Taffeta Torment VII
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Taffeta Torment VIII free porn video
VIII
Joyce was waiting eagerly in her bedroom. When Barbara and Joan opened
the door and ushered John inside, she was not disappointed although she
could not hide a voice that was thick with lust as John tottered and
swished towards her settee.
"Come darling, sit beside me. I have some work for you perform. But
nothing too difficult on your first day."
She was dressed in a black taffeta frock, pure 1950s style, with a satin
bodice and skirt draped in chiffon. Black stockings and black satin
gloves, elbow length, concentrated John's gaze. The gossamer chiffon
covering brushed over the taffeta which in turn bristled with the
billowing black taffeta petticoats that had been sewn into the frock and
swished remorselessly as Joyce shifted on the settee.
For his part John was consumed with envy for the liberating frock Joyce
was displaying while he creaked and groaned one tiny step at a time
before the respite of a seat on the settee beckoned.
"My goodness, that does seem like hard work, doesn't it ladies? Is that
skirt a little too tight, sweetie? Come, let Aunty Joyce have a look and
feel of it. Sit down, now, but mind my frock and petticoats, I don't want
them creased."
Barbara and Joan noted how John's pert bottom was mincing and swaying
delicately back and forth as he motioned towards Joyce, eventually
reclining with great difficulty as he flopped down, unable to cross his
legs while his knees remained firmly cemented in nylon friction beneath
his satin skirt and half-slip.
"Good boy. Now ladies, you can leave us alone. And please lock the door
as you leave, I don't want any interruptions. From anyone. Understood?"
"Yes Madame," the two women tweeted in unison, made a small courtesy and
left locking the door behind them.
"You aren't nervous are you darling? I was hoping you might like your new
uniform. Do you like it pet? Say you do. For me."
But John was too busy trying to keep his erection under control because
as soon as he had sat down, he was dazzled by Joyce's frock, the delicate
intricacy of the chiffon layer over the taffeta and the deft fragrance
that appeared to be intruding his every sense.
"Do you like my new perfume? It's called Surrender, best dabbed onto
taffeta and satin so it says on the bottle. Guaranteed to turn any young
man's head, fog it in fact and reduce him to simpering subservience.
"Now I have bought you a notepad and pencil and I want you to practise
your shorthand today, or at least take down a letter. Or your panties. We
shall see. Shall we make a start?"
Joyce had leaned over the helpless John to reach the notepad and newly
sharpened pencil. He felt a waft of that perfume, heard the rustle of
that frock, smelt the satin bodice with its black satin bow strategically
threaded onto the plunging neckline. His resistance was negligible at
best.
"Now, take the pencil in your right hand, notebook balanced on your
knees. Can you cross those legs darling. Too hard, sweetie. All too hard,
really. Ok. Now take this down.
"Dear Aunty Joyce, Could you please apply lipstick to your lips because
it makes me feel so feminine and sends a shiver down my back and a huge
warm glow through my body? Have you got that dear? Now read it back to
me."
And so John, who had diligently written down every word, repeated the
request.
"Well of course I can darling. Here hold my vanity mirror and I'll
lipstick up for you. There there, you're shaking and quivering." Joyce
held his hand firm on the mirror's little handle and gleefully made her
lips full, red and inviting.
"Now, take down a few more words. Dear Aunty Joyce, would you smooth my
black satin skirt with your black satin gloves because I love to feel my
taffeta half-slip rustling up against my swishing nylons. Can you read
that back to me darling? "
And once again, John slowly repeated the request and this time Joyce was
taking to her task with enthusiasm. "Of course darling, you only have to
say, only have to ask... " and Joyce smoothed the flat of her satin-encased
palm over John's skirt. She clasped the back of his neck with her other
hand and gently stroked his skirt, making sure her fingers caressed his
suspenders and ensuring there was enough movement to hear that
intoxicating rustle of taffeta on nylon and polyester satin.
"Dear Aunty Joyce, Could you please gently unfasten my pussy bow blouse,
release some buttons down the front and run your satin gloves over my
satin panels on the lovely corselette you bought for me today."
And again John, now slurring as if drunk, repeated Joyce's words. And she
gently undid his bow at the top of his blouse, methodically unfastened
some buttons and cupped his breasts inside the satin bra cups and slid
her other hand down across the satin panels of his corselette.
"Mmmm I do like to feel your pert little breasts through those satin
cups. Do you like your corselette sweetie? I'll let you into a secret.
Just between you and me. I have bought five, in different colours. One
for every working day of the week. At the weekend, we might try an old-
fashioned long-line bra and girdle. Oooooh, is that feeling nice and
girly, my satin gloves up against your satin panels. Shall I smooth your
satin skirt again. Mmm..I think you might like that darling. Oooh there
were are, good boy."
