The Vinyl Dress

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Big Tits

Copyright Oggbashan June 2002

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.

* * * * *

I think that Thomas keeps most of his brains between his legs. It’s the only explanation for some of his stupidities. This was the latest – an expensive one for him.

He had been to London for a few days. When he returned he had two suitcases instead of one. I knew he’d been shopping but for what? If I’d been to London I’d need more than one extra suitcase and I’d be unpacking my purchases to show them off as soon as I got home.

Thomas was very secretive about the extra suitcase so I knew he’d done something stupid. So I waited. After a week went by with no mention of his purchases I knew that he must have excelled himself.

He waited until I was in a good mood. I knew he would – and spoil it! We’d been out for the evening with some of our friends. We’d had a good time with good food and a moderate amount to drink. As we were sitting on the settee before going to bed he said:

“Lisa, I bought something in London for you”

OK I thought. Here it comes!

“Yes, Thomas” I said “That was nice of you. What did you get?”

“It’s a dress.”

OK I thought again. Thomas knows my size exactly. He knows what I like to wear. Perhaps he’d actually done something right for once. Oh boy was I wrong!

“Can I see it?” I asked sweetly.

“Yes. I’ll just go and get it.” He went upstairs and came back with the whole suitcase. There must have been more than “a” dress in it.

He opened the case and pulled out a large rectangular white box. No markings at all. No maker’s marks, no shop marks – nothing but white cardboard.

He lifted off the lid towards me and I heard the rustle of tissue paper. Then he held the dress up for me.

He was holding a glossy black vinyl “mistress’s” dress. Floor length, laced at the sides even along the seams of its arms, moulded bra cups – the lot. The man’s magazine fantasy of what the ideal “Mistress” should wear!

I blew my top.

“You expect me to wear THAT?” I shouted.

“Well, yes. You are my Mistress and I thought ..”

“You THOUGHT! You couldn’t think if your life depended on it. Am I supposed to wear that to demonstrate how I control you? I suppose I’ll have a whip and pose with my heel spiked on your chest? Being your “Mistress” is a state of mind, not silly clothing. If I was wearing dirty jeans and a paint stained T-shirt I’ll still control you because I have more brains in my little finger than you have in total.”

Thomas was cringing now.

“I thought you’d like it as a bit of fun ..”

“Why should I like it? It looks very uncomfortable if not impossible to wear. Anyone wearing it would sweat like a pig. Then it would stick and have to be peeled off with a trowel. The side laces would cut into the skin and those moulded cups wouldn’t fit my breasts!”

“They said it would fit anyone!” He protested.

I took it from him. I held it up and looked at it closely. It was made in two separate pieces. They were held together by laces from shoulder to ankle and had press-studs that adjusted the size of collar. It was made of a very thick vinyl and nearly stood up on its own. There were “D” rings attached at the waist, wrists, lower hem and to the neck.

“By anyone they mean a medium sized woman which I’m NOT! I’d be falling out the sides of this – this THING! You are impossible Thomas. How you could ever think I’d wear this or …” I paused as a thought began to form in my head “… had you been drinking when you bought it?”

“Well .. Yes. I’d had a few beers before I went shopping” he admitted.

“So! What else did you buy?”

Even Thomas could recognise the ominous tone in my voice.

“I bought a few things to go with it. They said …”

“I’ll bet they did. They recognised a prize idiot when they saw one. Could you take it all back and get a refund?” I asked.

“No. I had to pay cash. I didn’t want their name on my credit card statement. And I’m not going back there anyway!” he ended on a note of defiance.

“OK. So you’ve wasted your money. What else is there? Let’s see the worst.”

Sheepishly he rummaged in the case. He produced another plain white box.

“There’s the panties to go with it.” He put that box down and produced another “And the arm glove ..”

“An arm glove? Out with it!” I ordered.

He opened the box. He was right – “an” arm glove in matching black vinyl. It fitted over both arms and tied them together with several buckled straps. I’d seen pictures but never the real thing.

“What else?” I could see more packages in the suitcase.

“The two-use hood”

This box was covered in crudely printed with black and white drawings and text with a bright red label “The Two-Use Hood”

“Pass it over!”

I looked at the drawings. The hood had two uses as described. One was as a gag with a ball-gag inside the mouth. The second was as a dildo which replaced the ball-gag so that the Ataşehir Grup Escort wearer could penetrate someone with the dildo attached in front of the mouth. But instructions went further. The dildo could be reversed so that it was inside the mouth. The whole hood fitted over the head, laced at the back and was buckled at the neck. There were holes for the nostrils and flaps which could be fastened up to expose the eyes, or down to blind them. I opened the box. This hood was not in vinyl but in brown kid leather. However bizarre its purpose this was well made – unlike that vinyl dress.

