Femdom Clothing Ch. 02: Jumble Sale 02

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Babes

Copyright Oggbashan September 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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The story so far:

Margaret and Alan (the narrator) had collected a large number of black bags of clothing left over from a jumble sale. They were intended as costumes for a drama group they belonged to. They had sorted out many of the bags to go to recycling and some few for the drama group. They had kept some for use in sexual games. Margaret had made Alan helpless in some of a large lady’s slips. They had helped Sheila move her soon-to-be divorced husband’s things to a storage facility and had returned to Alan’s house. They still had a wedding dress and associated hoop petticoats to look at. Then there were the mysterious six bags of ladies nightwear considered unsuitable for sleeping in stowed in the loft…

“I want to look at that wedding dress,” Margaret said. “It is probably far too large for me, but the material alone might be useful.”

“OK, Margaret, but I think you’ll need more than the stool to stand on.”

“Perhaps not, Alan, with the hooped petticoats underneath. That could spread the skirt wide.”

The first hooped petticoat was tightly tied with string. Once I had undone the knots it took me several minutes to straighten the eight hoops hat had bent when compressed. Eventually it started to assume its normal shape and was larger than the bed.

I wasn’t convinced that it was a suitable size. Margaret stripped to her bra and panties before tying the large hooped petticoat around her waist. As I expected, she wasn’t tall enough. The petticoat had at least a foot of the lower edge sitting on the floor. Margaret re-tied the waistband below her bust. The petticoat still touched the floor all around her until she repositioned it with the waistband above her bra. Even then the lower hem was on the floor.

“Pass me that petticoat, Alan, please.”

I gave her a white petticoat that was designed to sit over the hoop and under the dress. It was heavy white satin lined with a stiff material to conceal the outline of the hoops. Margaret lifted it over her head, tied it just above the waistband of the hoop and tried to spread it. I had to help her to position it correctly. It was a couple of inches longer than the hooped petticoat and those inches were on the floor. I stood back to look at her.

“That is enormous, Margaret,” I said. “It spreads wider than you or I are tall.”

“Are you sure, Alan?”

“Yes, Margaret. It must be at least seven feet wide.”

“It doesn’t look that wide, looking down.”

“It is. If I was flat on the floor it would be wider than my height.”

Margaret lifted the front of the petticoats.

“Show me, Alan,” she said.

I crawled under the hoops and straightened myself out. My head and feet were at least six inches away from the widest part of the petticoats. The white outer petticoat was opaque. I was in darkness. Even straightening my feet they didn’t touch the edges. I stretched out my arms. Only my hands down to my wrists were in the open air.

“See? It is wider than me,” I said.

“So it is. I wonder?”

Margaret bent her knees. My face, neck, shoulders and legs below my knees were covered. She continued to lower herself until my whole body was against the hoops and she was sitting on my hips. She rubbed herself across my clothed erection before leaning forward and pressing the petticoats across my face. I tried to bring my hands inside to move them away but they were trapped by the lowest hoop.

She leant back and relieved the pressure.

“I can see this has possibilities, Alan. I can trap you under the hoops and you cannot escape. But I haven’t tried the dress yet. Out you come.”

She stood up. I crawled out from under the hooped petticoat. It was a struggle for both of us to put the dress on over her head. The waist of the dress settled above her bust where the petticoats had been tied. The dress’ sleeves were too far above her. I quickly zipped up the bodice to its high neck. Margaret’s arms and head were enclosed in that bodice. Despite her muffled protests I pushed her backwards on to the bed and crawled inside the dome of the hooped petticoat. I slowly removed her panties before putting my head between her legs.

I licked, nibbled and pushed my tongue inside her. Her upper body was thrashing around on the bed as she started to orgasm. Her protests from inside the dress were negated by her legs spreading to give me more access. My tongue could go in further, producing yet more orgasms above me. Soon she was groaning gently inside the satin of the gown’s bodice and clamping her legs around me to incite me to further arousal of her.

Eventually Margaret slumped on the bed and her legs released their grip around my head. I moved backwards and out Antep Bayan Escort of the dress. I undid the zip on the bodice and pulled it down so her head was in the open. I helped her to take the dress and petticoats off. The hooped petticoat took up a considerable part of the bedroom and except for the waistband and upper section retained its dome shape.

