Bosom Bondage Buddies

by Brandy Dewinter

 

Chapter 4 - First Progress

 

The next morning, we went to the club again and weighed. Due to the light supper and good exercise, Kelly had lost over a pound and I had lost almost as much. We both resolved to remember that weight could fluctuate by more than that due to many minor factors, but it was encouraging nonetheless. We completed our morning workout regimen and went on through the day. That evening again found us dining on a light supper of soup and a salad. Wearing pantyhose had become the norm for me, and after supper we again took a walk. This evening Kelly held back on the teasing, both because we had already laughed about our routine and because we had moved to a different level in our relationship and she was enjoying the comfortable companionship. Nonetheless, we walked vigorously, and worked up a good warmth in our legs when we finally returned to home.

"Let me give you a leg rubdown," I said. "I don't want those gorgeous legs to knot up with cramps."

"Sold!" she cried happily, and we went to the bedroom again.

This night, I started working on her back and arms before going to her legs. I had her stretch her arms out over her head and grab the headboard, then smoothly pulled on her legs to stretch her whole body.

"This is like the gravity boots that people used to use, but you don't have all the blood rush to your head," I told her.

After pulling on her legs together, I massaged her back. Then I moved back to her legs and spread them, pulling on one leg at a time.

"Depending on which muscles need it most, it may be best to keep your legs and arms together, or spread them. It's harder to get even tension when your arms and legs are spread, though. I may need to work something out," I explained as I worked on each leg.

After a few minutes, I had Kelly roll over, and repeated the process with her on her back. This time I increased the tension until she was almost lifted off the bed. She could feel her back and shoulders stretching.

"Mmmm, that feels good," she murmured.

Once all her muscles had been stretched and massaged, we went back into the other room to take care of mundane chores. This became our routine for the next few days. Each day we weighed again. I quickly made up the advantage she had started with, and was soon closing in on 165 pounds, for a net 5 pounds saving relative to our baseline. Kelly had stalled out at 136, plus or minus a little, and was getting frustrated.

"Why doesn't my weight keep dropping like it did in the beginning?" she complained one evening. "We're still exercising, and eating carefully."

"Sometimes it just happens. Your body is probably building muscle right now to accommodate our new routine. After you're back in balance, your weight will drop."

"By the way," I continued, "I got your incentive award for losing 5 pounds the other day. As soon as you make the weight, I'll show it to you."

"Show me now," she exclaimed, "I can't wait!"

"Nope," I grinned, "it's going to be a surprise."

"What kind of incentive is that?" she grumbled.

"If it works, a pretty good one," I laughed.

The next morning, when I stepped on the electronic scale, I caught my breath. Kelly looked to see what had interested me, and noticed the reading on the scale, 164.7 pounds.

"That makes your 5 pound incentive goal," she whispered with a grin, "tonight we shave your legs."

I blushed to my hair roots, and turned around to see if anyone was listening. Shaving my legs seemed like a point of no return. However embarrassing it might have been, I could explain pantyhose for the circulation benefits, but shaving my legs would be pretty unambiguous. Yet it excited me tremendously as well. This step would have a major effect on how good my legs would look.

"But what about walking in the evening?" I asked. "If I shave my legs, people will be able to tell."

"Too bad," she giggled. "That was the deal, and now we are going through with it."

Then Kelly stepped on the scale, and showed 135.3 pounds.

"Damn," she said. "I didn't make mine."

"Not quite," I admitted, "but you did make progress, that is the lowest you've shown, yet. You'll probably make it tomorrow. Tonight is my incentive. Tomorrow, hopefully, is yours."

We completed the rest of our workout and went on to work. The day dragged by with glacial slowness. All I could think about was what would happen that evening. At the end of the day I rushed home but Kelly was not there, yet. I had undressed down to my pantyhose and was holding my shorts, wondering if I should put them on when she walked in.

"What are you holding those for?" she asked with a chuckle.

"You're going into the bathtub as soon as we get the water warm.

Strip!"

While she was running the bathwater, I peeled down my pantyhose and took off my underwear. In the bathroom, she had the tub steaming with hot water and was pouring in bath oil beads.

"What are those for," I asked.

"If we just start shaving on your legs," she explained, "we're likely to nick you up pretty badly. The bath oil with soften your skin."

I gingerly entered the water. Kelly always did like it hotter than I preferred, but soon I was sitting in the tub.

"Lean back," she ordered, "you need to soak clear up to your neck."

"Wait a minute," I protested. "I thought we were just going to do my legs."

"Nope," she giggled, "I decided that your are going to be hairless as a baby below your neck. Now just lean back. This is my incentive for you, and we'll do it my way."

