LBC: Little Black Corset

Aimee had bought the corset on a whim. She had walked into the little sex shop to pick out a costume for her friend’s Halloween party. Just for the costume. Not to try on the black leather boots that went up to her knee and gave her stature an extra four inches. Not to run her fingers over racks and racks of skimpy lingerie and fishnet stockings. And certainly not to be seduced by the gorgeous, black satin creation that she had on now. She remembered how comforting the garment felt when she tried it on in the store. A grinning sales girl saw her eyeing the corset and persuaded Aimee to put it on. A minute later she was bent over a counter as the sales girl laced her up. Each whisper of satin ribbon forced the steel boned corset closer and closer to her skin, forcing her to take smaller breaths. The results were magnificent. A few more minutes, a swipe of a credit card, and Aimee was out the door with a non-descript paper shopping bag and stern instructions not to wear the corset during “extracurricular activities”.


A strange reflection gazed back at Aimee as she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. The corset did wonders for her figure. Her boyish figure now had a waist. The over-bust corset molded her average chest into tempting cleavage. She had paired the garment with a black, short, flouncy skirt that just barely covered where her black garter straps attached to sheer black stockings. Her hair, in a shade that an ex-boyfriend had called “caramel-laced chocolate”, looked wild as it fell to her shoulders in lazy waves. A black satin chocker and black stiletto heels completed the look. She was a vision in ebony and she looked good. She felt good, ready to conquer the night. Picking up her purse, she turned out the lights in her apartment and walked out.


The party was in full swing by the time Aimee got to her friend’s humble, 3000 square foot abode. Bella had married into money but she never let it get to her head. Aimee had barely made it into the door when her friend attacked her with a hug, a suggestive grin, and a “My, don’t we look smashing this evening.”


“Thanks, dah-ling, so do you,” Aimee replied, eying the bright and sparkly harem girl in front of her. “So, what are the prospects?” The question went back to the time when both of them were single and at large. They had spent many a night “cruising the clubs” and “eyeing the prospects”. The words added a bit of excitement to what was, in all reality, just a tame girl outing.


“Why don’t you come in and I’ll show you.”


Aimee was led down the steep stairs to the basement, the noise of music and voices increasing with every step. She had been to Bella’s house many times before and had been impressed by the spacious, unfinished basement. But now, with the lights dimmed low and the appropriately spooky decoration, it became a haunted dungeon. The place was packed with costumed partiers. Bella grabbed her hand and pulled her past pirates, ghouls, goblins, and a swarm of sexy nurses, sexy witches, and other sparingly-clothed females. They had arrived at the home bar which was being manned by a hired bartender.


“Drink first,” Bella commanded. “Men later. What are you having?”


“Do you need to ask?”


Bella sighed dramatically, “You always get the same stupid thing.”


“I like my Sex on the Beach.”


“Your juice with a hint of alcohol.”


“Yes, my slightly-spiked essence of squashed fruit.”


“No Sex on the Beach for you! She’ll have a dry martini, and she’ll like it,” Bella told the bartender. “So there! “


Aimee pretended to protest as the drink was proffered but then let it slide down her throat in a few easy sips. She felt the alcohol’s heat spread down her throat and over her chest. In an effort to soothe the burn she tried to gulp in some air only to feel her ribs pressed against the unforgiving cage around her chest. A rash of goose bumps swept over her skin. The sensation of being so tightly encased was surprisingly delicious and the warmth that was now spreading through her body had little to do with alcohol. She wanted to find some gorgeous male specimen and to all sorts of wicked things to him.


“Well,” she pressed Bella. “What are the prospects?”


“Eager?”


“Dying.”


“Do you see the guy in the Phantom of the Opera mask, the one by the window?”


Aimee eyed the pretty blond toying with the stem of a fake rose. “I do.”


“He is an architect at Wallace & Banks. Jamey says he’s brilliant.”
Aimee gave the man a more thorough look. If Bella’s husband was praising him, the blond must really be something. She adjusted her corset to give her breasts a bit more volume, put a come-hither sparkle into her eyes, and gave her head a toss. “I’m game.”
Bella chuckled and pushed her friend forwards. “Go get ‘im, love!” she called out as Aimee sashayed across the room.


Aimee cranked up the succubus charm as she neared him. And oh yeah, he had spotted her. His baby-blues locked onto her hazel orbs and then slid leisurely down her body. Just a few more steps and she would trap him up against the wall and watch him squirm. Just a few more – damn! Her needle-thin heels faltered and she swayed dangerously, throwing her arms out for balance. No such luck, the shoes were too unsteady and she fell to the floor. Sharp pain jolted up through her palms and into her shoulders as her ass and hands collided with the hard concrete. To add insult to injury the hard impact had caused the neckline of the corset to gape for a moment and her chest to leap upward and try for full freedom. Aimee quickly wrapped her arms around upper body and attempted to force down the blush warming her cheeks.


The people who witnessed her fall now watched as she slowly picked herself up and limped back to the bar to nurse her wounds. Bella was barely containing her laughter as she wrapped her arms around Aimee.


“Oh, honey,” Bella said. “Are you okay?”


“No, my self-image is about as bruised as my knees. Help me fix this thing,” Aimee said gesturing to her corset.


Bella studied the garment, running her fingers over the laces at the back. “What do I do?”


“Pull the laces at the top – ah!” Aimee gasped. “Not like that!”


