Skirts

* * * * *

Copyright Oggbashan August 2005

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

* * * * *

This is the 9th story of The Silverbridge Chronicles.

Some of the other stories are:

01 Lisa Trains Thomas

02 Lisa's Adjustable Petticoat

03 The Procession

04 The Vinyl Dress

05 The Clam, The Half-Clam and The Candle-Snuffer

06 The Cage Crinoline

07 Candice (in preparation)

08 Norwegian Petticoat

09 Skirts – This one

10 The Stag Party

11 The Hen Party

12 The Bridesmaids' Revenge

*

The Silver Vixens were sitting around waiting for their opponents to arrive for a football match. As usual their conversation turned to controlling their men.

CANDICE'S FIRST STORY

Lisa asked idly: "Candice, you haven't worn those combat trousers for some time, yet you used to live in them. Is there a reason why you stopped wearing them? And if so, what changed?"

"I stopped wearing them because of something George did. But I had my revenge and now I've made them safe to wear again." replied Candice.

"That sounds like an interesting story" said Lisa "You can't leave us guessing. Come on. Tell all!"

The others brightened up. This was something new they hadn't heard about.

"Jane will have to agree. She's involved in the story."

Jane nodded "You can tell them, Candice."

"OK. The trousers were a very simple story. I actually have three pairs that I bought in the market. Two are sand colour - I'm wearing one pair; the other pair is air force blue. They are useful casual trousers, lots of pockets, hard-wearing but reasonably cool yet windproof. I liked them until George showed me their disadvantage. They have (or rather had) drawstrings at the end of the trouser legs with a locking device. The original idea was to tighten the trouser ends around boots to stop sand or creepy-crawlies entering. As fashion trousers it was just a detail of the military look.

One evening George and I were relaxing after dinner, watching television. We both wanted to have a bath before bed. It's one thing George and I row about but not seriously. He says I take too long in the bathroom..." There were mock interjections of

"No!" or "Never!" "...and I complain that he leaves the bathroom floor and towels sopping wet. So we both want to be first to the bathroom.

We had both curled up on the settee. The programme had ended when George said "Race you to the bathroom... One; Two; Three!" I thought I'd win because I was nearest the door but as I swung my legs down I toppled right over. George caught me as I fell, lifted me back on the settee and disappeared saying "Sorry. I win!" He'd tightened the trouser drawstrings and tied them together so I was hobbled. It took me nearly a quarter of an hour to undo the knots. I couldn't even pull the trousers off because they were so tight round my ankles. I was mad at him. He'd cheated. Although that time he made sure that he left the bathroom floor dry for me."

We laughed but there were comments about devious men and typical male behaviour.

"I couldn't let him get away with that but I bided my time for a suitable opportunity. While he was in the bath I thought about removing the drawstrings but I decided against. I would wait until I'd had my revenge. Until then I wouldn't wear the trousers when he was around. It took longer than I thought. Oh, I got back at him in simple ways but nothing seemed sufficiently satisfying.

Then I had an idea. As well as the trousers I'd bought a long combat dress. You know the sort of thing. It's the same material, has pockets like the trousers, belt loops and a drawstring at the hem. The bodice has a high neckline with adjustable straps like a pinafore dress. It has a back zip and skirt is ankle length with small, say 5cm, slits both sides where the drawstrings adjust. Jane had bought one too, but in a larger size and longer since she's taller than me.

I asked Jane if I could borrow hers. She said that I could have it if I wanted. She didn't like the colour. I jumped at the chance since what I was planning might damage Jane's dress. She said that she'd drop it in after the next training night. Then I told her about George's trick with the trousers and how I intended to get my revenge. Jane, being a friend, agreed to help.

The evening after training Jane and I came back to the flat. As usual we'd showered. I was wearing a track suit. Jane was wearing a large denim skirt and T-shirt. When we arrived George had prepared a cold supper for us, including Jane. He was sitting on the floor in front of the settee watching an obscure European football match on satellite.

Jane and I went through into the bedroom and I changed into Jane's combat dress, not mine. It was far too big for me but just right for what I wanted. If George noticed it I hoped he'd assume it was my dress. Under it I had my bra, panties and a T-shirt. We returned to the living room. Jane sat on the edge of the settee. I sat behind George draping my naked legs over his shoulders.