Leaning back into the hot water, I had to admit it felt wonderful. However, making such a commitment to looking feminine was resulting in an undeniable sign of excitement.

"Goodness, what is this?" Kelly laughed. "Do we have a submarine in here? Certainly we have a snorkel breaking the surface."

I had to laugh as well. It was clear that her incentive was well tuned to my desires.

Kelly kneaded the bath oil into my legs for a few minutes, then said, "It's time, lift one leg out of the water."

When I hesitated she giggled and grabbed my left ankle, extending my leg straight up. She took a handful of shaving cream and slowly spread it all over my leg down to the waterline. She started her razor gliding along my thigh, baring a strip of clean, smooth skin below the shaving cream. With each stroke, more and more of my leg was exposed, each section smooth, shiny, and glistening.

Soon she finished on my thigh and moved to my knee, carefully following the more complicated contours. My lower leg then appeared from beneath the shaving cream.

"Goodness, you even have hairy toes, we can't have that!" she chuckled.

Kelly spread a little cream on each of my toes, then stripped hair and cream off to complete my first leg. Lowering my leg back into the water and bath oil, she massaged the skin to soft smoothness. The process was repeated on my right leg, and I thought I might be finished. I had been lying back with the water to my neck, and as I rose to leave the water, Kelly remembered (if she had ever forgotten) the hair in my chest. Pushing me back against the head of the tub, though with my chest out of the water, she reached for some more shaving cream. Soon my chest was lathered with cream and she began to glide the razor downward from my neck. Just as with my legs, each stroke revealed a strip of smooth skin without the usual mat of curly hair.

As she moved outward from a centerline stripe, I said. "Be careful. They don't stand out like yours, but I would just as soon not lose my nipples, anyway."

Kelly laughed, but did slow her pace and work her way carefully across the rest of my chest. When it was gleaming and smooth, she had me raise my arms and quickly removed the hair found there, also.

"That should about do it," she smiled. "Stand up."

When I rose from the water, she giggled gleefully.

"Not quite done, I see," she said. "Have you ever noticed that you have a very hairy ass?"

"No," I laughed, " I've never turned around to see."

"Well," she said, " you do. Bend over and spread 'em."

At her abrupt command, I looked at her quizzically. "What do you intend to do?"

"Finish the job, of course," she replied. "I can see that I need to shave a bit higher on you than I do on me. I'm going to trim you down to a bikini shave so you won't show hair when you get your new underwear."

Suiting her actions to her words, Kelly quickly scraped off the hair which had been below the tub waterline, turning me around as required to get all sides. She left only a small patch of hair that would be hidden by the skimpiest of bikinis, and even this she trimmed short with scissors.

"Ta Daa!" she exclaimed.

Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I gasped at the long, leaner-looking legs I never knew I had.

"Go put on your pantyhose," she directed, as excited as I was by the transformation.

My pantyhose slid up over my shiny, oiled legs more smoothly than ever before. Quickly I put on my shorts, and looked at my legs in the mirror. It was breathtaking. My legs had always looked better in pantyhose than without, but now! They appeared inches longer, thinner, and so shiny without the dark curls of smashed hair under the pantyhose. Why didn't all men shave their legs? How could women stand for men to be so coarse and bristly? With no more trouble than women put up with all the time, men could add so much to their appearance! I turned to Kelly with a grin, and noticed a pensive look on her face.

"What's the matter, beautiful? Don't you like them?" I queried.

Hesitantly, Kelly replied, "Sure, they look . . . great."

Catching on, I said, "You're not jealous, are you?"

Blushing, she said nothing, but I knew that my insight had been correct.

"Look, beautiful," I said. "My legs are probably my best feature. I'm a little taller than you and my body doesn't store much fat in my legs. Together these add up to a pretty nice package, if I do say so myself. Let me have one area of at least competitively good looks. In all other features, there's no comparison."

Smiling, she nodded, still somewhat shocked by how effective the transformation had been.

"Let's go," she said.

"Where?"

"Out for our walk, of course," she replied.

"Wait a minute," I resisted. "We're early, it's still light out. We haven't even eaten, yet."

"Ooh," she grinned, "even better. Let's go out to dinner!"

"No way," I replied, fascinated and frightened at the same time. "Not unless I put on jeans."

"Nope," she insisted. "How about a compromise? We go to a drive-through somewhere, but you have to wear your shorts."

After a moment, I nodded acceptance, blushing once again at the ever-increasing excitement from the ever-increasing risks I was taking. As I walked out to the car, in broad daylight, with shaved legs, pantyhose, and shorts, I reflected on how far we both had come in such a short time, and we were losing weight, too.