“That is large enough to be a tent,” I said. “But it isn’t waterproof and has no door. How do we store it? As it was, the hoops weren’t working. If we tied it up again they might distort.”

“It would be OK if flat, Alan. Perhaps we could hang it from the picture rail?”

I looked at the lowest hoop.

“I think that was intended,” I said. “There are tape loops around the bottom hoop.”

I found a couple of picture hooks and suspended it from the picture rail. It almost touched the floor but at least it was out of the way and could keep its shape. I hung the wedding dress next to it.

“What else is in the petticoat bag?” Margaret asked.

I found three more hooped petticoats. As before I untied the string, straightened the hoops and hung them for the picture rail. They were all nearly as large as the first one, but one was elliptical for a dress with a larger back skirt.

The next item was a mermaid petticoat with a stretchy top, presumably to the knees and a wide flounce held out by a bottom hoop.

“Pass me that, please Alan,” Margaret said.

She held it up. As with the others. It was intended for a very tall woman. She threw it over my head, outside my arms, and pulled it down hard. It covered me from just below my shoulders to the floor.

“Hey!” I protested. I was totally enclosed and the upper part was gripping me tightly. Margaret pushed me on the bed, straddled me and kissed me as I was unable to escape from inside that petticoat. She took her bra off and flipped it around my head. The bra cup covered my mouth, nose and chin and I was breathing Margaret’s warm perfume. She knotted the straps behind my head forcing the bra cup across my mouth. She had gagged me. I might have been able to make a noise but not speak intelligibly.

My phone rang.

“Blast!” Margaret said. She tried to unknot the bra but couldn’t. She picked up the phone and answered it.

“Hello, Sheila. Yes, it is Alan’s phone but he can’t answer it at present.”

“Perhaps he does need your help to stop me going too far. How about coming here this evening? I’m doing a casserole that could easily stretch to three and you could ask Alan’s advice then. OK?

“Yes, see you at seven. Bye.”

Margaret ended the call.

“Alan, Sheila needs your advice about something Derek left behind. I couldn’t undo that bra in time so I’ve invited her here to join us for dinner. OK?”

I nodded, all I could do.

“I suppose I’d better let you speak,” Margaret said. “Sheila asked me to be gentle with you and not treat you badly because of Dave/Derek, so perhaps we need a coffee break before sorting some more.”

It took her several minutes to remove the bra. She had knotted it tightly. She put it back on and dressed herself as I was still on the bed restrained by the mermaid petticoat. The stretch material in the upper section was holding me almost as tightly as a firmly laced corset from my shoulders to my hips. It took another ten minutes before she could slowly wriggle it off me. She put on a hanger and hung it from the picture rail next to the hooped petticoats.

I moved the black sack that had held the hooped skirts out of the way. There was a small carrier bag inside. I left it as we went downstairs to the kitchen and made coffee.

“Sheila is right,” Margaret said suddenly. “I should be more gentle with you and slower instead of making you my helpless victim.”

“Have I objected?” I asked.

“No, but I didn’t ask whether I could, and I could easily have gone too far. Bloody Dave! I want you but I also want revenge for what he did to me.”

“I’m not Dave,” I said.

“I know, Alan, You’re not. You’re a nice bloke I have been tying up when anything like that should be agreed between us. I think we will wait until Sheila arrives before we do anything else.”

“If that’s what you want, Margaret,” I replied.

“It is, I could easily go too far because I’m still angry about Dave.”

“So is Sheila,”

“And both of us have good reasons to be angry but I shouldn’t take my anger out on you.”

Margaret continued moaning about Dave, married to Sheila as Derek, for some time. Apparently he had often wanted to tie Margaret up but she refused because she didn’t really trust him. Instead she had tied him up with pantyhose, gagged him with her panties, and rode him. He had objected and her response was just to make his bonds tighter and more humiliating with items from her used laundry.

I refrained from saying that if she didn’t trust Dave she should have ended the relationship earlier.

Sheila arrived as we were making a second cup of coffee. She was carrying a plastic carrier bag and an electrical appliance I didn’t recognise. I stayed quiet as the two of them united in abuse of Dave/Derek.

