Bosom Bondage Buddies

by Brandy Dewinter

  

Chapter 5 - Satin Shivers

  

Over the course of the next week we both showed an overall downward trend, though there were mornings when we showed no progress or even a bit of springback. Soon (though not soon enough, we felt) we were closing in on our 10 pound goal. Kelly had ordered several lingerie catalogs, some from the widely-recognized Frederick's of Hollywood and Victoria's Secrets, some from obscure special-interest catalogs with many unusual items. In anticipation of meeting our incentive threshold, we discussed what we would get. Looking through the lingerie catalogs, imagining myself in these feminine outfits, always excited me. Kelly purposely kept me breathlessly attentive by bringing up question after question on material, style, and color.

"What do you think about white for me?" I asked.

"Well," she said doubtfully, "I'm not too sure. You tan pretty well, and white would make your skin look awfully dark."

"You tan just about as well, yourself," I countered, "and you look terrific in white."

"That's because I'm blonde," she replied, "and my light hair and eyes set off the suntan. In white, your skin could get to look too dark," she continued.

"Oh," I sighed, "so what do you recommend?"

Looking through the catalogs, Kelly found a satin outfit in a deep midnight blue.

"This looks like it would just match your eyes," she said as she pointed.

"Oh," I breathed, "I like it."

"Okay, that's all you get to see," Kelly chuckled as she closed the catalogs. "The rest will be a surprise."

"What about choosing the things you'll get for your prize?" I asked.

"We said I'd get the same things except for color and size. I'll match your outfits only in the colors I already use. That's all you need to know," she teased.

Kelly was the first to reach her ten pound savings goal, and insisted on preparing her order herself. It was two days later that I reached my own goal. That evening, she showed me the sealed envelopes, ready to be mailed.

"More than one envelope," I mused. "Where're they all going?"

"No peeking," she laughed, "you'll just have to wait and see."

"Oh well," I grumped, "at least I'll see what you get a couple of days before mine comes in."

"No you won't," she grinned. "I combined the orders.

Everything should come in at the same time."

With the first goal reached but the rewards not received, we both lost a little intensity and our weight loss stagnated. We kept our suppers light but were allowing ourselves to eat more like we had been for lunch, or breakfast. We had made enough life-style change to keep from gaining back our saved weight but couldn't seem to reduce further. Then the first package arrived.

When I got home, I noticed a sticker on our door explaining that a package from one of the well-known lingerie manufacturers had been left with our neighbor. I hurried to get it, hardly daring to breathe from excitement. Our neighbor Billie Jo, a lean, short-haired woman who had always seemed a little distant to me, brought the package with a thoughtful smile.

"New clothes?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, trying to suppress my blush. "For my wife," I blundered on.

"I've noticed that you and Kelly are out walking in the evenings a lot. You both seem to have lost some weight."

"Nice of you to notice," I stammered.

I looked at her a little more closely than I had before. She seemed more talkative than usual. Had she noticed something embarrassing about me? Could she tell that I wore pantyhose, or had shaved my legs? Her own legs were long and trim. She seemed almost too muscular to be feminine and I wondered if she were a female body-builder or something.

"I must admit I always thought you and Kelly were sort of out of shape," she went on. "I think taking care of your body is very important and I'm not comfortable with people who don't."

"Well, Kelly and I decided we needed to do something. We're making a little progress."

"Yes, I can see that. You deserve some new clothes."

"These are for Kelly," I repeated.

"I know, you said that," she smiled.

Perhaps I was reading too much into her words. Looking back on the conversation, it could have been completely innocent, but there was a definite smile lurking behind her eyes. The box she held was clearly labeled with a lingerie manufacturers logo, yet she seemed to be implying that the clothes were, or should have been, for me. The nervous tension from wondering how much she had noticed when I had been outside in my shorts made me stammer and repeat myself, which caused her to smile even more.

I decided she must have known or suspected something even before my tongue-tied embarrassment at her door. However, she was even more friendly than before and didn't seem shocked or disgusted, only amused.

"Um," I mumbled, "thanks for keeping this for us, I mean for Kelly."

Her smile expanded even further, with clear amusement beyond that from a simple package delivery. She handed me the package and waved as I turned away from the door. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked away and I wondered what she was thinking.

Not surprisingly, the package was addressed to Kelly and from long tradition I never opened her mail. My own mail always reached me unopened as well, and while I had not really had anything to hide (from Kelly), I appreciated the courtesy. As a result, I had to leave the package unopened though I was burning with curiosity. Finally Kelly arrived home, not especially late though it seemed like hours.

