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Directoire Knickers, Corsetry & Traditional Underwear
(This is a true introductory story, written by Georgie S.)
For various reasons, we still lived with my mother’s parents, and little by little I had become very much influenced by the females of our household. However, my Grandfather was very much my hero.
For years, I had watched my Granny lacing herself into her corsets and always wondered what it would be like to wear them. She always wore a traditional rigid pair of corsets with a front busk fastening and back lacing, and I gathered that when she was a girl she was subjected to strict figure training as was commonly practised in those days. The photographs showing her as a young woman depicted her as having had a very shapely hourglass figure.
My mother wore much less severe corsets, although they were still very firm and long. Both ladies always wore either pink or tearose coloured corsets and brassieres and I loved to look at them whenever I could.
Both ladies also wore directoire knickers, and I fell in love with those wonderful knickers very early on. My fascination for corsets and knickers was growing by the day, and as I shared a bedroom with my parents in the small semi-detached house, I was able to watch her getting dressed on most mornings.
On Sundays mornings, when I had my cup of tea and biscuits sat in bed between my grandparents, I enjoyed watching Granny carefully getting dressed, and watched, intrigued, as she drew in the laces of her corsets.
Watching her walking about in her corsets and knickers was heart-stopping for me from a very early age.
When I was twelve, my parents moved to a new house. It was out of town on a nice new estate, but that meant that I had to ride my bicycle to school and leave it in the old garden shed at Granny’s house. From there it was less than two minutes walk to school.
In the garden shed was an old kit bag which Granny was using as a rag bag. One day after school, I spotted a pink suspender elastic showing out of the top of the bag. I slowly eased out the pair of old corsets that were attached and looked at them, utterly fascinated. They were obviously well worn but seemed to be complete except for the metal parts of the suspenders, which had been removed. I wrapped the corsets around me but they were rather too big, so I laced them in as tight as they would go, and to my surprise they were not that much too large. I decided that those wonderful corsets needed much closer examination, and I was very excited as I rolled them up and put them in the bag behind my bicycle saddle. It happened that Granny was out shopping, and so with great excitement I rode home with all sorts of erotic thoughts filling my head. I waited for the right moment, and eventually managed to smuggle my treasured corsets up to my bedroom and carefully hid them under the bed. When the house was empty of everyone but me, I undressed, and then, trembling all over, I tried on Granny’s corsets. But then I was disappointed, for without any clothes on me, the corsets were still too large. However, I discovered that when I overlapped the lacing eyelets at the back, the corsets actually gave me some idea of the feel of wearing corsets. I was absolutely thrilled and delighted!
I wore my corsets at night under my pyjamas and all went very well for a week or two. It was a Thursday afternoon when I got home from school that I found my mother waiting for me with my corsets in her hand. “Where did you get these from?” was her greeting.
I told her, and on her further questioning, explained how I had seen them and brought them home.
“And have YOU been wearing them?” She asked, with curiosity all over her face.
I admitted that I had worn them at night, and she immediately smiled, and then laughed. “Then go to your room and put them on now,” she said, thrusting the lovely corsets into my hands. I was scared and confused, but knew better than to argue with her. She followed close behind as I scurried off to my bedroom and laid the corsets out on the bed. She then watched as I slowly undressed myself. I felt rather silly as I fastened the busk at the front, but there was no way of avoiding her fascinated gaze. I could see that she was thinking deeply as with trembling fingers I tried to get the corsets to fit into position.
“They are not much of a fit are they?” she murmured. “I should think they are about four sizes too big for you, but you shall keep them on anyway. Now get dressed and come down when you are tidy.”
I found that dressing with the corsets on was not quite at all easy, as they were stiff and stopped me bending freely. However, I eventually managed, and went slowly down to the kitchen. Mum was making tea and she said nothing for a while. Then she looked me up and down, apparently assessing my appearance.
In a while there was a knock at the door and Mrs A, the lady who lived two doors away, came in. She and my mother had become very friendly and were soon chatting intensely. My thoughts were with my corsets, and I was not listening to their conversation, but suddenly I heard the word ‘corsets’ from Mrs A.
I immediately looked up at her, and turned bright red when I saw that she was smiling at me.
“Is he wearing them now?” she asked with a giggle.
My mother nodded, and then said, “But they are much too big for him so they don’t make much difference to his figure.”
“Never mind,” said Mrs A. “They will make him sit up straight just the same.”
I was handed a cup of tea and we all went into the dining room. The women sat down and looked at me as I stood uneasily by the chair. I knew that my corsets were going to make sitting down very difficult because of my experience of wearing them in bed, and I was well aware that the bones would dig into the tops of my legs.
“Sit down dear,” said my mother, and I eased myself on to the chair, leaning back to take the pressure off my thighs. The two women exchanged smiles and resumed their conversation which I again ignored as I was lost in my own thoughts and feelings which were totally new.
Mrs A nudged my leg to gain my attention and said, “Well Georgie, how do you like wearing corsets?”
