Taffeta Torment
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Taffeta Torment XI free porn video
When Jason awoke in Margaret's flat, the sun was streaming through the
lace curtains of his bedroom. As his eyes grew accustomed to the harsh
light, he noticed the soft, sumptuous surroundings of the room he had
been sleeping in.
Ivory satin sheets were draped all over his naked body while a pink
satin duvet kept in the warmth that he was experiencing this morning.
He felt perfumed and dainty as he climbed out of the bed and walked
gingerly across the lush carpet that adorned the floor.
Looking into the mirror his reflection revealed the soft skin of his
youth and a slight trace of make-up and lipstick on his cheeks and head
where Margaret had been cuddling and canoodling with him the night
before. But of Margaret there was no trace.
He tried in vain, as George had done on so many frustrating times
before, to force his way into her bedroom or indeed any of the many
wardrobes, walk-in and otherwise, and drawers that were strewn around
his own sleeping quarters. It was all to no avail.
There was no sign of any clothing whatsoever, in fact, his own or
Margaret's or any of the gorgeous garments she had put him in. How some
of him longed to be back in those swishy clothes right now but for the
main part, he just wanted to get the hell out of this apartment and get
back to his own private life.
As he gazed once more at his slim features he noticed a flimsy sort of
negligee robe hanging over the full-length mirror and seized it quickly
to keep out the slight morning chill and cover up his nudity. The
chiffon and satin gown drowned him in truth and as he tugged it around
him, the sheerness of the materials edging up against his penis and
backside left him with a heavenly floaty feeling and an erection which
seemed to appear from out of nowhere.
When he finally realised that he could make no further progress in
exploring the remainder of the flat he set about the task of trying to
get out of the place altogether but again found his efforts were
thwarted by a locked front entrance without any hint of where a key
might be hidden.
It was just then that he heard a knock on that door.
"Who is it?" Jason asked rather timidly.
"I'm a friend of Margaret's Jason. She asked me to look in on you and
make sure you are OK and have everything you need," a soft, womanly
voice from the other side.
"Well I am OK but haven't got what I need."
"Perhaps I can help darling. If you would let me in?"
"But I haven't got a key."
"No, but there is one darling. If you look inside the kitchen cupboard
to the right of the sink, Margaret told me she left one in the pot
marked tea."
Sure enough there was a key in the tea caddy, somewhere Jason had
failed to search in the short time he had been trying to find a way
out. The key fitted and the door opened in an instant revealing the
voice on the other side.
"Hello Jason. I'm Moira. Can I come in?"
Even if Jason had wanted to say no, he knew somewhere deep down that he
would have been unable to do so. Moira Evans was a little taller than
himself but her six inch black heels towered her above his torso and at
50-plus years of age she seemed altogether a far more formidable
individual than the shy teenager with choirboy looks.
She passed gracefully through the entrance as Jason held the door open
before she turned and shut the door herself, locking it once more and
retrieving the key which she placed in the pocket of her dark blue
satin mackintosh.
"There, that's much more cosy darling," Moira cooed, becoming more
familiar with her young companion who she could see was getting quite
excited by her presence.
Her satin swing coat caressed her calves and their black seamed
stockings as it swayed to and fro with Moira's movement towards Jason.
"Margaret is an old dear friend darling and she wanted me to give you a
farewell present," she said, placing her black satin-gloved hand on
Jason's shoulder as much to reassure the young boy as restrain him.
Jason for his part felt a wave of warm feelings swallowing him up as
Moira loomed over his head and shoulders and the rest of his body
protected only by the flimsiest of chiffon and satin. Her satinized
raincoat and heavily made-up features, framed by a blue and white
polka-dot silk headscarf appeared so much more sturdy, regimented and
authoritarian in comparison to his own virtually transparent attire.
She palmed her hands over the chiffon on his shoulders and down his
front to just above his navel.
