Jennifer · Bound · Part 1 (1/2)
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(Author’s note) Jennifer’s Journey was a fictional story, written about 10 years ago by myself.
It was a scene that I had always wanted to try for real, and on New Years Eve 2009, I was finally lucky enough to be able to recreate the story with a girl who had read the story and was keen to recreate the scenario with me.
Of course, trying anything like this has its risks, and I would not recommend trying this without weighing up what can go wrong and planning for it. Our first attempt to do this before Christmas was postponed because the weather and driving conditions made it too dangerous to try. Fortunately, conditions were far more favourable on New Years Eve and lighter traffic minimised the risks involved. Of course, there are things that you can get away with in fiction, which in reality fall in the too difficult category, but I tried to stay as close to the original principal as I could, especially in respect of the level of restraint employed.
This is first and foremost still a fictional story, but you can find out what really happened when the fiction came to life.
Jennifer's Journey. (The Fiction)
Jennifer was not looking forward to the bus journey home that Friday evening. She had been rushed off her feet all day, and the long journey home was not a pleasant one at the best of times. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to leave the office and find her husband's car waiting outside the door. Jennifer slid into the passenger seat, given Malcolm a peck on the check as she did. "To what do I owe this honour?" she enquired sarcastically, as he guided the car out into the heavy traffic. She noticed that he had not turned in the direction of home.
"I've a surprise for you. We're not going home tonight. Instead, we're booked into a secluded little farmhouse in the Lake District for the weekend. There will be nobody about except us."
"Sounds terrific. When did 'we' decide to do this then?"
"You remember that film we were watching the other week, about the couple who got off on master and slave games. If I remember you found that quite 'stimulating'." Malcolm didn't wait for a response. "Well, I've been busy in my spare time. For this weekend, I'm going to be your master."
Jennifer smiled to herself without saying a word. It was something that she had wanted to try for ages, only bringing up the subject with Malcolm had always been the difficult part. The film that they had been watching on satellite TV that weekend had included a few scenes of very mild bondage, and had given her the chance that she needed to raise the idea. She wondered now what she had let herself in for, although she did have complete faith in Malcolm.
Within a short time, they were pulling onto a side road, and stopped outside the house that she recognised as belonging to Malcolm's long time friend. "Terry has been away all week, and he let me use the house so that you wouldn't have any idea of what was going on. I suggest that you have a quick shower before we leave. I have something for you to wear in the house."
Jennifer slipped upstairs and into the bathroom while Malcolm listened for the sound of running water before starting the preparations for her journey. Fifteen minutes later, Jenny was out of the shower and dry, naked, as she normally was about the house. She enjoyed showing off her body, and Malcolm was the first to admit that she did have a magnificent example of the female form. Her legs were longer than average, propping up her five foot seven inch frame. Her waist was still a very slim twenty-three inches and she possessed a firm and well tanned pair of breasts which provided a perfect counterpoint for her narrow waist. She looked for Malcolm and found him in the master bedroom.
"Where's this outfit that you've got for me then?"
"All in good time dear, There are a few things to take care of first." He took hold of her wrists and, one after the other, wrapped a pair of soft leather cuffs around them.
"What are these for?" she asked as Malcolm went to the far wall. Her reply came in the form of a rope and shackle that fell from the ceiling in front of her eyes. She looked up to see that it was looped from one of the oak beams that formed part of the ceiling. Malcolm swiftly attached the cuffs and began to haul on the ropes until her hands were well above her head and she was forced to stand on tiptoe.
"I've already told you, you are my slave for this weekend. That means that your wear what I tell you to wear and you do what I tell you to do." Malcolm stood for a moment and admired the considerably stretched form of his wife, before reaching in the cupboard and retrieving a corset, which he wrapped, round her reduced torso.
Although Jenny had experience of wearing a corset before, while wearing several of her tighter dresses, she was not prepared for the severity of this one, which was obviously far more constricting than those she had been accustomed to. She twisted her body around so that she faced the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. "At least this way," she figured, "I can see what is happening behind me," her trust in Malcolm's predictability rapidly diminishing. Jenny stared, her waist slowly disappearing, as Malcolm began the task of drawing in the endless laces until he reached the bottom edge of the garment. He let her relax for a minute and then, to her horror, started again at the top, this time with a little device that hooked the laces which allowed him to draw them ever tighter until the two edges of the corset met.