“And?” I asked.

“The corset” he replied – as if you’d need a corset with that unyielding vinyl dress. I opened the box he’d passed me. Not bad if you like that sort of thing. I was like a Greek warrior’s breastplate – if you’ve seen “Xena The Warrior Princess” you know what I mean. It was moulded in soft black leather studded with extensive gilded decoration especially the cups which were totally gold. It would do to play “Boudicea” or an Amazon Queen. In the box with it was a short skirt of weighted leather strips similarly decorated.

“Anything else?”

“One last thing. The body suit.” he said.

A body suit. Who wore body suits now?

I opened the box and pulled the body suit out. It was in silver lycra with a long back zip. It was a body suit with a difference. It would cover the wearer from head to toe. The head would be completely hidden inside the overall hood which had a buckled strap round the collar. Another strap belted the waist, more at the wrists and ankles. The hands were just bagged. No attempt at separating fingers or thumbs. Once inside this suit the wearer couldn’t get it off. Oh yes! One last detail. A drawstring opening at the crutch for easy access to the wearer’s sex!

“Thomas” I said quietly “sit down.”

He sat down on the settee beside me.

“When have you ever tied me up?”

“Never” he admitted.

“Who gets tied up?”

“I do” he said

I talked to him quietly and carefully.

“So why did you buy these things for me? I don’t get tied up – you do. I wouldn’t wear that body suit because it’s a bondage suit. The arm glove and hood are also for bondage. If you’d looked carefully, so is the vinyl dress. The only possible thing I’d wear is that corset – and then only for a laugh because it’s so over the top. So you’ve wasted your money buying things that I’d never wear. Even when drunk you must have known that.”

“I suppose so.” he said reluctantly.

“Thomas. That vinyl dress is almost impossible for anyone to wear. It is vinyl inside and out. Even with the ventilation through the side lacings whoever wore it would be sweating buckets.”

“Um” was all the reply I got.

“You didn’t show me the panties, did you? Are they even worse than the rest? Hand them over!”

He gave me the unmarked box. I opened it and an instruction leaflet fell out. Since when do you need an instruction leaflet with panties? I lifted the tissue paper off and revealed not panties but a black long-line panty girdle with legs. It was reasonably feminine with lace trim to the legs and control panels but not for normal use. Threaded round the waist, just below its top and around each leg was a set of strong black leather straps each with buckles and tiny black padlocks! Securely sewn to it were more “D” rings down its side seams and in the small of the back. I looked at the instruction leaflet. It said “This is a training girdle. Once secured it cannot be removed without the keys. It could be used as a chastity girdle or for disciplining slaves. In the accessory bag are the straps to attach the slave’s arms and/or legs – see illustrations overleaf”. It went on to give scenarios for its use and details of positions that could be achieved “with the help of this useful item of lingerie”. I could barely keep my face straight. I wanted to laugh outright and spoil my irritation with Thomas. I controlled myself enough to say:

“Well, Thomas. This is an interesting item. Like the others I’d never wear it but since you have been such a stupid idiot you can model it for me. Strip!”

“I’m not going to wear that!” he yelled.

“Oh yes you are. You bought it. You wear it!”

He gave in and started to strip. He stopped with just his boxer shorts on.

“Take them off as well!”

Reluctantly he obeyed. His sex flopped dejectedly.

“Now. Put your legs in this.”

He lifted his legs from the settee and I pulled the girdle up. I had to stop once or twice to open the leg straps wider.

“Stand up!”

He stood.

“Pull it up”

It took both of us to get the girdle up to his armpits. Then I pulled the back zipper up.

“Ow! That’s too tight!” he moaned.

“We haven’t finished yet. Where’s that instruction leaflet? Here it is.”

I tightened the top strap round his chest. The buckle came conveniently to the top of the zip and as the leaflet directed I put the padlock through the loop on the zipper and the strap’s buckle.

Then I buckled and padlocked the legs.

“Hey! You are cutting off my circulation!”

“Sorry, Thomas – but you bought this.”

I wasn’t Ataşehir Manken Escort sorry at all. I was enjoying myself.

