Satinised at Girdleworld Chapter 1 of 3
- 2 years ago
- 7
- 0
Satinised At Girdleworld - Chapter 2 Of 3 free porn video
Satinised at Girdleworld a store in 3 parts by PRIM
Chapter 2 : Muriel's Pansy Sissy
"Well, now, my little pet," declared Muriel Gracegirdle, a smile of
contempt curling her glossy, crimson lips, "what do you think of your
attractive mother-in-law this morning?"
Philip Gracegirdle, named after his wife on their wedding day just three
months previously, could feel the tightening glow of his earlier paddling
in his bared buttocks. He knew his answers had to be full and self-
humiliating if they were to satisfy his Mistress.
"Ph - Phyllis thinks you are adorable this morning, M - M - Mumsie
dearest," he replied as he struggled to stay balanced on the toes of his
white high heels. "You are so attractive to your sissy son-in-law."
"How old is your darling Mumsie, Phyllis, pet?" she asked, rolling her
fully fashioned stocking up over her knee.
"You are a very young and sprightly 68 years old, darling Mumsie."
"Well, I don't know about that, my little pervert." Muriel maintained
there must have been a mistake about her date of birth since she felt not
a day over 50. Her problem there was that her daughter was definitely 45,
but on this particular morning Muriel was in very good health for a
mature woman who was on the wrong side of 200 pounds. She carried the
great majority of her ladylike bulk in her longline bras and reinforced
girdles, which converted her weight into curves of matronly proportions;
a side of her nature which appealed so strongly to men with a weakness
for voluptuous women of her age and experience.
Her fondness for strict foundation wear meant that she was able to slip
into a size 24 dress with relative ease, although she did have a secret
wardrobe of size 30-somethings with blouses and pants for slobbing out in
the attic flat of her apartment where no-one ever suspected she was still
at home. It was in that part of the house where she had started giving
her woefully unlucky son-in-law his recent lessons in submissive respect.
Respect for her and the contents of her dressing room, that is. Whenever
Crystal approached the door and heard the strokes of her mother's cane or
strap, she would smile and withdraw, knowing the fool was in good hands.
She also knew her mother was in her seventh paradise, finally able to get
her hands on the spineless Wimp.
"Just the right age for a wardrobe pet like you, isn't that right?" she
asked him.
"Oh yes, M-M-Mumsie, I -I'm so privileged to be able to wear your
wonderful corsets and blouses and high heeled shoes, and feel your
knickers around my private little parts, and - "
"Don't you mean, 'round your private little sexless parts, you dim wit?"
There was a look of menace in her blue shadowed eyes and the angry set of
her jaw reminded her 'pet' that he'd better make a rapid correction.
"Oh yes, you are perfectly right, Mumsie precious. It is my sweetly
sexless private parts which feel so lovely inside your darling knickers.
I am so lucky. I - "
"Of course I'm right, you clot," she scolded, "your girlish little prick
feels gorgeous inside Mumsie's big silk knickers, doesn't it, darling?"
At the moment she asked him the question, his naked penis was held in
front of his Mistress in the strap and ribbon device around his balls and
the root of his penis, where he was attached to a tight cord suspended
from the rails at the high ceiling, keeping Philip Gracegirdle on his
toes beside her burgundy velvet armchair in the middle of her opulent
drawing room. He bleated with humiliation and his blond hair fell over
his face as he anguished in front of his mother-in-law. Muriel pulled a
black stocking top to the suspender tab of her white satinette open-
bottom girdle and clipped it in a tight stretch, followed by a second, a
third and the fourth at the back of her fully fleshed thigh.
Her son-in-law's penis was swelling at the sight of her girdle. Many a
time he had been instructed to kiss the high waist where it overlapped
the firm band of her long line bra, kneeling beside his Mistress as she
attended to her toilette on her dressing table stool and completing a
full circle around her foundation garments with his fervently devoted
lips. Occasionally he was allowed to kiss every inch of her heavy HH bra
cups, before having his ears soundly boxed for not showing anything like
the expected reverence and gratitude.