"My we are such pretty boy aren't we? Margaret said as much, but I
didn't believe her. But she was right. Come on now, let's get you
dressed as Margaret would want sweetie."
"But there aren't any clothes?"
"In Margaret's room darling. I have the key. Come, take my hand."
The firm satin glove clasped Jason's fragile hand and led him towards
the second bedroom door. Jason was all too aware of the satin grip, the
swishing overcoat and the overwhelming perfume that lay before him.
Moira squeezed his hand, again more in restraint than reassurance, and
wafted him into the main bedroom. Beneath her coat, Jason thought he
could detect the rustle of satin on taffeta as she minced towards the
huge double bed. His eyes were transfixed on the gleaming heels and
delicious seam of Moira's nylons as it disappeared beneath the hem of
the shiny mackintosh.
She peeled around for effect at the bedside, a four-poster that
Margaret had ordered once George was effectively out of the place, and
beckoned Jason towards her, holding on to one of the posts with a
raised arm.
"Now my little poppet, do you know what kind of parting gift Margaret
has left for you?"
"No idea I'm afraid."
Jason's throat was dry, his voice unsteady. Moira the complete
opposite.
"Don't look so fretful darling! This isn't a punishment, this is a
treat. Margaret said you might one final dress-up before you go off,
fancy-free and back to your old ways. Said you couldn't make up your
mind which direction you were going in. Is that right darling?"
As Jason mulled over what all this meant, Moira slowly loosened the
large satin belt of her mackintosh, unfastened her buttons and removed
it, the satin creation slithering with a swish down her arms and and
skirt, and hung it carefully on a hanger by the side of the four-
poster.
"There, I feel much better in just my skirt and blouse. Much more
professional."
Jason was by now fully erect inside his negligee as Moira stood
directly in front of him with a black satin skirt covering her knees
and a burgundy satin blouse with the cutest pussy bow tied at the front
that draped down to her waistline.
She carefully slid off her black satin gloves and placed them on the
bed near her coat then smoothed her skirt in place, releasing a
deafening rustle and swish as her polysatin lining clashed with the
taffeta of her full-slip beneath.
"Now to get you ready my sweet. Just need to freshen up in his mirror."
Moira's blue satin handbag opened to reveal a sensuous pink satin
lining from which she withdrew her compact case and gold lipstick
holder, applying the latter fully and smoothly with two deft coats of
immaculate red lipstick before dabbing her face with a little powder
puff. A final adjustment of her hair and earrings and she clicked the
case shut and plopped it back into her handbag and snapped it shut.
Jason stared at the consummate ease with which Moira attended to her
make-up and marvelled how she looked so different with a brush of the
hair, a touch of powder and the satin glossy look of several layers of
lipstick.
"Now let's have that negligee off darling," she demanded rather than
requested. Jason, sensing her aroma, the lipstick and the touch of
satin, complied willingly.
"Margaret has left your outfit in here sweetie," she said sweeping open
the walk-in wardrobe with a key she had fished from her handbag. "Come
inside, have a little look darling."
Completely naked and exposed, Jason followed the wiggling full
posterior of his guide into the brightly-lit lair of the wardrobe.
He almost gasped at the size of the interior, almost as big as the two
other bedrooms put together. Margaret had had it especially made
without George's knowledge and had filled it with the most dazzling
array of garments.
"I have a small business, a dressing service for ladies who have
problems with little boys. You would be surprised how many requests I
get to dress those little rascals more appropriately."
Jason had no idea what appropriately meant but he had an idea he was
going to find out very shortly.
The sight, sound and smell of the clothes had Jason's heart thumping
furiously, more so when Moira opened a drawer and extracted a
corselette in ivory white, satin panels adorning its front and back as
well as two slimmer panels at the side.
She hardly had to offer up the foundation garment as Jason stepped and
felt the warmth of the panels and the constriction it brought. In a
jiffy and total silence, and with dextrous painted fingernails, she had
fastened the hook and eye ensemble beneath the side panels before
firmly zipping shut the two side panels.
