Itching Powder Torture
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Itching Powder Torture
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Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Other · # 1500069
You are sent to a school where anything can happen
Created: November 28th, 2008 at 10:44 pm
Modified: June 26th, 2022 at 12:02 pm
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B/W commission for : JikoKitsune
Kay wanted to see what a proper itching powder session was like. I think she's about done, but there's still a good chunk of the egg timer left to go. My myyyy, the expressions people make during this are just the best. :3c
101
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Sabertooth
Itching
Itch
Itchy
Powder
Foot
Feet
Paw
Paws
Torture
Stocks
Tied
Toes
Bondage
Stocks
I just loooove your expressions and restraints! You are so talented and your art is so cute
#link
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Aww thanks! So do you! Everything you draw is adorable
#link
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Your welcome! Would you ever like to RP? You can try out new tests and inventions on me ;3
#link
#parent
It's a rare mood for me really, unfortunately. :3c
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Original
Fiction by Tes Staylace
©2002
“A short bit of gratuitous
corset-oriented B&D fantasy, to ever remain in the mind.”
SNIPPET ONE - PURGATORY AT MULGHANY
She was stark
naked, surrounded by a bevy of her classmates, all sullen-faced and squirming in
their single-gloves, never venturing to look down, for fear they might feel the
harsh slap of Sister Margaret’s cooking spoon (or worse, if it were more than
the first time). From the center of the dimly lit, cold, stone-lined
chamber, a cord hung from the grated overhead, to which her wrists were
attached, with a degree of tautness that forced her to stand on her tiptoes.
Ever since
being transferred by her parents from the relatively gentle Garrett Finishing
School for Girls in Maine, Diane’s life had been one misery after another.
The Mulghany Girl’s Reform Academy was not run by the State of Massachusetts,
(although it existed on the outskirts of
Boston). Rather, it was
private institution renown for its ability to shape even the most recalcitrant
young woman into a conforming, even marriageable, young woman. Unlike
Garrett, there was absolutely NO room for tolerance – girls were kept in line as
if in a prison (which the place in many ways resembled). Parents signed
away all rights to intercede at any time during the one-year regimen.
Surely Garrett
had its way of molding young ladies, but Mulghany took the worst cases from
girls’ schools throughout the country and did what was necessary (at a dear
price, it might be added). The strictest disciplinarians sought employment
here, for the high pay, and, frankly, for the satisfaction of seeing their wards
transformed by their methods of “encouragement.”
It might be
pointed out that interns never came, but by referral from another girls’ school.
They were the 'worst of the worst.'
The primary
rule at Mulghany was that no one ever had to commit an infraction or cause a
problem to live a life of misery. CONSTANT attention to the girls’
discomfort was the number one priority – the institution was harsh, but NO
instructor or administrator was ever hired who was suspected of, or deemed to
have sadistic qualities. And if this type of nature was discovered later,
these individuals were dismissed immediately. Hence, any investigation by
authorities as a result of complaints came to naught.
Many of the
staff were drawn from strict religious institutions, or were employed there for
a short time, “on-loan” to make money for these institutions. In one case,
a nun left the Church to stay as a full-time administrator – this was Sister
Margaret.
It was Diane’s
turn to spend a night in the cellar. Every girl spent time there in
rotation – it was one of the more dreaded nights at Mulghany and, of course,
everyone was in attendance at each evening’s “bundling.” They certainly had
no choice. Never ONCE was any particular girl left alone and unattended.
Never ONCE could any girl speak except to staff, and then only then when told.
Oh! And
then there were the corsets! Great care was taken at Garrett to assure
that our young ladies were gently persuaded to enjoy tightlacing. No such
gentleness was evident at Mulghany. From the day they were "interned,"
they wore tightly-laced corsets to a prescribed seventeen inches, retightened
during the day whenever a normal loosening was observed. Corsets were
tightened closed – no comfort of a one-inch "spring." No comfort at all.
It didn’t matter what they were accustomed to, or how tiny or large their bodies
were – they became used to 17 inches, like it or not, uncomfortable and painful
or not. That was that! Fainting was treated with salts – lacings
were never loosened except once a week when the stays were taken off for twenty
minutes for ablutions and treatment of skin conditions underneath, and for a
night bundling such as this.
Once a month,
each girl was subjected to itching powder placed under her stays. It was
like wearing a body cast under which you were not able to scratch. Just one
example of the torment to which they were subjected.
The girls
watched with sad eyes, as the rough twill, canvas, and metal “bundling” corset
was applied. Nothing nice or pretty about this garment! It had no
front opening, for the incorporated busk was special: It was shaped to
curve in toward the girls stomach, to conform to the position she would be
forced to assume this night. And now, before she was put into that
position, it was most painful. Diane had been through this before twice,
and knew what to expect – her eyes were closed and her face clenched.
“There you are,
my girl,” said Sister Margaret, working the corset. “Your old friend.”
Diane dared not
react. It would be a terrible blunder. She knew better. She
was broken.
Sister Margaret
wore the traditional habit and robe, despite the fact that she was no longer a
member of
her order. But it was well known that she had a predilection toward
wearing extremely tight stays underneath. They barely showed, so one could
only deduce that she enjoyed the discomfort. She certainly knew about
corsets.
Diane softly
groaned, as Sister Margaret tied her off in the fully-closed traditional
bundling corset’s fifteen inches. She was strong! Two inches less than to
what she and the others were accustomed to. The group winced in unison.
Most had experienced this torture, but some were new, and they winced the most.
But there was more such wincing in store.
The corset had
very little room for Diane’s breasts, as it covered them, but did not
accommodate them. They were merely crushed upward, ballooning outward in
the manner reminiscent of another era.
After the
corset was applied, Sister Margaret had a custom of looking deeply into the
supplicant’s eyes for a long time, trying to see…what? No words.
Merely a long search of the girl’s inner self, as it were. It was almost
mystical.
Continuing to
gaze into her eyes, Margaret then slowly forced several cloths into her mouth,
until the hapless girl’s cheeks bulged. They bulged even more when the
good sister fastened a wide leather strap about her mouth, buckling it at the
back of her head – VERY tightly. For this ordeal, as was
traditional, Diane’s hair had been braided, so the strap went under her hair.
It was tight enough to prevent her from moving her head in either direction, so
she was forced to look forward, again into the sister’s eyes, which peered from
a face that was like a palette of grays, as if seeking her soul.
“Bless you, my
child,” she whispered slowly. “God is
Milf Muscle
Asstr App
Porn Stories Illustrated