Alison becomes a Lady of Leisure: Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 – A Husband’s Reaction

That evening when she returned, she found her husband to be most attentive. A maid helped her out of the car and knocked on the door of her house. Alison was glad that they’d dropped the others off first as she would have been ashamed for them to see the poverty of Pinnox Street after the opulence of their mansion. Of course, whilst her new friends did not see her house, all her neighbours saw her and gasped in astonishment. To think, humble Alison Withenshaw dressed as a Lady of Leisure, driving around in a car!

Sam’s face when he saw her was a picture. He looked stunned, amazed and asked her to turn round in front of him. “My God Alison, what have they done to you? You left a woman but you are now a real lady! Your waist… and that gorgeous gown, and your arms!” Alison of course, did not reply as she was still securely gagged and it was only after a while that Sam realised this and unfastened it, marvelling and the device that silenced her.

“Thanks for that darling,” she said, flexing her aching jaw and wondering just how the Williamsons put up with being gagged for such long periods. “Now please, can you start undoing the rest. I never want to see these clothes again!”

“But why? You are so beautiful in them, unbelievably beautiful. When I first saw you, you captured my heart but now, you are beyond perfection, you are like an angel!” And instead of unfastening her arms, he circled his hands around her waist, the fingers not far off meeting and caressed her rock hard middle whilst his lips met hers and his tongue entered her mouth. After a passionate embrace, he withdrew muttering “Such constriction, such fabrics! And your arms!”

“Sam, unfasten me, please! My arms are dead completely and my shoulders ache like hell!”

He looked at her and gave a sly grin. “No,” he replied, “I don’t think I should. You’re a Lady of Leisure today and Ladies of Leisure do not unfasten their arms as soon as they reach home. Besides, you look so marvellous like this…”

“Sam! Release me now!”

“And such demanding, so unladylike! I think we shall have to replace this…”

He picked up the gag and brought it up to her face. “No! No!” she said, clenching her teeth closed. But her husband merely held her nose and he moment she opened her mouth to breathe the accursed thing was in and fastened. She grunted, groaned and wiggled in protest but little could be heard. Sam, his face still smiling broadly, was scheming. He left Alison in the living room and then left for the back yard. She wondered where he had gone but then he returned a moment later with the collar and lead of the guard dog who was now safely secured in his kennel. “Good for a recalcitrant wife I think,” he said and fastened the collar around her neck. Then he slowly led her upstairs, taking care that she did not stumble, and into the bedroom. Then, to her horror, once in there, he fastened the end of the lead to the wardrobe door handle and left for the bathroom. Seething with anger, Alison could do nothing but stand there in all her finery, tethered like a naughty puppy.

Sam returned several minutes later, completely naked, his member standing firmer than she had ever seen before. She smiled evilly and lifted her skirts as the assistant had done earlier and began to assault her most intimate area with his tongue. She squirmed and groaned in ecstasy whilst he commented, “My, what have you done down here? This smells and tastes good!” He licked and licked, bringing her to the brink, then exiting, then starting all over again. Then, he exited, her face now red and pouring with sweat, and unhooked the lead, guiding her to the bed. She sat down and he unlaced and removed her high-heeled boots, admiring them as he did it. Then, at long last, he slowly unlaced the monoglove and removed it. She couldn’t flex her arms as they were still dead but she slowly felt the blood coming back. As it did, Sam unbuttoned and removed her gown and then laid her on her back, clad only in her stays, stockings and neck corset. Then, to her shock, he took her left arm and tied the wrist to the bedpost before doing the same with the other and then the legs. Although more comfortable now, she was still as restrained as before. “For a true Lady of Leisure,” he intoned, “must have her arms immobilised at all times to emphasise her helplessness.” He sounded like Emma Williamson, but his actions were wholly male. He now straddled his wife and thrust his member into her moist hole, the passion unbridled. It was the best sex of their marriage and after they had done, she passed out whilst he lay there panting, caressing her rock hard corsetted middle.

After they had recovered, Sam unfastened Alison and they sat holding one another in bed, discussing the day’s developments. “The problem is,” said Alison, “is that they expect me to dress as a Lady of Leisure all the time just as they do. And I get that, I mean, being a Lady of Leisure should be a permanent, complete thing, not just playing at it for a day, but I’m not them, I can’t do it!”

“You don’t work now; you don’t need your arms like before.”

“I know I don’t but I want them. I mean, alright, I admit that there is something nice and exciting about being dressed up like a princess and having servants wait on you hand and foot, but that’s the problem: we don’t have servants.”

“There’s Becky…”

Becky was a young girl whom they’d hired to help with the cleaning and washing but she only came for a couple of hours a day. “Wearing all that you are so completely helpless, you need a servant there at all times. It is dangerous to be restrained like that without a servant. What if there was a fire and besides, Becky wouldn’t know how to wait on a Lady of Leisure. She can hardly figure out how to wash clothes.”

“Well then, what about Katie? When she returns from school she could lace you up and wait on you. It would be good training for her for if she were to enter service.”

“Well, yes, for the evenings and weekends then I suppose that Katie could but you’re missing the point: I don’t want to be a beautiful helpless doll, an elegant useless clothes mannequin; I want to be me, arms and all!”

“And you still shall be, you don’t need the use of your arms for that. But the fact is that the Williamsons are important for us, they are our future and a bright future it is too. Uriah likes me but Emma loves you and ever since you met he has been full of praise. Keeping them sweet is vital and if that means having your arms in a monoglove then so be it.”

“But it is impossible! You wouldn’t understand as you’re a man, but this house! No Lady of Leisure could live here, there isn’t room for her to manoeuvre. And we could never invite them here anyway.”

“Alright then, I am prepared to compromise. At home, normal old Alison, but when we leave you are a Lady of Leisure. I or Katie can act as a maid then.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want it, but I accept that the benefits are great. Even so, they were talking about how I should be tightlaced to 15 inches or so and trained in reverse prayer and I mean, that is the stuff of permanent Ladies of Leisure. If they think that I have accepted their lifestyle then they shall expect reverse prayer and training for that is long-term and requires full-time restriction which I just cannot practicably do. Could you have a word with Uriah please… and explain?”

“I understand and it’s a deal. However, I’ll need a bit of practise in lacing up that monoglove. Let me turn you over now as I’m beginning to get excited again…”

The following day, Sam did speak with his boss and that evening he came back his face aglow.

“I have some news for you which I think… hope, you will enjoy. The Williamson ladies really enjoyed your shopping trip and want to make it a weekly thing. You have quite become their pet project and they wish to transform you, something which I do not disapprove of. They were even talking of you being a bridesmaid for Hope’s wedding in June but that would require a 15 inch waist and reverse prayer. That’s when I told him your concerns about the house and the lack of a maid.”

“And how did he take it?”

“Oh, he was most understanding, accepted your fears and praised your resolve to become a Lady of Leisure when possible. Then he sat back, thought for a moment and declared, ‘I have the answer! Mostyn House!’ I didn’t know what he meant but apparently Mostyn House is a large property in Timperley that he inherited from Emma’s parents that is currently lying vacant. He was intending to present it to Chastity on her marriage having already bought a house for Hope and her fiancé in Macclesfield which is where he works and hails from, but that is not due for a couple of years at least. So he said that we could move in as it is a property suitable for a Lady of Leisure and that by the time Chastity marries we can have saved enough to buy a suitable place for ourselves. Don’t you see what this means? I wondered if I would ever be able to live somewhere like that – it has a stables and seven bedrooms and three acres of gardens – and certainly never dreamt I could achieve it before fifty and yet here we are, the Lord and Lady of the Manor! It’s marvellous darling, it truly is!”