"Steady on" she yelled. "I'm not a wasp you know," but Malcolm kept up the relentless pressure on her waist. Jenny, by now was panting in short breaths. Her breasts, which were in a permanent state of uplift, because of the lift provided by the edge of the corset, were rising even further in rapid order. Slowly, her breathing resumed its normal rate as her body adjusted. To emphasise the narrowness, Malcolm placed his hands around her, his fingers meeting in the front, meaning that the circumference of her waist was now less than eighteen inches. Jenny had to admit that the effect was stunning. She couldn't wait to try on whatever outfit Malcolm had for her, knowing the effect that a wasp waist had on her man.
Still busy admiring herself, she felt Malcolm tap her on the ankle and instinctively she raised it, whilst maintaining balance on the tip of her other foot to relieve the pressure on her wrists. She watched him guide one foot, and then the other in to a pair of sheer white stockings, carefully smoothing the wrinkles before attaching them to the attached suspenders of the corset. Next, he reached into the cupboard and lifted out a pair of shoes. "How the hell do you expect me to wear those?" Jenny exclaimed, as he held them out for her to examine. The flame red sandals had a myriad of straps which would enclose her foot without any chance of being able to kick them off.
What really concerned her though, was the needle style heel that was well in excess of five inches and more likely to be six. She reckoned that to stand, only a small part of her toe, and what existed of the tip of the heel would have to support her. With her feet being a tiny size three, the arch was going to be considerable and she wished that she could go back to the conservative two inch courts that were her standard footwear.
Malcolm grasped each ankle in turn, pushing her toes well into the vamp, her painted nails matching the colour of the soft leather straps. She felt him carefully adjusting the four buckles that secured the straps which passed over and around her feet, before pulling the final strap which wrapped totally around her ankle, forcing the heel of the shoe firmly into her own heel. When she put her foot down, she noticed that far from allowing her to rest her aching calf muscles where she had been stood on tiptoe, her foot was even higher, although it did relieve some of the pressure on her wrists.
As Malcolm collected the next item of clothing, Jenny shifted experimentally, trying to get used to the stilting effect of the extreme stiletto heels. As she twisted around, the glint of metal caught he eye and she realised that the ankle strap had not been buckled but padlocked. Obviously the shoes were not meant to come off.
"I've always wanted to see you in high heels," Malcolm stated as he returned carrying a weird piece of harness work in his hand, "only you have always complained about anything higher than you normal heels. Well now you don't have a choice, so you either learn to walk in them or crawl."
Before Jenny could think up a suitable reply, Malcolm was attaching a strap at the back of her forehead, passing it all the way round her head above the eyes. Suddenly, she became aware of a considerable weight pulling her head back. He next passed an extremely wide collar under her chin, which forced her head to remain in its set back position, finding that when it was buckled, she was unable to move her head sideways. Looking in the mirror, which was now the only way that she could study what was happening to her, she watched Malcolm laying straps that were attached to the collar, along her shoulder blades, with twin loops at each end which he buckled loosely under her armpits.
He couldn't tighten these at the moment with her hands still above her head so he moved down her body to encompass her already tortured waist with a four-inch wide belt. This was connected by an adjustable link to the collar that he immediately drew taut. The belt had, imbedded in it, several small rings, and a number of buckles on the lower edge, which she could not fathom a purpose for. She was sure though, that they would not be redundant for long. Suddenly she felt the pressure on her arms relax, and she was grateful to drop her cuffed wrists down in front of her, only for them to be separated and then attached to rings on each side of the belt.
She now found that her arms were pinned in the hollow formed by her narrowed waist, and she was still unable to reach anything of importance.
With arms lowered, Malcolm was now able to tighten the straps that passed under her armpits until they dug into the soft flesh. He then produced two further straps, which he attached to buckles on the shoulder straps, first at the back, which he hauled on until her shoulders were forced back with the result that her breasts now protruded even further forward. The other strap was then affixed across the tops of her breasts, creating an extreme shape, assisted by two loops of thick elastic, which were passed around the base of each mound of heavy flesh. By the time he had finished Jennifer possessed two balloons rather than breasts.
Amidst all the pulling, Jenny found that she was struggling for balance and on a couple of occasions, she had to be caught before she toppled over. A final adjustment, made at the back of the head, meant that the strap from her forehead to her collar was now so tight that her neck was starting to ache.