He'd been so intent on the football that he hadn't noticed what I was wearing or that I'd hiked the skirt up nearly to my waist.

Jane can tell you the next bit because I might laugh too much..."

Jane looked startled but picked up the thread "I told George that Thomas had been practising lifting me on his shoulders from a seated position. It was supposed to strengthen his back and thigh muscles. Candice added that since she was lighter than me it ought to be fairly easy for George to duplicate. Why didn't he try now? He was as strong as Thomas wasn't he? That challenge he couldn't resist. He pulled Candice's legs tight around his neck, settled her on his shoulders and started to tuck his legs under him. Meanwhile Candice had unbuckled her shoulder straps, loosened the dress's belt and unzipped the back.

George began to stand up. As agreed beforehand with Candice I stood behind them. As he finished standing Candice dropped the hem of the dress and I pulled it right down to his knees. It came off Candice like unpeeling a banana. She rolled forward and down leaving him inside. As she landed I zipped the dress up, tightened the belt and adjusted the shoulder straps as small as they would go. Candice finished her forward roll by pulling the drawstring tight round his knees, locking and knotting it. He was yelling blue murder. His head was trapped by the dress's neck; his arms were strapped to his sides by the belt and his knees were locked together. Candice got up and pushed him gently. He fell backwards on to the settee. She lifted his legs up and pushed his shoulders so that he was stretched out. Then she sat on his face. I handed her the TV's remote control and went to the kitchen to bring the cold supper through.

When I returned George's wrapped head was lying on Candice's lap. I sat on his legs. We stayed like that for over an hour. There were protests from George from time to time but Candice just muffled them with her hand. When it was time for me to leave Candice uncovered his head and asked him to say goodnight to me. He refused several times but each time Candice covered him up again and pressed her hand over his mouth and nose. Eventually he agreed and said goodnight. What happened next I don't know. Candice will have to tell you."

Candice wasn't the only one laughing at her revenge. She recovered enough to continue.

"After Jane left George threatened to get back at her. I told him that he was in the position he was because he'd started it. If he went for Jane he'd have to answer to me, and to Jane and Thomas. While I was talking I was stroking him through the dress. That soon diverted him. I took my T-shirt off, unhooked my bra, and used it to lash his ankles. Then I tried to undo the drawstring round his knees. It took a long time firstly because his struggles had tightened the knot and secondly because my breasts were dangling over his face. They were being licked and sucked as often as he could.

In the end I had to stop him or I'd never have got that knot undone. I stuffed my panties in his mouth and pulled the dress over his face again. Then I undid the knot and drawstring, pulled the dress's skirt up, his trousers and pants down, and mounted his erection. I leant forward, uncovered his face and pulled my panties out of his mouth.

He came almost at once. As he lay there recovering I eased him out of the dress, then unstrapped his ankles and pulled his trousers and pants off. I lay on him for a while. Eventually he picked me up, carried me into the bedroom and we made love again.

The next day I removed the drawstrings from my trousers and dress and started wearing them again. George forgot his intent of getting back at Jane. He still doesn't realise that it was her dress I used nor that it still has its drawstring. I might find an opportunity to use it again. If not it will make a good maternity dress."

JANE'S STORY

Jane protested at that. "I'm not that fat. You are just so skinny! I'm glad George forgave me. I had trouble with Thomas and a skirt only a few days later but it was unintentional. I didn't have any reason to humiliate him but that's what I did."

There were encouraging noises. Another story!

"I like Thomas muff-diving..." There were cries of "We know!".

"...and sometimes he does it under my skirts. I like holding him through the skirt and using it to drag him further in. I have to be careful or I could suffocate him but most times we both have fun. This time I was wearing a floor length slimline office skirt. Without very high heels it trailed on the ground. It was charcoal grey with a black nylon lining and a double ended zip down the front seam. I could open the lower end to show more or less leg. Thomas wanted to muff-dive so I whipped off my panties and sat on the edge of the bed. I pulled the lower zipper up to give him room and sat back to enjoy myself - which I did. He was wearing only his Y-fronts.