I was not sure what to say but red-faced and feeling rather embarrassed, I answered, “They are very stiff but rather nice I think.”
And would you like to wear corsets all the time, like we do?”
I don’t suppose I shall be allowed to, but I think I could get used to them,” I replied hesitantly.
My Mum interjected, “But you might be wearing corsets more than you think! And certainly you can stay in them until you go school tomorrow morning.”
I gasped, and remained silent, not knowing what to say. Instead, I sat there, trying to fathom it all out in my mind. We drank our tea and after the two women chatted quietly a bit more, Mrs A. left the house.
I spent the rest of that day wearing my corsets and went to bed feeling extremely excited. I wondered what my Mother intended to do, but dared not ask. The following morning I did not return my corsets to their hiding place, but instead put them under my pillow. I put my pyjamas on top so they could not be seen.
That afternoon when I got home from school my mum was again awaiting me, but this time she was looking particularly happy. “Come up to your bedroom Georgie, I have got a surprise for you.”
She led the way, and as I followed her into my room I could see several packages spread across my bed. Before I could look, she picked up a long white box and handed it to me. “Open it,” she said with a smile.
I lifted the lid and lying inside the box I saw a brand new pair of corsets wrapped in tissue paper. I saw the name “Court Royal” on the end of the box, and my mouth fell open. I was trembling, partly with excitement and partly with fear and trepidation.
“Take them out and unwrap the tissue, darling. I think you’ll find those are a better fit, and then we’ll see if wearing corsets is to your liking.”
There was something menacing in her tone as she continued, “I will lace you in until you get the hang of doing it yourself. I expect you will be surprised how tight they need to be to give you a nice shapely figure.” I looked at the corsets as she spoke. They were tearose in colour, and the material was a heavy figured broche. The flower pattern was lighter and sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight.
“Don’t stand there gawping. Get undressed and let’s get you laced in,” she said.
As I took all of my clothes off I looked over the several other paper bags on the bed, and I wondered what they all contained. It was not very long before I found out!
“Now before you put on your corsets you have a camisole as a liner.” So saying, Mum handed me a very thin silk garment that looked more like a vest. I slipped it over my head and pulled it down. It was a very pale pink and had narrow ribbon shoulder straps. It seemed to cling to me like a second skin, and it felt wonderfully exciting. Mum continued to ignore my erection at this time, and I was soon too excited to bother to cover it with my hands. The lacing of the new corsets was already fully slackened, and I was soon wrapping them around me. The busk was very long, and had two hooks and eyes below it. As soon as I had fastened it, my mother started drawing in the laces, and I soon began to feel the corsets tightening around me. Tighter and tighter they became, and I began to think she would never stop! My breathing changed, and came in short breaths. Tighter again, and I could feel my waist really beginning to be compressed. I could see myself in the mirror, and the shape of my body was changed into a very curvy form. I felt the laces being given a sharp tug, and realised that mum had secured them at the back.
“Well that does look nice, and what do you think, Georgie?”
“It looks very curvy, but I can hardly breathe.” I gasped. By now my erection was constant, but Mum still said nothing about it.
“You will soon get used to that Georgie, but we haven’t got all day, and there are lots of things to do.” She handed me another package and I looked inside. It was the same material as my corsets, and I realised that it was a brassiere. “It’s a back fastening one, darling, but you will soon get the knack of fastening it. Here let me do it for you.”
Before I could think clearly, she had guided my arms through the straps, and my brassiere was being done up. It came down over my corsets and reached almost to my waist. Having fastened it, the shoulder straps were adjusted, and the hook at the front bottom edge was hooked onto one of the busk studs. The ribbon was then pulled tight. I felt my shoulders being pulled down by the brassiere straps as the pull on the ribbon increased. My Mum then pulled a packet out of another bag, and opened it to reveal a pair of seamed stockings. I looked, stunned at the whole prospect unfolding before me. She showed me how to put them on, but told me that I would find it impossible with my corsets tightly laced, and so she hiked her skirt back, squatted down and put them on for me. The corsets had six suspenders and she quickly fastened them while I looked at her wonderful display of silky pink knicker-legs and puckered knicker-elastic. She stood up and looked thoughtfully at me. She had managed to avoid actually touching my stiff cock which was throbbing excitedly while I gazed adoringly at her exposed knickers. I had noticed that she looked at it now and again, but I was completely unable to control it or do anything about it.
Then she picked up yet another paper bag from which she took a pair of long pink knickers. She told me that they were called directoire knickers, the same as she and Mrs A always wore, and she held them open for me to step into. As she pulled those knickers up my stocking clad legs great shivers of excitement went racing through my body, and as the elastic in the knicker-legs slid up over my stockings I nearly fainted with joy. Even through the thickness of my new corsets I could feel the elasticated waist of those heavenly knickers, and trembled with excitement. Mum then pulled out a lovely silky white petticoat which she helped me to put on. As it slid down over me it felt absolutely wonderful, but I was slightly disappointed that my curvy shape was now hidden.