“But there I am to live as a Lady of Leisure…?”

“Of course.”

“So how? Are we to bring Becky along with us and dress her in a bloody maid’s outfit?”

“Oh, not at all. Uriah has seen to that as well. It seems that Emma had already foreseen your dilemma and ordered her husband to free up Natalie, one of Hope’s maids, to serve you as well as the staff already billeted to the house. My darling Alison, my beautiful Lady of Leisure! We are to live as kings with servants at every beck and call. Could you think of anything more glorious?”

Having been constrained in a Lady of Leisure outfit once already, Alison could think of something more glorious. However, she could not see how she could refuse.

“Oh yes,” added Sam, “and they’re expecting us for lunch on Saturday and this time they have asked if you bring Katie.”

Chapter 5

Alison becomes a Lady of Leisure: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 – A Trip into Town

“No Alice, it is absolutely unthinkable that you don’t go!”

Alison was a little shocked. Sam had never before been so firm with her and opposed her so outright. Nonetheless, she understood why. After all, Uriah Williamson had just given him an excellent promotion and salary increase and had invited him to his house, an honour which many of his seniors had never been granted and whilst the ladies had been socialising, the mill owner had outlined his vision for the future when he retired and his son, Charlie took over with, if he played his cards right, Sam Withenshaw as his deputy! It was unbelievable of course, incredible fortune, but even so, what would she say to the tearooms?

“To the tearooms? Why you must hand in your notice, that is what you must do, Alice!”

“But you promised Sam, that I could continue working!”

“Yes, for the sake of Katie. But my new wage increase of over £20,000 per annum more than makes up for the £6,000 that you make. You are no longer a waitress but the wife of a senior manager at Williamsons and so, even without the shopping invitation, continuing to work would hardly be appropriate now, would it?”

Alison couldn’t help but agree but she did so want to continue working. Nonetheless, that Monday she handed her notice in. The owner was not surprised, indeed, he’d expected her to do so before, but admitted that he would miss an excellent waitress regardless.

Back at home and Katie had been extremely excited to hear about the afternoon at the Williamsons. “Real-life Ladies of Leisure! Wow, Alice, you really are going up in the world! Oh how I should love to meet them too!”

“I’m sure you shall one day.”

“And what must it be like to live like that? To have servants waiting on your every beck and call? Wouldn’t it be marvellous to be dressed in such beautiful clothes and to be so elegantly helpless…? I can just imagine it: ‘Maid, feed me! Maid, I need the toilet!’ How positively wonderful!”

“I can think of nothing worse and how their bodies survive such restriction I do not know. Certainly that reverse prayer arrangement looks most uncomfortable.”

When Wednesday came, Alison dressed in her best gown again and all the neighbours were agog at the car which Mrs. Williamson sent to collect her. She rode in style up to Altrincham where the three Williamson ladies joined her. All three were in elegant walking costumes, Emma’s in deep purple with ruches down the front whilst Hope and Chastity wore identical cream and blue pinstriped outfits. They nodded greetings to Alison but could do no more as all three were securely gagged.

They rode in silence to the centre of Manchester, Alison considering it perhaps uncouth to speak when they had so obviously demonstrated that silence was polite, and were deposited at the entrance to Kendal & Milne, the foremost department store in the city. After the ladies were helped out they glided their elegant way to the female clothing section where Alison was shown to a large changing room where she was asked to strip down to her underwear and then measured intimately. “First Mrs. Withenshaw needs new stays

Alison had, like all respectable females, always worn stays. She had them on then and they were really digging into her and causing her to be somewhat short of breath. However, she had never worn stays like the ones shown to her that day. These held their shape without even being put onto her body and were noticeably tighter and longer. What is more, once the first pair was being laced onto her, she noticed that they did strange things to her posture, forcing her to stick her bottom out behind her and her breasts in front, a rather lewd posture she felt personally. “These are S-bend corsets, ma’am,” said the assistant, “who was busy lacing them up. “They are the standard stays for Ladies of Leisure.” At those words, (or perhaps due to a sharp tug on the laces), Alison gave an intake of breath. A Lady of Leisure, those doll-like, helpless creatures which fascinated the lower classes and dominated the tabloids and penny dreadful novels. They were a world away from her life and yet now… now she was being thought of as one of them.

Alison did not like her new stays. Emma pronounced herself most pleased at them and Alison had to admit that they looked good. But the position they forced her in and the constant light-headedness they gave her were unpleasant. What is more, they felt exceptionally tight yet the assistant had declared them to be a full inch and a half bigger than the ones that she had been wearing before. “It’s the length, ma’am,” she explained. “Many customers report the same after making the switch.” More worrying was the fact that these allowed for her waist to be reduced a staggering two and a half inches more. She would never survive!

After the stays, (there were several pairs including some shorter night stays which left her breasts free), came the other underwear: some fine silk stockings with suspenders, shifts and so on. But it was the monoglove with caused her the most dismay. Her arms were positioned behind her and the glove was fitted, with a strap going up and around her shoulders and neck to prevent it from slipping down. This was uncomfortable enough and immediately, the moment that she realised that she could not free herself, Alison felt intensely vulnerable. But then the lacing started. Slowly but surely her arms were drawn together from the bottom up. At first it was uncomfortable and then painful and Alison started to give yelps of agony. After some time the assistant stopped the lacing and tucked the excess laces into the monoglove. “Your elbows are still three inches from touching,” she explained, “but this can be solved in a couple of weeks’ training. This is a very fine monoglove ma’am, as unlike cheaper ones it has individual fingers which further inhibits movement and is embedded with steel strips so that you cannot wiggle your arms unbecomingly. Instead they are truly as one.”

After the monoglove came a short neck corset and then the gowns. Emma Williamson generously paid for five, all days dresses with large bustles. These were fitted over the underwear, the monoglove cover being incorporated into the rest of the gown. There was one in turquoise with fine embroidery, another in deep purple silk, a third in maroon, a blue pinstrip dress, one in white with something akin to a sailor’s collar and finally one in cream with printed flowers. This is the one that she remained dressed in as she walked out of the shop.

Except that she didn’t exactly walk, but more accurately, minced. This was due to her new boots which were bought next. They had staggering heels of three inches, (although all the Williamsons considered these to be quite low and reassured her that she could graduate to en-pointe (whatever that was) very soon). And if that wasn’t enough, a small chain of around a foot linked both boots at the ankle so as to “ensure a ladylike gait”. Thus fettered, squeezed, stretched and immobilised, she was deemed fit to leave the shop as a lady of fashion.

She was then shown into the premises of Archibald & Beatty, the premier emporium for silencers in the city. As with the other encumbrances that she was now having to deal with, Alison had never expected to be gagged and yet it was evident that this was to be the case. The assistant demonstrated a number of gags and designs. It transpired that although all seemed to be porcelain, in fact only the front half of the ball was and behind the gags were like loose rubber sacks. A standard model in white was fitted onto her and then the assistant demonstrated how a carefully concealed button at the back of the strap where it fastened behind her neck could be pressed and the sack expanded so that it filled her mouth entirely so that no more than a groan could be emitted. Satisfied, Emma Williamson chose four gags for her, all to match the new gowns and also ordered an everyday one in white porcelain with ‘Samuel Withenshaw traced onto it which could be collected, along with some of the other items, the following week. Thus, hatted, booted, laced, gagged and her arms pinioned her, Alison was declared to be fit for society.

