Scenes In A Marriage

"I'm out of ideas, Helen." Anita sighed her despair. "He practically refuses to look at me."

Helen stood and smoothed her leather miniskirt carefully, pressing out the smallest wrinkles with her fingertips. Everything she wore was leather, from her own shop, and she had become expert in its care. "I can't fathom it, dear. You're a very pretty girl. There wasn't any problem when you were first married, was there?"

"No, although the sex never came close to what I'd always dreamed of, especially with Paul."

"For some it's a mistake to wait for the wedding night. But tell me more, dear." Helen stood back against a wall of the boutique and folded her arms. She looked sideways at Anita in a fashion that was coquetry personified.

She's devastating. Perfect bust, slender waist, gorgeous hips and legs. She dresses to show it, too. And at nearly fifty! Why can't a perfectly healthy twenty-six year old woman have a decent sex life if Helen can manage that?

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Helen. I let my mind wander a moment, that's all."

The shopowner's mouth curved slowly into a smile.

"You were thinking about me, weren't you?"

Anita sat back a little at that. "Well, yes."

"It's all right, dear. I consider myself a walking advertisement for my goods, and to be effective I have to look as good as possible. But you don’t have any idea of the kind of effort that goes into looking like this. Perhaps you should be grateful."

Anita giggled. "Helen, I know you're a lot older than I am, but men look at you, not at me. Even Paul prefers to look at you, which is why I never brought him here a second time."

Helen's smile grew slightly mysterious. "And you'd like to have that working for you, wouldn't you?"

"Well, naturally!"

The shopowner looked off as if in deep thought. "Most girls today haven't the patience or the discipline for what I do. I suppose I could show you, but I'd doubt that you'd be willing to follow the program."

Anita examined her friend's face for a long silent moment.

I know an invitation when I hear one.

"Helen, would you show me, please?"

Helen looked her full in the eyes, then went without a word to the shop door, locked it, and flipped the sign to Closed. She strode toward the back of the shop, high heels clicking against the granite tiles, and hooked a finger at Anita, beckoning her to follow.

------

"I had no idea you had a tub back here!"

"That's one of the advantages of doing business out of what used to be a residence, dear." Helen slowly sponged her young friend's back. "All the comforts of home. And if I get bored with business, or it turns suddenly slow, I can come back here and play a while."

Anita smiled up at her. "You've got the healthiest attitude toward business I've ever heard of."

"You haven't heard many, then." Helen put the sponge down and stood up. "Come on, time to dry and dress."

Anita rose from the tub and accepted a thick bath towel. When she had dried, she reached for her underclothing, but Helen stopped her.

"A new day is dawning, so let's have it dawn clean. Just come with me."

Anita followed Helen to a large dressing room. The walls were lined with mirrors. Several sported discreet knobs, indicating that closets were concealed behind them.

The mirrors made Anita momentarily uncomfortable about her nudity.

"Helen, those aren't two-way, are they?"

The older woman chuckled. "Not at all, dear. They're just ordinary mirrors to see yourself in."

"Why did you need so many?"

"I like a mirrored room. When I dress in here, I feel like the star of some fabulous show. Some of my better-heeled clients love it just as much."

Helen went to one of the closets and pulled out a leather corset with a built-in bra.

"Ever worn one of these before?"

"Uh, no. Don't they hurt?"

"Not once you're used to them. I'm wearing one now."

Anita's eyes dropped momentarily to Helen's waistline, and the older woman chuckled.

"Most of it is diet and exercise, dear, but a good corset gives an invaluable finish to even the best figures, as you'll soon find out. Come here."

Anita obeyed, raising her arms to let Helen slide the corset down over her torso. The cups moved naturally into place over her breasts. The bottom edge of the garment came to just above her pubic bone.

"Keep your arms in the air." The older woman turned her around gently and began to take in the laces.

As the embrace of the corset tightened by gentle degrees, Anita watched her figure change in the mirror before her. Helen was right. Anita was well-toned and weighed no more than she should, but the corset was bringing out her attractions in ways more dramatic than unaided nature had managed.

"Let as much air out of your lungs as you can, dear."

Anita complied, and Helen performed a last tugging at the laces, taking in Anita's waist as far as it would go. She quickly tied off, moved to the side, and waited as the young woman studied herself.

"It feels...strange." She turned from her newly exotic reflection to look at her friend. "It feels good!"

"Not too tight?"