He sat on the bed without asking as she drew a pair of tan-coloured
nylons up his slender legs, taking great pains to pull them tight on
his calves and thighs before attaching them to eight suspender clips,
tenderly caressing each welt and thick suspender and metal clip as it
snapped shut on the gossamer material.
Jason thought he had grown accustomed to the feeling of sheer nylon on
his flesh but he was very much mistaken as his erection only stiffened
further in front of his impressed dresser.
"My somebody little cupcake likes his sheer stockings don't they
darling? Mmmmmm...they do feel so nice don't they," she teased, cupping
his calves in her palms.
"Now some nice heels I think Margaret mentioned. Here we are, six-inch
stilettos in gleaming blue, very sexy. That's it, slip your little feet
into them sweetie, bit of a squeeze but those stockings are so sheer,
aren't they. There were go."
Moira then delved back into the wardrobe and emerged with a delicious
full slip, in shimmering blue taffeta.
"Hold onto my shoulders darling and step into this gorgeous underskirt.
Slowly, very slowly, there we are, up your calves and thighs and up and
over those bra straps. Perfect."
The creeping sensation of the crisp taffeta sliding slowly up his
nylons and engulfing the satin panels of his corselette only heightened
Jason's hysteria. Moira could see his penis quivering in anticipation
as she slid the slip gently over his nylons then fussed over its
midriff and finally the bra straps of his corselette.
She stood behind him now, her hands nimbly smoothing any creases over
his tummy and down the back his legs.
"There, all ready for the frock now. I don't think you'll be
disappointed. And by the look of that tent pole inside your slip
darling you're already having fun."
Jason's stiff appendage didn't leave any doubt as to his excitement,
which reached a new level when Moira revealed one of Madame Lafayette's
specials, a blue taffeta creation with the most alluring pink satin
lining with a ruched satin gathering on either side of the skirt
section.
As Moira's fingers unfastened the back zip, Jason felt a tingle in his
scrotum.
"Is that for me?" he almost stammered.
"Now don't you worry, you don't have to stay in this. It's ot
obligatory and besides you'll be on your way back to your little
bachelor life with all your boy mates in a trice," Moira teased. "Just
try it on and see what you think was Margaret's instruction to me. Put
your hands on the dressing table and I'll guide you in from the back."
Jason leaned over the dresser and saw his reflection, the blue slip and
its delicate lace trimming around his bra cups and the hem that fell
just below his knees. He swayed gently, the sensation of the lace trim
and taffeta pushing up against his nylon-encased knees and thighs
rendering him dizzy.
He felt the pink satin lining brush up against his legs, heard the hiss
and swish as it met his 12 denier stockings and lavish lace-tipped
slip, moving up his thighs and gliding towards the back satin panels of
his corselette.
"You're going to have give me a little wiggle here darling," instructed
Moira in her most gentlest tones. "Just to get the ruched panels up and
your frock fitting snugly over your waist. Aww, that is so perfect,
just a little tug and we are almost there."
Moira adjusted the frock's satin panels and bent over to pull the skirt
hem down towards his calves, smoothing his slip beneath the satin
lining.
"Now Jason. Turn around and look at me, Good boy, let's get this top
half up and over your corselette and bra straps, good boy. Now if you
really want to dress like a lady, you try fastening this zip all on
your own."
With his back now to the mirror, Moira positioned himself at his rear.
"I'll give you a head start," she said and slowly began zipping him up
the blue taffeta slip, contrasting vividly with the pink satin lining
as it gradually disappeared between the closing zip.
"Both hands behind your back, come on sweetie you've seen how us ladies
do it I the films I'm sure. You'll need to learn this if you want to
dress yourself daintily in the future, even a sneak little dressing
session. Mmm?"