"We got a package today," I blurted out as soon as she got in the door.

"Oh," she smiled. "Where from?"

I could tell she knew very well where the package must be from and was just enjoying my anxious curiosity. However, she had taken charge of this part of our incentive program and I resolved to maintain my composure and let her have her fun. Someday I would get my pleasant revenge.

She glanced at the package as though it were uninteresting and strolled into the bedroom to change clothes. I was still wearing my suit, except for the jacket which I had hung up, and she looked at me as she passed.

"You certainly won't be able to wear those clothes when you try on your new ones," she teased. "You better get in here and strip."

"I will if you will," I countered.

"Deal," she said, and proceeded to unzip her skirt.

Soon it became a race, which proved she was as interested as I was. In no time, we were both nude. She reached out to stroke my smooth legs and hairless chest.

"I do enjoy you without all that hair," she grinned. "I wondered if I would or not, but it really turns me on to see you all clean and shiny."

"Turns me on, too," I mumbled, still somewhat embarrassed but unable to hide the truth.

"Yes, that's obvious," she giggled. "Now, hand me that package."

She had me turn around as she opened it, then I heard her gasp with pleasure. I started to turn toward her and she exclaimed, "Don't you dare turn around until I tell you! In fact, I'm going to make it so you can't peek."

With a gleeful girlish laugh, she reached for the silk scarf we had used for her stretching massage, and tied it over my eyes. I heard the rustle of packing paper, and the sound of plastic bags being ripped open.

"We'll start with this," she said, and I felt a garter belt being fastened around my waist. The garters dangled down on either side of my pulsing erection and along the sides of my hips.

"Sit down," she said, pushing me back to the vanity chair.

Next I felt soft stockings being smoothed up my legs, and fastened to the garters. When she had everything adjusted, the stockings were held snugly up and the garter belt rode securely on my hips.

"Stand up again," she directed.

I stood up, and she tapped one foot to make me raise it. Balancing against the top of her makeup table, I lifted one stocking-clad leg, and felt her pull some underwear around, it, but the leg hole seemed much larger than I expected. She pulled my leg back to the floor, and then urged me to lift the other. The underwear went around that leg as well and she guided my foot to the floor. Then she pulled the underwear up my legs. As it reached my hips I realized that it was only a minimum thong-style bikini, though it had a surprisingly large pouch, almost enough to contain my raging erection.

"I found these in the men's section of the catalog," she giggled. "Imagine that, men wearing thong bikinis in satin. Who would ever believe it?"

Since I stood there in just such a bikini, it was clear that she knew who would believe it, but I found it interesting that enough men bought them to make it worthwhile for the lingerie manufacturer to carry them. The next thing I knew, she was pulling my arms together and threading them through the straps of a bra which she quickly fastened in back. I was surprised to find that the bra fit quite well, except for the cups, of course, which were not padded. My disappointment must have shown because she giggled again.

"Don't worry," she laughed, "I have tits for you, of the best kind. Except for real ones, of course."

The pads she inserted into the bra cups were soft and pliable and I wondered what they looked like.

"Just a minute more, darling," she said. "Let me get caught up with you."

She took decidedly longer than one minute as I anxiously waited, listening to the rustle of wrapping and the slither of stockings. While I waited, I ran my fingers along the smooth texture of the stockings, and cupped my hands under the surprisingly full bra cups. Then she was guiding me to turn away from her vanity mirror.

She said, "I don't want you peeking until everything is ready."

I felt her untying my blindfold, then she removed it but held it spread below my chin so that I couldn't look down. I blinked my eyes open and focused on her wide, ecstatic smile. When she saw that I was ready she gently urged me to turn around.

My first thought was actually one of disappointment. My love handles were very much in view. Unconsciously I pulled in my stomach and thrust my chest out, which had an amazing effect on my "tits". They swayed and jiggled almost like real breasts and I could see definite nipple bulges in the satin bra cups. I reached up to touch them, which brought a laugh and an explanation from Kelly.

"I got you the best silicone falsies I could find. They even have nipple forms in them. We need to make sure we always get them positioned correctly, but they look terrific."

My outfit of panties and bra, with garter belt and stockings, was all in a deep, shimmering midnight blue. The contrast with my newly-shaved body was dramatic and exciting. The dark colors made my skin look like rich cream. The stockings were almost black, though stretched into grayness except for the lace fringe at the tops. I turned around to obtain a rear view in the mirror and saw thin, elegant seams accenting the back of each of my legs. The narrow thong was almost completely hidden in the crack of my ass, which looked surprisingly trim considering the roll around my waist. I grabbed at my love handles in disgust.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Kelly chided. "They don't look that bad, and besides, we're still going to lose some more weight."

