness that my

wife craves, they were relegated to the back of a box in the closet.

However, with the splints in place covered by her latex gloves, those

now fit very snugly indeed- it was a struggle for a few minutes to

stretch them into place around her now-rigid fingers, and especially

hard to get them over the heels of her hands (as there's barely enough

room even _without_ the glove stiffeners in place). Saddle soap and a

great deal of patience finally paid off, and the leather stretched

very tightly indeed!



After getting both sets of stiffeners and gloves in place, and

buttoning up the wrists on the calf gloves, I locked her leather wrist

cuffs in place over the buttons- which prevented her from even being

able to unbutton them with her teeth, assuring that they would stay in

place for the duration. To look at her hands, one would think that she

was merely wearing just very slightly bulky gloves- but in reality,

she cannot even move her fingers or bend her wrists, as the stiffness

of the thin metal bent to match the curvature of her fingers is

significantly greater than the strength of her grip. Grasping anything

is completely beyond her- the best she can do is to awkwardly attempt

to press her hands together on opposite sides of an object, and that

is useful for only the crudest of tasks. 



Even her sense of touch is completely rendered inoperative, as the

ends of the splint-fingers are formed to surround her sensitive

fingertips, preventing them from touching anything but the unyeilding

steel itself. The world is tantalizingly close, yet utterly beyond her

grasp- which she finds makes her every bit as frantic as being totally

bound helpless. A simple doorknob presents an insurmountable obstacle-

let alone the manipulation of locks, buckles, or laces, all of which I

copiously supply her with.



A few nights after her introduction to the glove stiffeners, I decided

that it would be worthwhile to try them as part of a public scene. I

asked her if she would be willing to try such a thing, and she agreed-

albeit with some noticeable trepidation! She went and had a bath, and

presented herself to me after having finished the chore of applying

her makeup. I applied the stiffeners and gloves first of all, as she

stood naked in the bedroom. I then proceeded to dress her as I saw

fit, which involved lacing her into her ever-present corset, and then

putting together a street outfit which could hide her latex stockings,

panty girdle, and corselet, her two-inch leather collar, her locking

six-inch heels, and her chastity belt, as well as hiding the locking

cuffs at her wrists. 



One of her work pantsuits worked very well for this task, with a

cotton turtleneck sweater to cover her collar. This was in fact the

same street outfit that she wore on the restaurant expedition that we

have written about in the past, although the turtleneck was a new

addition, and one that did seem perhaps a bit out-of-place in July.

She stood most quietly as I put the finishing touches on her outfit,

with her hands held out slightly from her sides- I could see the tiny

stretchings of the gloves over her knuckles as she explored the

stiffness of the splints and the extent of her helplessness.



She then asked what I had in mind for our activities for the evening,

and I told her- we would go out to our favorite local restaurant again

for dinner, and then off to see a movie! She was taken quite aback by

this, and asked how in the world she was supposed to eat or drink in

public without the use of her hands (she's actually very good at it in

private, having had ample opportunity to practice, but I'd say that

her techniques _might_ tend to draw a bit of attention). I simply said

that I'd help out in any way that I could, without making a scene, and

that she had nothing to fear- and so we were off, as I opened all the

doors for her and helped her down to the drive and into the car- not

an easy task corseted and wearing such heels, and doubly difficult

when the hands are somewhat restricted.



We arrived at the restaurant, and asked after a booth in the back that

we've had occasion to frequent. We then sat down in the lounge to

wait. I ordered her one of her favorite drinks, to be served with a

straw, and we sat off to the side- she merely placed her hands in her

lap, and drank her fill- although the corset and her collar made it a

bit difficult for her to bend her head down to meet the straw.



When our table opened up, we were seated- although she had a bit more

difficulty than usual handling walking on her heels after one drink on

an empty stomach. I ordered dinner for us, and more drinks, and we

were left quite alone in our private booth as I fed her her dinner.