Jason placed both his hands behind him at the waist and took hold of
the zip, making slow progress to pull it up towards the nape of his
neck and closure.
"There's a good boy, we'll have you smoothing up your own skirts and
stockings before we've finished."
As Jason jerked clumsily, Moira deftly swivelled and took out a pair of
handcuffs from the dresser drawer behind. In a flash, she had them
around Jason's wrists, whereupon she carefully lowered his now clamped
hands down to his waist.
"Let me do you up darling," she whispered as Jason tried to look behind
him, seeking an explanation.
"Just a minute, there, got you. All finished."
"What are you doing Moira?"
"Just making sure you are fully dressed as I was told darling, nothing
to concern yourself with."
Jason began to panic a little. He suddenly realised that his hands were
firmly shackled behind his back and just how tight the ruched satin and
taffeta frock was clinging on to his thighs, down over his knees and
halfway down his calves.
His towering heels meant he could scarcely walk though the vice-like
grip of his frock. Any movement almost impossible and his tight
stilettos seemed glued to his feet by cement.
"Now don't you start fretting Jason. Here we go," and with her now
bound captive immobile Moira slipped a long-line girdle up and over
Jason's head and shoulders and pulled it smartly down over his taffeta
frock to his waist.
The speed and skill with which she encased Jason in its zips and
fasteners bedazzled her young captive. There were a couple of strings
to tighten in the middle of the girdle, which had been placed upside
down over Jason's head, but the more he struggled, the tighter the
lacing became.
"You little boys, you just get the idea behind women's foundations do
you sweetie," she giggled as Jason foolishly, vainly toiled to escape
Moira and girdle's grip. "That's it, keep trying to get free, a few
more tiny strides towards to the door, there and voila, you're all
trussed up in girdle heaven. Just zip up these side panels and it's the
perfect fit."
Moira now stood in front of her helpless prisoner and admired her handy
work, smoothing her satin skirt and Jason's frock alternately.
"Not bad, now you have a sit down," she cajoled, helping Jason onto the
bed.
"I thought you said I was free to go," Jason protested but as much as
he tried to move or free himself from his predicament, the tighter
everything appeared to be getting around his body.
He could feel the effect of his own satin corselette and his taffeta
slip and Moira could certainly see the effects as his rock-hard member
continued to strain against this silky underskirt and the smooth satin
lining of his skirt.
His legs were useless, his heels pinching his toes and feet while his
frock seemed to encase his every effort to propel himself forward. And
on top was the long-line satin girdle, in a delicate cream colour, that
bound his arms and hands so tight. He was helpless, unable to prevent
Moira escorting him to the bed with just the minimum of effort.
"You have a nice sit down pet. Aunty Moira needs to phone someone."
She left the bedroom and Jason alone with this thoughts, such as they
were, and the rustling of his slip and skirt and the enticing caress of
his nylons as he struggled in vain to get to this feet.
It was only a few short minutes before he heard the excited trilling of
female voices outside of the bedroom. They grew louder, the
unmistakable sound of enthralled rapture against the click-clack of
sturdy high heels walking in regimented step, guided by the rigidity of
tight pencil skirts of satin or taffeta, their swishing moving ever
closer.
"Well hello Jason, you little devil."
Moira was now flanked by two women, older than herself and plumper but
immaculately attired in pink and blue satin mackintoshes, silken
scarves concealing the odd lapsed chin maybe but accentuating full red
lips that demanded his attention.
"You may remember me from some weddings years ago. Allow me to
reintroduce myself, Elsie darling, Aunty Elsie to you. And this is my
good friend and companion Brenda, Aunty Brenda from now on."
"Oh my god Elsie, you told me he was gorgeous, but not that he was such
a little cherub-face angel. He's soooo cute darling."
The memory of those weddings sat in his velvet breeches on the knee of
some distant relative, always dressed in pink satin as he recalled,
came flooding back to him. She was a little weightier and older but
there was no doubt that this was the woman who nurtured his wet dreams,
encouraged them and doubtless revelled in them.