As she walked from the store to the waiting car, Alison reflected on her new reality. She felt so unsteady on her boots, even though they were considerably lower than all the others on display and needed the constant presence of Amy at her arm to stop her from falling. Automatically she wanted to use her arms for balance yet they remained immobile and entirely useless whilst her stays were so tight, her neck so rigid that she had to gasp for every breath. She felt like a living mannequin, a barely breathing clothes horse on which to display such beautiful clothing. Her new status was omnipresent and so restrictive, she longed to cast it all off and yet she could not for she was entirely helpless.

They dined at the Midland Hotel, the finest venue in the entire city and the experience was most disconcerting for Alison. Each lady had an individual table with their own waitress. Alison was ungagged and offered sparkling water to rinse her mouth of the taste of rubber. Then she was served tiny dainty sandwiches and tea. The waitress would proffer a sandwich and she would take a nibble and then the waitress would dab her lips with a cloth, wait for her to digest it and then proffer another nibble. After only one sandwich though she was full to bursting, the stays leaving no room for anything. She noticed that the other three ate even less. Then they were fed their tea after which Emma Williamson announced, “You girls will be pleased to learn that I have booked us all in at Laydon’s at two.”

“Oh how marvellous mama!” declared Chastity. “Alison, you will so love Laydon’s, it’s quite the place.”

Alison had never heard of Laydon’s and the exterior revealed little. It was an expensive looking place with potted palms in the front room. The proprietor knew all three by name and showed them through to the back. Each room catered for two people so the two girls went in one whilst Alison accompanied Emma into the other. Once inside Alison found the room to have two padded couches side by side. Unlike normal couches however, these had no backs. She was guided over to the left-hand one by a female assistant whilst Emma went to the other. However, instead of sitting on the couch, her skirts were hitched up and she was instructed to kneel on the floor resting her upper body on the couch. Then the assistant ungagged them both.

“What would you like today, ma’am?” she asked.

“I shall have my usual of lavender and mint. Mrs. Withenshaw here however, has not been cleaned before and so is unaware of what we do. Also she may take more flushing than I?”

“I quite understand ma’am. Shall she be having the same as you?”

“Yes, that would be appropriate.”

And with that the gags were replaced.

Still mystified Alison waited and then, to her astonishment, another assistant entered with two hoses and a collection of bottles and to her horror, the assistant knelt behind Emma Williamson and proceeded to insert the host into her.

Before she knew what was happening, a gloved hand was greasing her bottom hole and she felt a slippery tube being forced into it! She began to groan in terror and shame but hardly any sound passed through her gag. Then liquid began gushing up through the hose and filling her inside. It continued until she felt full and bloated and then the hose was removed and a plug was forced into her hole to keep the liquid inside. What was the meaning of this? She tried to struggle but the assistant stroked her hair and whispered, “It’s alright ma’am, many ladies are surprised on their first visit but it is most proper and pleasant. The liquid stayed inside her bum for some minutes whilst soft orchestral music played in the background and then the assistant approached again with a glass bottle, the plug was removed and the liquid gushed out. A stopper was put on the bottle immediately to prevent any nauseous odours but Alison could see through the mirror in front of her that the liquid was now quite brown. The entire process was repeated and this time the liquid was much clearer. At this point, they then repeated the process a third time for Alison but not for Emma. By now she understood what was happening. This was an enema, a supposedly healthier and more elegant way to flush out the bowels. She’d heard that many ladies of distinction always attended to their sanitary needs in this fashion and evidently Emma did for her bottom water was now quite clean, although Alison’s needed more.

Once both bottom waters were transparent, a different liquid was forced up there. This was blue in colour and slightly fizzy. Unlike the water, this felt strange inside as if doing something to her. However, once that had been released, then Alison had to admit that it felt marvellous, so clean and fresh. The only problem was that afterwards another plug was forced into her bottom hole and this was not removed. Instead the assistant helped both ladies to stand and smoothed their fine gowns down. “Does that feel better, ma’am?” the assistant asked and Alison nodded as much as her neck corset and collar would allow.

They were then led into another room where Hope and Chastity were waiting, and their gags removed. “How was your first enema, Alice?” asked Hope.

“Quite an experience,” Alison replied not sure that she liked having plugs inserted into that intimate place, although she had to admit that she felt good.

“What did you have?”

“Alice and I took lavender and mint as per usual,” said Emma.

“Oh mama, you’re such a stick in the mud!” declared Chastity. “Why don’t you try anything different? I had coconut and guava, it was ravishing!”

“And I sampled ylang ylang,” added Hope, “although I shan’t bother again.”

They were all fed tiny glasses of rose-scented water by the assistants and as they did, Emma explained.

“Ladies of Leisure do not use toilets as they are unclean and impolite places. Indeed, we have none at our home save for those used by males and servants. Furthermore, with such small appetites we produce little waste so enemas are the healthiest and most elegant way to dispose of them. I have not smelt waste since I was a small child and I am glad of it. Furthermore, it is well-known that many males like to utilise our rear holes for their sexual gratification as much as our front ones and, as good wives, we should keep them smelling pleasant and adequately stretched for such activities. Soon Hope here will learn the pleasures of anal intercourse I am sure whilst for Chastity, despite her name, those pleasures will be granted at a later date. However, whilst we must attend to our husbands’ needs, we must not forget our own also. Girl, we are ready for our massages now!”

And to Alison’s amazement, the assistants replaced the gags but then, knelt down on the floor and climbed under their dresses. What on earth was happening? To her shock, the assistant then probed right into her most intimate area and then, using her fingers, found Alison’s sensitive beauty bud and started to massage and tickle it. The pleasure was unbelievable, the girl under her clothes certainly knew how to titillate her far more expertly than Sam and soon she was bucking against her restraints in ecstasy. Looking across she could see that all three of the others were the same although they were evidently trying to minimise their movements. Then, Chastity, whose breasts were rising and falling, sweat poring off her brow, gave a gasp and her head suck into her collar. She had reached orgasm and passed out. Hope soon followed her and then Alison herself.

She was brought around by a towel being dabbed over her face and the assistant ungagging her so that she could sip some more rosewater. The experience had been unbelievable and Alison was now beginning to understand a little more of the life of a Lady of Leisure.

And before she left she was to learn something more. The assistant again knelt down in front of her and lifted her skirts. This time though she inserted something into her vagina. “It is a pessary,” she explained, “with peach essence. It will dissolve slowly, perhaps in two hours, just in time for bed. The two unmarried girls of course cannot have these as they are still virgins, but for you and Mrs. Williamson, well, if your husband’s wish to enjoy some time with you tonight, they will find both taste and smell to be quite improved!”

Chapter 4

Alison becomes a Lady of Leisure: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 – The Williamsons

That evening – it was a Monday – Sam returned home from Williamson’s an hour later than usual, his face aglow with happiness. Entering the house, he encircled his beloved wife in his arms, kissed her passionately and then said, “Darling! The greatest of news! I was called in today by the boss, the chief of the entire company, Mr. Uriah Williamson. It transpires that he is really happy with my work and has offered me a promotion. My wage will double and I shall be put in charge of a hundred men! More than that though, he says that I have made an immense personal as well as professional impression on him and so he has invited us to his home in Altrincham this coming Saturday to take tea with him and his wife.”

“What an honour!”

“Indeed, a great honour indeed. I told him that we shall go of course.”

“What is he like, Mr. Williamson I mean?”

“He’s a good boss, and very rich and influential and very fashionable also. I think when we go there that you should wear your best gown.”

