Part 2
Topping the stairs, I found myself in a long hallway stretching to the right and left of the landing. I turned right, walking slowly as if fearing to wake anyone who might be sleeping in one of the bedrooms, though the place was obviously deserted.
There were a great many paintings lining the walls, and examining them I found that each was a lurid depiction of various exotic acts of coitus, of bondage, flagellation, and other less decipherable activities. Stopping at the first door I came to, I placed hand on knob and then froze. What was that sound? But I was being silly. I'd fancied I'd heard something from the other side, but of course that was impossible. The house had been abandoned for years, and I'd seen no sign of vermin or pests in my inspection so far.
In truth, the place seemed remarkably well-kept, as if it still had caretakers, even though more than one of the townspeople had assured me that no one ever went there, for they all feared it. I laughed nervously. Perhaps it really was haunted. Or perhaps there was another explorer (trespasser, my mind whispered) lurking about? Though I had seen no other horse or cart, I paused, placed my ear against the door, listening with all my being. I heard nothing. Nothing except… no, there was nothing.
Gathering my courage and preparing to greet any fellow intruders just in case, I turned the knob and opened the door. There was no one on the other side. Inside was a delightful little boudoir containing a pair of armoires, a large chest of drawers, a massive four-poster bed with a dramatic white canopy and an ornate chest at its foot, and a very large dressing mirror. Another door probably led to the water closet. A few comfortable looking chairs were scattered about. The room was appointed with style and grace, with pretty window treatments and drapes all around, a few more of the ubiquitous erotic paintings, even a small reading desk with it's own chair. Even now, I am sitting at that desk to write this.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I thought that this was how I might have decorated my own bedroom, had I been inclined to such extravagance. While my inheritance allowed me to live comfortably, my funds were not limitless, and I knew I could never have afforded such luxury. I found myself thinking that I might be very comfortable living in such opulence, and I wondered why the current owner did not simply move in or at the very least sell the property. Surely he did not actually believe the legends of ghosts!
Surprisingly, the parquet floor was devoid of rug or carpet, yet the polished wood glowed with that inner light that only age and great skill can achieve. In all, a charming boudoir!
I had always loved canopied beds, and I threw aside the curtains of this one to admire it's secret interior. The first thing that caught my eye however, was not the beautiful white velvet coverlet, but the curious contraption hanging in the center of the bed. It was a complex-looking leather harness, attached beneath what looked like a heavy iron wagon wheel. The support chain disappeared through a hole in the canopy. Bizarre!
Looking round the bed, I noticed two heavy rings, one high and one low, set into each post of the frame. It seemed the residents had shared at least one of my private interests! I crossed to the armoir and threw wide the doors, curious to see if any clothes remained, and if so, what manner of gowns and lingerie it might hold, given the salacious reputation of the house.
The first few items I found confirmed even my wildest speculations. Here was a gold mine of glove-soft leather! A red corset with a waist measure even smaller than mine, a long white dress of unusual design and features, and one or two items I had never seen before, but whose purpose my prurient imagination could easily guess at. There were other, more conventional clothes of silk and lace, and then a few that took me by surprise.
At first I thought they had been spoiled, that perhaps something had been spilled on them. Then I decided they were a form of oil cloth, such as sailors wear to keep dry. I took up a pair of opera-length gloves. They were black and glossy, soft, and made a liquid rustling as they moved. A pungent odor arose from them, not at all unpleasant but… different. I pulled at them and found that they stretched! Then I had it. They were made from gutta percha or gum elastic, that new material from the latex trees of the West Indies, they had to be.
Yet unlike the crude mackintoshes I had seen worn by workmen and police officers, these were of exceedingly fine quality, and had no seams. I wondered at the method of their construction. Fascinated, I dug further into the armoir, and came up with several more items in the unusual material. A black body suit, like long-sleeved winter underwear except all in one piece, was one of the many items that took my fancy. I wondered whether, since it was elastic, it might actually fit me. The thought of the strange material clinging to my body sent a shiver through me. I wasn't sure whether I was excited or repulsed.
