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Cape and Skirt

Copyright Oggbashan May 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This is just a short piece that was originally intended to be part of the 750 word challenge but I let it run on.

“I think that is trusting your boyfriend too far,” I said.

I was driving Jane to Angela’s house for our latest hobby of sewing.

“I agree, Margaret” Jane said. “the women are completely helpless.”

All three of us had attended the prestige co-educational grammar school in our local town and gone on to the local university.

“I know each year we used to adapt the school uniform. We did. Remember the long wrap-round skirts?”

“Yes. In the sixth form we could wear almost what we liked. In our last two years our skirts were almost floor length. Now?”

We were passing a group of sixth formers heading for the school. The girls were wearing the standard hooded cape and their skirts barely protruded under the hem of the cape.

“And our capes were as long as our skirts. Have you still got yours?”

“Yes, somewhere in the back of a wardrobe. You?”

“Yes. I should have thrown it away years ago.”

“But it is what the final year University women are wearing this year that is so stupid.”

Because our old school was recognised as a place of excellence, those that went to our local university often continued to wear some of their old ostim escort school uniform, but each year the fashion changed slightly. This year the university women wore the old school capes but modified.

Where there had been slits for the hands to poke through, those had been sewn shut. The capes were floor length as they had been in our final years at school, but slimmer to make them more form fitting and the lower hem drastically narrowed to make then almost into hobble skirts. But what surprised me was that the hood had had a drawstring added which closed the hood so only the woman’s eyes and nose could be seen. Below the nose some had a sewn-in gag. The cape had become a bondage dress. But it was the final addition that worried me.

Around some women’s capes a wide elastic belt pulled the cape tight, trapping the woman’s arms. She couldn’t undo it or remove it without help. She was bundled up in her cape and some of the belts were almost wide enough to be waspies or corsets. Her boyfriend could do whatever he liked to her because she was trapped inside the cape. It implied a complete trust in her male partner.

“Would you trust your husband that much, Jane?”

“No. And if you were bundled up like that, I think you could be at risk too. I know he likes you. A helpless Margaret might be too much for him to resist.”

“I wonder…” I said as we arrived at Angela’s house. That thought stayed in my mind as we made some summer skirts. At the coffee break the thought returned.

“Angela? Have you still got your old school cape?” I asked.

“Yes Margaret. Why?”

“On the ankara otele gelen escort way here Jane and I were discussing the university women changing theirs into a bondage device. Have you seen them? I wondered…”

“Yes. I think they are ridiculous. I don’t want to be bound helpless,” Angela said.

“Neither do I. But our husbands?”

“That has possibilities. I don’t think we need to go as far. Adapting the hood, sewing up the pockets and a corset outside would be enough. The gags are more symbolic than real. However, I still have that five pack of ball gags.”

“You have? That would be great. But what about the reduced hem, Angela?”

“I still have my wrap-around skirt. I could add some straps on the outside…”

“That would be easier.”

Two weeks later when we had another sewing session all three of us had modified our capes and skirts. Jane and Angela tried all three versions on me. Once I was inside the capes, with a ball gag in my mouth under the drawstring closed hoods, corsets laced tightly around me, and the skirts tightly strapped around my legs, I was completely helpless.

I found Angela’s version the worst. She is the smallest of us three. Even before the corset was tightened around me, the cape was constricting. Her husband, Geoff, is also small but I think he will be helpless even before Angela adds the corset.

But I had a problem with my husband, Andrew. He is slightly thicker set than me, and my current corset just wouldn’t go around him. I rummaged in my rag bag and found a black satin corset I had worn before we married when ankara rus escort I was two dress sizes larger.

I had to persuade Andrew, or rather seduce him, before he would agree to wear the cape and skirt. I hadn’t raised the hood as he tottered around our bedroom. I pulled the straps on the skirt tighter and he was completely unable to walk or stand. I pushed him on the bed before strapping the corset around him. I rolled him face down as I hauled the back lacing tight. He objected before I added the ball gag. Although we have a safe word and action, he didn’t use either so I assume he was happy to let me continue.

I pushed a naked breast into the small space left for his eyes and nose. He seemed to like that, and me rubbing my body over his restrained form. Very soon afterwards I released him from his imprisonment inside my cape and skirt and it was my turn to squeal as he jumped on me for an extended hard penetration. When he had finished, he bundled me up in my cape and skirt. An hour later he had loosened the hood so I could give him a blowjob while I couldn’t resist whatever he wanted to do — but he couldn’t get at much of me, wrapped so tightly in the cape and skirt and corseted into helplessness.

We agreed that the cape and skirt were a useful addition to our bedroom games but we both thought that the university women wearing them in public were going too far to emphasise their surrender to their partners.

But this evening? I am sitting on a kitchen stool, afraid to move in case I fall over. Andrew has bundled me up in the cape and skirt, gagged me into silence, and strapped the corset around me while he prepares an evening meal for us. I can see the wine and candles on the table but I can’t move to touch anything. Never mind. Tomorrow night it will be his turn to be my victim as I do the meal.

My old schoolgirl cape and skirt has added to our marital games…

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