“My best gown is not that good, but it is enough. I shall wear my jade green silk which I bought for our honeymoon. It is quite fashionable having a large bustle which are the rage now. It is a little cumbersome it is true, but if it creates a good impression for you then it will be worth it.”

“Indeed and thank you Alison, you are such a perfect and considerate wife. And do not worry too much about your gowns because with the extra money that my new job will bring, you soon shall have some new ones.”

That Saturday morning, Alison got up early to prepare. She knew that as a man of fashion and standing, Mr. Williamson would expect his women to be tightly-laced. Like all decent women she always wore a corset of course, but only to give structure to her figure and she never laced too tightly. After putting on her best stockings and shift, she took out her stays and put them on before lacing them to their usual tightness. Getting out a tape measure, she found this to be around 30 inches. ‘Maybe if I can get to 25 that would create a positive impression?’ she thought and began to pull. But doing it on her own, it was difficult to get the pressure and strength that she needed and when she found that she could go no further, she was still at 27 inches, so she rang for John. He was a little surprised at her request, but he acquiesced and then started pulling on her laces with great vigour until she had to ask him to stop as it was getting rather tight and she was panting for breath. “Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “You’re still at 25½! Exhale!” So she did and he tugged and tugged before tying them off. Never before had Alison felt so imprisoned by her stays which left her breasts surging up and down, her stays like a suit of armour around her middle. Then the bustle was attached, jutting out a good two feet behind her derrière, but when the gown was laced over it, the effect, she had to admit, was quite striking, although the bustle was cumbersome, her stays uncomfortable and the high collar forced her to hold her head up straight. Nonetheless, it was important to create a good impression and so it was worth it and off they went to catch the train to Altrincham.

Uriah Williamson’s house turned out to be a large mansion on the edge of town with dozens of windows and a large drive of raked gravel leading up to it. They walked up, their feet crunching on the stones with some trepidation. They rang the doorbell and a maid answered. If Alison was worried about the tightness of her stays, then she didn’t know how this girl coped for her crisp black and white uniform feature a waist pulled in to around 20 inches! How could she work restricted so? They announced themselves and were shown into the sitting room where Mr. Williamson and his family were waiting.

Uriah Williamson was a large, bearded, jovial man of around fifty with a kind yet clever face. However, it was not him but his wife and daughters who stole Alison’s attentions for their appearances were both striking and unexpected. All three were dressed in fine, sumptuous and exceedingly fashionable silk gowns with large bustles easily as half as big again as Alison’s. His wife – Emma – was dressed in navy blue, whilst the daughters – Chastity and Hope – wore turquoise and peach respectively. As Alison had expected, all laced tightly, though even she had not expected the degree to which they pulled in their corsets and below their large bosoms was a stem several inches high that could have been no more than 15 inches around. However, even this was not what caught her attentions the most, instead it was their arms, or to be more precise, the lack of them.

Alison knew all about Ladies of Leisure of course, who didn’t? That class of fabulously wealthy ladies who displayed their wealth by rendering themselves helpless and dependent on servants by having their arms restrained in some manner. They were always being discussed in the newspapers and she saw them walking around the streets of Manchester, being assisted by one or two maids. When she had been a child, the fashions had been for large gigot sleeves which ballooned out at the shoulders and Ladies of Leisure had disguised their bound arms by folding them in the sleeves and attaching false gloved wooden replicas in their place. Then, as she had entered her teenage years, fashions had changed with skirts expanding into impossibly large crinolines which prevented women from entering many buildings, and decreasing sleeves. Then, fashion dictated that the restrained arms should not be disguised but celebrated and the monoglove had come into fashion, women wearing their arms pinioned behind their backs in a single glove. That looked – and, according to the newspaper reports, was – more difficult to achieve, but was considered the height of elegance until the bustle started to make its reappearance. Then, the wearing of monogloves continued but some Ladies of Leisure began to shun them. The fact was that the monoglove did not compliment the lines of the bustle well as the bustle got in the way of the hands which rested on it. Consequently, designers began to look at alternative means of restriction. Most Ladies of Leisure went for a single sleeve that kept the arms behind the back, elbow to wrist in a neat fashion that also, like the monoglove, had the added advantage of thrusting the breasts outwards. Some however, decried that as being too easy and none too elegant and so began to wear their arms in the reverse prayer position, a position which involves them being palm to palm as if in prayer but behind the back. The effect was striking: seemingly armless from the front and behind the whole ensemble tucks in neatly above the bustle.

And it was in such a fashion that all three of the Williamson ladies were restrained.

reverse prayer

Uriah welcomed them and bade them sit down and then ordered tea from one of the maids. Then began the conversation with Uriah congratulating Sam on his charming new bride and Mrs. Williamson admiring how Alison had plaited her hair and its fine colour. Only those two spoke however, for the two daughters had their mouths filled with dainty ballgags which appeared to be made of porcelain and had the names of the wearer inscribed on the front. Alison watched it all in amazement; how the breasts of the three Williamson ladies rose and fell with great rapidity, no doubt due to their incredibly tight stays, yet how they all sat motionless, bolt upright. When the tea came, her eyes almost goggled as the maids carefully prepared it, then removed the gags of the two girls before bringing the dainty teacups up to their lips so that they could sip it. All three were entirely helpless and, even when ungagged, the two girls never spoke, merely nodding or shaking their heads when the maids offered a morsel of tea loaf.

Then, after some fifteen minutes or so of polite small talk, Uriah suggested the ladies all retire to their drawing room. Carefully, the gags of the girls were replaced and the maids stayed on hand as the ladies rose from their chairs with a rustle of silk and then walked out of the room, something remarkable not only for the slow pace at which they did it, but also for the smoothness at which they seemed to glide along. Alison followed them into another, more feminine room decorated in rose pink where more tea awaited. Once there, the Williamson ladies sat, (Alison noted that all the chairs were straight-backed, doubtless because of their constricting stays which prevented any bending whatsoever), and, to her surprise, the two younger girls were ungagged.

“I must say Mrs. Withenshaw, it’s such a pleasure to meet you and you are truly beautiful,” said Chastity. “Papa has been going on and on about what a brilliant young man your husband is and when we heard we were desperate to meet his wife as the saying is that behind every good man is a good woman.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me; the tea is excellent and your welcome warm although I must admit to be happier in here where we all may talk together.”

“Yes, my husband insists on unmarried ladies being gagged in rooms where both sexes congregate,” added Mrs. Williamson. “It is good manners.”

“Indeed, and your two daughters seem to be excellently brought up in that regard.”

“Why thank you Mrs. Withenshaw. We have been strict but fair and of course, they have always had it instilled into them the importance of elegance and manners.”

“That is plain to see, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Emma.”

“You are too kind. And you must call me Alice.”

“Well then, pray tell me Alice, how did you meet that charming husband of yours?”

“To be honest, I met him through work. I work at a tearooms in Stockport and he was a customer. He noticed me and asked me to a dance and it all went from there.”

“How charming, like Romeo and Juliet! But you say that you used to work?”

“Used to and still do, out of necessity. My parents died several years ago and so I have the responsibility of bringing my sister up and paying for her education. Your husband pays Samuel a generous wage but even so, what I bring in is necessary to give Katie the best start in life.”

“My heart goes out to you it truly does, both in losing your mama and papa and also being forced into a workplace. Yet your motives are so noble! You truly are an inspiration! Still, now that your husband has been promoted, you shall be able to stop working.”

The thought, strangely, had not crossed Alison’s mind previously. She didn’t want to stop working but at the same time would not say so to these fine ladies who evidently pitied her for not living a leisurely life.

