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.
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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.