"Ohhhh, Mumsie, I - I know my little prickie-wickie is - is - "
It hurt Philip Gracegirdle to make such a horrifying admission, even
though it was the truth, but his jaw dropped as he saw the grip of anger
clutching the crimson lips of his adored mother-in-law with determined
authority.
How she loved the whimpers he made each time he saw her lift the riding
crop from her chair-side table. This time it was just three sharp cracks
delivered across his stockinged thigh. He teetered in helpless exposure
in front of her, his hands ribboned behind him and naked but for his
mother-in-law's white suspender belt, honeyed stockings and white high
heels, as he danced in a tight circle beneath his penis on its ceiling
leash. The pain helped him to speak his wretched mind.
"M-Mumsie darling, my Prickie-wickie is sooooo effeminate for you. Yes,
Mumsie, it - it's like a girls' prickie-wickie and - it loves to be put
into Mumsie's beautiful big silk knickers."
Muriel fastened her second stocking to her girdle as her lips curled with
crimson disdain for the abject weakness of this prime Wimp that she'd
found for her daughter to marry, securing his fortune for his joint
Mistresses. How convenient that Crystal's dream, of converting her first
foundationwear boutique into a High Street empire was to be financed by
her flimsy husband. She chuckled at the thought, because as she could see
at this minute as she removed the boot shaper from her first boot and
threaded her foot deep inside the polished black leather, he was so weak
and addicted to her own style of dressing that he actually wanted to
bankroll his wife's ambitious plans. In some way, he must imagine that it
would mean more corsets for his Mumsie; stronger, tighter, shinier and
stricter. The pathetic Worm was right, she chuckled to herself.
Crystal returned to the room as her mother was fastening the black
leather buttons over the ankle of her boot, carrying several hangers
bearing her mother's change outfit for her trip to the High Street. The
frills of her white blouse poured over the neat collar of her royal blue
costume, its long graceful lines more suitable perhaps for a mother of
the bride occasion than for her business trip.
"Mother," she complained, "I really must set out. I have to be in
Cleveland by half past two to meet two of my store manageresses. The
idiot made a bugger of a nuisance of himself with that perverted mess he
shot into your skirt."
Muriel used the button hook for the tighter fitting buttons that enclosed
her fulsome calf into its black patent leather.
"Leave him to me, darling, but I'll need a bowl of hot sudsy water,
sponge, brush and towel. That filthy prick is going to get a good wet
brushing. The powder and penis perfume is in my room."
Crystal's anger was fuming as she clipped the last of the hangers over
the dress rail in front of her mother.
"I'm not going to put myself out for this clown," she fumed, grabbing his
hair in her brown kid glove and delivering a sound smack across his cheek
for the inconvenience he had caused. "I'll bring things to help you,
mother. This Whelp," and she landed a second smack that sent him swaying
helplessly on his penis cord so that he would have fallen and hung by it
had she not kept hold of his hair, "deserves a truly heavy punishment
session when he gets to the store. Make sure you give it to him."
Muriel slipped her stockinged foot into the toe of her second boot and
slid it, opened, into place.
"Leave him to me, precious. What I also want you to do for me is choose
some of his things from my dressing room. When I say 'my' dressing room,
I mean the Clown's room as well, of course. Our dressing room, my little
Pansy," she called up at him as she fastened her boot buttons. "The large
walnut wardrobe for a blouse, the tall wardrobe for some nice silky
trousers for him, and I'll need three pairs of knickers."
Her son-in-law rocked on his toes, recovering from the blows across his
face as his adored wife flounced out of the sitting room on her errand.