“You are right I suppose, although I shall have to do the sums.”

“And how do you find our home, Alice?”

“Very pleasant although, if it is not too rude, may I ask…? I was unaware that you were Ladies of Leisure before we met and, well, I have never before conversed or made friends with a Lady of Leisure!”

“Really? Well, to be honest Alice,” said Hope, “it is the same for us also but the other way round. We have only ever been allowed to befriend Ladies of Leisure and, aside from the servants, you are the first non-bound lady to have entered our home. However, we do so like you that we don’t mind this at all.”

“But to answer your curiosity, Alice, what questions might you wish to ask us about our lifestyle?”

“Well, for starters, your waists? They are so beautiful! What do you measure?”

“I allow for no more than 20 inches in my house amongst the servants but for family 15 is the maximum. However, both Hope and Chastity here lace to 14 inches.”

“That is remarkable and it is most becoming.”

“To marry well, it is essential. Hope is to become Lady Stanford in June – you may know Lord Stanford, he owns Stanford Mills – and he stipulated tightlacing as a prerequisite for any potential fiancée. However, Hope won the Tightlacing Cup this term at school so she had no problem in satisfying his requirements.”

“Remarkable! And may I ask also, how about your arms? I mean, how do you live without the use of them. I should be lost indeed!”

“We are perhaps the worst people to ask as we have never known any different, but as you can see, we always have maids attending us so there are no problems. Indeed, the idea of using my hands for anything is quite frightening.”

The talk continued pleasantly for an hour or more with more tea and cake before they finally had to leave. However, just before she did, Chastity and Hope who stood up, and whispered in their mother’s ear and she smiled and nodded as much as her restrictive collar would allow. Then she arose and announced, “My daughters and I have decided that we like you very much Alice, very much indeed, and as such we should like to take you under our wing. What say you to a little shopping trip on Wednesday?”

Alison felt sick inside her constricted stomach. She would have loved to have gone shopping with these fine ladies and did not wish to offend them yet she had to work! “I should like to but I am afraid I am short of funds at the moment. Perhaps in a couple of weeks’ time after pay day and I should be honoured….”

“Fiddlesticks! If we invite you, we intend to pay! We wish to dress you in a manner befitting your new status and to welcome you into our circle! Please do come!”

Alison knew that she could not yet also she couldn’t refuse. She nodded in acquiesce and then left after exchanging kisses.

Chapter 3

Alison becomes a Lady of Leisure: Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – The Customer in the Tearooms

The waiting on team at Milton Tearooms all started whispering to one another in the kitchen behind the main seating area where they could not be seen by the customers. The young man had come in again, the handsome one dressed in business attire who always kept looking at Alison. When she had served him, he had been happy; when not, he had asked if the “red-haired lady” was ill. “Can’t you serve him today?” Alison asked Martha. Martha looked at her blushing friend and laughed. “No I can’t; we all know why he comes in here and it isn’t for our fruitcake and Earl Grey. He’s just working up the courage. You should be glad anyway; he’s a handsome chap!” The others giggled and Alison sighed. Yes, she would have to face him again, and yes, if she were to be honest, she did quite like him. She went out with her notepad.

“What may I get you, sir?” she asked, her voice as disinterested as it could be. He smiled broadly when he saw who was serving him, then looked embarrassed. “Some fruitcake and tea for one please and…”

“And…?”

“…and, if I am not being too forward, please miss, what is your name?”

“Miss Alison Knight, sir, why?”

“Miss Knight, Miss. So you are… single?”

“Yes sir, why?”

“Well Miss Knight, if that is the case,  then I was wondering, if it os not too forward and if you are not doing anything else and I quite understand if you are, but well, would you like to accompany me to a dance on Saturday night?”

Alison looked him up and down. She knew beyond any doubt that she would. “I shall have think about it!” she replied haughtily before turning on her heels and leaving.

Behind the scenes all her colleagues chastised her but she only smiled. It was good to be wanted but good to keep him waiting too. She said nothing as she brought out the tea and cake, nor as she presented him with the bill. It was only when she handed him back his change that she said in an offhand manner, “By the way, the answer to your question is ‘yes’.”

That Saturday Alison went to the dance at the town hall with her mystery customer who turned out to be one Samuel Withenshaw, a 21-year old junior manager at the local cotton mill, Williamson Mill. He proved to be charming and gentlemanly and so the following week they went dancing again and the week after that, once more. Although she had a limited income, Alison managed to save up her funds to buy a nice new silk dress with a small bustle as bustles were coming back into fashion after years of wide crinolines. She even bought new stays so that she could lace down a little further. Traditionally, she had never laced much, only wearing stays to give her figure some structure, but she tugged hard and managed to reduce to 30 inches from her normal uncorsetted waist of 35. This was bearable on nights out but impractical for working in the tearooms.

As well as going out to dances, they also began to meet in the evenings after work for walks in the park. As they strolled they learned more about each other. Alison told Sam about how her parents had died and so she was left with the responsibility to bring her younger sister Katie up. Katie she adored and she was now sixteen, finishing school and ready to enter the world herself whilst Alison was three years older.

It was exactly a month after their first date when Sam dropped to one knee and asked Alison to marry him. She dearly wished to accept immediately but could not, for when women marry they usually give up their jobs and yet she needed the income from the tearoom to provide for Katie and whilst Sam’s wage was a good one, they would need all of that to pay for the wedding and establish themselves in a home. To her surprise though, Sam was really understanding and said that he had proposed to her knowing of her family situation and that he certainly didn’t mind her continuing to work to provide for Katie until either Katie got married herself or his wage increased so that he could provide for all of them. Overjoyed, Alison said yes immediately and a month later they were married at the Parish Church of St. James with all their friends in attendance. They honeymooned in Llandudno in North Wales and then returned to their new home, a rented terraced house on Pinnox St where they lived in marital bliss until that fateful evening only a month later.

Chapter 2

Jennifer Baker

Jennifer Baker

A tale of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal

A Love Story tendered by a member of the Society

This story was originally written as an appendum to the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal tetraology published on the Long Island Staylace Association site. For many years I had thought it to be lost but now, rediscovered, I post it here. In time I hope to post all the other stories on this site. In the meantime they can be read here, something that I recommend as they explain the mindset and concepts discussed in this work:

The start of the tetralogy

Dear Sir,

Following the recent publication of Mr. Potter’s stories on the World Wide Web detailing the travails and lifestyles of wives of members of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal, there have been several enquiries directed through the appropriate channels by interested readers as to how we in the Society deal with various matters and emotions, and in particular with the time-old and ever-interesting issue of love, or at least, to be more exact, falling in love. The problems that readers seem to be unable to get their heads round is exactly what happens when a member of the Society, or indeed a wife of the Society falls head over heels in love (Romeo and Juliet style as it were), with someone else. Unfortunately, all of Mr. Potter’s stories do not deal with this issue sufficiently. Araksia and Gabrielle may have loved their husbands initially, though it is clear that it was not so the other way round, (which after all, in Society terms, is what matters). Maria Lundstrom and her daughter were not in love, and neither was Miss Ihbat. Thus it is that the issue is left unresolved, and thus it is that I submit my own story to fill that much-questioned void.

My name is Mr. Andrew Bradbury, I am an Englishman and have been a Member of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal ever since I made my fortune at 22 in the field of web-hosting and was introduced to the Society by a very good friend of mine, one Simon Fallows. For years before had I admired the restricted and helpless female form without fully realising it, but after joining the Society, my eyes were opened as it were, and I became an active user of arm-restricted females for my own personal pleasure. Not that I had had no experiences with the fairer sex beforehand mind, I had had considerable as it happens, but compared to that after my enlightenment, well… they are incomparable.