“Derek complained that you tied him up too often and too hard, Margaret,” Sheila said. “I hope you’re not doing the same to Alan. He doesn’t deserve it. Derek did.”

Margaret blushed. Sheila noticed but didn’t comment.

“Which reminds me, Margaret. You left Derek tied up in his hotel room. He was gagged but managed to spit some of it out and use his nose on his mobile to his only speed dial number, me. I understood his gagged grunts and was able to go to the hotel and free him, not before I had given him a piece of my mind and the divorce papers. I owe you something for making Derek look so stupid.”

Sheila lifted the carrier bag.

“Derek left these behind. He says he doesn’t need them now. He intended them for me but I wouldn’t play along with him.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“Giant balloons,”

“What!”

“Giant balloons that you can climb into, apparently. I have never tried but there are instructions with them. Derek wanted me to climb in one and be trapped. I wouldn’t and never did because I didn’t like the way Derek talked about them. You need a blower…”

Sheila held up the electrical appliance.

“…to inflate them sufficiently to climb in.”

“That sound like an interesting idea,” Margaret said, “but not sexual. Anyone inside a balloon would be inaccessible.”

“I think Derek’s idea was that I should get in except for my head which I should use to give him a blow-job as he mounted the balloon.”

“That sounds difficult and complicated,” Margaret said, “and impossible without cooperation.”

“Which I would never have given to Derek, not by the time he bought them,” Sheila said.

“But you would like to see whether getting inside a balloon is possible?” I suggested.

“Yes, but only with people I trust, like you and Margaret.”

“OK,” Margaret said. “We have a couple of hours before the meal is ready. If we go back upstairs the three of us can finish sorting the stuff from the jumble sale and try a balloon. Alan? Could you get the six bags from the loft? Please?”

“The six bags from the loft?” Sheila queried.

“There were six bags that apparently contain woman’s nightwear that couldn’t be sold at the jumble sale,” I replied. “We haven’t even opened them yet so have no idea what that means.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Sheila said.

She carried her bag of balloons and blower upstairs while I went into the loft and passed the six bags to Margaret.

When Margaret and I came into the bedroom Sheila was examining the petticoats and wedding dress.

“I think they must have belonged to Alison,”Sheila said. “She moved out about three weeks ago. Their house was sold after the divorce from Michael. She was large and tall with very long legs. Michael was even taller than her, but they had little else in common. She has gone to stay with her parents while she flat hunts in London and put her things in storage. But she wouldn’t have wanted her old wedding dress and accessories. They would have reminded her that her marriage was a mistake.”

I piled the six bags on the bed. Margaret opened one and tipped out the contents. It was a pile of brightly coloured satin nightdresses. There were three of them but each was very long and large.

“Why couldn’t they have sold those?” she asked.

I picked one up and looked closely.

“Because they are for bondage,” I said. “Look. The sleeves end in closed mittens, the lower hem is sewn shut and the back zip locks.”

“And they are enormous,” Margaret said, holding another one up. “It’s long enough to contain Michael.”

She unzipped the back and climbed in. Her hands didn’t reach the mittens. As she fitted it around her shoulders there was a large fold below her knees. I zipped up the back but didn’t lock it. Even if her hands had been in the mittens she couldn’t have undone that zip. At the side of the body there were strong tapes to tie to hold the arms fixed by the sides. I left them undone. I lifted the attached hood over her head. It had a drawstring that I tightened. Margaret’s face was covered except for her nose. I could easily have closed the hood further to bag her head completely but I opened it again and pulled the back zip down so she could get out.

“Once inside you are bagged completely,” Margaret said. “There is no way anyone could get out without help.”

“That gives me an idea,” Sheila said. “The balloon instructions suggest that you should wear gloves and socks to avoid your nails puncturing the balloon, but wearing one of those nightdresses, you couldn’t.”

“Do you want to try?” Margaret asked.

“Yes, why not?” Sheila replied.

It wasn’t as simple as we thought. We had to inflate the balloon fully and every time that Sheila tried to fit inside, the balloon deflated as she put an arm or leg in. Eventually we discovered if we had the blower’s nozzle beside her we could compensate for the loss of air as she wriggled, or we heaved, the balloon around her. We stopped with only her head protruding but she found the balloon’s neck was almost strangling her. She pulled her head inside and I tightened a drawstring around the balloon’s neck.