It was heart-breaking how the girl he loved so much, even though she was
exactly twice his age, treated him with total indifference and even
contempt, from the day of their marriage. It had crushed him, the
following day, when she had passed him over to her mother, with a written
contract of ownership. Dreadful as this had seemed to him at the time, he
somehow found blessing in the deeply submissive obedience and devotion
Muriel had instilled into him, in particular by conditioning him into a
helpless love of her costumes.
Right now the pathetic Wimp was again being allowed the privilege of
being present as his Mistress dressed herself for their foray into the
heart of town. To GirdleWorld, to be exact: the flagship store of
Crystal's growing chain of ladieswear outlets for matrons who found
delight in over-dressing themselves for the humiliation of sexually
defeated sissies. His heartbeats quickened as his respected Mistress
reached into her purse on her side table, took out a gold lipstick case
which he himself had bought for her, and wound up the finger of glossed
crimson.
"I'm adding a thickened layer of Phyllis's favourite deep red lipstick,
Honey-Pie," she smiled with a derisive lift of one eyebrow. "So that he
can watch his adorable Mumsie becoming even more gorgeous and attractive
for his pleasure. I know that you like Mumsie once she is buttoned all
the way up her boots, don't you, my pet?"
The man's penis was telling it all, stiffened now into an upright
condition in the elastic and ribboned harness at its root. "Oh Mumsie,
yes. Yes, Phyllis loves Mumsie to put on her lovely black high heeled
boots, and to - to apply her d-d-delicious bright lllll-lipstick for
him."
His breathing was coming in short pants as she shaped her puckered lips
and pressed the wax into every surface and corner of her parted lips,
then seemed to begin again, adding a second, rich layer until the
perfectly shaped and very full butterfly of her lips was gleaming with a
blood red shine.
How had it come to this? What had happened to his former manhood? Why had
he surrendered so weakly to the power of his wife and her mother, and
submitted with no more than token protests as Muriel had forced him to
sit for hours of scolding in front of her open wardrobes and lingerie
drawers, his arms tied to the back of the chair, his legs fastened wide
apart, as she 'persuaded' him to fall in love with her corsets, her bras,
her girdles and suspender belts, her beautiful silk and satin knickers
and nylon slips, her full chiffon petticoats, her delicious dresses and
gowns, her skirts and blouses brimming with authority, her succulent
rubber rainwear and her fabulously soft fur coats.
His resistance was so weak he had been reduced to crying time after time
in her hands as she massaged his penis in one item of her clothing after
another. He had learnt to agree with her that he was less than a man;
that he was a pantie-loving pervert; that he wanted her to put him into
her deliciously smooth and silky slips and pairs of knickers - and he had
learnt to thank her profusely for making him her very own sissy pet:
sissified, frilled and utterly desexed, in the space of just three weeks.
Which was why he was about to be taken out of the house under his
Mumsie's control for the first time.
Muriel held her head high, her nose lifted as she inhaled the pleasure of
her superiority over this weakling, and exchanged her lipstick case for
her packet of cigarettes and the matching gold lighter that her devoted
and dangling admirer had bought for her on the same occasion, at the
ceremony at one of her friends' houses where he had been signed over to
her by her daughter. It was at that moment that Crystal returned to the
room with a bowl of water brimming with suds, and towels, sponge, flannel
and the penis brush.
"Darling, you're an angel," beamed Muriel, lighting the end of her long
cigarette and fitting it into an ebony cigarette holder. "Be so kind as
to arrange my things ready for our use while I enjoy a cigarette; the
clown can wait with a filthy penis until I'm good and ready for him." She
put her holder to her pursed lips and drew a full bosom of smoke.
"I'm seething, Mother," returned Crystal. "He's causing me to lose so
much time!" And she seized her mother's crop and pasted her husband's
stockings with it to bring her anger just a little relief. There was
nothing he could do to defend himself, his wrists fastened behind him,
half-dangling at his erected penis and trembling on the toes of his white
high heels.