John moaned. John groaned. Joyce's caress grew stronger and more
demanding but she would not relent.
"Now darling another request. Dear Aunty Joyce, would you slip your satin
gloves underneath my new satin skirt and feel if my panties are wet
because I want to feel you totally in control of my skirt and panties and
stockings."
And so she obliged even before John could repeat her command, sliding her
satin gloves up John's nylons and feeling his by now saturated panties.
"Oh I do love this part darling. So many men have tried to do this to so
many women but now we have the power, the control, don't we sweetie?"
But John's eyes were glazed. His eyes were rolling. His nipples, gently
caressed, were erect. His penis, throbbing and now released from his
silky panties which Joyce was tracing down his thighs and towards his
stocking-clad ankles, was now swishing up against the taffeta slip that
encased his nylon thighs.
Joyce was purring, smoothing her satin gloves all over John's body where
it was most vulnerable. Which was just about everywhere. She canoodled up
to him, smooched her lipstick on the soft skin of his exposed breasts and
neck. Her own sumptuous breasts heaved in passion beneath her satin
bodice while her nyloned legs shuffled and swished beneath her taffeta
and chiffon frock. Now and then she would swish her own nylon-clad calves
up against John's, a delicious rasp that signalled the meeting of nylons
that sent John further towards the abyss.
John moaned as he had never moaned. Joyce recognised the sound. It was
the sound of a young girl being seduced, being brought to a climax she
had never before experienced. And after that she would forever be hooked
and belonging to the person who first released her.
"There's a good little girl," cooed Joyce. "Enjoy your orgasm sweetie,
You deserve it. Your first skirt, your first satin skirt and so many more
to come. To enjoy, to wear. And your aunty will always be here to smooth
it down, make sure your nylons are sheer and straight. As a working girl
you won't have time to check it all, darling. But Aunty Joyce can."
"Yes Aunty," John mumbled.
"And do you want me to freshen your lips regularly with this lovely satin
lipstick. Would you like that?" Joyce cooed as she delicately brushed
John's lips with the full red lipstick.
"Yes please Aunty," John was trembling now.
"Pretty please pet."
"Yes pretty please Aunty."
"There's a good little boy. Hold still for Aunty while I make sure your
slip is nice and smooth."
And Joyce slid her gloves over his skirt and his stockings and up and
under his taffeta slip. She gazed into his eyes, but they were not there.
John was not there. He never would be again. Only a compliant PA with a
desperate addiction to satin and taffeta and Joyce's sensual touch would
look back through those eyes. He had started the day determined to
resist. No surrender. No submission. No chance.
Joyce was already preparing him, grooming him, for another night between
her sheets and thighs. She might milk him slowly. Or not at all. Then
encase and bind him once more in nylon, taffeta and satin and he would
remain at her bidding for the rest of the evening...the rest of his life.
First day at work. First skirt day. A slave to the job. A slave to the
uniform.
****************
IN many ways, George's plight almost mirrored that of John's though his
downward spiral into complete submission was rather more rapid than his
hapless son.
His training had been handed over to Joan and Barbara and boy were they
efficient in ensnaring George in a delicious web of taffeta, satin and
nylons. Initially, he had returned home after that first evening but
gradually the women persuaded George that he should stay over. There was
plenty of room at the quasi mansion, which there was, and Joyce promised
that it would be at no extra cost.
Not that it mattered. George jumped at the chance to steer clear of his
once beloved but now frosty Margaret and once his own room had been made
up, naturally in pastel shades with soft, padded and silky furnishings,
he grew less and less anxious to leave, calling Margaret on the house
phone to concoct any work of fiction that concerned him staying over at a
friend's house or in a hotel with some work he had been asked to do.
All of which allowed Margaret the time and space to empty George's
apartment of his belongings and stuffy old fixtures and fittings and
completely redecorate in a style to which she was far more accustomed.
Cosy, smooth and feline, draped in satins and silk, laden with peachy
colours and sumptuous scents and perfume. George would never recognise
the place she mused, not that he was ever coming back here anyway...
All that remained was actually paying for the refurbishment. But Barbara
and Joan were on that particular case.
As normal one day, they had been tending to John in the morning, bathing
him in hot bubbly water followed by a full pedicure and manicure while
strapped into his special chair.
As normal, also, the pair teased poor John to the brink of explosion,
dressed, also as normal, in matching taffeta maid's frocks, Barbara in
black with stiffened white taffeta petticoats and a white satin apron
tied in a huge taffeta bow just above the waist.
