After reading all of the warnings on Fetlife about the poor quality of gear and fetish-wear at online retailers, I drove an hour and a half to go corset-shopping at a well-recommended brick-and-mortar boutique…
After fastening the corset’s busk, the sales girl did some sort of cartoon-quick arm movements behind me to take the slack from the laces. She walked around me twice, surveying the fit and making unintelligible, disapproving noises, looking me over from every angle as if I were a purebred at a dog show. Honestly, I was waiting to see if she would try to cup my invisible balls. Her eyes finally stopped at my tits, haphazardly squished behind the leather, lopsided, looking anything but sexy.
I forced a smile as she stuffed my tits down into the top of the corset as if she were tucking the sheets under a mattress. When they were arranged, I looked in the mirror and was very pleased. “It looks great.” I said.
She shook her head “no,” patted a support beam, and said, “hold on here.”
I gasped audibly as she yanked on the laces. After a few pulls, she tied it and stepped back to survey the finished look.
It was stunning. My breasts looked luscious and full and my waist was tiny. It was beautiful on me.
I paraded around the store in my jeans and my beautiful new corset to find a matching skirt, some shoes, and a few other odds and ends. It felt good to walk around in front of strangers in my amazing corset, dropping loads of money on toys and gear. I felt powerful, with my tits pushed out to there, tiny waist, and a fat wallet in my hand.
That feeling was only reinforced when I walked up to a young male who was standing in the way of a display of clamps and chains I wanted to browse. We made eye contact, he smiled weakly, lowered his eyes, and literally backed away.
Damn. That was hot.