I had been so enamored at my own outfit that I had forgotten to look at Kelly. Her outfit also shimmered in shiny satin, but the color was an icy blue that matched her own eyes. She had no need for falsies and filled out her own bra very nicely. Her glowing tan seemed incredibly vibrant and healthy next to the frosty blue color. She had chosen to go with lighter stockings that otherwise looked to be a match for mine, complete to the elegant seams.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You are gorgeous. We should have gotten you an outfit like that a long time ago."

"My tummy bulge looks worse than your love handles," she pouted.

"No way," I disagreed. "You look terrific. But we do need to keep losing weight. Have you thought about the incentives for the next ten pounds?"

"Wait a minute," she interrupted. "What about the rest of my incentive present?"

"Oh, that's right," I agreed. "Let me get them for you."

As I walked to the armoire, I could feel the garters sliding over my essentially nude hips and the stretch of the stockings. My tits swayed most convincingly in my bra, and I could see highlights in the satin as I moved by the lights in the room. I opened the correct drawer and withdrew the cuffs I had selected. Rather than go with conventional metal handcuffs that I thought might hurt during extended sessions, I had gotten some fur-lined leather cuffs from one of the catalogs with unusual items. They were actually separate restraints, but I had also gotten a couple of different length chains with padlocks to complete the set. I returned and handed them to Kelly.

"Turn around," she ordered.

I smiled and complied, placing my hands behind my back.

Kelly fumbled with the restraints for a few minutes, then placed them on my wrists. She selected a short chain and then opened the padlock package. The two padlocks were part of a set with matched keys and she dangled the keys over my shoulder where I could see them, then tossed them on the dresser. In a moment, the padlocks clicked into place and my arms were securely bound behind me.

"Now, for the part of your incentive that I didn't tell you about," she said. Her tone was intended to be ominous, but she spoiled it by giggling part way through.

"Sit down on the vanity chair again," she directed. "You need to put your arms behind the chair back, and relax. You'll be there for a few minutes. Don't move."

With that, she left the room for a minute, going in to our closet. She returned with two shoe boxes. Opening one of the boxes, she revealed elegant ice-blue satin pumps with towering heels. They had to be over 4 inches tall! These she placed on her own feet, then she opened the other box, revealing an obviously larger pair in my own midnight color. Lifting my legs, she quickly placed the high-heeled pumps on my feet.

"Don't try to stand up, yet," she said. "That will come later. Close your eyes, and don't open them till I tell you to."

I complied, curious about what other surprises she had in store for me. First, I felt a series of sharp pulls as Kelly removed some of the hairs of my eyebrows. In a moment, I felt a creamy moisture being applied to my forehead. The cream was spread across all of my face, and down onto my neck, spread so smoothly that it seemed to be absorbed into my skin. Next, I felt a light brush along my cheekbones. Then there were a series of swabs applied to my eyelids. A delicate pencil lined my upper lashes.

"Okay," she said, "open your eyes, but don't look in the mirror."

Kelly carefully applied eyeliner to my lower eyelid. Next, she worked mascara onto my lashes, patiently adding layers until they were long and full. When my right eye was complete, she started on the left where the process was repeated. Finally, I was directed to hold my mouth still and a frosty dark red was brushed onto my lips. In what seemed like an age but was probably about 20 minutes, she was satisfied. She had blocked the mirror with her body so I couldn't see what she had done so I looked up at her in silent question about the effectiveness of her endeavors. Once again, I saw that tentative look on her face that she had when she first saw my shaved legs in pantyhose.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing . . . nothing at all," she replied.

Moving out of the way, she let me look into the mirror, and I gasped with pleasure. I was gorgeous! It was unbelievable what a change the careful makeup had made. My skin glowed with a smoothness I had never seen and my eyes! Delicate pinks and golds and subtle mauves in eyeshadow had brought out the highlights of the deep midnight blue of my eyes, and the eyeliner had made them look so large! She had plucked my eyebrows just enough to achieve a strong Kathy Ireland shape, and the overall effect was sensually feminine without going so far that Ran would be compromised. It was a good thing my arms were bound, or I would have had to touch my face to see if it was really me.

"Kelly, you're a wonder. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself."

"Yes," she said quietly, "you're very beautiful."

