It’s a Cinch

Growing up I was obsessed by corsets. Some of it was being much skinnier back then and it making me convinced I was flat chested but a lot of it was coming of age in an era of John Paul Gaultier dressing Madonna and Dolce and Gabbana’s modern day corsetry that shook off the Victorian associations for pure Sicilian sex appeal.

No one in Ireland wore corsets (unless they were about ninety and still wore their ‘stays’ with a girdle and had never heard of Lycra) so I had no idea that you didn’t need tits to wear one, but that they did the work for you and created a cleavage to die for. I had several images like this of the model Chandra North in a corset and dreamed of spilling over my top in such a literally over the top style.

I did get a chance to wear a zipped corset made of black leather for a sex work client on a few occasions but it never gave me the silhouette I was after even if I loved the feel of it and the look of a leather corset. The zip simply didn’t nip my waist in enough to make much impact and it made me think such things weren’t for me even when I got tits in my twenties.

Then my Master introduced me to waist training and corsets and it was love at first lacing once I learned that overbust corsets don’t suit me (the other issue with that leather one) by squashing my tits into a very unflattering shape which defeats the purpose somewhat.

I thought I was a bit of an expert on waist training though by now when I learned something completely new existed. In searching Amazon to replace a waist trainer I’d worn out, I found that I’ve been wearing the 9 steel waist trainer in that time but a 25 steel version also exists.

Quite simply the more steels, the more the cinch and the more results. You won’t be surprised to hear I bought one immediately. I was pleased on a practical note when I opened the Amazon Prime package to find that it is considerably stronger and less likely to stab me with a stray steel that the one I’ve been wearing (having ripped two in the last six or so months no less.)

But stronger means trickier to put on and I really really felt the effort of fastening it evn starting on the first row of hooks. And I really felt the effects of wearing it. Longer than the 9 steel, it comes higher up my back and lower down my stomach which I liked as it prevents a visible line but it felt like wearing a full corset compared to my old one.

I decided to distract myself by wearing it to cook and do housework so my mind wouldn’t keep being distracted by how firm it felt around my waist. I could see why Princess struggles with hers as I think she started out with a 25 steel and that’s quite a leap since I was very aware of it after almost two years of the 9 steel even though it’s perversely comfortable to me.

Then I realised as I cooked and cleaned that I was very distracted after all, not so much by my waist but by my tits. Even on the first hook, this waist trainer pushes them up and together so much more than before. Like a modern day Narcissus I was drowing in my own cleavage every time I glanced down.

Three hours in and I tightened it onto the second row of hooks just to see if I was imagining things. Turns out I’ve finally fulfilled that lifetime ambition to have full firm tits spill over the top of a ridiculously tight top in a way that’s borderline obscene. I half expect to be arrested on the third row of hooks frankly….

tits in top

 

It’s a Cinch

Prompted

I thought I’d got as far with my waist training as I could. Not as far as the 24″ that my Master set me last year but comfortably into the 26″ corset and used to wearing the waist trainer everyday.

My slight smugness at recently being able to lie down or eat more easily in the waist trainer made me think I’d developed talents I never imagined I’d have when my Master suggested the waist trainer this time last year.

Then I washed my waist trainer just once too often in the machine. And one of the steel bones poked through in a distinctly uncomfortable fashion. Time to buy a new one clearly or risk ruining my glamorous image.

Waist trainers are becoming easier to buy thanks to their popularity with the Kardashians who have brought them mainstream outside Spanish and South American culture where women wear them to support their muscles while they heal after childbirth.

You can pay a lot of money for a waist trainer but I find the more expensive they are the more they make me think of what my grandmother might have called a girdle and tend to look sturdy rather than sexy.

I favour this brand off Amazon which aren’t stupidly expensive, don’t look too practical and provide decent cinching support. Mine lasted a good six months being worn daily and washed regularly until it split on me.

The only downside I discovered is that it also stretches quite considerably in that time. It wasn’t my expertise at wearing it but rather more give in it over the last few months. The replacement one is about 1.5 inches smaller than the well worn one in fact.

And I got quite a shock when I tried to hook the new one up. It was so so much tighter that I thought it wasn’t going to fit. I mean it doesn’t help that it’s quite hard to see over my tits to do it up but a bit of contortion and I had it snug on the second hooks.

If you’ve never worn a waist trainer before you will be shocked by how tight it feels. It really does hold you and compress you and chances are the first week or so, you’ll only manage it for short periods of time at once rather than all day.

But if you’ve ever worn any kind of ‘shaping underwear’ the waist trainer is much easier. It nips you in rather than simply squeezing everything into a different shape and position and gives a much sleeker feel especially under clothes that you can sit and stand in without feeling like it will slide down all the time.

However it’s also designed to ‘use thermal technology to help train your waist’ which means wearing something made of heavy rubber right by your bare skin will make you sweat. I don’t find that a particular issue as I’m a woman who is part lizard but others might it problematic.