She told me that having her hands done so seemed even more restrictive

than having them bound behind her would be- if they were bound behind

her, she could merely forget them for the duration, but as they were

she would be tempted to try and use them, with presumably disastrous

results- which presented quite a formidable psychological challenge to

her, as she fears exposure in public so.



We finished dinner, and I paid the check and helped her to the car. We

drove to the cinema, and arrived just in time for the movie to start.

We took seats around mid-theatre (which proved to be something of a

challenge for her, as we had to walk down the inclined aisle to the

seats, effectively increasing the height of heels that were already

nearly impossible for her to manage after three drinks with dinner).



The film was a naval drama of the action-adventure type, starring Sean

Connery, and was entertaining enough- but I entertained myself

significantly more by subtly (or unsubtly!) teasing her as we sat.

After a time, though, I became aware that she was squirming around

rather differently than normally ascribed to excitement, and I asked

her what the problem might be. "Stop that!" she said, "because I have

to go to the bathroom." 



Ahh, indeed! Several drinks, added to the compression of her abdomen

and therefore her bladder, would certainly lend a bit of urgency to

her situation. "Be my guest" was all I said- and she sat bolt upright

as the meaning of that sank into her, and the realization that she had

absolutely no chance of manipulating the closure of her pants by

herself, let alone undoing the chastity or peeling down her

panty-girdle to relieve herself- and she was quite effectively sealed

into a latex bodysuit, from toes to armpits. I'm sure that at that

time she weighed the idea of enlisting a bystander to help, and

immediately discarded it out of hand. "Oh, NO!" she said, and then

"You have to help me".



"All right," I said, "go stand outside the men's restroom and wait for

me there- keep an eye on it and see if anyone comes or goes, and when

it's clear we'll go in and fix this situation for you."



I turned and watched in the flickering light in the theatre as she

walked unsteadily up the aisle, apparently trying with all her might

to keep her thighs pressed together- effectively hobbling her step

even more than the heels themselves did. I gave her a few minutes to

watch the room for us, as well as to increase the urgency of the

situation a bit more, and then walked up to join her. She made a most

marvelous sight, leaning lightly against the wall on her impossible

heels (once again, her pants had ridden up a bit, exposing stocking,

shoes, and locked anklestraps for all to see), with her rigid hands

hidden behind her, and her every muscle straining to keep her rather

tormented bladder under control.



All she said was "Hurry!", and we went into the luckily unoccupied

men's room together, selecting the last stall for our trysting-place.

I unfastened her pants, undid the crotchstrap of her chastity,

stripped down her latex pantygirdle, and dodged out of the way as she

lunged for the toilet in the crowded confines of the stall- and sighed

hugely as her poor, overworked muscles could finally relax without

drowning her in her latex prison.



When she was done, she stood up and I handled the routine cleaning

chores for her, and then sat down myself, as she stood facing me.

"Well, dress me back up again and let's go watch the end of the

movie!" she said.



And there I was, staring at the latex-clad form of the love of my

life- corseted, heeled, somewhat disheveled, and unable to use her

hands to re-dress herself, rather at my mercy in fact- hardly an

opportunity to pass up! I reached out to her, and slipped her pants

off over her feet, followed by her pantygirdle, both of which I hung

on the coathook. "Pay toll!" was all I had to say- that, and slip my

own pants down around my ankles. She came to sit down on my lap,

facing me, with her rigid hands resting on my shoulders, and lowered

herself onto me- and we enjoyed each other for some time until we both

were satisfied, interrupted only once or twice as other patrons came

in to use the facility.



I wonder if any of them noticed the curious spectacle of my feet

facing outward, and her impossibly-heeled feet facing inward, through

the gap at the bottom of the stall walls.



I dressed her again, and we had just snuck back out of the men's room,

as the crowd began to pour out of the theatre. I suspect that I'll

never find out how the movie ended. We walked out of the theatre, 

borne on the flow of the crowd, and went home- both marvelling at the

efficiency of two small hand-shaped pieces of metal as a bondage toy.

All in all, the effects have proven to be well worth the effort

required!



--