Then I made a mistake. I thought I'd pull the zipper down to pull him in without having to hold him myself. I leant forward and pulled it down. It moved further than I thought it would - so I decided to see just how far it would go. Closing the zipper so far had forced my upper thighs against his head and now his shoulders and upper arms were inside my skirt. I hadn't thought there would be enough room. Stupidly I kept pulling on that zipper. I was enjoying myself because as I leant forward I pushed him closer in to my muff.

The zipper was now lower than I normally had it. Its movement was stiffer as it had never been that far down. Still I kept pulling. I wasn't really thinking. I was enjoying myself too much!

The zipper was three-quarters closed. I still couldn't understand how I had managed to fit most of Thomas inside the skirt as well as my legs. There shouldn't have been enough room! I kept pulling..."

Jane paused for effect. She was greeted with cries of "Go on!"

"Thomas' legs were thrashing about more than normally. His hands were flapping feebly inside the last part of the skirt that I hadn't zipped yet. I didn't consciously notice these signs that he was in distress as I continued to pull that zipper remorselessly down. His hands stopped flapping as the skirt held them immobile. His head bulged up under the tight material and waggled. I shoved it back down with one hand as the other pulled the zip right to the end. Then I heard him faintly crying "Help!" and "Get me out!".

Then I realised I was suffocating him. He couldn't breathe which explained the thrashing legs and flapping hands.

I grabbed at the zipper again and pulled at it. It was stuck! I thought that it was because it had never been that far down so I pulled harder. The puller broke off!

Now we were in trouble. He was suffocating and I'd broken the zipper! I reached for the other end and pulled the top zipper down. It moved about 10 cm and then jammed on his head. In desperation I sucked my tummy in and pushed my fingers under his forehead. That gave him just enough to get some air but I couldn't hold my tummy in for long. As I relaxed he was suffocating again.

I wrestled with the zipper, this time pushing his head into me as I pulled on it. That gave me another 5 cm. I sucked in my tummy to let him breathe again before repeating the process. He was resisting because he was so short of air but I pushed him down hard! After three attempts the zipper moved again and his head popped out. He rested it on my tummy as he turned his head and gasped for air.

When he had stopped gasping I told him that the lower zipper was broken. When he realised that I hadn't intended to trap him he calmed down but we were still locked together. I couldn't move either end of the zipper. He was sheathed in a tight cocoon from shoulders nearly to his knees. My legs were jammed in with him. All I could do was waggle my toes. My arms were free but what could I do?

We were in the bedroom. There was nothing within reach to help us. The phones were in the living room and did we want anyone to find us like this? Even if we did, how would they get in? We discussed what to do for several minutes then he started laughing at our predicament. When he'd finished he suggested that we moved like a caterpillar to the kitchen. Perhaps I could get a knife and cut us free?

Getting me off the bed was a real contortion. I had to cushion my fall with my arms. Then we tried to move. It was easier for me with my hands on the floor but then my tummy was suffocating him again. If I was on my back I couldn't help him move. We managed on our sides. I had to reach up to open the bedroom door. Then we had to back away while I pulled it open. On the landing we had to rest. Thomas needed to breathe. I needed to rest my arms that were doing most of the work pulling us along. Both of us had cramp in our legs from being held so tightly together.

Thomas tried to push us along with his feet but the skirt made that impractical. I had to continue dragging us along.

It took nearly a quarter of an hour to get from the bedroom door to the kitchen. Then we had another problem. The polished floor was now too slippery for me to get a grip. Every time I tried to move my hands just slid along the floor. Thomas got his feet against a wall and shoved us across the room. I pulled us along by the cupboard handles to the cutlery drawer. I opened it and reached in gingerly. When I grasped the handle of a carving knife I felt as if I'd run a marathon. I wriggled it out and carefully cut along the skirt's seam beside the zip. We weren't free even then. I hadn't cut the lining. That was stuck to us by our sweat.

I worked my legs out, leaving poor Thomas in his clammy cocoon. I kissed him before I cut him free. The skirt lining had to be peeled off him like a second skin. I dried him off with the kitchen towel and hugged him.