"Coming back now sweetie isn't it," Elsie cooed hovering above Jason by
the bed.
"Now we don't have much time to waste, Moira you have done a fantastic
job darling. Very professional as always. Brenda, bring me over my
handbag please."
An almost business-like atmosphere swept through the room as Moira
began packing away clothes and Elsie fished a lipstick from her bag.
"Pucker up darling, I want you nice and fresh when you move into your
new room at my house. There were are, just a few thick coats, sleepy
satin lipstick, makes your lips all heavy and want to have sleepy-
byes."
Jason peered up at his captors, heavily made-up but passable for ladies
of 60-plus he thought. He has always been attracted to women of a
certain age, he knew deep inside, something about their demeanour,
haughty and in control, capable of cuddly and cruel gestures alike.
Along with Brenda, they helped Jason to his feet and applied the satin
lipstick. "Feels good darling doesn't it?
"Brenda pass me the pacifier. I'm just going to wet this with my
lipstick sweetie. Now take it deep down into your pretty mouth, that's
it. Nice. Good boy."
He tried to struggle but Brenda held him firmly at the back as Elsie
slowly eased the pink dummy into his mouth with her free hand caressing
his cheek. His lips didn't want to settle on the pacifier but he felt
himself instinctively wanting to suck on it with his tongue once it had
penetrated his mouth. Besides, even if he had wanted to spit it out
Brenda had already secured it with two pieces of pink ribbon that
threaded through holes in the side of the pacifier and then fastened
behind his head. And the sweet taste of Elsie's lipstick was now an
all-powering sensation on his tongue.
Without a word, Elsie then slipped a dark nylon with a crushing seam up
the back from her bag. Clasping the welts between her manicured
fingers, she gently fed it over his head and smoothed down below his
chin until it fitted snugly over his cheeks and dummy.
"Precious little baby," she cooed, kissing him gently on the eyes then
cheek then finally his nose to leave lipstick traces all over his
stockinged face and its lingering scent and her powder in his nostrils.
She then fastened the thick eight suspenders from his inverted
encasement girdle onto the welt which was nestling very snugly around
his neck and chin.
"There, that ought to keep that naughty nylon nice and tight for you
cupcake."
She weaved blue satin gloves onto her hand, contrasting with her pink
mackintosh, and smoothed his cheeks beneath the sheer stocking.
"Now diddums, we'll just get you ready for the trip. Brenda, please
fasten one of your silk scarves around his mouth to keep that dummy
firmly pressed into his lipstick. And I'll wrap one around your head
once she's done. Awww so much better for walking outside. Brenda, the
satin cape please."
Two minutes later, Jason was mincing his way towards the exit door. His
face was smothered in nylon and lipstick, his head and mouth gagged by
silken scarves.
His entire body was encased and entrapped by a mixture of firm
foundation wear and the most exquisite lingerie and finery, a cocktail
that intoxicated and frightened him at the same time.
His satin cape covered any erectile indiscretions while its hood
concealed his face from strangers that might be about, unlikely though
that was. The foursome made their way downstairs and outside, where the
darkness and lack of people around at that time of night meant there
was little chance of rescue for Jason.
"I bet that satin mackintosh gained you entry much more easily when our
little boy opened the door," Elsie was talking to Moira inside the
elevator descending to the ground floor.
"It did help darling. I could see his little eyes light up, as well as
his little cock!"
The women giggled as they led Jason towards Elsie's car, a four-door
saloon as far as he could make out in the gloom and through the
lipstick and nylon mask and satin-lined hood of his cape.
"All those years of training him in satin certainly paid off."
Jason wanted to ask what did she mean, did. He tried mutter something
but of course it came out only as a muffle.