Malcolm took some time to admire his handiwork, satisfied that Jenny had no control over her own movements. He could also feel that she was ready for more and so continued with her preparations. He led her over to a high-backed chair, ordering her to bend over it and spread her legs wide apart. Taking a pot of lubricating jelly, he used his index finger to lubricate her arse hole, slowly invading her back passage. Jenny gasped as the tip of his finger reached inside her, rotating as it felt its way, only for the gasp to turn to a low groan a she felt the tip of the butt-plug pressing against her. She stiffened as she felt it slowly sliding up her, the plug making it for a full six inches before the anal muscles closed about the tapered neck. Without the use of her hands, she knew that she could not eject it, even if she wanted to.
Ordering her to stand upright again, she accepted a larger plug in her front passage, assisted this time by her own juices. Turning around to face Malcolm, she saw that he held a curved piece of silver metalwork in his hand and quickly realised what the buckles at the bottom of her corset were for, as they corresponded to short straps on the plate. He bent down, Jenny feeling a slight tug on her inserts before experiencing the cold metal being applied to her sex. The plate was tight enough, that it firmly held the plugs in place, but was springy enough to shape itself to her body. The back of the plate passed neatly into the cheeks of her backside before erupting to meet the buckles on the belt. When he had finished, she was aware of the pressure that was being put on the plugs, forcing them deeper inside her.
"Try taking a few steps before we go any further" suggested Malcolm as he stood back to admire the view. Jenny deliberately put one foot in front of the other as she fought desperately for balance, her hands providing no assistance. Very slowly, she made her way around the room, the heels of her shoes causing her to exaggerate her gait, throwing her forward all the time. She was becoming aware of the effect that the plugs were having on her internal organs, and had to stop before she had a massive orgasm.
Malcolm stepped forward, proffering her outer garment, a mini-dress that was so short, that Jenny doubted that it would provide any protection at all. The waistband had been tailored into the classic cut which fitted her extreme waist. She also saw that the dress had a high stiff collar, which she assumed would cover the collar of the harness. The material was again leather, the same colour as her shoes, and formed a startling contrast to the white stockings. Malcolm undid the back zip and knelt down so that Jenny could insert first one foot and then the other, nearly falling over in the process.
Working the dress up her legs, she felt how tight the lower half was and seriously doubted that she would be able to part her legs. Malcolm stopped when it reached her waist, unclipped her right wrist from its restraining clip and removed the cuff. Knowing that it was pointless trying to resist, and being practically unable to walk let alone run, she timidly held out her hand while it was forced into a mitten which held her fingers and thumb tightly together. The locking strap surrounding her wrist was tight enough to prevent any movement inside the glove, but remained unlocked for the time being.
He left her right wrist free while he repeated the process with her other hand, not that Jenny could have achieved anything with the fingers encased as they were.
Raising the front of the dress, Malcolm guided both arms into the tight fitting sleeves, the mittens impeding the process slightly. As her fingers slipped out of the ends, he brought the D rings of each wrist through slots in the sleeves and the rings on the waistband through corresponding slits in the dress. He then reattached each wrist to the waist belt, locking the mittens, sleeves and the dress in place. With the mittens matching the dress exactly, it was almost impossible to distinguish them from the rest of the outfit. On the very tip of each mitten was another ring, and these were linked to the ring at the front of her belt, ensuring that the hands stayed flat against her stomach.
She was unable to move them in any way, and her elbows now resting directly behind her. Malcolm continued to zip up the dress, Jennifer feeling other tugs at the back of her waist and shoulders and correctly assumed that similar rings attached to the harness were being threaded through her outer layer of clothing.
Satisfied that her outfit was all but complete, he asked her "What do you think of your outfit then? " adding a bit mystically, "this will be your last chance to comment." Jenny teetered over to the mirror and by looking down her nose, she was able to admire the effect of the minuscule waist and enormous breast that strained against her dress though their own bondage. She could feel her engorged nipples rubbing against the soft lining, making her more conscious of her predicament. "How does it feel to have a figure of 38 – 18 – 36?"
“I hate it, but at the same time a love it as well. I never thought that I could feel so restricted but it looks absolutely fabulous. The heels I would change of course and the corset it only just bearable. This would certainly turn heads in the high street. I don't think you could make me any more helpless," she added but she was wrong. Malcolm got her to turn round and put out her tongue. She felt him putting a stud through the piercing that she had done when she was much younger, but had kept it from healing up more out of a sense of rebellion then anything else. Every so often, she would wear a bar in her mouth just to be different. Now she was not so sure it was a good idea.
Jennifer · Bound · Part 1 (1/2)
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