Rather, I was determined to do my own thing and to hell with anyone else. It was tightly boned, and had lots of elastic. She even braided it in the way I really liked. She unlocked my ankles, and then pulled on knee-length socks that she tucked up under the bloomers.
My room had seemed bare, so I wondered where she had put everything. I was shortly down to my bra and panties, and they carefully took everything out of my pack, sorting out the school stuff.
I was wondering why the strange outfit, when she had me hop over to the chair, and helped me sit. When buttoned, it forced me to keep my head up. What felt like a long, thin skirt was added.
She then pulled a long cotton slip over me, letting me move one arm at a time. I was driving my poor mother ragged, and causing my Dad to loose what little hair remained. When I got home from school the next Friday, the only things left of mine in the house were my schoolbooks. They even removed all my jewelry, except my plain earrings.
When she was finished she again blindfolded me, told me to lean against her, and she pulled something over my feet and into place. She pulled a wide belt tightly around my waist, and after cinching it tight, secured it with a click. She used a scissors to remove the wraps around my ankles, and stood me up.
She cut the pantyhose off my arms, and I brought my arms in front of me and rubbed my wrists. It had long sleeves that also buttoned.
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She then moved me out of the bathroom, and back to my bedroom. I fought dirty, but they were stronger than me, so I found myself hog-tied with a pair of her pantyhose. Back then I was an insolent, potty-mouth ed brat with a "fuck you" attitude. It was just after school started, When I demanded that my parents pay for me to go with my school drama club on a tour the following June, that Mom blew a gasket. If you are one of them, why are you reading this? Standard warning and disclaimer: All characters are fictional.
If you see yourself, buy a new mirror. Finally, this is a piece of adult fiction. Or better yet, teach them early and lovingly to understand and accept different lifestyles. Mom and a friend of hers were waiting for me in my room. I guessed they were cotton bloomers. She then helped me to my feet, and I had to hop over to the door, where I was told to hold on so I would not fall.
Sitting me in a chair, she told me to be very still. She told me to put my arms behind me, and I was certain this time the metal bands she locked on my wrists were handcuffs. When she looked at me, she gave me another smile.
She then warned me if I tried to kick her she'd take her hairbrush to me. I had about three inches of slack. Quickly I had most of a damp washcloth shoved in my mouth, secured with the scarf. I kept silent.
My story in pictures and words
When she told me to give her my backpack, I tried to escape. If you are underage, or if you find it offensive, please go elsewhere. The straps must have been two inches wide. The summer was a disaster; even my few friends avoided me. She then advised me to do exactly as she told me, or I would be hog-tied again. Curses quietly coming out "shurf, urf, murf, furf She then dragged me to the bathroom, deposited me in the tub, and gave me a scrubbing, everywhere, the likes of which I had not had since I was filling diapers.
After drying me, and my hair, she helped me out of the tub, and spent the next fifteen minutes brushing out my hair. It was embarrassing. I nodded, scared silly. It felt more like a harness, and hooked in back.
It took her a week before she would talk to me, and said that it was time I grew up, or she would make my life as miserable as I was making hers. She adjusted something on the back of the bra, and it pulled my shoulders back even further. I was embarrassed at being naked, but the slow, gentle brushing felt nice. I was still tied up, and she headed out of the room, saying she needed to get me some clean clothes.
And I ignored them. Protect your. She left me in the tub, closing the curtains. I nodded, and she removed the scarf and slowly pulled out the cloth. It reached to my calves. I was halfway through a knot when she returned.
Contains subjects some people may find offensive. Slowly she smiled, and her smile was chilling. Her friend took all of the clothes, and extra stuff, and I heard the front door slam. I laughed, and pointed out I was too young to be tossed out, and her face froze.
Mom had the same smile as last week. She had never spanked me, but I was pretty sure right now it was not an idle threat. Then she slid a heavy dress over me, and I was surprised that it was buttoned and laced in back. I nodded.
When she started buttoning the collar, I found it was stiff, and came to my chin. Once hooked it forced my shoulders back, and my breasts out. I had never seen this side of my mother. Before they learn from bad experiences. I heard a clink that scared me, and a moment later she had locked my ankles together with what felt like handcuffs.
Mom and Dad had tried psychologists, counselors, and even our family physician.
They felt ridiculous. Wet pantyhose is a pain. I felt her put a pair of what seemed to be comfortable boots with stiff uppers on my feet, and laced them up. And that was on my better days. It was not that I was into drugs or crime: I hated both.
And tried to untie myself.
I could force them forward, but was pulled straight by the elastic when I relaxed. If you are worried about them reading this sort of material, please censor free speech and use a safe surfing program such as net nanny. After she rinsed me off, she said if I would be civil she would remove the washcloth. She told me to raise my arms, and slid on a stiff long-line bra that came to below my waist.
Diapered at summer school
She used one of those old-fashioned long-handled wooden hairbrushes. When I started cursing at her, she left for a moment, and returned with a washcloth and a scarf. I was surprised when she got me a glass of water.