“But Duncan, look,” I protested, holding it up. “There are no cups for my breasts. They’ll be naked.” I felt a small shiver of fear. Silly as it sounded - considering I’d been Duncan’s submissive for almost a year, and did what he told me to - I was still unwilling to bare my 36Ds at public functions, and so far had avoided doing so.
“You’re right, Geri. What an oversight,” he agreed, taking my hand and heading for our bedroom. “Let’s put it on you and see how you look.”
It took some major pulling and tugging on Duncan’s part - with me holding my breath and sucking in my stomach while he laced up the corset tightly in back. He finished and turned me to the full-length mirror on my closet door, where I stood, barely breathing, staring at myself in awe.
Talk about an hourglass figure! Flexible metal bands sewn into the corset bent sharply inward, constricting my already trim waist, forcing my stomach in and my rib cage high. My generous ass cheeks swelled outrageously from beneath the fringe of black lace that extended below my waist in back, and my pubic mound in front. My cunt lips, visible through sheer black panties, were plump and moist with excitement. Silky black stockings, secured by the garters, encased my legs.
But hot as the rest of me looked, my full, firm breasts took center stage that night. The metal-stiffened, lace-trimmed upper edge of the corset pressed them insistently upward, while an inch-wide satin tab between them kept them slightly apart. As a result, they jutted out before me - never mind my being in my late thirties - as high and proud as they were when they first developed years ago. They felt heavy and aching with excitement; my prominent nipples were hard, like little rocks.