She then shocked me further by producing a navy blue skirt which she told me to put on, and as I was struggling to do so she lifted out a pink jumper. She fastened the skirt and zipped it up, and then helped me put on the jumper. I was then given a pair of girls’ shoes with heels about an inch and a half high which she put down for me to step into. Finally she showed me a long pink nightdress and said, “I have taken away your pyjamas as I don’t think you will want them any more! I was stunned, totally lost for words. There were so many strange sensations to cope with. The feel of those heavenly long knickers was indescribable, and for a moment I realised that women had those wonderful feelings all of the time that they were wearing directoire knickers. Perhaps most of all I was aware that my corsets were very tight and very stiff. Granny’s old corsets were nothing compared to these. Somehow I knew that I would never be allowed to return to being an ordinary boy!
“Now, Georgie, do hurry up. Mrs A will be here any moment so let’s go down and start making some tea”.
I was stunned, not realising that I would be seen by anyone else, and mum continued, “You can start doing some girls’ jobs now that you are dressed like a girl.”
I went downstairs very, very carefully for fear of falling, and at each step my corsets reminded me of their powerful presence. There was the most wonderful hugging sensation that seemed to be enhanced by each step I took on my unaccustomed high heels. I followed Mum slowly into the kitchen, filled the kettle and switched it on. “Don’t forget to warm the pot,” said mum, looking me up and down with great interest.
Soon there was the customary tap on the door and Mrs A. let herself in.
“My goodness, there’s an amazing transformation!” she said as she looked at me. “Now how do you like your corsets Georgie?”
Embarrassed, I could only smile at her and then managed to reply, “Oh they’re lovely, and they’re so tight too.” I was not totally convinced of what I was saying and she probably knew that, but I was determined not to be mocked by her or any one else.
She smiled approvingly. “There are only two things wrong. You need a decent bust, and some make-up. But I will do something about both of them!” She opened her hand bag and took out two rubbery things. “These go in your brassiere cups and I’ll blow them up for you.” So saying, she pulled up my jumper and gently eased one into one of my empty cups. There was a little tube attached to it, and she proceeded to inflate the little balloon. She then put in the second one and puffed until she was satisfied with the effect. The little tubes were then tucked in, and my jumper replaced. What a difference! And I was not sure that I liked it. My mother had taken over the making of the tea, and was obviously ‘in the know’ about Mrs A’s schemes.
Mrs A took me into the dining room and told me to sit down. To my surprise it was much easier to sit than the previous afternoon. My new corsets did not cut painfully into my thighs, and although they were very much tighter and very rigid, they really felt good as I sat without having to lean back onto the chair for support. Mrs A then applied some make-up and within five minutes she had finished. Her own make-up was always carefully done, making her look as if she had stepped out of a glossy magazine.
As I watched her it suddenly occurred to me that she also was wearing very tight corsets, and I asked, “Are you wearing corsets like mine?” She turned and smiled, her dark eyes flashing. “Yes, and I’ll let you into a secret. My husband wears corsets, too. You may not believe this right now, but you will soon be so used to wearing corsets that you will feel lost without them.” We sat and drank our tea and Mum said, “I wish that I had not stopped wearing corsets like those. When I was a Lady’s maid, my corsets were a part of my uniform and I had a lovely little waist.”
The two women chatted about corsetry and underwear for a little while, both of them sitting so casually that I could see fascinating little views of their knicker-legs, especially when they crossed and uncrossed their stockinged legs. My erection remained stiff and throbbing in my own directoire knickers, and I had a job to hide my very aroused feelings, which must have shown on my face.
Soon Mrs A put down her cup and said, “I really must dash, Ted will be home soon, and we are going out this evening. See you both tomorrow.” We said good bye and she was gone.
My father clearly did not approve of my appearance and apart from calling me ‘Gloria’ which I hated, dinner was eaten in silence. I noticed that Mum had given me a smaller meal than usual and I soon realised why! Soon afterwards, my father began complaining about my dress and Mum started arguing with him.
I decided to leave them to it and went slowly up to my bedroom, marvelling at all that was happening, and all of the strange feelings underneath, as I moved. I picked up the nightdress and looked at it. It was a deep pink colour, quite plain, and with cap sleeves. I held it against me and saw that it was ankle length, almost straight and slim. It felt very silky and had a dull sheen. I put it back down on the bed and cleared away the empty bags and the corset box which I took across the room and put on my chest of drawers. For some reason I did not want to throw the box away and I decided to put it in the drawer with my underwear. I pulled the drawer open and could not believe my eyes. Instead of my underpants and vests, there were knickers, petticoats and camisoles, and to my amazement, another corset. I picked up the corset and unrolled it to find that it was corsets and brassiere in one. It had back lacing and lined with a cotton material. The brassiere cups were very small and made of plain pink cotton that was a slightly deeper shade than the rest of the material that covered the bones, of which there were a great many. I don’t know quite why, but it did not look brand new although it was in perfect condition. I was about to put it back in the drawer when my mother came into the room.
“Oh, you have found yo
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