Copyright Oggbashan October 2004. 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 a long fantasy with mild female domination.
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Chapter 1: The First Evening
The evening began conventionally enough. Miranda and I had both gone to the Chamber of Commerce's dinner dance. As most of the other members were married or in long term relationships Miranda and I had almost been obliged to pair up for the evening. I had no objection. That night she seemed to be the most entrancing woman there. I didn't know why. We had grown up in the same town. She had gone to school with my younger sister Emily. We had shops side by side in the High Street. We were both antique dealers and from time to time we would cover each other's business. She had been a pleasant partner at similar formal functions I'd never considered her as anything but a friend or the girl next door that you never notice. She was attractive but not conventionally pretty. Her long black hair was her best feature but was held in a formal style.
I couldn't stop myself from looking at her clothes that were a startling change from the little black dress she usually wore for such occasions. She was wearing a black shimmering bustier with a bright red floor-length satin skirt over layers of rustling white taffeta petticoats. Her skirt was nearly as wide as a Victorian crinoline. As she moved her bust was sparkling with reflected light. The massive skirt bounced and flowed around her as if it was alive.
Her clothes seemed to have transformed her personality. She was usually quiet and self-effacing. That evening she lived up to her outfit. She flirted with most of the men at our table. Her conversation was as sparkling as her bustier. This Miranda was one I didn't know but I liked. She was fun to be with.
We danced together most of the time. She danced beautifully but I was not at my best. I was falling in love and her skirt kept wrapping itself around my legs as if to keep me close to her. It seemed to have a life of its own. It fascinated me. I kept watching its movements rather than concentrating on my dancing, or on my partner. As the evening wore on many adjourned to the bar leaving a few dancers and onlookers. I was distracted by Miranda's skirt and nearly tripped a couple of times.
Finally Miranda snapped at me: "Why don't you let yourself go, Joss? If you relax we will dance much better."
I looked deep into her eyes. She nodded briefly at me and I felt my inhibitions and embarrassment melt away. My attraction to her clothes transferred to the woman inside them. From then on we moved as one. We astonished the few onlookers and ourselves by dancing an impassioned tango. Her skirt no longer impeded me. It caressed me, flowing around the pair of us as if it was enjoying the dance. As we walked off the floor to sparse but enthusiastic applause her skirt seemed to hug me closer to her. There was a chair by the open window and without a second thought I sat on it and pulled her to sit on my lap. She flipped up her skirt as she lowered herself. I felt her nylon-sheathed legs through my trousers. As I started to struggle to free my arms from her billowing skirt and petticoats Miranda stopped me with a kiss and a hug that held me pinioned.
"Why don't you take me home tonight, Joss," Miranda murmured in my ear. "We can share a taxi. You can have coffee at my place then go to your place later." Although our shops were side by side she had a cottage near the river and I had a house at the opposite end of the town.
The idea seemed so attractive that I agreed instantly. Then Miranda stood up, pulling me with her.
"Come on then, Joss. Let's go."
I hadn't expected to go so soon but...
In the back seat of the taxi I was again swamped. Miranda sat quite still but her skirt and petticoats covered me from feet to mid chest. Underneath their feminine exuberance my sex began to stir. If I hadn't known better I'd have thought that her clothes realised my growing excitement and pressed closer around me.
When we arrived at her house an all-black cat greeted her. The cat reminded me of a witch's familiar. Why should I think of witches? The cat wandered off after winding itself once or twice around Miranda.
In the main living room was a friendly clutter of objects. The only free seating was a large two-seat settee. Even that had lingerie strewn over one arm.
"Take a seat, Joss," said Miranda, waving an arm at the settee "I won't be long."
I lowered myself on to the settee furthest from the lingerie. It gave beneath me and as I adjusted my weight it seemed to shape itself around me. I sunk deep into its cushions vaguely aware that it would take an effort to get out of its depths.
The coffee came so quickly that I thought it must be instant. It wasn't. Miranda sat beside me.
"How do you like my settee?" she asked.
I searched for an appropriate answer. It was just a settee, wasn't it? An old one but not antique. It was comfortable like an old pair of shoes but didn't look or feel special.
"It's comfortable," I said "You could almost snuggle up into it."
That was the best I could think of.
"It has some unusual features," Miranda added.
As we drank our coffee I was puzzled. What unusual features? I knew that if Miranda said 'unusual' she meant it.
We exchanged small talk mainly about fellow members of the Chamber of Commerce. Miranda took my empty cup from me and put it beside hers on a side table.
"I'll show you how unusual it is." she said, standing up, shaking her skirt and petticoats out. Her action seemed automatic but the sound excited me.
She picked up a floor-length slip from the settee's arm. The slip had been covering a control panel let into the arm. She flipped a switch and an extension slid out lifting my legs off the floor as the back reclined. I was even more comfortable but almost horizontal. The settee held my body fully supported.
She moved another switch. From the centre of the settee and from the arm beside me four human looking arms closed around me. They looked and felt like women's arms but much stronger. As I opened my mouth to object Miranda threw another switch. A 'hand' clamped over my mouth stifling my protests. I looked up at her in astonishment. I hadn't expected anything other than polite conversation after a pleasant evening but now I was her prisoner in her unusual settee. I watched in pinioned horror and enforced silence as she flicked another switch. The cushions of the other half of the settee flipped themselves on top of me. I was covered from neck to beyond my feet. Only my head was uncovered but my mouth was held firmly by the 'hand'.
Miranda stood in front of me swishing her petticoats slightly.
"Well, Joss? What do you think of my unusual settee? Do you like it?"
I was unable to reply, gagged by that soft but firm 'hand'.
