Part 2 of my trip to further claim Silver, body, mind, heart and soul. If you are looking for part 1 you can find it here.
He bought the latex sleep sack off etsy to celebrate his promotion. It’s one of those things that only exist in the realm of perverse desires and has no practical use, neck to toe swaddling, sleeves inside to hold the victim even more immobile. Etsy is a wonderland of bespoke sex toys, both as a sole shop front for many small fetish ateliers, and a never ending fetish fair artisan’s alley where you can browse established makers together and make comparisons.
The sleep sack was fairly cooperative to wrangle, thinner latex that didn’t fight too much to get him in- if I were honest he could probably have sized down, but it’s a good thing to have a bit of stretch. And hey, my lithe man is in a bulk stage of putting muscle back after covid closures carved him down into non-gym access size. It certainly was tight enough to do its job making him feel restrained.
This was only one of several purchases- he also got me the most lovely underbust corset and pencil skirt combination from libidex and an experimental pair of stockings by the same maker (and gloves, which I got distracted and forgot to put on). I made him help me into the skirt, which even if covid has given me ten pounds from lack of walking, still squeezes up nicely. Squuuuish. ^_^
If you saw me naked, you would realize I am magnificently formed around a small waist and hips that occupy the size realm of things that influence the tides. Pencil skirts, tight tailoring and things that stretch and cling are the only solution other than custom tailoring to avoid all that vanishing into my clothing. This skirt plays into my strengths completely.
So, you can imagine I occupied that nicely empowered zone of knowing I looked sexy as hell. The stockings, alas, were a miss. In the first place I have 0 idea what possessed the designer to put the seam in the front. The cuban heel reinforcement suffered what a lot of socks do and sat too low on my foot- I’m a large 9 or a small 10 and all socks seem cut for a 7 by default. Meanwhile the top band did not flatter. These were not stay ups, so they wanted to roll down, but also somehow dig into and deliver up the fat of my thighs like whipped cream busting out a piping bag.
That is to say it still looked delicious, it just also looked clumsy.
Only after I was cinched and lovingly glossed was it time to slide him into his own restraints. Feet first, then with those settled, rolled over and arms thrust into those sleeves inside, before the back zipper pulls him from naked man into a sleek grey package.