EVE IN EDEN 23 - discipline story

free rope bondage Bondage stories 2011 archive

"OK, let`s forget about women`s rights and wrongs for now," she said. "How have you been getting along. Bottom all healed up by now I hope."
"Since you ask, very nicely thank you. Just some colourful decorations, but the bruising has all gone down, as you may see for yourself at bedtime, if my lord and master doesn`t insist on keeping me in his bed all night. Actually he`s far too considerate of me, and fond of you, not to allow us a little reunion tonight."
Eve had the grace to blush but didn`t reject the implied invitation.
"Besides," Daphne continued with a grin, "he`ll want to start conserving his strength for when his mistress arrives."
Eve gaped at her and Daphne laughed. "Yes, he`s taking Daisy, my sister to his bed. And frankly I can`t think of anyone I`d rather share him with. She`s lovely."
Eve could simply think of nothing to say in the face of Daphne`s calm acceptance of this display of absolute male dominion. Daphne seemed to realise that maybe she`d gone too far too quickly and steered the conversation onwards quickly.
"Now, much as I agree with you on the desirability of keeping my arse out of reach of rods and their like, I may not be so lucky," she told Eve, "Ladies` night on Saturday. You just came home in time."
Like the local rainy season, the reunion was hot, wet and intense and served to make Eve forget her friend`s earlier, astounding revelation. Gordon was generous as usual, and sent Daphne off to Eve`s room as soon as she had drawn breath again, after a panting writhing orgasm. A minute or two were devoted to mutual inspections of colourful but fading spoor from beatings nearly two weeks old; visual checks that soon led to a more hands on approach which, in turn, inevitably spread its sensuous tentacles to other, more sensitive parts. Much play of tongue and touch brought healthy young bodies to a fine arousal that only repeated convulsions could assuage. Dawn found their naked sweaty bodies locked together in sticky slumbering embrace. And Gordon laughed aloud at the smudged eyes and swollen lips that faced him across the breakfast table, when he stuck his head in to say goodbye, before leaving for the office.

Unusually they were to go out for the evening without Gordon.
"Ladies` night is special," Daphne had warned her, "you`ll need to wear your best bib and tucker."
Not quite sure of what that might signify but still not possessing anything in the way of underwear that could remotely be called glamorous, Eve paid another visit to Daphne`s room to beg or borrow something sexy to put her most feminine portions in.
She found her seated at her dressing table, applying the finishing touches to her make-up. A blue silk sheath, whose simplicity shouted designer dollars, lay over a chair nearby as she sat in her underwear before the mirror. Six hawser taut suspenders hauled smoky nylons high up succulent white thighs, gold sandals encased her feet and curled their straps in a loving embrace around her ankles. She wore no bra as yet, but it was not the luscious mammaries, with their thick succulent teats, displayed so proudly, that caught Eve`s eye and interrupted her request for dainty underthings, but the sight of the tensioned spandex that covered the ample buttocks, compressing their twin and deeply riven halves into a single drum tight hemisphere, the twin globes seemingly welded into one.
"My God, darling," she blurted out," what are you wearing? I didn`t think they made them like that anymore."
Daphne swivelled on the soft fur covering and followed her gaze down.
"Oh. I forgot. Ladies` night; full dress code. No bum cracks, no visible panty line, not a bra strap in sight. Everything all prim and proper. Hats and gloves too; the full Emily Post," she added, waving one hand vaguely towards a corner of the vanity where a pair of elbow length gloves and a neat cocktail hat lay waiting.
"Oh! You might have warned me."
"Didn`t need to, darling," Daphne assured her, "I`ll just explain that you`re a visitor and my guest, and you`re excused."
Eve looked away a moment, chewing it over in her mind then turned back to her friend.
"Look, I`m tired of being the odd one out, the curiosity from `out there`. I`d much rather accept the dress code and be like everyone else. Only thing is, I don`t have a girdle. Actually I thought they went out with the Ark."
"Well that at least is no problem," Daphne assured her. "We`ve always been the same size, and I`ve a spare pair in the drawer you can have; never been unwrapped. Better borrow a pair of French knickers to go with them too. Remember, no visible panty line."