It was at the age of thirty years however, when I began to feel the need to permanently attach myself to someone else as it were, find a life-partner and in short, get married.  Now, for Society members, there is only one sort of wife that is appropriate, that of course being an entirely arm-restricted one. However, finding a wife can be done in several ways, which are listed below as follows:

  1. One may chance upon a woman in the outside world who enjoys restriction and bondage and wishes to be rendered armless for life, thus entering marriage to a Society Member willingly. As you can imagine, marriages formed in this manner are extremely rare.
  2. One may select the daughter of an existing Society member and take her as one’s spouse. Society Daughters are naturally born into the Society and thus can never leave it. Furthermore, they tend, on the whole, to be rather pretty, since their mothers, hand-picked for their beauty by some of the most powerful males on the planet, were pretty also. Perhaps surprisingly though, many members shy away from picking a Society Daughter as their spouse. Partially this is due to the fact that their fathers know what is going on and so more severe modifications and lifestyles are often out of the question. On top of that though, there is also the issue of innocence and rebellion. Society Daughters are of course, accustomed to being restrained, living restrained and being dominated. More than that in fact, they are actually trained for in our Society Schools and, due to this, make excellent submissive little house angels. However, as you may have guessed from Mr. Potter’s previous tales, many of our members have a more sadistic side to their natures and actually enjoy their wife’s rebellion and discomfort, and indeed relish the challenge of training a spouse, thus making Society Daughters entirely unsuitable for their needs.
  3. And then, finally, one may select a girl (or boy, if that be your want) from the outside world, have her abducted and taken to the Society Training Centre on Kalimantan, fed with the Love Drug and then throw herself willingly into a life of restriction.

I, like the majority of Society Members, decided upon the third option, and so scoured the streets of Nottingham (that being my hometown) until I found a suitable candidate. She was a charming girl, 19 years of age, long blonde hair and the most beautiful pair of legs that I had ever come across. I imagined restraining her in a Venus corset and enjoying anal congress with her whilst she screamed into a penis gag, and knew that I had selected the right person. A week later, the Society Kidnapping Squad was called in and she was abducted whilst on her way to work in a local supermarket. The items on the local TV news concerning her kidnapping I dutifully recorded so that I may play them back to her some months later after we had set up our home. I then went over to Hungary where I bought a large old house and had it specially equipped with restriction and exercise facilities for my new spouse before finally hiring some lady’s maids from Thailand and enjoying their pleasure for a week or two. Finally, a month after the abduction, I got myself onto a plane and headed off towards Indonesia.

My flight however, as it happened, did not fly to Jakarta directly, but instead I had to change planes in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and so being an ardent traveller, I decided to break in that fair country for a week before continuing onwards. Furthermore, I had a very good and old Society friend, one Jack Baker, an Australian, whom I knew lived in a large villa on one of the islands off Malaysia’s western coast so when I arrived I called him up and he invited me to stay at his place for the duration of my visit. And so it was that I found myself being welcomed by that good gent and introduced to his family.

“This is my wife, Michelle,” he said, showing me an attractive lady of about 50. “I found her in Melbourne, my home city. In fact, we went to school together — all the lads lusted after her, but she was too haughty to ever glance at a bloke like me. Still, I got what I wanted in the end, as you can see.” Jack laughed and Michelle looked downcast. Looking at her enormous breasts and tiny corseted waist, I guessed that he had got what he wanted and then added to it considerably.

“And here is my daughter, Jennifer. She’s just finished school and is living with us for the first time in years.” I looked at Jennifer Baker. She was clad in the typical school uniform of Society Schools; a white corset and matching monoglove and the golden underpants of a Society chastity belt barely covered by the short, splayed out blue school skirt. She was plain in fact, but her figure was acceptable, a tiny waist and long legs, although, alas, tiny breasts and small and manly buttocks.  Her posture, on the other hand, was excellent, helped by the standard-issue 15cm heels and her head held bolt upright by her ponytail which was, in usual Society School fashions, wrapped beautifully around her encased arms, the monoglove itself being attached to the chastity belt by a short golden chain. As I’d said before, acceptable, yes, but plain in face, although not unattractive. I greeted the girl with a kiss on the forehead and then moved into the lounge room with her father, where two of the Romanian maids were about to perform a lesbian sex show for our benefits.


The following morning, I awoke early and decided to take a walk around the beautiful grounds of Baker’s estate, so after Katya, the maid who’d been assigned to me, had administered my morning blowjob, I got up, showered, and started on my stroll.

Pulau Langkawi, the island upon which Baker’s villa is situated, is truly one of the most beautiful places in the world, and he, being who he is, had one of the best spots on that paradise. As I walked around his well-tended gardens, amazed by the views and flowers, and felt myself to be almost in heaven. However, as I rounded a corner, I spied a figure, sat on a white bench, looking decidedly glum and downcast. When I moved closer, I saw that it was Jennifer.

When she heard me, she lifted her eyes and smiled. “Mr. Bradbury,” she said.

“I disturbed you?”

“No, not at all, sir. I was just… sitting and enjoying the morning sunshine.”

The tear streaks on her face however, belied that she had not been ‘enjoying’ anything. Still, whilst not the best-looking girl on earth, she was still pretty and, I was tiring in the tropical heat, so I decided to sit beside her and chat.

“Well, it’s certainly beautiful out here,” I started, “though your presence makes it all the more so.”

She smiled again. “Sir, don’t jest please. I’m not beautiful and I know it; it’s been said all throughout my life. Mamma is pretty, exceedingly so, but I have always been the ugly duckling. I shouldn’t say this perhaps, but I seem to have taken papa’s looks instead.”

I smiled inwardly. Yes, she was the spitting image of her father in many ways. “Well those who say that you’re not beautiful are liars.” I declared. “You’re not conventionally beautiful it’s true, but you do have a certain special something.”

“Oh Mr. Bradbury, no one has ever said anything so kind as that to me before,” she said.

But to be honest with you, dear reader, I must confess that I had not been lying. Miss Baker was plain, indeed, but there was a certain spark about her and a twinkle in her eyes. To give a comparison to that you may be able to relate, think of someone like Jennifer Jason Leigh or Bridget Fonda. The beauty is not striking, but the more one looks, the more one sees.

“But Miss Jennifer, you seem to have been crying.” I continued,. “Let me wipe those eyes.”

One of the greatest aspects of arm-bondage is that the wearer is almost completely helpless, and thus relies on her protector for such simple acts as wiping tears away from the eyes. As I took out my handkerchief and wiped her face, I imagined doing the same in a month or two’s time for my own wife and felt excited about the prospect.

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured, “but please, call me Jenny.”

“Jenny it is then,” I confirmed. “But pray tell me, Jenny, why is it that you cry?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“One doesn’t cry over nothing…”

“Well, no… but, well… it’s just going to be a big change, that’s all and well, I’m scared…”

“What will be a big change?”

“I’ve finished school now so I’m ready to be married. I must marry soon and well, there’s a man interested, but…”

“But what?”

“Oh nothing, it’s fine.”

“But what?”

“I told you Mr. Bradbury, it’s nothing! Forget it please.”


That evening I mentioned the matter to the girl’s father. “Oh yes,” said Baker, “it’s marrying time all right. To be honest with you, I was quite dreading it, actually. As you know, most men prefer a fresh, untrained recruit, and of those that do want Society Daughters, well, how many would choose such a plain, small-arsed thing as her.”