The next thing was a skirt, very long and narrow and of much heavier material than the suit. A classic hobble skirt, but one so restrictive as to seem quite impractical- how would one walk in it? There was one other piece which seized my attention in particular. Upon examining it more closely, I felt an embarrassed flush rise to my face, and a warmth begin gathering quite a bit lower. This differed from the other garments in that it was a tan, almost amber color, which I guessed was the natural state of the material. It was a pair of tight fitting bloomers, with a high waist and obviously close-fitting legs, and it seemed to wiggle and vibrate of it's own accord as I turned it over in my hands. But what made my mouth turn dry and my blood begin pounding in my ears was what I saw inside.
A pair of soft rods, phallic in shape, were fitted in the crotch as part of the garment. (I was relieved to note that the garment was either new or had been scrupulously cleaned.) Moreover, a wide rounded ridge of soft bumps rose from the base of the front rod, and I knew instinctively where those bumps would rest. I knew then that at least some of the rumors of this place were more true than the gossips imagined! The denizens of Hargreaves Manor had been perverse indeed, and deep down, I knew that I would have felt right at home with them.
The rods were what gave the garment it's strange vibrating sensation. Something heavy and loose, (quicksilver perhaps?) was trapped within each one, and they wriggled and shook with every movement. When I imagined how they would feel inside me, my knees became as rubbery as the bloomers. I needed to sit down, and I was seized with the impulse to try on some of these clothes, but I rallied my willpower and determined not to give in to temptation… at least, not just yet.
By this time I was in the sort of trance that every woman has experienced at least once: that delirious state of elation that one enjoys only when trying on particularly attractive garments, or when one has been given beautiful new jewelry or as in my case, an entire new wardrobe designed around my most favorite, and most secret, vices. Yet these articles were not mine, abandoned though they might be, and further, it was unlikely at best that any should fit me.
Even so I was as a woman hypnotized, and I could no more turn away from this fantasy-come- to-life as I could have walked away from true love. The one thing that had been notably missing so far was footwear. There was the door I hadn't really paid attention to, which I expected to be the water closet. Opening it revealed not a bath at all but a huge closet. The inside was nearly large enough to be called another room, but was consumed entirely with shelf upon shelf of well organized shoes and boots. Not a few of these were the same thigh length style that I had seen in the shop in town, and every single one, short or long, carried the same high thin heels!
I felt dizzy, intoxicated, realizing I had stumbled upon a treasure trove that for me at least, was beyond price. I knew suddenly that I would not be able to leave this house without trying something on. After all, it wasn't as if these were some other woman's clothes any longer. Whoever had owned them was either long dead, or had moved away, abandoning them. No one had disturbed this place in half a century, and these delightfully wicked garments most likely had not seen the light of day in twenty years or more.
I knew women who would have burnt these things on sight. I knew men who, while publicly condemning such bawdy fashions, would in private have been as helpless as a baby before any woman daring enough to wear such things. And while I had expanded the horizons of a few young men in my home town, and had privately conversed with one or two other women who only hinted at such interests, I knew for certain of no others who shared my fascination with clothes that were restrictive, or "difficult" to wear.
I had never told even the most adventurous of my lovers about the small collection of tight leather clothes I occasionally wore next to my skin, concealed beneath my skirts. How many others lived who would treasure these things as I did? I told myself that they deserved to be worn and enjoyed just as the makers had intended, not abandoned in a dusty old mausoleum such as this. I took down an interesting pair of the high boots and found to my surprise that I still held the pantaloons in my other hand. I blushed again. It seemed my subconscious had already made up it's mind what I was to wear.
Another sudden thrill of forbidden pleasure shot through me. If I could find anything that fit, this was going to be a wonderful romp!