The inflated balloon was transparent. We could see Sheila clearly, bagged in a nightdress and trapped in a balloon. She tried to stand up but kept falling over until Margaret and I held the balloon steady. After about a couple of minutes she asked to come out. That was even more difficult than getting her in. As we undid the neck of the balloon and she started to move her head out, the balloon deflated and constricted around her very tightly, forcing her into a ball. We had to keep using the blower to inflate the balloon enough for her to move. It had taken twenty minutes to fit Sheila into the balloon and half an hour to get her out again.

Margaret wanted to try too. Now we had an idea of what we were doing it was quicker and easier. Again she could not stop with her head protruding. She had to be fully inside or stop with the balloon’s mouth around her shoulders. On her shoulders the balloon was leaking air and tightening fiercely around her. There was no way that Sheila could have given Derek a blow job with the balloon constricting her neck.

The two of them decided I should be inside the balloon next but by the time I had been zipped into a bondage nightdress the meal was ready. Margaret zipped me up, locked the zip, flipped the hood over my head and completely closed the hood’s drawstring leaving me blindfolded on the bed. I struggled helplessly, bagged in the satin bondage nightdress as they went downstairs to dish up the meal. They left me for about ten minutes before Sheila returned to release me.

She removed the hood and kissed me full on the lips, the first time she ever had.

“Don’t worry, Alan,” Sheila said. “I’ll persuade Margaret to be gentle with you. It is nice to know that at least you love me, now that Derek has gone.”

She helped me out of the nightdress before we went downstairs for the meal.

“What did you want my advice about, Sheila?” I asked. “I assume it wasn’t about the giant balloons.”

“No, Alan. Derek’s classic motorcycle is in the garage and he wants it back. You have a motorcycle license, don’t you?”

“Yes, but… Why doesn’t he ride it himself?”

“It had a puncture before he went away. He repaired it but didn’t have time to put the front wheel back on the bike. I don’t want him around fixing it. He has asked that it be delivered to the storage facility. He has agreed by text message that you could ride it there.”

Sheila showed me Derek’s text message.

“OK. My insurance covers me to ride it with the owner’s permission. Next Saturday OK with you?”

“Not before?”

“I don’t know how long it might take to fit the wheel and I’d rather do it, and ride the bike in daylight. What is it?”

“I’m not sure. I know it has a big engine that tales a hefty heave on the kick start and he has to use a half-compression lever, whatever that is. The engine slopes if that’s any help.”

“Then it might be a Panther 120. If so, the front wheel will probably be easy to fit, Nine o’clock Saturday morning OK with you, Sheila?”

“Yes, Alan, thank you.”

“What about the rest of those black sacks?” Margaret asked when we had finished eating.

“OK,” I said. “We don’t need all of them if they are the same.”

“I think Alison might have made them to contain Michael,” Sheila said. “Anyone bound inside one couldn’t get out, couldn’t initiate sex and no one else could have sex with the person inside. Michael might have been aroused by being trapped in a nightdress but he couldn’t do anything to Alison. If that turned him on, and Alison was reluctant to have sex with Michael, I can see her making them.”

“Six bags full?” Margaret queried.

“If Michael reached climax while restrained, they might need frequent washing but that is a lot…” Sheila said.

It was. The other five sacks each contained three more nightdresses, all except one like the first three. Inside one of the bags were five sealed packets containing pink fur-lined handcuffs. The exception appeared to be a Royal Blue Zentai suit but with what looked to be like a cape around the shoulders.

Margaret climbed into the Zentai suit. I zipped up the back. The hood was resting in front of her. I lifted that and continued to pull the zip up to the top of the hood.

“Can you breathe?” I asked.

Margaret’s voice was slightly muffled.

“Yes, and I can see too except everything is blue.”

She stood up from the bed. The apparent cape slipped off her shoulders and down. It was an outside layer. While Margaret stood still I pulled the cape down. It was a complete sheath like a tightly fitted column dress. As I pulled it down the elastic in the material gripped around Margaret, imprisoning her arms. I kept pulling and the sheath extended beyond her feet. I lifted her on the bed before pulling further. Her feet were totally hidden and there was a drawstring at the bottom hem. When I closed that she was completely bagged in blue material and unable to extract herself.

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