“You can always have improvements made.”

“Well yes, you can, but men prefer it natural as a general rule and besides, improvements cost money, and you can always make the wrong ones. I was thinking of giving her a tit job for her 16th birthday but then I thought, no, what happens if the one bloke in the world who’d want her isn’t into big tits? Money down the drain entirely. However, as it happens, we seem to have dropped on it — we have an offer for her hand.”

“Really? And who’s that?”

“Don’t know if you know him, but a bloke named Sederburg, one of the Americans living in Saudi.”

“Brad Sederburg?”

“Yes, that’s him. Saw her at a School Open Day and approached me. I know he’s a bit extreme but, well, beggars can’t be choosers now, can they?”

“Indeed they can’t.”

Now I knew why Jenny had been crying. Brad Sederburg was renowned throughout the Society for his unorthodox tastes. He had a total of three wives whom he kept in total restriction. He was especially interested in minuscule waists, no more than thirteen inches was meant to be his standard, but it didn’t stop there. All were trained to keep their arms permanently in the difficult and painful reverse-prayer position, and many other indignities from mammoth-sized breasts to lotus feet, voice removal to neck extensions were piled upon them. ‘Poor Jenny,’ I thought to myself as I remembered her tear-stained eyes in the garden. Still, I was interested in exactly what he had planned for her.


“Your father says that you’re engaged to be married to Brad Sederburg,” I said when we met in the garden again that afternoon.

“Not yet,” she replied, “but it is probable.”

“What do you mean?”

“My Coming Out has not taken place yet. However, he is the only man invited.” Comings Out are specific ceremonies for Society Daughters. They are restrained in some total way and then put on display for prospective husbands to admire. Then, the men approach the girl’s father and he chooses for them.

“What are you to wear?” I asked. A girl’s Coming Out costume is normal a big event.

“I am to be a butterfly,” she replied. “I shall be encased in a full body cocoon, immovable save my head, and attached to a post. Then huge wings are to be fastened to the cocoon and I shall wear a crown on my head. It’s very beautiful indeed.”

“Did you choose it?”

“Yes, but papa was pleased with the choice. I am excited about wearing it. Especially as I can’t…”

She stopped. “Can’t what?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Jenny, I’m your friend, you can tell me.”

Then, to my surprise, tears started streaming down her face. I held her to my chest and dried them. “My wedding.” she sobbed. “We girls don’t have a lot of freedom, you know that, but I’d always hoped, dreamt, that I could wear a big white dress for my wedding, with a wide skirt and veil and look like a princess, if only for a day.”

“But that’s normal, Jenny. Why can’t you?”

“Mr. Sederburg, ‘Brad’ I am told I should call him, when he visited papa last month and made his intentions known, he refused. He said that he had done that three times before and this time he wanted something different. He said that I was to be his Jenny Bunny and so he wanted to marry me dressed as a bunny rabbit, with only a corset, bikini bottoms, huge fluffy rabbit feet, rabbit ears and my hands in reverse prayer with a fluffy glove holding them.”

“Reverse prayer! Isn’t that… well, difficult…?”

“Awfully. At school they never taught it, as few men insist on it. It’s difficult and very painful, but he insists on it all the time, even at night. His wives have specially made beds with a niche for their bound arms. I am learning it now. Everyday I have to lie on my front for five hours whilst my arms are bent a little more and then secured there. By my coming out I should be ready.”

I smiled inwardly as I thought how attractive she would look with her arms in that extreme position, but then shuddered at the ordeal she would have to face to get them there, and then the further ordeals that she would doubtless encounter in the house of Brad Sederburg.

We walked on in silence.


Every day that week I met Jenny Baker in the garden and talked with her. She was a charming and pleasant girl, and if only her buttocks and breasts had been a bit larger, she would have been a real catch. She told me of her history, her time at school and her fears for the future. Apparently, she had never excelled in the Venus Academy of Murmansk where she had been sent, save for in the field of waist training. Her waist was in fact remarkable, perhaps only fourteen inches in circumference, and beautifully shaped. I guessed that was why Sederburg, a known waist man, had selected. “Well, yes it is,” said her father when I mentioned the matter casually to him, “but there is more than that. Brad, apparently, likes to take plain girls and use them as a sort of blank canvas upon which to create his masterpiece. All his girls, even the maids, undergo extensive body modifications, and I am sure that Jenny will be the same. Still, she does need some work doing on her I suppose.”

I had to agree with him, but wondered if she perhaps did not need quite so much work as Sederburg was sure to mete out.

On the final day of my stay I was walking in the gardens in the evening when I again met Jenny Baker. We smiled when we saw each other, and began to walk and talk as per usual. And then, without warning, she suddenly burst into hysterical tears and buried her head into my chest. “What is it, Jenny?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh Andrew,” she replied, “you are leaving tomorrow and it’s just that, well, you’re the nicest man that I’ve ever met. You’re the only one who hasn’t criticised my looks and shown me any kindness. Oh I wish I was marrying someone like you instead of fat old Sederburg.”

“Come, come…” I said, comforting the wench.

“No! No! It’s terrible! My life will be a misery as soon as I enter his house, I know it. However, you have given me a glimpse of happiness and of a good life and so, Andrew, I should like to repay you for giving me the happiest days that I have ever spent.”

I was surprised, and touched. I, who had done so little for this delightful young girl, had meant so much. For a moment, I felt like crying myself. “My dear, it’s nothing, nothing at all. I need no repayment.”

“Andrew, you say that, but I still insist. I must give you something back.”

“But what dear, what can you do for me?” I asked, caressing her delightfully bound arms.

She went to a tree and leant against it. “Papa says that you are a waist man. Unhook my monoglove from the chastity belt, lift it up and tighten my corset.”

“But… can it get any smaller?” I asked in astonishment.

“Of course, a full inch almost. Remember, I went through extreme waist training at school. Pull Mr. Bradbury, pull!”

Well, I pulled, and how delightful it was to see that tiny waist contract even further, and her young face huff and puff and grow redder until eventually she passed out and I caught her in my arms. I tied them off them and revived her and when she came to she started panting furiously. “Oh, Andrew,” she declared, between breaths, “that feels fantastic. Thank you! Thank you!”

I encircled her minute waist with my two hands and thanked her also, for the repayment.

“No, Andrew, that wasn’t the repayment — that’s coming next!” she said. Then she went over to a bench and bent over, revealing her naked buttocks under the school skirt. “I cannot pleasure you using my love passage,” she continued, “since I am wearing this accursed chastity belt, but at least my bottom is ready for your pleasure.”

I looked at her small buttocks held in the air and was touched. “But Jenny,” I protested, “you’re a promised woman. I can’t give it to a promised woman.”

“I’m not promised exactly, yet, and besides, I don’t love him. I love you!”

By now of course, my member was standing as tall as a flagpole, so I got it out and backed up to her. “No! Wait!” she said.  “The pessary!”

Then I remembered. The traditional engagement gift for Society Daughters is a pessary in the shape of the future husband’s penis. I reached in and pulled out a marble reproduction of Brad Sederburg’s little man. Looking at it, I felt disgusted and yet confused. I felt angry that another man should have his member inside my girl and yet, she was not my girl, and that was not his member. I threw it on the ground and entered myself, causing her to gasp and shudder as my hands encircled her waist and I pumped away.

After it was finished, I reinserted the pessary, attached the monoglove to the back of the chastity belt again, and sat her on my knee. For an hour we gazed at the setting sun without speaking.