Returning to the bed, I divested myself of my clothes, eventually discarding even the corset, as I had already determined to try on the black "long underwear" I had spotted earlier. I had decided that the red patent corset would look far better worn over the suit than my own stays would under it, since anything under that thin stretchy material would no doubt make unsightly lumps and wrinkles.
So there I stood, naked, wondering what to try on first. I felt silly for a moment, since only then did it occur to me just how unlikely it was that anything here should fit me. Once again taking inventory of each armoir and the closet, I held one garment after another against me while staring in the mirror. I was startled to see that everything was either my size or very close to it! What luck! Although I judged that much of it would fit rather more snugly than the loose petticoats I was used to, I did not hesitate to lay out upon the bed a complete, if somewhat elaborate wardrobe.
It was so hard to decide- I wanted to try on everything at once! At last I picked out a pair of the tall boots to complete the collection and turned to my pile of loot. After organizing things in order of dress, I picked up the first item on my mental list, the tight amber panty girdle. Only then did I stop to think about how I might put it on. The stumbling block was the… well, let me be frank: the rods. I was already excited, enough so that I could feel the moisture down there, yet how was I to get the other rod into my rear? From my previous experiments with that particular sin, I knew I would need lubrication to ease its passage. It seemed likely that whoever had lived here must have had something of that sort handy, so I cast about the room for a possible storage place.
The chest! Until now, I had forgotten it. Hoping that it wasn't some other lady's hope chest I was invading, I flung it open. If it was a hope chest, it's owner's hopes were complex and perverse. The contents of the chest was the most complete and eclectic collection of sexual toys and amusements I had yet laid eyes on. Amid all the phalluses, harnesses, straps, hoses, clamps, valves, and less recognizable paraphernalia were several jars and bottles. One of these containers, nestled among the collection of phallic replicas, proved to be a thick, clear, and odorless unguent that was incredibly slippery, and I judged it to be just what I sought. I even tasted it cautiously, and found it devoid of any flavor as well.
Applying a liberal amount to the objects of my desire, as well as to my own flesh, I donned the garment with care. I was delighted to find that it fit very tightly but well, stretching to form a close-fitting layer over my thighs, belly, and crotch. The feeling of the soft rubber prongs pushing into me was exquisite, all the more so since I had been denying myself since disembarking from the ship. The rear rod was large, but no larger than many a vegetable I had made sinful use of when I was a young girl. I nearly swooned from the rush of heat and pleasure that they induced. But I was resolute. Pausing for only a moment to catch my breath, I resumed my dressing, my concentration now somewhat less acute than before.
The next thing for me to try was the long underwear, if that was it's proper name. I had already begun to think of it as a sort of suit of armor, a long-legged and long-sleeved leotard, such as a ballet dancer (a very licentious ballet dancer) might wear. I examined it slowly, wonderingly. The craftsmanship that had gone into it's making was exceedingly fine, despite the unusual nature of the material. It was nearly seamless and at first I could find no opening by which to put it on. Eventually, I decided that it was intended to simply be pulled on, entering through the neck, although I was skeptical that the collar could be stretched that far. I tugged at it carefully at first, then with all my strength, and found that it stretched (with effort) wide enough that at least I should be able to get my legs in, and perhaps my hips as well. I hoped I would be able to force it open further once I had gotten that far.
In a flash, I was sitting on the trunk, with the garment at my feet. I put one and then the other leg in, and pulled. Alas, the material was not at all slippery, despite its smooth texture, and it stuck and grabbed at my skin. I was frustrated for only a moment however, before reaching for the bottle of lubricant. It seemed that a little went a long way, but I supplied the interior of the outfit with a generous amount just to be sure. As an afterthought, I smeared another liberal amount throughout the interior of the bloomers as well. On my second try, I was delighted at the totally novel sensation of my legs slithering into the intimate embrace of the tight material. It took surprisingly little effort to pull it up above my knees. Getting it the rest of the way on was a challenge, but the material slid back and forth almost like a fluid, and after much squirming and tugging, I got my arms first inside the collar, then into the arms of the garment.