It was clear from the tone of her voice that she was jealous again, and this time with perhaps more reason. Her own makeup was what she had worn to work, not the glamour glitz she had placed on me. At the moment, I really did look even prettier than she did. She clearly needed a little ego-stroking.

"I've always told you how beautiful you were when you went all out. If it can make this much difference with an ugly mug like mine, just think how terrific it makes you look when you give it your best. Why don't you freshen up your makeup a little? I'm apparently not going anywhere."

This last was to remind her that I was essentially tied to the chair. I'm not sure I could have stood up in my towering heels even with my hands free and certainly wouldn't try with my arms bound behind the chair.

She laughed as she shook off her pensive mood and said it wouldn't be necessary. Then she removed the cuffs and helped me to stand. I tottered uncertainly on the high spikes, trying to find the right weight balance between my toes and heels. Kelly gracefully swayed across the room and back and then challenged me to follow her. I stepped forward and nearly fell.

"No," she said, "you can't walk like a man in those shoes.

Watch."

Again she swayed across the room and back, swinging her hips so that she could transfer her weight lightly onto the tall heels.

"Shorten your stride. Put one foot directly in front of the other, not slightly to the side like a man does. Exaggerate it to begin with. It will really get your hips to swinging, which you need."

I tried again, first stiffly, awkwardly, but eventually achieving an interesting sway as I began to loosen up.

"That's it," she chortled. "Swing those hips, baby!"

It started feeling better, even easy to swing along in those towering shoes. At one turn I caught sight of myself in the floor-length mirror and froze at the image. There I was, inches taller than I had ever been before, hips swung out to one side and legs that ran up forever, shimmering in super-sheer stockings. I was captivated by the smooth shine of the satin.

"What's the matter, now?" she asked, then noticed what I was looking at.

"Not too bad," she nodded in agreement with my unspoken impression.

"Well," I said, "losing ten pounds was worth it to me. How about you?"

"Oops," she cried. "I almost forgot. That's not all you get."

She went back to the closet and returned with another package. Opening it, she revealed matching corsets, again in midnight and ice blue.

"Take off your bra, but save the falsies," she directed. "And take the garter belt loose, but keep your stockings on."

As I complied, she drew forth my corset and began to undo the laces. Once she had it loose enough, she had me draw it on over my legs and up above my hips. It didn't seem very tight as she adjusted it into position. She handed me the breast forms, and helped me to position them in the bra cups of the corset.

"Okay," she said, "hang on to the bedpost."

I reached out for the corner post of the bed, more for balance in my still-unsteady shoes than for anything else, when she yanked on the laces hard enough I had to grab on for real.

"Hold still!" she ordered. "I'm just getting started."

She drew the laces tighter and tighter, working each bit of slack down to the ends then pulling it out. I began to feel like I couldn't breathe and needed to use the upper part of my chest rather than just letting my belly bulge when my diaphragm moved. The phrase "heaving breasts" took on a whole new meaning as my chest motion increased. Eventually, after I had several times been sure that she couldn't possibly pull out any more, she tied off the ends of the laces. She helped me to fasten the stockings to the garters of the corset and I turned to look at myself in the full-length mirror. My breath, already difficult, stopped altogether for a long moment at the spectacular sight. Once again, I was amazed at the transformation. Before, I had enjoyed the look of the bra and panties but been disappointed at the bulge around my waist. Now, my love handles were hidden and my waist nipped in an amazing amount within the corset. There was so much more of the shimmering dark satin with the corset, every inch seeming to catch a highlight from one lamp or another. I turned and twisted as much as I was able within the stiff material and tried to get my breathing started again.

As I turned, I noticed Kelly's ice-blue corset still in the package.

"Take off your own bra," I told her. "It's your turn now."

We repeated our earlier process with roles reversed and soon I was tugging on her laces. I was determined that she should be held at least as tightly as me. She gasped as each additional inch of lace was drawn out and soon was begging me to stop. Kelly didn't let loose of the bedpost however, and I wouldn't let up until I had as much as I could get. When I did stop, her waist was nipped in even tighter than mine, and her chest was heaving at least as much.

"Wow," she breathed. "This is really something. How could women stand this?"

"Look at yourself in the mirror, beautiful," I answered.

When she saw her reflection, with the figure every woman dreams of having, a bright and happy smile lit up her face. I could see her self-confidence return, though with a difference. From now on I didn't think she would take her looks for granted. Instead, she knew she had to work at looking her best, but that the rewards would be worth it.

"Okay," she said, "now I understand."