I pulled the waist strap really tight before locking it. I looked at Thomas. His flesh bulged above the girdle even though he doesn’t have any fat on him. His legs looked painful. For once I relented and let the leg straps out a notch before rebuckling them.

I picked up the accessory bag and looked at the instruction leaflet. I opened the sealed bag carefully. As stated there were the “arm-straps 4”. I attached them to Thomas’ arms at wrists and elbows and buckled them to the side “D” rings. Now his arms were fixed to his sides.

I reached into the bag again for the “ankle-strap 1”. I pushed him on to the settee and round his ankle the strap went. I lifted him off the settee to the floor. What came next? Out of the bag came the “hog-tie 1”. “Loop through ankle strap and tie off; pass free end through back “D” ring pull tight; tie again to ankle strap. Note: back “D” ring is reinforced to take any possible strain.” It was! Despite Thomas’ now frantic struggles the “D” ring didn’t move at all.

I was ignoring Thomas’ protests but they were getting louder. The last item came out of the accessory bag. The quaintly named “Red Rose/Pear”. This was a large floppy satin rose on a black strap. On one side of the strap was the rose, on the other side a solid pear. What did the instructions say? Oh yes. This was it. “To use the pear just place in the slave’s mouth and tighten strap round head. To use the rose twist it clockwise so that it is as small as possible. Put it in the slave’s mouth releasing it as you do so. The pear is not as effective as the rose in silencing the slave but is easier to use without practice.”

I twisted the rose and released it. It sprung out to its previous shape. I tried again. It worked.

“Open your mouth, Thomas!” I ordered.

“No. I won’t!”

“You will. I don’t want to hurt you but your present has left you totally helpless, hasn’t it?”

“Yes” came a whisper.

“Then open your mouth.”

This time he did. In went the rose. Thomas’s eyes opened wide as it sprung open in his mouth. He tried to speak but even without the strap being secured he couldn’t make a sound nor could he spit the rose out. The pear waggled in front as he shook his head frantically. I didn’t bother to do the strap up and its ends lashed his face as he struggled.

I kicked my shoes off and rested my stocking feet on his back.

“You are in an interesting situation, Thomas. I could leave you there all night. Why you bought it I don’t know but since it fits you so well you can wear it whenever you like. Just ask and I’ll help you put it on. What’s that? You want me to take it off? I don’t think so. I’m getting ready to go to bed. Good night, Thomas.”

His body shook as he rocked from side to side trying to escape from his present to me. Not a sound came past the rose in his mouth. I left the room and switched off the light.

I showered and changed for bed. I suppose it was half an hour before I returned to Thomas. He was still hog-tied on the floor. The rose was still in his mouth. His head was resting on the carpet and he had been crying.

“Come on, Thomas” I said “Time for bed.”

I picked him up and carried him to our bedroom. I put him on the bed and reached inside his mouth to remove the rose. Even with my fingers it was a real struggle to twist it and release him.

“Ooof!” he breathed as the rose came out. “That thing is unbelievable. It’s soft but absolutely impossible to spit out. I even tried catching one of the strap ends on a chair but I couldn’t pull it out.”

“Sounds like a useful device to me” I said calmly.

“You would say that. You weren’t gagged with it!” he protested.

“But you bought it for me” I said “You should have known better. You ought to have realised that I wouldn’t wear it – you would.”

“Well … ” said Thomas

“Out with it!”

“I didn’t buy everything for you”


“No. I bought the dress for you. I admit that was a mistake. I bought this panty girdle for you to use on me.”

“I thought you did”

“But I didn’t expect it to be so humiliating. I hadn’t read the instruction leaflet.” he went on “I thought you’d like the barbaric splendour of the corset ..”


“.. but the bodysuit and two-use hood were also for me”

“What about the arm-glove?” I asked.

“At the time I thought that we could take turns with that.” he answered.

“No way! You are the slave.”

“I know that now. I’d just like to kiss you once or twice without you taking over.”

“Maybe. If you are really good I’ll let you do the kissing. Here’s a sample.” I moved so that his head was next to mine. He stretched his neck and kissed me. For once it was nice just to accept being kissed.

“Thank you” he said as he finished “Now, please Lisa will you let me out? I’m busting to go to the bathroom and not only that but this girdle won’t let me have an erection. I always get one when you tie me up and it’s been really painful ever since I’ve been trussed up.”

“If you admit that you were stupid Ataşehir Masöz Escort to buy these things.”

“I was stupid. I’m sorry, Lisa”

“OK. Next time remember that I don’t need anything special to tie you up. I do it with whatever is to hand.” I started releasing him from his constricting bonds. “I know and you know that you like being tied up with things I’ve been wearing.”