Finally, I was dressed. I squirmed a little more, shrugging my shoulders to move the material into place around me, working all of the trapped air out. As the form fitting cups pulled snug against my bust, I started at an unusual sensation. My hands flew to my breasts. The fiendish maker had put little bumps inside the breast cups of the garment, and they caressed and tweaked my nipples as I moved. What decadent people had lived here!
Now that I was neatly sealed inside my second skin, I took a moment to admire myself in the mirror. The sight was startling. The suit fit me as if I had been dipped in some black liquid, leaving nothing to the imagination. It emphasized my hips and bust and showed off the results of my tightlacing habit to great advantage. In a world of petticoats and crinolines, the figure before me was bizarre and foreign, yet delightfully naughty. A little shudder shot through me as I turned to get a better view of the back. Any such motion resulted in delicious thrills from the bumps over my breasts and the wicked rods in my sex. But there was still more to try on!
I tore my gaze away and turned back to the bed, in a haze of arousal. I had picked out the longest pair of the gleaming black boots I could find, hoping that their apparent similarity of size to my own ankle-length boots might indicate a tolerable fit.
Now I turned them in my hands, with the odd feeling as I did so that I was not so much examining a pair of boots, but getting acquainted with two new friends, as though somehow the boots were as glad to have been discovered as I had been to discover them. They were of the same gum elastic as the suit, albeit much, much thicker, yet they were soft to the touch and quite supple from side to side. Along their length however, they were quite stiff, and I saw immediately how this had been accomplished. There were many pieces of long thin boning, probably steel such as my corsets employed, extending from the ankle to the very top. It was as if they were actually boot-shaped corsets instead of foot wear! I pulled one on experimentally, and to my surprise the foot at least, fit perfectly.
(Why did I not wonder then at the unlikelihood of all these things fitting me so well? If I had, this terrible (and yes, wonderful too) fate might never have befallen me.)
I pulled on the other and began lacing them up. As the eyelets drew closed, the slightly elastic material stretched tight around my calves, molding itself to my legs. I could already tell that the boning would make the boots nearly rigid, and I wondered how anyone could walk in them. Nevertheless, the restrictive feeling of the shafts and the high arch into which the soles forced my feet (higher even than my own heels which were well above that dictated by fashion) elicited a wonderful feeling of helplessness, as if I were giving up control of my body to the garments. Perhaps I was, in a way.
When the laces were as tight as I could make them, I stood up awkwardly. Because of the stays, the boots did not bend at the knee- they were completely inflexible. Conversely, the ankles were wonderfully supportive.
I took a few steps and found that I could walk, stiff-legged, by swinging each leg from the hips. Unfortunately, (or perhaps fortunately) that action also made the rods inside me wriggle and shift, back and forth, making even the few steps I took very distracting! I stalked over to the mirror on twin peg-legs.
The boots made a beautiful addition to the suit, adding perhaps five inches to my height, and setting my calves in the more rounded, pleasing shape that such heels promote. The next item in the pile was the corset. I wrapped it around me and laboriously laced it up. It was just that much smaller than my own that the leather protested a bit as the laces closed. But I persevered, and was soon happily compressed within its unyielding embrace. I paused for breath, as the lacing had been arduous without assistance, and I had warmed myself up nicely in the process.
When my breathing was more or less normal again, I picked up the next bit of loot, the skirt. It was unusual in pattern, with a very high waist cut very narrow (obviously for wear only over a corset) then full through the hips, tapering sharply below that. It had no openings or laces, and putting it on proved problematical. I could only barely bend at the hips due to the corset, and bending at the knee was now quite impossible! I stepped into the skirt, sat on the chest, and with great difficulty managed to bend over far enough to reach the waistband. It took me several minutes of tugging and adjusting to get the skirt on and fitted properly. I probably should have used more of the lubricant, but I wanted it to remain as restrictive as possible.