The next day at the club, when we weighed, I was down another half a pound, which we laughingly whispered to each other must be due to the lost hair. On this day, however, Kelly also made her 5 pound goal.

She quickly asked me, "Now, tell me what you got for my incentive prize."

"Sorry," I replied, not really sorry at all, "not until we get home tonight."

That day I am sure her anticipation was every bit as great as mine had been the day before. For once, she was home before me and met me at the door.

"Okay, NOW will you tell me what you got for me?"

"No," I refused again, "not until after our walk. What's for dinner?"

She pretended to be angry at my delaying tactics, but recognized the game of anticipation was part of the plan I had for whatever would happen. We changed clothes, revealing again my smooth and hairless legs in their shimmery pantyhose, then quickly prepared and ate our now-typical light supper. After cleaning up we worked on other chores until the sun was well down toward the horizon.

Kelly came to me and said, "Okay, time for our walk."

Though the sun was still high enough to provide a lot of light, my tolerance for risk was increasing and I agreed. We left the house and began our brisk walk around the area. There were still some of our neighbors out, though none we knew so well that we had to stop and talk, so we waved from a distance and proceeded. I wondered how many of these neighbors were trying to figure out what was different about me. None showed any signs of clear suspicion of my unusual attire but some did seem to look up for a longer time than ordinary neighborliness would indicate.

When we completed our normal circuit we returned to the house, warm and loose from the exercise. Kelly kept glancing at me, obviously curious, and wanting me to show her the prize. However, she had also clearly decided to demonstrate that she could wait as long as I could, so she didn't say anything.

I drew her into the bedroom for her usual after-workout rubdown. When I had finished on her back, she turned over and grabbed the headboard so that I could stretch her. At this point I reached into one of our drawers, and pulled out a length of silk scarf.

"Here," I said, "Thread this through the eyebolt I put at the base of the headboard. Then arrange it so you can get a good hold on it."

"Is this scarf all I get for making my first weight goal?" she frowned.

"It's part of it, but there's more."

I then pulled out two wide leather ankle restraints with rings set on each cuff.

"Now," I said, "put on these ankle bands."

I carefully said 'bands', not cuffs or restraints, or manacles. I didn't want her to associate the ankle cuffs with bondage too soon, but that is exactly what was in store for Kelly tonight. By leaving her hands untied and letting her put the ankle restraints on herself, I wanted her to think that she was able to stop at any point, which was indeed the case . . . for now. She fumbled with the fastenings for a few minutes but soon had the bands around her ankles. I checked them for tightness to make sure they would not slide off, then had her lie back on the bed and grab the silk scarf.

"You might want to wrap it around your wrists, so you can get a good hold. I'm going to be tugging on your legs in a minute."

With that, I brought out the remaining items in her current incentive package, two bungee cords. These were ordinary, just stretch cords with hooks on each end. I looped one around the corner post of our bed, and then reached for her leg.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I chided her. "I told you that it was hard to keep even tension on your legs when they're spread, and that I would work on a better answer. This is it. The bungees will keep a steady pull on your legs while I finish your massage."

By this time I had fastened the hooks on the first bungee cord to the rings on her ankle cuff. The tension caused her hips to roll toward the fastened leg, and she started to let the scarf slide through her fingers.

"Hold on to the scarf," I directed. "We need to keep a fair bit of tension in order to get the best benefit."

I quickly fastened her other leg to the corresponding bedpost, bringing her back into a balanced arrangement. Then I proceeded to massage her legs, all the while letting the reasonably gentle but steady tension pull out the kinks in her muscles. As I continued, she began to relax and the scarf started to slip again. She grabbed at it and tried to hold tighter, but her hands were clearly getting tired.

"Sorry," she murmured, "it feels heavenly, but I just can't hold on any longer."

"Hmm, that's too bad," I consoled her. "I haven't even gotten to your arms, yet. I guess I'll have to come up with something to help you hold on as well."

As she let the scarf slip away, I continued her massage up her body to her waist, and then to her arms. As I moved up to massage her neck, I straddled her waist with my pantyhose-clad legs. Once I had finished, I leaned forward and gently kissed her. Her arms came up around me, and we held each other for a few minutes. Her legs were not under much tension since she had slid down the bed, but they were still as restricted as though they were held by a spreader bar. Soon, I thought to myself, I will get her arms bound as well.

The next morning as we dressed to go to the club I noticed that my pantyhose were dragging on the stubble that had grown out on my legs. Kelly noticed this as well and informed me that I would henceforth have to shave myself.

"I may help with some of those 'hard-to-reach' areas though," she said with a twinkle in her laughing eyes.

  

  

  

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