He nodded.

“And I’d never wear this.”

“Sorry, Lisa”

I finished with the buckles and padlocks. Even then it took both of us working together to pull the panty girdle off him. His body and legs were deeply marked where the straps had cut into him.

“If I were you I’d have a shower before coming to bed. That might bring the circulation back.”

“Yes Lisa. Good night.” Thomas went to the bathroom. I drifted off to sleep. The next thing I knew was Thomas bringing me breakfast in bed. The sun was shining through the curtains promising a hot day. Ideal for what I had in mind.

“Have you forgiven me for last night?” he asked.

“Not wholly. You spent a lot of money for little purpose. With that much there were many things you could have bought for me or for yourself that would be more acceptable.”

“So what are you going to do?” he asked. He knew he was in for more discipline.

“For a start, since it’s such a nice day, you can do our washing and hang it out.”

“OK. The washing machine is already going.”

“Good. You can clean my workroom. I’m going to do some design work on the computer. Come to me when you’ve finished the workroom and the washing is hanging on the line.”

“Yes Lisa.” He left.

About an hour later he returned.

“I’ve finished” he announced.

“OK. Meet me in the workroom. Bring the arm-glove and the hood”

“Yes, Lisa”

When he arrived I put the arm-glove on him with his arms behind his back. He said it wasn’t too uncomfortable to wear. Perhaps I hadn’t buckled it tight enough but I was cautious after seeing that he had bruises from last night’s session with the panty girdle.

“Now I’m going to put the hood on you. I’m not going to use the gag or the dildo because I want to talk to you.”

“OK Lisa.”

I laced up the hood. I left his eyes uncovered. I sat down at my sewing machine and tied him to the table with a length of wide ribbon through the straps on the arm-glove. He rested his head on my lap. From time to time I caressed his head.

“You were really stupid in London, Thomas”

“Yes, Lisa”

“I don’t know what to do about it. What do you think I should do?”

“Punish me, please, Lisa”

“I can and will do that but what I don’t like is that you could get the idea that I’d like the things you bought. We’ve been together long enough so that you should know what I like, what I don’t like and what might please me. You’ve made me feel that I’ve been wasting my time with you. You haven’t been paying attention to me.”

“I’m sorry, Lisa”

“I know you are. Yet you worry me. If this relationship is going anywhere you ought to know better. I know what you like. I can manipulate you by making you live out your fantasies because I know what they are. You don’t know me half as well as I know you. You can please me by being an attentive slave but you don’t anticipate what I want. You don’t even understand what I’m feeling. Do you?”

“I try, Lisa. You are difficult to understand. All I know is that I enjoy being your slave.” Thomas answered softly.

“It’s not enough. I want more than submission. Oh ****! I don’t really know what I want except that you are not giving it to me. Can you follow what I mean?”

“Not really, Lisa.”

“That’s our problem. I want a slave, but a slave who understands me, who can play at being a slave yet can manipulate me as I manipulate him. To do that he has to know me far better than you do, probably better than I do myself.”

“I will try, Lisa. I will do the best I can.”

I hugged his head to my skirted legs. I was nearly crying. I pushed his face down into my skirt so that he couldn’t see.

“I know you will, Thomas” I said but my unspoken thought was “will it be enough?” I leant over him and my breasts pushed him further into my skirt. I held the position for half a minute before I let him go and returned to my sewing. I knew that Thomas didn’t understand what I wanted. Was this the beginning of the end?

I wanted to think to myself in silence so:

“Thomas, I’m going to gag you now.”

“Yes, Lisa”

I fitted the ball gag to his hood and then rested his hooded head back in my lap. I continued sewing as my thoughts whirled through my head.

I liked Thomas. He was great in bed. He tried to please me as a slave but that’s all he was to me. A stud and a servant. What I needed was more. I wanted a partner, not an equal, but a lot more than Thomas. Someone I could discuss things with seriously, whose advice I could listen to, who was also good in bed. I wanted a lover who was a friend as well. I had friends, many of them, both male and female. I wanted a friend who would be a lover as well. Poor Thomas! I was sorry for his lack of understanding. When he said that he would do his best I knew that he would. Yet his best could never be good enough for me. He might be better with someone else. Someone who would be happy to control and direct him and expect nothing more in return but blind devotion. Thomas loved me. I stroked his shoulders gently. He stirred and nuzzled his head against me.

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