Joan had decided on a caramel-coloured version of that, with a black
satin apron, the frock created in stunningly rich poult taffeta , while
peeking out just below were jet black petticoats finished with a
polysatin lining that rustled delightfully against her black seamed
nylons as she fussed around John's naked body sheaved in a large pink
taffeta cape as he lay motionless in his chair.
Both ladies polished and varnished John's finger and toenails without
their black satin gloves but once their ministrations were over, they
tugged them back up and over their hands, unfurling them slowly to elbow
length before wheeling John and his chair back into his bedroom.
"Now be a good boy and have a little nap in your chair while me and
Barbara finish some of our chores darling," Joan cooed, nestling close to
John's face. Her powdered features and thick lipstick always sent his
penis into erect mode and once Barbara had slipped a stocking over his
head and left her own lipstick mark just below his nose, he was already
happily and erectly heading for the land of nod.
"There, there, won't be too long sweetie," and with that they sashayed
out of the room with frocks swaying against one another in a swishing and
rustling frenzy. Poor John, legs and hands bound to his chair, unable to
assist his erect penis as it throbbed against the cape's lush material
with his nostrils filled by a lingering application of perfume, powder
and lipstick.
Barbara and Joan's work was well and truly done on that front but now for
Georgie Porgy.
They found him where they had left him, locked in his room lashed and
gagged to one of the four posts of his double bed.
"Did you think we had forgotten you sweetie?" Barbara cooed as she and
Joan released him from the handcuffs that kept his hands tightly held
behind his back and round the pole of the bed.
George would have replied but a mouth crammed full of black silky panties
and a head encased in a tan coloured stocking prevented him from doing
so.
They had attired him earlier in a tea rose corselette, open bottomed for
easier access which was vital to their little plan, sheer black nylons
and a matching taffeta half slip with a two inch lace trim around the hem
which fell just below George's knee.
Of course George was quite familiar with their bondage games, quite
enjoyed them really apart from those frantically frustrating times when
they left him hours on end smothered in nylons, silk headscarves and
swishy taffeta, hands bound behind his back and helpless to end his
ordeal with an ecstatic finale.
Now, though, he was being lifted like a baby onto his bed by Joan, her
satin embrace ensuring his loose penis was once again erect as she
slithered her gloves up and down his slip and nylons before placing him
gently on the bed.
"Now, let's have those hands up behind you just here... and here," said
Barbara as she attached both hands into the waiting cuffs that were
permanently attached to George's head rails.
"Joan and I are going to play a little game today Georgie Porgy and we
think you are going to like it, don't we Joan?"
"I do hope so," replied Joan, plumping George's head up on his satin
pillows while gently caressing his taffeta slip where it overlapped his
knees.
"Such a pretty slip, and gorgeous lace trimmings. You must feel so good
in this George," Margaret teased as she too stroked the side of his thigh
through his rustling underskirt.
George, of course, was once again very excited but he kept glaring at
Joan's fabulous frock, such an unusual colour and a sensuously sonic
swish and rustle every time she adjusted herself on the side of the bed.
"M mmffff..." George groaned through his panties and nylon prison.
"Do you like this frock darling. Mmmm..thought so. It's poult taffeta,
just about the most expensive taffeta you can buy. I had a friend make it
up for me, for a wedding I was going to some time ago. Shame just to
leave it hanging in the wardrobe don't you think..." and she ran the palm
of her satin hands over the wonderfully thick and crisp material of her
gown, inviting Barbara to feel her dress.
Rather soon, the pair were stroking each other's frocks and gloves a
little too fondly as George's imagination roamed into overdrive.
"Mmmm that is so swishy darling," Barbara moaned and leant closer
towards her good companion, who was fondling her friend's ample bosom
through the black taffeta bodice of her own frock.
George marvelled at the two women and their sensual touches, the thick
red lipsticks seemingly on the verge of intertwining in one long embrace
of taffetas, satins and nylons and all just a few inches away from his
now unbearable erection and stocking enveloped head.
"Mmmmm...but we have other things to attend to first sweetheart, don't we?"
and in unison and is if pre-planned both ladies turned their attention to
little bound and gagged George.
"This game....well let's start by tying your legs together with a silk
scarf. Joan darling, do you have one?
"Here, one of my favourites in blue and white polka dots. Yes, that
should do it. Just above the knee but not so it hides that divine frilly
edge."
Joan sealed the knot with a huge bow as the silk swished in the air and
up against George's taffeta slip. "ooooo... getting a bit excited Georgie?
Never mind, you keep moving those legs and that lovely hissing of nylon
on nylon will make it even more exciting for you, won't it sweetie?" and
as she adjusted George's posture on the bed, she pouted and he felt a
shiver up his back at the gentle caressing of taffeta and nylon friction.