"Ouch! Owwww! I - I'm terribly sorry, darling. Owww! Aaagghhh!" he
called, bringing chuckles of pleasure from Muriel.
"Whip him a good few times for me too, darling," she said, drawing on her
cigarette and watching the pain contort his face. "That's it. Oh good,
yes. Harder, dear. His tears are coming. It's what he deserves for
flagrantly showing his Mumsie his sexless perversion and weakness this
morning. For heaven's sake, how disgusting was that when the Pansy
squirted his load all over the buttons of my Dior skirt."
She was right. Philip Gracegirdle was starting to cry in his pain, his
misery and his utter defeat. All he could do was wait and suffer until
Crystal stopped, partly because the whipping had exhausted her but also
because her mother had finished her cigarette and wanted to take over and
direct his humiliations.
"His clothes, honey. Be an angel," she said, and stood up, tall in her
knee length boots so that she could start to get dressed.
Her sobbing son-in-law gritted his teeth, the pain searing through his
calves and thighs where the seams of his honey tanned stockings had been
thrashed with a venom only his wife ever showed him. Somehow he had
learnt that he could find some solace with her mother. She would speak to
him more kindly instead of always chewing his ear off, and when it came
to time for his punishments, she somehow took it easy with the tawse;
then soothed his flaming skin with ointment and powder before putting him
into her knickers.
"Now, my little corset loving sissyboy," she declared, sliding her heavy
blouse of bronze silk from its hanger, "we have to get your dirty girls'
penis cleaned up ready for your little shopping trip. We can't have my
lady friends thinking your mother-in-law allows sissyboy juicing or any
sort of ejaculating without expressed permission. Because who's in charge
of little Phyllis's squirting, my darling boy?" Her son-in-law was
watching her slide her arms deep into each of the billowing sleeves of
her blouse and swelled with adoration again.
"Oh darling Mumsie is in charge of Phyllis's penis and all of his
juicing," he whimpered, "and especially of his ejaculations, Mumsie. He
mustn't ever have a sissy orgasm until she tells him to."
Muriel drew her blouse together over the swelling white cups of her satin
bra and threw the neck tie ribbons over her shoulders, out of her way.
"Exactly so, my Phyllis Frillikins," she soothed as she fastened her
blouse from its high neck, over her bust and down to the satin panel at
the front of her girdle. "So my little Nancy-boy will have to be ve-e-ery
careful not to make any juicy little squirts while he's watching his
darling Mumsie fastening her lovely blouse for him."
The blouse was in a crisp jacquard silk that doubled at the neck and
ribbons, down the button placket and at both the tubed cuffs and the
blouse buttons were a centimetre wide and covered in the same fabric.
"Look at Mumsie, Phyllis," she ordered. "Watch me fastening my big silk
blouse. One of the very blouses that you paid dickie service to yesterday
afternoon for your wardrobe practice." She stood a yard in front of him
as she fastened the three buttons on each cuff where the wide sleeves
gathered in sizzles of silk. "And when Mumsie has fastened her blouse
bow," she said, pulling both ribbons into sight from her shoulders so
that they hung down to her boots, "it will be time for that dirty-boy
pansy penie to get the scrubbing it deserves".
Philip Gracegirdle's heartbeats raced as he saw her wrap one tie ribbon
across the other, each of them fully five inches wide in glossy, thick
silk, and pull it up and through at her chin. The ribbon cuff at her
throat was so wide it had to be folded over but still cupped her jaw
crisply.
"Just make sure, little pumpkin," she said, making a wide loop of silk,
"that there is no filthy gooey cum, do you hear?" Her huge silk sleeves
spread on either side of him as he fumbled for a correct answer that
would satisfy his mother-in-law's demands.
"Oh gosh, no, Mumsie dearest; I won't - I mean - my girlie little peenie
won't do any naughty jerkies - I promise."