"Oh don't worry darling. I was grooming you all those years ago. I knew
one day you would come of an age and be independent, but not from me
naturally. You were trained to be my little satin boy but somehow you
slipped through my grasp and I lost touch. Then I met Margaret by
chance at a Taffeta Torment meeting, girls only of course." There was
another peal of laughter as the night air hit Jason's nylons both on
his cheeks and calves.
"She told me about her predicament, some little boy getting inquisitive
about his old school friend. Well I knew John's father years ago,
George wasn't it. I trained him myself to be the pathetic wimp he has
become and I knew you and John went to school together so it all
fitted.
"I told her I'd take good care of her problem. And I will darling. You
won't be slipping through my satin-gloved fingers again I can assure
you," she said, squeezing that bit tighter around the waist of his
satin cape as if to emphasise the point.
The clicking of their high heels, and his own, seemed an almost
deafening distraction. He still harboured hopes that somebody might
intervene even as Brenda wiggled on ahead to release the car door
locks.
Why had he tried to find John? If only he had kept away.
"In we get darling," Brenda beckoned Jason into the back passenger-side
seat, Moira lowering his head as he stooped down to take his seat. "Is
he fastened in darling?"
"All buckled up."
All hopes of a rescue were diminishing now with Brenda driving and
Elsie in the front seat, while Moira sat next to the immobile Jason in
the back. "I'll keep him out of sight just in case," she said, drawing
him down so his face rested on her knee.
"Good idea darling," Elsie glanced into the back seat and turned around
as Brenda began the long drive to their house in the country.
"You know that mackintosh and those heels are simply delightful Moira.
Where do you shop darling?"
Jason was half-listening to the idle chatter. He felt Moira's satin
mackintosh beneath his head, could hear the swish and rustle of her
undergarments and nylons as she moved her legs in the car.
He saw Elsie take off one of her high heels for inspection then return
it lovingly to Moira's foot, smoothing her arches and calves as she
slipped her foot back into the shoe with a gentle swishing noise.
"Mmm, feels so soft and sheer."
"There's a shop, not Lafayette's, it's called Fliss's Fashions, just
off the high street in town. I get all my shoes and macs from there
darling. You really should try it."
"I intend to. And not just for me."
There was more laughter in the car. Moira, with her black satin gloves,
began to stroke the side of her young captive's face and forehead as
the car sped on.
"Aww, he has to listen to all this girl's talk about shoes and macs and
girdles and stockings. Poor little thing."
"He'll get used to it I'm sure," Moira was gently stroking the silk
scarf that kept Jason's nylon stocking in place.
"Just like a baby, just soothing satin across the temple and he'll soon
be going to bo-bos won't you darling? And when you wake up Aunty Brenda
and Aunty Elsie will be all ready to show you to your new bedroom."
"Look, his baby-eyelids are drooping. Don't fight it darling. You have
some sweet dreams while we women talk about women things. Oooh that
sleepy satin lipstick make your lips and eyelids all heavy, isn't it?"
The laughter filled the car now. How Jason wanted to say something
back. And now the girdle was beginning to bite into his arms, his six-
inch heels becoming uncomfortable. But then as he snuggled into Moira;s
satin embrace he could hear her soothing voice talking about satin
skirts and linings.
He felt his own lining, such an enticing crimson pink, caressing his
taffeta slip, that blue shiny slip with the oh so pretty hem. His
erection was re-aroused to new dimensions now. His bondage was only
temporary he was sure. He knew he would think of a clever plan to
escape. After all he'd done it once from Aunty Elsie, even if he wasn't
sure how. It would come to him again. Somehow.
But in the meantime he felt tired. The methodical, rhythmical satin
gloves that smoothed his temple were beginning to turn him on. He felt
a face bend over and a flurry of lipstick encased his eyes and nose
inside its nylon prison.
If only he could keep his eyes open. The plan would come to him.
Surely.
Cathalina
- 22.03.2020
- 7
- 0
