We’ve all seen them — corset dresses. You can hardly go to a wedding dress shop and not run across them. Most are made of your standard material, typically white, and what makes them a ‘corset dress’ is simply a few laces in the back that tuck in the waist by an inch or so.

And then there are corset dresses in the heavy rubber version. I’d love to see a bride where one of those for her wedding! Not that I’m planning on getting married anytime soon (I guess I’ll find out whether my partner reads my blog or not….). I had fallen in love with a heavy rubber corset dress quite a while ago. It was pricey and not exactly the most convenient of items.

That was of course the point. It was made of heavy 2mm rubber (that’s 10 times the thickness of my latex catsuit!), reinforced with boning to cover much of the length of the corset. It all was made in one piece reaching from the knees up to my chest where it ends in an underbust (the kind that leaves the tits uncovered). The pictures I had seen were all stunning. And I had this notion that I would on one of my dates go out wearing the corset dress.

Of course, I realized that mobility would be severely restricted, and sitting down completely impossible, but that was the attraction. The scenario playing out in my mind was to be laced tightly into my corset dress, wear something on top to cover up the parts that shouldn’t be seen in public (I’m talking about my boobs here), and then surprise my date when I meet him, or her, in a public place like a hotel bar. I would be putting my devotion as a submissive slavegirl on full display without crossing the line for what’s acceptable in public.

I do have a little masochistic streak in me. I like being a submissive, and add to that an inescapable bondage situation where the level of pain rises from minute to minute until I can’t take it anymore, that gets me off everytime. To then add playing out the scenario in public is even hotter. So hot, I wanted to do it.

The dress was custom made, I had a date who was willing to go along with the plan. All was set, except, well, the bondage part turned out to be more than I had bargained for.

Sinful Sunday

Just getting into the dress by myself was impossible, so rather than meeting in the bar, I had to ask him to come back up to the hotel room to help me get into the dress. That turned our to be hard work! Just getting the front busk to close was hard, even with the back lacing fully extended. The bottom part was easy, as long as the laces were not tightened.

At that point, I was still hopeful that I could pull of my scenario, although some of the elements were already lost. I had this vision of getting dressed on my own, all glossed up, shiny, looking perfect (in my opinion) and coming down the elevator to gracefully walk in tiny steps to meet him at the bar. I wanted to see his surprise at the way I looked and how I was dressed. He had see the dress on the website, but in real life, I would have been an absolute show-stopper.

Still, with the front closed, he got to work quite skillfully at the back. He knew his was around corsets and I could feel the pressure from the corset building around me. The dress was custom-made to my measurements and had been determined to make it as tight as I could stand for about two hours.

In my case, that means about a 22-inch waist, down from my regular 24 or 25 inches (depending on what I had for dinner). I had been leaning against the wall while he literally pushed his feet against my back to pull out the remaining slack. Of course, he had worked the laces carefully up and down the back and tighten the corset to within about an inch of being closed. The problem with leaving an inch between the two sides of the corset is that my but crack would be in full display! And helping out by loosening the strings on the front part of the corset, which kept my legs together, was even a worse idea. I couldn’t possibly go outside with a 1-inch gap exposing my pussy to the rest of the world!

It was a good hour before we had the corset fully closed. For most of the time, I had already been standing in my high heels leaning against a wall, or holding onto door knobs. We even tried having me lay down and him effectively lifting me up by the center loops around my waist to get the last inch to close.

There was a sense of jubilation when he was finally satisfied with the corset’s look. He put me back on my feet like placing a doll into a cabinet. I turned around, a nearly impossible task, and saw a huge smile on his face and bulge in his pants. Unfortunately, I couldn’t move at all! There was no way for me to see what it looked like. With the corset so tight, any attempt at walking was utterly hopeless. The only way for me to see what I had accomplished was to have him take pictures.

It turned into quite an erotic photo session. He carried me onto the bed, I was completely immobilized, with tremendous pressure from the corset, and truly felt like a rubber doll. The thought of going down to the bar was long gone, but instead, he managed to torture my poor nipples to no end. The predicament situations he put me in were endless. Just imagine, being carried helplessly to stand on the hardwood floor in 5-inch heels, and then have your nipples tied with a small string (we improvised with floss — never forget floss!!) to the bar area. Of course he was standing behind me in case I really lost my balance, but that didn’t keep him from holding me by my waist with one arm and using the tension on the strings like a guitar.

If standing was difficult, I quickly realized that lying down was not making my life any more comfortable. The masochistic side in my had a wonderful time, even when the pressure from the corset dress was beginning to push against my rib cage, my hips and my back. The pain just amplified every other sensation. And the slight opening by my pussy was just enough to get me off with the tiniest bit of clitoral stimulation.

The upshot, should I ever get married, would I want to wear a black rubber corset dress? Hell, yeah!