Chapter 6: Dressing and Stretching

Speaking of revelations, Cynthia was one. She wore a simple white bra, white panties, and a large white hair bow. There was nothing else, not even shoes or sandals, though her hand carried a basket.

I could see the basket contained stockings, likely shoes, and something else. My compass twitched again—she had mentioned a corset. As crazy as it must have looked with me hanging on the wall trussed up as I was, I struggled for a look into the basket. Little Jay stretched out for a look, too. She only went over to Paul and handed him the basket.

“Paul, could you help me out a bit here? I need someone to hold my things. This is not something that can be worn without assistance. Would you be so kind?” She glanced at me with a twitch of the lips, “Jason seems to have other things to do just now.” No kidding.

Cynthia pulled up a stool and set one of her sculpted legs on it. My Lord, she was built. Every time she moved, muscles rippled under the skin. It was easy to make out her 38—24—34 measurements which if anything, looked larger but bound up a bit. I had not noticed her perfect pale skin before. Now, her long dark hair and the white cotton gave it a luster, like polished marble.

She took a silk stocking out and stopped in place while her fingers rolled the stocking. Of everything that went on that day, that image of her stays with me: standing motionless, one leg firmly on the ground, the other bent with the foot on a stool, intent on the fingers that slowly rolled a white silk stocking. A statue in life, it was like a light went on and made everything clear.

As I said, there was clarity to my thinking. It’s important because what I thought of next, would not have occurred to me in different circumstances. In many ways, Cynthia was like a human statue. Her emotions seemed so controlled; her coloring was so light and dark, her attitude so hard and unyielding that she might have been sculpted. This is not to say that I would not have bruised my prick on that unseen cunt, even if it was hard as a rock. Right then, Little Jay could have matched any stone for hardness.

Then she bent to roll the stocking over her perfect leg and turned to take the other. I realized I had not drawn breath in some time and rejoined the living. It was a good time to do it: she was putting on the corset. I had never actually seen one before. I had known that corsets laced in the back, but not that they came apart in front. Cynthia told me about corsets as she hooked the busks together, bottom to top.