"Well, I can't take a really deep breath, but it seems to be all right." She turned back to her image in the mirror. "Are these really okay to wear?"

Helen smiled. "I wear one twenty-three hours a day, dear. Once you're accustomed, you'll never want to be without one. But we're not finished yet."

Anita basked in her reflection and the curiously pleasant sense of constraint from the corset while Helen selected more items from the closet.

"Now these might take more getting used to."

First the shopowner drew silk stockings onto the young woman's legs and fastened them to garters that hung from the corset. Next was a pair of marvelous boots. They were extraordinarily sleek, bore five inch stiletto heels, and ran all the way up her thighs to the bottom of her pelvis. When Helen zipped them and buckled them at the top, her legs enjoyed the same pleasantly sensuous constriction as her torso, along their whole length.

Next came a high, supple leather choker that buckled closed at the back. Its gently snug grip on her neck sent plumes of warmth down her spine as she moved. It made her want to arch and stretch like a cat.

Finally, Helen drew long leather gloves onto her hands and arms. They reached all the way over her biceps to just below her armpits, and were as snug on her arms as the boots were on her legs. These, too, buckled closed at the top.

Anita was lost amid the new sensations. All the items were constrictive, yet not unpleasant but powerfully the reverse. The corset had taken four inches off her waist, and had forced her breasts up and forward in a most provocative way. The choker prompted her to hold her neck straight. The boots trimmed her thighs and calves, and compelled her to stand with all her assets displayed to best advantage. Even the gloves seemed to improve her appearance, smoothing and concealing the tiny pockets of sag that the human arm invariably has.

"And this is how you do it?"

Helen nodded. "All my adult life, dear. I haven't been without a corset since I was sixteen. How does it feel?"

"I...I can't imagine ever taking it off."

She studied her reflection carefully. Only her head and shoulders, her derriere and her mons remained exposed. All else was sheathed in sleek, supple leather. In an ordinary skirt and blouse, she exposed far more skin than this. Yet the garments had eroticized her more powerfully than she could remember ever having experienced.

"So strange, to be so completely clothed, yet be and feel so...naked." She shivered and ran her gloved hands along her corseted contours.

Helen smiled gently. "It's a lovely ensemble, isn't it? I'd say it was made for you. Consider it yours."

"Helen, no! I couldn't possibly."

"Certainly you can, dear. Think of them as starters. You'll be back as a paying customer. We've only scratched the surface here. Believe me, there's lots of fun ahead. Oh, one final piece."

She held out a skimpy leather G-string.

"Tonight, when Paul gets home, this is the only thing he gets to take off. Don't let him remove any other garment. I guarantee you, you'll love the results."

Anita giggled and took the G-string.

------

She strode home with a gait that seemed too slow and sedate for the joy that bubbled within her. Her new clothes were almost completely concealed. Only her choker, her gloved hands, and the bottoms of her boots were visible. Yet every man she passed turned to look at her, and quite a few of the women. In ultrarelaxed Los Angeles, so much open attention was a sign of something special.

Every movement made her freshly conscious of each of the special underthings she wore. All of it was delightful. She was amazed that there was no discomfort. Wasn't restrictive clothing supposed to hurt?

Why did it take so long for liberated little me to learn about this? Seems a lot of girls are missing out on something really special.

At home, she put up water for tea and sat at the kitchen table to read the day's mail. Presently, she sat over her tea, writhing gently in her new corset and loving the feel of it against her skin, dreamily composing a fantasy of how it would be that night with Paul.

------

Helen looked into Anita's eyes. "And how did it go?"

Anita shook her head in delighted wonder. "Helen, from the moment he came through the door, he couldn't keep his hands off me. He took one look at me, dropped his briefcase right there at the door and pulled me into a kiss that wasn't over until we'd landed on our bed." She shivered. "Now that's how to start an evening alone at home!"

"And did he think it was strange when you refused to take off your new things?"

"Well, a little. But after he got the idea, he really went for it. I half expected him to come in here looking for an outfit for him."

"Oh, he might. If he suggests it, will you discourage him?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. Why?"

"Some women would. Men are strange creatures, dear. We don't always understand them, so we don't always treat them the way we should."

"And how is that?"

"As animals." Helen smiled. "

We

are civilized.

They

are wild beasts. And when dealing with a wild beast, you have to know very precisely what you want out of him, and how to treat him so that you'll get that and not something else."

"Helen, that sounds awful."

"Only because it's true, dear." The older woman looked directly into her friend's eyes again. "Why do you think leather affects them so?"