“Then you do it!”


Aimee looked at her sulking friend. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”


“No, you shouldn’t have.”


“I’m just going to go to the bathroom and fix it then.”


“Go ahead.”


Aimee kept her arms around her chest as she walked towards the bathroom. She was relieved to find it unoccupied. Standing with her back to the mirror, she examined the laces. They had become tangled with the slack and were now reminiscent of the Gorgon knot. Aimee pulled randomly at a knot and saw the knot tighten and become more unworkable. Lovely, she thought. Now how am I going to fix this thing? Frustration bubbled to the surface and she scrabbled at the knot. No luck.


Her arms were getting tired from reaching behind her back and she let them hang loose at her sides as she contemplated the possibility of finding scissors, cutting the thing open, and then asking Bella for a shirt. But the laces were so lovely that it was a shame to destroy them.


“Do you need help with that?” said a deep voice from the open doorway.


Aimee clutched the corset to her chest as she turned to face the source of the voice. There was a man standing there. His looks were average enough. He had dirty blond hair, thin lips, and eyes that crinkled at the edges. His posture however belied something dangerous lurking beneath the unimpressive exterior. She noticed that he seemed to cast a shadow far longer than he should by all laws of optics. She also noticed that he wasn’t in costume. Instead, he was wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt. What looked like a blue silk tie trailed from his pants pocket. A big, bold warning sign flashed before her eyes.


“Are you here for the party,” she asked in a suddenly raspy voice.


“No.”


Not good.


“I work for Jamey,” the man said.


“Really now?"


He smiled a crooked smile. “Yes, at the Chicago office."


Aimee relaxed at that. “You don’t say,” she replied with an answering smile. This explained why she hadn’t seen him before. Bella had made a significant effort to set her up with each and every eligible man in Jamey’s architect firm. Now Aimee knew every single male employee at Monument. “What do you do?”


“I’m the Controller.”


She felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The man certainly had an ego.


His smile turned wicked at her expression. “It means I make sure the accountants do their work properly.”


“I see.”


He pointed at her undone corset. “Do you still need help with that?”


Aimee looked down for a second. “Oh. I suppose.” She watched as he came to stand behind her in the small room.


“Relax,” he said as his fingers reached the lacing and tugged.


“I couldn’t get the knot there undone,” she murmured sincerely beginning to doubt her sanity for agreeing to his help.


“You got the laces crossed and a bit tangled,” he was saying as he fumbled at her back. “But nothing serious.”


“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”


“I worked at a Ren Faire one summer.”


Aimee felt the laces trailing by her knees, fully undone. “And that explains it how?”


“I spent three months helping women in and out of corsets.”


“Ah.”


“Yes, ‘ah’,” the man said. He put a hand onto her back and pushed lightly. “Lean against the counter for me.”


The front of the corset pressed against her body and Aimee felt her throat go dry and the hairs on her neck prickle in apprehension. Deep within her belly, a dark warmth stirred. She could feel the heat pouring of the man’s body as he stood behind her. If she leaned back just a little bit, her rear would be right against his groin. The thought caused a furious blush to wash over her.


Finally the corset was snug against her body and she went to stand up. His hand on her back stopped her.


“Exhale for me,” he said.


Aimee let the air out of her lungs and immediately felt the corset tighten one last, excruciating time.


“Thank you,” she whispered as he fastened the laces.


“Don’t thank me just yet, sweet. I don’t think we’re quite done yet.”


She stood up slowly and studied his face in the mirror. One of his hands still hovered at her back while the other bracketed the indent of her waist.


He boldly met her eyes in the mirror. “I think you want something else from me.”


Aimee glanced at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were dark with primal heat, and her chest was pulsing with her panting breath. Her reflection gave proof of what she had known just by pressing her thighs together.


She was turned on.


Turned on by this stranger and his capable hands.


His warm voice played against her ear. “Now you can say no and walk out of here. But why deny yourself? You know you need this. I know you need this. The way your ass was wriggling, begging me for attention.” He chuckled at her surprised gasp. “You think I didn’t notice, sweet?”


The hand at her waist traveled to trace the bottom edge of the corset, skimming over the garment until the hot digits rested just over the spot where she needed them most.


“Come on, doll,” he rasped. “Admit it.”


Their eyes met again in the mirror. A dark smirk danced over his lips, teasing, tempting, enticing. There was nothing she could do but nod her head in agreement.


“Good girl,” was all she heard before his lips fell to her neck, moving in a way that sent waves of pleasure down her spine. The hand over that place between her thighs began to move. Loose circles that caused her to squirm and moan in his arms.


She was rewarded with another pleased chuckle.


“Doucement, sweet,” he said and then she understood why he had left that hand on the knotted laces. The bones of the corset suddenly dug into her flesh and she stilled, her lungs demanding air.


He wasn’t letting her breathe. As she stood in his arms, paralyzed, his lips caressed her ear and neck. “I don’t want you moving, doll. Do you understand?”


She nodded and the laces loosened. Panting for breath, Aimee leaned into the stranger’s embrace.


“Good girl.”


The phrase skipped through her mind for a second time that night. It made her feel safe for some odd reason. Safe and cared for and extremely turned on. He started moving those fingers again and all thoughts dissipated into a heady, lusty haze.


She tried to keep still as the man holding her captive brought her closer and closer to the high cliffs of ecstasy…