At this point, even with the tight corset or perhaps because of it, my stomach grumbled.

Kelly laughed and said, "that's right, we haven't eaten yet."

Reaching in to the box, she drew out two short silk wrap-robes, one in each color. Handing me the midnight blue one, she wrapped her own around herself and tied it snugly. I put my own robe on, and laughed as I tied it.

"I can't see my waist, there seem to be a pair of obstructions in my line of sight."

Kelly giggled and nodded, her own figure enhanced by the corset she wore.

The short robe barely covered the tops of my stockings and rubbed against my bare ass-cheeks as I walked with Kelly to the kitchen. Every little movement seemed to cause the hem of my robe to swish up and I felt as though my fanny were fully exposed. However, whenever I forgot to exaggerate the sway of my hips, I would stumble slightly. About that time I also realized that my feet had begun to hurt.

"I'm going to have to take off these shoes," I complained.

"My feet are killing me."

"Don't you dare," Kelly threatened. "Learn to live with it.

Mine hurt, too, but we'll both just have to get used to these shoes."

When we sat down to eat, the robe rode up high enough that the skin of my ass was sitting directly on the chair. A few inches of pale thigh showed above the tops of my stockings and the sense of being exposed was intense. I had never realized how even shorts provided a guarantee of coverage that was unavailable with skirts.

After we ate, Kelly asked, "Are you ready for our walk?"

"Don't be silly," I replied. "But I'll get ready. Will you unlace me?"

"Nope," she grinned. "Put on your exercise tights and running shoes. I'll get you a shirt."

"Wait a minute," I resisted. "I can't go out there wearing this corset and falsies!"

"Yes you can," she insisted. "We spent enough time in our fashion show that it's already dark. You're lucky I'm not insisting you wear shorts. I would insist if you had on suntan colored stockings instead of those lovely dark ones."

Poised between reluctance and excitement, I didn't move for a moment. Kelly laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. Tottering on my high heels I helped her clean our few dishes and swayed back into the bedroom. I found my exercise tights, and then slipped off the spiked pumps with both regret and relief, carefully packing them away in their shoe box and vowing to try them again. I unwrapped my robe, sighing again at the elegant sight of the dark, shimmery satin of my corset. Sliding the thin, tight exercise pants up over my smooth, stocking-clad legs I could see that the garters would be very noticeable. By this time, however, I was getting so excited at the idea of going out while wearing such feminine underthings that I was willing to take the risk. I put on my running shoes and went to the closet to get a loose shirt.

Kelly met me at the doorway, and handed me a knit sport shirt. When I pulled it on, it hardly fit over my full breasts. I had thought that the garter straps would be noticeable, but they were nothing. My bustline was flamboyant! Undeniable! Gorgeous! Entirely too obvious! I looked at Kelly and started to complain, but the smirking challenge in her eyes made me determined to show I could take anything she could dream up. Then she added, or reminded me of, yet another risk.

"Let me touch up your lipstick before we go out," she slyly suggested.

Lipstick! I had forgotten that my face was made up with the same flamboyance the corset gave my figure. My blush must have shown even through the makeup and Kelly's smirk widened even further. I was almost trembling with tension from the conflict of desire and fear. Looking at myself in the mirror, I tried to decide which would show worst. The darkness outside would probably make the chance of someone noticing my makeup less than the risk caused by the corset and tight sport shirt. Still blushing hotly, but more determined than ever to complete the thrill of this amazing evening, I nodded.

Her surprise showed in her eyes, but she quickly sat me down at her vanity table and in no time I was as glamorous as I had been earlier. We walked to the door and Kelly took one last look at me, letting her eyes travel from head to toe. Her amused look transformed into something more like respect as she realized that I was a lot more adventurous than she had given me credit for, and a lot more beautiful as well. I started to take a deep breath but the tight corset kept me contained, so I settled for a rueful grin and stepped outside.

We walked together down our driveway to the street and turned to follow the curb. There happened to be a streetlight between our house and our neighbor's, Billie Jo. As we passed under the light I glanced up at Billie Jo's house and thought I saw a momentary gleam at one of her windows, as though a curtain had been lifted. Was she watching us, I wondered? I saw nothing further and we set off at our usual brisk pace. Soon, though, we had to slow down as the corsets kept us from breathing as deeply as we needed to. Grinning at each other in our shared secret, we slowed our pace to a more leisurely stroll. Eventually we completed our path and returned to our home. Once inside, I decided to take charge of the rest of the evening in order to ensure that the full impact of reaching our goal had been met.

   

  

  

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