"Because it looks and feels and smells nice."

"No! That's why

you

like it.

They

like it because it's animal skin. To them it speaks of conquest and power and control, all things that mean a great deal to any normal man."

"So sex is about...control?"

Helen nodded slowly. "Almost entirely, dear. First, our control of ourselves, then, our control of them."

She rose from the little table and gestured at the racks of leather merchandise that filled the store.

"Just about everything I sell is an article of constraint, intended to be used to bind someone and render him subservient. Even the shoes and boots. What else is a high heel for, except to force the leg into an elongated, exaggeratedly sexual position? I have far more male customers than female. That's their special hunger, and leather calls to them through it."

Anita absorbed it slowly.

"So what am I doing, then?"

Helen went to Anita and put her hands to the younger woman's face.

"Just as I said, dear. First, you're establishing control over yourself, eroticizing your own body, making it what you want it to be. And through that, you'll slowly take control over your husband."

"Helen, I don't think I want to control Paul. I just want him to want me."

Helen's eyes bored into hers.

"When he reached for your laces last night, and you forbade him to touch them, and he obeyed, how did it feel?"

Anita started to speak, then stopped herself and looked away.

Helen smiled. "Well, we'll see."

------

"Come on, Anita, take it off." Paul's fingers lingered on the cups, lightly stroking the soft, delicately glazed leather.

"No, sweetie, I like it this way. Come on, come back in where it's warm."

He bit his lip and looked momentarily away.

"Anita, it was fun the first few times, even if it was a little kinky, but you're beginning to go overboard. I haven't even seen your tits for nearly a month. Now take that thing off and let me see my wife's body."

She stared at him a moment, then slapped his face.

The impact of leather against flesh rang through the room. He staggered back, more shocked than hurt, as she rose from their marital bed. In her boots, she was three inches taller than he. She stood with arms akimbo and glowered down at him.

"What's the matter, little man? Afraid Mommy is hiding something? Can't stand not being able to see and fondle everything? It's not so long ago I could have flapped these tits across your face and you wouldn't even have noticed."

"Anita, what the hell's gotten into you?"

She laughed briefly. "Nothing I couldn't replace with better for no more than the price of a phone call."

"Anita!"

She swung out and struck him again, this time with a closed fist. He toppled backward to land with a thump.

"It's just a sentimental attachment, I know, but time does things like that. Five years of...regular service leaves you expecting a little something now and then, and I wasn't happy without it. Well, if I have to learn to live without your attentions, there are plenty of other healthy young bucks out there who won't mind my little ways!"

She thrust one hand between her legs and fingered her clitoris until her juices flowed thick and hot. He lay and watched in disbelief and dismay.

His disbelief ended when she straddled his chest, squatted over his face, and planted her labia on his mouth. He reached up to try to push her off. In response, she ground her mound against his face with savage force, cutting off his breathing, until he lapsed into quietude.

"Drink it up, little man. If that's all you're good for, then that's how I'll use you from now on. Lap! Drink!"

She rocked back and forth, grinding his face with her mons until she exploded into orgasm. Her gasps of satisfied delight completely drowned the sound of his sobs.

When she had recovered her senses, she dragged him off the floor by his limp, useless tool and thrust him naked into the night, savoring his pitiful entreaties. When the door was closed and locked against him, she laughed and laughed until she slid to the floor and cried.

------

Helen looked up as the door opened.

"Anita! Paul! What a pleasant surprise. Are you here to shop, or just to visit?"

Anita propelled her obviously reluctant husband to the counter with a firm hand planted in the middle of his back. She moved to stand beside him, one hand clamped on his neck.

"Both, Helen. My, ah, lesser half has decided he'd like some advice from you on underclothes. Some of the kind you prescribed for me."

The proprietress smiled in satisfaction and approval. "I hope all is going well for you, Paul?"

He started to speak but Anita cut him off.

"Better than he deserves, which is why we're here. Can we get him outfitted in a single day?"

"I should hope so, dear. Come on back to the fitting room, Paul, and we'll get started." She looked back at Anita. "How severe?"

"Full kit. I want six inches off his waist and a set of genital restraints that he can wear night and day. Everything lockable. Let's see what you've got." The younger woman looked away. "You were right. It is about control."

Helen's smile was full of knowledge. "Never forget it, dear."

"Oh, I won't. Will he?"

"I'm sure you'll see to that. Let's get busy."

-- The End --