Whichever way George tried to lay, it only increased the swish and hiss
of the fabrics which encased his legs though he knew he could not spurt.
Both Joan and Barbara were adept in getting him hard, slipping two nylons
of his erect member but then tying his testicles in a fashion with a
third stocking that meant he was utterly incapable of climaxing.
"Now George, here's the game. Barbara here has got a little card in her
apron pocket. Show him Barbara," and her satin gloves duly produced a
green bank card from her pocket.
"I know you are a little pre-occupied at the moment honey but we really
could do with this pin. As you know we have been cashing cheques for your
training here but the nasty old bank won't cash them anymore."
George's head was reeling. As she talked down to him like an infant
child, Joan continued to smooth his taffeta slip against his stockings.
George was desperately trying to focus on the card and what money he had
left in that account, he knew he still had almost ?100,000 in an account
somewhere, his rainy day emergency stash, but as Joan cooed and fiddled
and fussed with his taffeta slip and the suspender clips of corselette,
he could barely concentrate on anything other than the enormous pleasure
he was feeling deep down in his groin area.
"Mistress Joyce has been very reasonable pet and we all want you to stay
but we need a teeny weeny bit more money. You understand that sweetie,
don?t you? So Barbara is going to stroke her fingers over you stockinged
head, one at a time and when her fingers match the first number of your
pin darling, well you just nod that little gorgeous head of yours? OK
darling??
And so Barbara began with a single digit of her satin gloves, moving up
and around George?s face, the electric sensation of the satin glove
melting George?s diminishing willpower.
?That?s one darling. Is that the first number?? And gradually, as George
shook his head, Barbara went through the numbers from 1 to 10 as George
shook his head to everyone.
?Now Georgie darling, you know you are going to tell us eventually,? Joan
said. ?It is just a matter of time, why don?t you be a good boy because
once you?ve told us, we are going to untie this stocking and milk you
through your frilly taffeta slip sweetie. You?d like that, darling,
wouldn?t you? Big squirties for Mistress Barbara and me. Mmmmm?
?Or perhaps we should leave him for a little while to think about his
options and his pin numbers. Come on Barbara, we have other things to
attend to,? and the two women started to smooth their own frocks and
petticoats to make a dazzling exit from the bedroom.
?Mmmmfffff?mmmfff..? George was shaking his head violently.
?Aaawwww ?you want us to stay darling. Then you?ll have to play the game
properly. Now, let?s start again.?
Barbara managed two fingers before George nodded his head gleefully as
Joan tightened the knot on the silk scarf that bound his knees together.
?Good boy, good little boy. Barbara, use my lipstick to write 2 on the
back of George?s left hand.?
Barbara obeyed and then came the number three, again written in lush red
lipstick this time on the palm of George?s left hand. It was left to Joan
to write ?7? and ?8? on the front and back of his right hand as George,
desperate for relief, capitulated inside a minute.
?Barbara go and check that pin. I want you to buy a couple of things
online for me, two taffeta slips in black and white and both in our size.
They should be on my laptop in our room. Be a darling and purchase them
for us. And when they arrive Georgie darling, you can help us both try
them on. Would you like that pet??
George was no longer concerned about the validity of his pin. His nylons
were hissing louder than ever and Joan was unrelenting in stroking first
his thighs through the taffeta slip then his calves as the black satin
gloves accentuated that tingle that permeated his entire body. It took
Barbara just five minutes to verify the pin, returning with a knowing
grin. The two women both went to great lengths to untie the stocking
around his testicles and, pouting and delicately laying the nylon across
George?s large satin bullet bra at the top of corselette. It took seconds
to arouse him, Barbara stroking his nyloned face while Joan rubbed his
double-stocking penis through the shimmering taffeta slip.
?There?s a good boy Georgie Porgy. Squirt for your Mistresses now. And
then you can handwash the stockings with all the others later today.?
The muffled cries of unbridled delight were further silenced by Barbara?s
satin glove over his mouth but the sensation lasted with George for well
over the next half an hour. He had never been brought to climax and then
released thus in such a devastatingly exhilarating style in his entire
life.
Joan and Barbara had long made their rustling departure as George still
contemplated his good fortune. As were his two tormentors and Margaret.
The account held all of George?s ?rainy day stash?. When the news was
relayed to Margaret at the other end of the phone, she let out a squeal
of delight of her own. And then ordered a ballgown in peach taffeta from
an online store in London. She needed it. Something had cropped up, a
little problem to their schemes, and she would be requiring lashings of
taffeta frocks and petticoats, satin skirts and sheer nylons to sort it
out.
Valentina
- 12.07.2021
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