In fact reading all the hype about the waist trainer made me really sceptical when my Master suggested it but I’ve fallen in love with it. Princess hates how constricting it feels to her yet for in an example of how opposite we are to each other, I revel in it.

It feels supportive and somehow comforting to be held in like that and putting the new waist trainer on today and being reminded how firm and tight it should be put a spring in my step. Each reminder of it felt like submission over and over again.

Maybe I’ll manage to train my waist that little bit further now I’ve been reminded…?

Prompted

Stats

Exactly six months since I started writing (and stretching) as Candi and I’ve managed three butternut squash, four full items off my list of tasks, five inches off my waist, 200 blog posts and 12,000 views.

Making ten people come in one night doesn’t seem so intimidating or impractical now I’ve discovered how much I can do with do with a hundred and eighty days…

 

Stats

Mark Me

My Master’s instructions at the weekend are all about change. There’s the change that having never had any interest in having sex with women before that I’ve rarely been as excited about the thought of her.

Then there’s the change of getting another piercing. I’m starting with my upper ear on his instruction as he reminded me that he finds those ear piercings a good indicator of both sluttiness and poor decision making.

The former he encourages in me, the latter he seems to be helping me do less regularly. But there’s no harm in combining them occasionally so tomorrow I plan to visit the piercer again and mark my body visibly again with his orders.

It’s the perfect addition to my new daily sign of my smaller more defined waist that shows his ownership and training of me. I was wearing my tightest corset the other night and my Master could only pull it about half a centimetre tighter than I had done myself because my waist has changed so much.

I need to think about starting to size down to the 24 inch corset if I’m to keep enjoying the feel of him lace me into it. I adore the feeling of him literally dictating the pace of my breathing and the shape of my body as he tightens and ties it. The fact his wife was licking my clit as he did it this time enhanced that shiver of pleasure all the more.

But afterwards I knelt on the bed in my corset and catsuit in front of both of them and he measured my waist with a measuring tape to see what size it’s been trained to. Fully laced into the red corset and with the allowance for boning of it, there’s now a 9 inch different between my hips and my waist compared to a 5 inch difference last September.

At this rate I will definitely tick training my waist down to 24 inches off my list by the end of the year….

Mark Me

Small and Tight

My waist obviously. Not my cunt. As my gape improves, my waist gets smaller and more defined. I’m not sure if my Master had the contrast in mind or if it’s a rather excellent coincidence.

I realised when I was trying clothes on the other night that my waist trainer wasn’t sitting as well under them as I expected and that’s because it had become quite loose. I sized down yesterday and noticed a real difference.

Not only is my waist more nipped in, it feels better too. I love that cinched feeling of the waist trainer or corset. It’s a firm pressure that somehow feels supportive and submissive at the same time. I miss it when I’m not wearing either.

The only slight downside to having trained my waist several inches so far this year is that I’ve learned how to fully tighten my own corset so when I saw my Master last week he didn’t need to bend me over to lace me in.

I missed the feeling of submission involved when he does it. There’s few things more symbolic of his power and control over me than him tightening my corset and controlling my breathing and shaping my body. And the feel of his fingers on my back pulling the laces go straight to my cunt.

Of course, the upside of learning to lace myself fully into my corset is that instead he bent me over and put his fist straight inside my stretched cunt and made me come almost instantly.

I’m still looking forward to sizing down again in another corset when this new waist trainer works its magic…

Small and Tight

Sunny Day

No blog yesterday because the weather was too good to be indoors. Instead I went to the park to enjoy the sun and revel in the warm weather meaning less clothing.

Not just for me, but for all those men who take sunshine as an excuse to strip off. For every one you want to suggest some sun cream to, there’s one you’d probably volunteer to rub the sun cream onto.

I rather enjoyed sitting under a tree just reading my book, slightly hidden by my wig and a pair of sunglasses watching the world go by and admiring the view. I do like that with a Kindle no one knows what you’re reading which is how you get away with with reading BDSM erotica in a public park on a Sunday afternoon.

I had hoped to be wearing something short and slightly revealing at the same time, but my Master’s training has changed my body so much since last summer that none of my sun appropriate dresses fit any more.

I ended up in something I haven’t worn at all since I got my clit piercing: a pair of jeans. Only suitable for the weather since they are tight and cropped and expose some leg. I got out of the habit of wearing jeans when the piercer suggested avoiding them for the first two weeks after the piercing because of the pressure from the seam.

And then I sort of forgot I owned any until now. But I got intimately acquainted with the seam quite quickly and regretted leaving it so long. It really does press against the piercing, especially when you have your legs bent with a book propped on your knee, no knickers on and a glass plug in your ass.

The fact I had no bra on under the strapless top I was wearing was fairly obvious, but I doubt the added bonus of my jeans was and yet considering I was wearing far more clothes than most women in the park, I seemed to be attracting quite a few glances.

Maybe I’m not as subtle at looking at men in various states of undress as I think I am but by the time I got home, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take my jeans off and play or keep pressing against that seam…

Sunny Day