Tightly Laced Dolly

Ohhh, how I've missed this feeling! Sitting here on the train to work, feeling its tightness around my middle. My tummy is compressed: if I put my hand on it it feels hard and rigid, the pins of the busk giving it definition where my tummy button was one a feature. Two hands on my hips and I feel the shape of the garment, moulding me, shaping my body to conform to its shape, restricting me, holding me tight and giving me such a figure.

I'm trapped, now, I might get a chance to remove it once I'm in the office, but I'm unlikely to do so so early. But otherwise, removing it is tricky without attracting attention. Walking out of the ladies room clutching a pink corset might earn me very funny looks. But that just adds to the feelings I'm having. Its an imperative almost as strong as if there was a padlock physically enforcing my enclosure.

I stretch, lifting my arms above my head, seeing if there's relief from the compression, but there is none: its still just as tight around me. There is no escape from its clutches. Only this evening, when I'm home and safe will I be able to take it off. Only then will I be free to loosen its laces, pop open the busk and feel the freedom which will soon be denied me much more often.

But that time cannot come slow enough for me...