Boy Bondage Stories

Boy Bondage Stories
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I had just had my 14th birthday when my parents heard that
they had been left some money by a relative who had just died. We were not a
wealthy family by any means but, fortunately, neither were we among the poorest
either. My mother and father had always tried to give my elder sister and me the
very best that they could afford.
Consequently, one of the first things which they did with the
money was to send me to a very well-known private school in our area to finish
my education. The school sent us a list of all the things which I would require;
among these, of course, was the school uniform.
And so, one morning my mother took me off to the only store
which sold the special school uniform...grey short trousers, blazer with the
school crest on it, cap, grey socks and black shoes, shirts, and even new
underwear, vests and pants. I had never had so many new clothes all at one time.
The shop assistant was a very young and very pleasant young man....he gathered
all my new clothes on the counter and then asked the question which made my
heart thump and fill me with dread, "And what about his corset, madam?"
My mother coughed nervously and said, "Er, em...I haven't told
him about that yet."
"Well," said the young man, "it is compulsory at the school he
is going to, you know."
I was led into a fitting room at the back of the shop, where I
was instructed to get undressed. I complained bitterly and said that I thought
that only girls had to wear corsets when they were fourteen. I was told that
many boys wore them too, and to get undressed. I nervously took my clothes off
down to my vest and pants, thinking that this would be sufficient, but no. "Take
your underwear off, too," I was told. In what seemed like slow motion, I removed
my underwear. My embarrassment was indescribable, and was made much worse by the
look which my mother gave me when she saw how well-developed my body was for a
fourteen-year-old.
The young man took the tape measure from around his neck and
proceeded to take my measurements: hips, waist, chest...and then, with the end
of the tape pressed against my pubic bone, he measured up to my chest and said,
"Yes, I think a 15″ busk will be just right."
A 15″ busk! Whatever in the world
is that? I was soon to find out. While taking my measurements, the young man saw
my embarrassment, and said to me, "I remember just what it was like the first
time I had to be measured for corsets. I was younger that you are now, and it
was a lady who fitted me. At least I am a man, which isn't quite so bad, is it?"
He smiled reassuringly.
He left the room and returned a few minutes later, carrying a
long narrow cardboard box from which he took a pink brocade corset. Now, I had
seen my mothers corsets from time to time, and also my sister's, and this one
looked similar, except that it didn't have suspenders. I had also seen corsets
in adverts and shop windows, but had never taken much notice of them. This was
the closest I had ever seen a corset.
The young man laid out the corset full length on the table and
started to undo the back lacings. I later discovered that the back of the corset
was 17" long, and then there were seams all the way round, which I found, to my
consternation, were each embedded with flat metal stays. The busk at each edge glistened
in the sunlight, which poured in through the window (how I wished I was out
there!). The sunlight picked out the row of studs on one side of the busk and
the eyelets on the other. There were four large studs along the bottom edge, two
on each side of the busk about one inch apart, and two shiny metal buckles at
the sides about half-way between the busk and the lacing. I was to later find
out what these were for.
Quickly, the young man put the corset around me. I shuddered
as I felt my whole torso being encased. He fastened the busk and, with deft
fingers, started to tighten the laces, first from the bottom up to the waist and
then from the top down to the waist. I GASPED as the corset tightened about me.
It felt as though my whole body was in a prison. I went almost into a daze,
mixed feelings of embarrassment, a feeling of hatred for the tightness of the
corset, and, then... a new feeling which I couldn't understand at all. An
'excitement'- a feeling of being 'hugged' all over. Was I starting to like being
corseted? The lacing completed, I was turned around from all angles to be
inspected by both the young man and my mother. But now...a new horror...I
suddenly realised, to my complete mortification, that my excitement was starting
to show in a physical way!! How I wished that I could be anywhere else but here!
The young man very shrewdly and sensitively saw the source of
my embarrassment, and said, "Right. We'll just finish your corseting and you can
get dressed." He had turned me around so that my back was to my mother and away
from her gaze.
From the box he took another part of the corset. It was made
of a sort of heavy net material in matching pink, roughly triangular in shape,
with four large press studs along one edge, which was in a thick, stiff
material, and two strong, wide elastic straps from the opposite corner. "Right.
We'll just fit the jockstrap and you are finished," said he with a wink and a
smile. The press studs were pushed together and then the pouch of the jockstrap
was firmly pulled over the source of my embarrassment (with a little
difficulty), the two straps taken between my legs, threaded through the two side
buckles and pulled tight.
"There. How does that feel? You can get dressed now."
I very quickly took my underpants to put them on, but (Oh
dear)...a new problem... I couldn't bend down as I was used to doing. I stumbled,
almost falling over...I had got to start to learn to bend from the knees. With a
little help, I got dressed, my mother paid the bill and we left the shop.
As we walked down the street in the brilliant sunshine, I
began to feel the experience of being corseted. I felt six inches taller, a
wonderful feeling of being hugged all over, and the tight support of my genitals
was a feeling that I would never forget. We waited for a few minutes to catch a
tram home. As we waited, I wondered if other people in the queue could tell that
I was wearing corsets. We boarded the tram, and then came another of many new
experiences: some difficulty in sitting down in the very upright posture into
which I was being forced. I chose to stand at the window all the way home.
The rest of that day, I chose activities that didn't involve
sitting down too much, or any bending, but I just loved the exhilarating
experience of my newly found captivity. When my father and my sister came home,
they both said how smart and 'grown up' I looked.
I started my new school and, with great interest, found that
all the other boys were wearing corsets of either the same or several different
designs. I very soon got so used to them that they became an every day item of
clothing. Apart from sporting or other specialised activities, I wore my corsets
seven days a week and still do … although I left school many years ago now.
I wonder... How many of my school friends still wear
their corsets?

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