Chapter Three
I dressed for dinner in a black satin corset, trimmed with delicately embroidered lace. It pinched my waist—sometimes so much that I could barely breathe. Will kindly loosened the laces so I’d be able to eat, even though I was sure that my queasy tummy couldn’t take much. (I’d get nourishment elsewhere.) My breasts remained tucked inside the corset’s whalebone structure. Though jiggling tenuously at the top of the lace, at any moment they threatened to spill, n*****s bare to the eye. I breathed, but only shallowly as I looked in the mirror at the reflection of myself. It was a matter of containment—which seemed to be a theme of my s****l submission. Rules, closets, corsets, bondage—they all served similar purposes.
I continued dressing before the mirror, starting with a del