"We're not in Mumsie's lovely dressing room now, my child. Not practising
worship of her dresses and skirts, when Phyllis is a good boy if he
spurts out his tribute." She made a gap in the thick silk at her neck to
pull the slither of ribbon through it to make her second loop, and
primped the two wings of her bow into the extravagant, almost ridiculous
width, the way she loved to wear her blouses; as fussily and as
ostentatiously as possible. She lifted her chin so that her jaw almost
lifted clear of her bow, to look down her nose as her son-in-law
struggled balefully to avoid the aching stimulation that was coursing
through his genitals.
"Phyllis likes being Mumsie's dressing time pet in her dressing room,
doesn't he?" she smiled, fussing the shape of her bow for him.
"Oh yes, Mumsie dearest, I so like to be taught to love your beautiful
things."
She held his cheeks in both of her hands and turned her face a little to
the side, as if expecting more confession.
"I am your girdle-pantie sissy-boysie, Mumsie."
His face was crimson and she tipped her head to one side as if speaking
intimately, sharing one of their dearest experiences together.
"With pansy Phyllis loving Mumsie's lovely pleated skirts - "
He blushed more brightly as she held him and would dearly have loved to
avert his eyes if such a thing was allowed; he knew that she could always
guarantee squirts and squirts of juice when he was tied to his chair, his
naked penis available to his mother-in-law, for her to sit between his
bare knees, lift her skirt and wrap his shaft in silk or satin pleats for
long sessions of masturbation as she taught him to confess how besotted
he was with her and her dresses.
"And my little pumpkin can't wait for corset loving time, can he,
darling?"
His lip trembled with guilt and admission as he recalled how he would
stand beside his mother-in-law, with one of her corselets laid across her
skirted lap, so that he could lean across her and place his hands on a
chair the other side and lower himself rapturously onto the lace and
satinex panels of her corselet, or corset, or pantie-girdle in her lap
and thrust his eager penis up and down its length, encouraged by her
praise and admiration, until his orgasm burst onto his beloved foundation
in spurts of cum.
"And what about Mumsie's gorgeous blouses, sweetheart? Are you forgetting
how you ask her to pull your girdle higher and take off your panties.
Tell Mumsie why you like her to do that for you, Cuddlikins?"
There were quivers escaping his throat as he took a deep breath and
forced himself to admit his shame. "Be-Because I - I want my blousey
lickel peenie-weenie to be able to do blousey slidies, Mumsie."
"Yes, you do, don't you, you ridiculous pervert! On my arm!"
He flinched at how wicked it sounded when she put it like that; how he
regularly asked her if he could hump the sleeve of the blouse she was
wearing, so excited was he to see her in one of her fabulous silk, satin
or taffeta creations, and he would hold the hem of his own blouse out to
the sides so that she could see the stiffness of his shame, the first
signs of his clear juice, and then the gushing jets of his submission to
her blouse, spurt after sticky spurt splashing over it as his eyes opened
wide and he mmmmphed and nnnnnnggged and aaaaahhhhed and pumped into her
oh so silky feminine blouse sleeve.
"You're a filthy, pathetic, sexless weakling, Phyllis, and I'm going to
scrub your penis til it learns a little more respect and submission.
With that she turned away and picked up her black rubber gloves, and sat
in her burgundy armchair beside his helpless stockinged legs, with his
penis on the level of her bronze silk bow.
***
Next: Chapter 3 : Dressed to Go Out
All Prim's stories, most of them illustrated with Prim's art, are
available at his website at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com
including Walt Wisconsin parts 1-7, The Helpless Adventures of Johnny
parts 1-4, The Stepford Sissies parts 1-3, 32 issues of Prim's Petticoat
Pansies and lots more. Members get EVERYTHING.
Mckenna
- 10.02.2022
- 9
- 0
Satinised at Girdle World
- 2 years ago
- 12
- 0
How Are You Not Being Neglected Chapter 9 The total four chapters
- 4 years ago
- 59
- 0