At the Training Centre on Kalimantan, I met my future wife, just as gorgeous as she had always been. We sat, introduced one another and she was fed the love drug. Every day, I saw her becoming more devoted to me and more eager to climb into bed. I caressed her beautiful round buttocks, tickled and squeezed her nipples, and kissed her gorgeous mouth. Eventually, the day came.

“You can’t leave me!” she cried. “I love you!”

“But Emma, how can you love me? You’re so frigid. Whenever I mention doing it, you back off!”

“But I want to, I truly do, but I should marry you if we do it.”

“So marry me then.”

“But your terms,  Andrew, your terms! How can I?”

The terms that I had set her were complete arm restriction, extreme breast enlargement, corsets 24 hours a day and some work on her buttocks.

“Well then, I must leave if you can’t accept.”

Two days later, we were married. She wore a billowing white dress and veil just as Jenny Baker had always dreamed about.


On the way back I decided to stop at Jack Baker’s again for a week. I don’t know why exactly, but I did. Something about that beautiful place compelled me to return, so I had Emma sent ahead as freight and got on the plane.

I didn’t tell Jack that I was coming this time though, and as I approached the house I was greeted by an incredible sight. There, fastened to a post in the middle of the lawn, was a huge, gorgeous, colourful butterfly. I wondered quite what was happened and then I remembered. I had chanced upon Jenny’s Coming Out.

“Andy!” cried Jack when he saw me. “I didn’t expect you to return so quickly, but never mind, you’re always welcome and besides, you’ve picked a good day. It’s Jenny’s coming out and doesn’t she look a picture?”

I gazed at her, squeezed mercilessly into her cocoon and fastened to the stake, and waved. She smiled back, smiling of course, being all that she could do.

“It’s a great outfit,” said a plump American man stood beside Jack. “Her arms are folded into reverse prayer behind her – you can see if you go round the back – the bottom forces her feet into en-pointe position and the waist, only 13 inches!”

“Indeed!” I said, walking round to examine the aesthetically pleasing, yet no doubt painful arm bondage.

“By the by Andy,” said Jack, “this is Brad, the guy interested in taking that butterfly over there off my hands. Brad, this is Andy, an old friend of mine. During his visit here a few weeks ago he was quite a companion for your future bride you know, but now you’re married yourself, are you not?”

“Yes, Emma’s her name; she’ll be arriving later in the afternoon by boat.”

“She good?” asked Brad Sederburg.

“So far, yes, although I’ll have to modify her a bit.”

“I’ll be doing more than a bit of that myself in the near future,” said the American. “I was just telling Jack here, I’ve a vision for young Jenny here. I’m thinking cartoon character-cum-bunny rabbit. Breasts the size of beachballs, waist no larger than 13 inches, and massive, and I mean massive, butt implants. She’ll be out here, then nothing in the middle and then huge up top. I’m having her ability to speak removed too – can’t do with nagging women – but shall have an apparatus put in her throat which will allow her to squeak like a rabbit. Cool, huh? ‘Bunny’ is the watchword here. I’m renaming her ‘Bunny’ and she’ll be dressed as a rabbit for the wedding.”

I smiled and agreed it was cool and then excused myself, getting a drink and looking at Jenny from a distance. Then suddenly, most unexpectedly, tears filled my eyes. There she was, a beautiful young spirit, a fresh girl, with her whole life in front of her, about to be turned into an animal capable of only squeaking and fucking. ‘Don’t be a prick,’ I said to myself, ‘you’re as bad as Sederburg; you’ve done the same to Emma, and besides, you’re a man, and men don’t cry.’ But the tears did not stop and it was then that I realised that I was in love with Jenny Baker.

All that long long day I ached to go over and speak with my beloved, but I could not. How could face her, knowing what she was destined for? When Emma arrived and was unpacked and paraded before the others, I felt even worse. I felt unfaithful before my darling, low and base. “She’s a fair catch,” said the jovial Sederburg. “And that’s the unmodified state you say?”

Emma, glared at me. The love drug had now worn off and she had had to be gagged securely. She hated me. “What I’d give for something like that!” exclaimed the American.

Then, at the end of the day, Jack clapped his hands and gathered us round. “And now ladies and gentlemen, for the business of the day, although of course, I suspect it’s only a formality, we still should go through the ceremony. Today has been of course, my beloved daughter Jennifer’s, coming out day and so I should like to ask any males here who wish to vie for her hand, to make themselves known now.”

Brad Sederburg smiled and raised his hand. “I do,” he declared.

“Right, and anyone else?”

Silence reigned, but inside my heart a fierce battle was waging.

“Fair enough, as I thought, so Brad, she’s…”

“I do.”

All faces turned to me.

“Andy!” queried Jack. “Are you joking?”

“No, I’m not joking,” I said. “I do.”

“Andrew!” cried Jenny.

“Mmmphf!” said Emma into her gag.

“But dude, you’re married already,” said Sederburg.

“So are you,” I replied.

“Yeah, but… she was promised to me, Jack here promised her. She’d got a replica of my cock shoved up her bony ass. That should mean something, surely?”

“Yes Andy,” said Jack, “it was more or less agreed and besides, Andy, come on, look at this gorgeous fuck toy you’ve got here and compare her with Jenny. You must be mad!”

“Jack, I’m sorry,” I said, “you too Brad. I didn’t mean this, but I guess I just fell in love with the girl. I couldn’t help it, and, well, promised or not, Society Protocol states that…”

“…that anyone who’s interested can express an interest on a girl’s coming out…”

“…and that it is up to the father to decide, Jack, so what’s it to be?”

“No dude, I think I shouldn’t really be mentioning this,” butted in Sederburg, “but you’ve got it wrong. It is up for the girl to decide, as all Society Members are equal and fathers can be bribed.”

“That’s true Brad, but… I feel bad, about promising her and all…”

“And I do too, and so…”

“Let the girl decide, gents,” continued Sederburg.

We stood in front of my darling butterfly and Jack asked her. “Jennifer, who is it to be, Mr. Sederburg or Mr. Bradbury?”

And my love smiled and whispered softly, “Andrew.”

“So there you are, gents, she’s yours Andy, congratulations!”

“But Brad, I feel bad. Is there anything that I can do for you in return?”

The American smiled and said, “Well, there is one thing…” And he gestured towards Emma.


Jenny Baker and I got married in Malaysia exactly five years ago and since then we’ve been very happy. On her wedding day she wore the white dress that she dreamt about and since then she’s been allowed to live as a human being, not a bunny rabbit, albeit an armless human being. At first she was overjoyed thinking that she would be free of any modifications, but of course, I couldn’t let her carry on as she was, and her breasts and buttocks have been suitably enlarged so that she now has a curvaceous figure to be proud of.

And for the past five years, we have been extremely happy. She is submissive and always willing to service me and dressed up in her finery (I insist on ballgowns everyday) she looks the princess that she always wanted to be.

From time to time we still see Sederburg and Emma who are married, although not so happily (or at least, not so on her part). She now looks like a cartoon character with titanic tits, an enormous bubble butt and dingy lips. She cannot speak, nor  do anything really, save service Sederburg, but her fire has not left her and her constant rebellion pleases her husband, as do her reverse prayer bound arms.

And that is how the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal deals with love. We let the girl choose between suitors so that no one can claim they were out-bribed or cheated, and thus whilst hard for the loser, they know that it was a fair fight and go on to win the next battle.

I hope this rather long reminiscence has been of interest to your readers,
Yours faithfully

Andrew Bradbury