As we sat there I noticed the skirt's label. It said "Lycra added to skirt and lining to help this garment retain its shape". As I had pulled the zipper the skirt had expanded around Thomas' body but had been straining to get back to its normal slimline shape.

No wonder poor Thomas couldn't move!

That's it. I repaired the skirt with a normal waist zipper and a fixed front slit. I wasn't going to risk trapping us again."

Jane's story met with general approval then there was a silence.

LISA'S STORY

"Any other stories?" asked Lisa.

Candice said: "I do have another story but I think I'll wait until after someone else's."

"No one except Candice? Jane, can I tell one about me and Thomas?"

"I've heard some of them from you..." Jane started to say.

"I haven't told you this one. But he's yours now. I won't tell it if you object." said Lisa.

"Go on. I know you trained Thomas well. I had a much easier job with him after you'd finished with him. I don't mind now that it's history."

"Thank you, Jane. It started when Thomas was being difficult. I know in retrospect that I was just as difficult as he was. Our relationship was not right for us. All that matters now was that

I was annoyed with him that day.

I was trying to do some work on modifying a dress for a customer who was due to collect it that evening. The adaptation was proving more complex than I thought. Apart from my frustration, Thomas was annoying me.

He had recently showered and was only wearing his boxer pants. I tried to talk to him but my mind was elsewhere. He was in a bad mood because I was so preoccupied. When he said something about the futility of women's clothes, my patience snapped.

I jumped on him and tied him in seconds. I gagged him as well but now he'd got my full attention. The customer would arrive soon for a fitting of her new dress and I had my partner tied on the floor. That wouldn't do!"

That drew a laugh.

"I picked him up and carried him into the bedroom. I put him on the bed and thought. The customer might well come in here to change since the living room windows were large. What could I do with Thomas?

I decided to put him in the large fitted wardrobe but he might kick or bang at the doors. How could I prevent him? I looked inside the first wardrobe section that is full of formal gowns.

That gave me an idea. I went down to the workroom and brought back some of my long sash material. I turned him on his side and threaded a length of silken sash material under his armpits and across his back. I wrapped another length around his waist and secured his hands to it. I tied a third piece to the link between his ankles. I had four free ends. One from either side of his chest, one from his waist and one from his ankles. I fastened them all to a heavy metal hanger and tried lifting it with him attached. It was a real effort but I just managed it!

I lowered him carefully and thought. I had intended to suspend him inside the wardrobe but I wasn't sure that the rail would take his weight. Later I found that it would but that's another story!

In the bedroom I had a lazy susan. If you don't know it, it's a drying rail for clothes that used to be in kitchens. It has two metal hangers about 2 metres apart with four wooden battens between them. Clothes are spread on them to dry and then the lazy susan is hoisted with a pulley system to the ceiling out of the way and in the hottest part of the room. They aren't common now because modern houses don't have the ceiling height.

My lazy susan had been adapted so that it just had one steel bar with rings at each end. The pulley system had multiple sheaves so that you could lift heavy weights easily. I hang partly made dresses from it. Sometimes I lie in bed looking at them and work out what to do next. That used to annoy Thomas. Harold and I swap ideas about them.

The rail was empty then. I lowered it and hooked the hangar over the bar. With the help of the pulleys I lifted Thomas easily off the floor. He was wriggling and faint protests were getting past the gag. His body was sagging in the middle, so I lowered him again and fitted a width of material over his backside. When I'd attached that to the hangar he was almost in a hammock.

However I couldn't just hoist him up to the ceiling and assume my customer wouldn't look up, could I?

I lowered him again, and put a wide skirted ballgown on the hangar. This time he was invisible but his head and feet were bulging the gown. I took it off, added its massive layered net petticoats, then tried again. That was a success. The spreading skirts covered him completely and even his most frenzied wriggle didn't disturb the dress. The final touch was to cover the whole with a cotton dress bag pulled from below and tied above the hangar. Now Thomas was invisible from every viewpoint. I hoisted him up to the ceiling and went back to work on the customer's dress. I was still annoyed with him because sorting him out had wasted my time.