The box from a well-known New York store was unsealed and Daphne went back to her make-up while Eve threw off her wrapper and tried to get into the tough elastic tube.
"My God," she wailed, as it gripped her at the top of her thighs and refused to be tugged any further, "I must have put pounds on my bum. I can`t get these anywhere near me."
Daphne turned and burst out laughing.
"I should have remembered that Englishwomen threw away their girdles in the swinging sixties together with their chastity," she chuckled. "It`s quite obvious your mummy never taught you how to handle one of these. It`s a roll-on darling, and that`s just what you do. Roll down the top edge a few inches, then cross your legs to make yourself as small as possible. Pull it up as far as you can tug it, then unroll it the rest of the way."
After a couple of false starts the deed was done, and Eve stood panting regarding herself in the mirror. She was jammed, crammed, stuffed into the tightly gripping tube, which squeezed her arse cheeks so tight together they seemed as one. The front panel pressed on her belly and the top and bottom edges bit into her thighs and waist, the lower edge forming a pelmet over the tight curls of her bush, part concealing, part framing, that secret and alluring thicket. She felt in the grip of a remorseless force, part discomfort, part reassuring support, but totally and emphatically female.
"How`s it feel?" Daphne asked, gently smearing eye shadow with the tip of one manicured finger.
"Tight but nice in a funny way," she replied. "Makes you feel secure and yet feminine, though it does squeeze your bum a bit, doesn`t it."
"You wait until you`ve worn one over a good caning," Daphne warned, "Gets real hot and sore, I can tell you. Although even that`s a comfort in a funny sort of way," she added in a dreamy sort of tone.
The nylons were a struggle. Eve hadn`t worn fully fashioned with seams before and found them a totally different kettle of fish from the normal sheer seamless sheath she was used to. She sat herself on a stool and tried to draw them on as best she could, standing to apply three garter tabs on each thigh.
Daphne took one look and cried out in despair.
"Those`ll never do," she exclaimed, looking at the twisted and strained stockings," Turn up at the Ladies circle looking like that and you`ll be taking them down for a dozen with the strap on the back of each of those lovely thighs. I wouldn`t recommend it. Come and stand over here with your legs apart, and I`ll do them for you."
Standing, feet apart as ordered, Eve felt Dee`s fingers loosen the tabs, then gently stroke the nylon upwards, straightening the seams as she went, until her fingers reached the tabs where they lay against the sensitive white skin at their tops. The touch set off an instant warmth in her belly that spread quickly to her womb and brought glistening drops to the engorging labia. Suddenly she was overcome by a wave of lust. Her belly cramped with desire, but not this time for her feminine friend, whose gentle fingers strayed so near her aching female bud. This time only maleness would satisfy her. Reaction to the months of chastity she had endured since parting from the too sensitive and understanding Roger hit her like a blow in the solar plexus, a feeling of nausea and need that nearly overwhelmed her. What she needed now was not consideration but total savagery. Her mind saw a hot fleshy shaft ramming her to the gills, filling her belly, soaking her womb in fertile seed. As Dee finished her self-imposed maid`s duty, Eve`s belly gulped hungrily for male meat and she broke away and sought her own room in a turmoil of confusion. It was only when she reached its sanctuary that she remembered the French knickers that she had gone to borrow in the first place, before this alarming rush of lust had wiped her brain clean of any other thought. Sheepishly she crept back into Dee`s room and retrieved them while her friend regarded her with a speculating look.
Ten minutes later, carefully made up, the lustful vulva decently covered in silken lingerie, the loosely fitting crotch gusset already well soaked in female dew, the rest of her body cased in a smart `little black dress`, the fashion-conscious traveller`s trusty friend, she returned to Dee`s room to find her pinning on a smart little pillbox hat, complete with veil.
"A hat!" she exclaimed," I haven`t worn a hat for years."
"You will this evening," Daphne assured her," unless you want to ensure yourself a hot buttock. Put this on," handing over a small straw designed to be worn over one eye," and these too."


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