The high waistband of the skirt came up to my chest, completely covering the corset. With the exception of my head and hands, I was now completely enclosed in the skin tight and shiny material. Deciding that I may as well complete the picture and cover my hands as well, I donned the long gloves with difficulty, stretching and smoothing them out over the sleeves of the suit. I would have considered covering my head as well had there been anything to cover it with!
I took a moment to rest then, squirming just slightly in place, reveling in the delicious, slithery sensations of my new garments. Eventually I sat up, and gingerly rose from the bed. I say gingerly, because by now I was immersed in a veritable fog of lust, and every twist of my torso, every bend of my hips sent such tremors of delight through my body that I found it very hard to think coherently, let alone stand and walk.
After a moment though, that is just what I did, as I resolved to explore the rest of this strange house while enjoying my "tight situation". After a few steps, I got the knack of keeping my balance, although it was only possible to take tiny steps in the tightly stretched hobble skirt. I struggled out the door, hobbled down the hall to the first door across from the one I had just quit, and opened it.
At first I assumed it to be some kind of bathroom, as the walls were entirely clad in white tile. But there were other accoutrements and fixtures here not found in any ordinary bath. I stepped in and looked around. To one side was an alcove much too big to be a shower, yet shower it was, and bath as well, with a half dozen shower nozzles. Over there was a sunken bath, surmounted by an odd framework of brightly polished metal. To my left side was what I at first took to be a bed, but soon realized was a kind of padded basin, big enough (and comfortable enough) to lie down in. It had a drain at each end and raised sides. The surface was fitted with soft cushions upholstered in more of the rubberized material, but in white rather than black.
Seeing nothing that immediately captured my fancy, I left the curious bathing facilities and wobbled to the next door across the hall. This was another bedroom, outfitted quite differently from the first. It had the same high ceiling and bare wood floor, but there the similarity ended. The bed was a mere padded bunk, strongly built, but plain and spartan with short posts and no canopy at all. The walls were appointed with various fascinating pieces of framework, both wooden and metal, and from these a vast array of straps, buckles, belts, and more complicated accessories was hung.
Several cabinets were against one wall, and I was tempted to go through them but I knew that I shouldn't dally, for there was the rest of the huge mansion to explore, and the hour would soon be getting late! By now the arousal I'd been feeling had blossomed to a fever pitch, and I walked (or hobbled, rather) to the next door shakily, slowly, and with great care, holding onto the walls when possible, wondering if I would climax helplessly while standing in the middle of the hall!
I felt very near to it, and moved more slowly so as to delay what now seemed inevitable. The next room was a puzzle until I let my libertine imagination run wild. Here the floor was covered completely with what was in essence a huge bed or couch. Its padded sides rose up the walls some four or five feet, and it had a distinct depression toward the center, like a very shallow bowl. It appeared to be silk at first glance, but when I touched it, I realized it was something just as soft and smooth, but somehow tougher, a bit colder to the touch. I imagined some sort of gutta percha -covered satin, or perhaps a waterproofed silk.
I stumbled as I turned for the door, and the rods within me wiggled and vibrated with such a burst of enthusiasm that I nearly collapsed on the spot. Now grinning with a wicked delight, and determined to see how far I could get before succumbing to my impending climax, I literally fell across the hall to the next to last door. Opening it and stumbling pell-mell inside, I fell upon the bed without really seeing the room, and surrendered myself to the insistent tide welling within me. I wriggled and squirmed as the first orgasm swept through me, feeling the clever rods within me shake and rattle in response. For a timeless time, I teetered on the brink of a yawning gulf within myself, then plunged into the depths, my body disowned and trembling independently, as if possessed- and who knows, perhaps it was! Then darkness closed about me, and I knew no more.