Laurie’s chest ached and she was short of breath as she rushed down the corridor to her last meeting of the day. Having been bound in public since she was twelve — nearly fifteen years now — both were a fact of life that she had long since begrudgingly accepted, but of course they worsened when she had to run up a flight of stairs, as was the case now. At least, she reminded herself as she clicked down the hall in her sensible black shoes, it was nearly the end of the day. Soon she would enjoy the fleeting bliss of liberation that home offered.
“Hey, beautiful,” said Lawrence, the house counsel, with his usual obnoxious grin when Laurie shuffled into the room.
“Get bent, Larry,” Laurie grumbled. If she had to live with the discomfort of hiding her femininity as best she could in public, at least the gentlemen of the office could actually be gentlemen. But few of them were. She could only wonder if it had really been that much worse before 2019.
“Uh-oh, hormones again?” suggested the other man in the room, Jordan from accounting.
“Do you want to get this meeting done or not?!” Laurie demanded, gripping the back of the chair where she’d been about to sit down. “I’d just as soon go home right now.”
“Oh, look, we were only being cute,” Lawrence protested, throwing up his hands.
“No you weren’t, you were being a couple of assholes, and if you don’t knock it off, I will have no qualms about reporting you to OGR!” Laurie snapped. “Now are we going to get to work, or not?”
“Okay, okay!” Lawrence and Jordan said in unison, and Laurie was gratified to see real fear in their eyes. Ever since 2019, when President Rick Santorum had rammed the Libido Control Act through Congress, there were two things that were to be avoided at all costs: A woman was never to be seen in public with her breasts unbound or her hair uncovered, and a man never, ever wanted to be reported to the Office of Gender Relations for treating a properly bound woman with anything resembling disrespect. Either transgression was a good way to end one’s career.
Some women had come to accept the law well enough. Laurie, who was both large-breasted and too young to remember life before it, was not among them. Never a day had gone by since the first time her mother had barged into her bedroom with her first breast-binder that Laurie hadn’t wondered, if men in days gone by had been prone to abusing and harassing women in the workplace, why was it now up to women to suppress their natural shapes in uncomfortable, constricting underthings and keep their hair bound in kerchiefs all day long (the latter wasn’t so bad on a chilly day like today, Laurie conceded, but it could be miserable in the summer)? Why not just punish the guys who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves in the first place?
Laurie knew better than to ask, though. Her mother, and every other adult she had dared question about it when she was a girl, had always replied with a stern reminder that “The fount ties knots that the rock cannot loosen.” All Americans Laurie’s age or younger — and a bit older — had had that lesson drilled into them from a young age indeed, and they all knew better than to rebel against it.
She could not, though, deny that having OGR hanging over the guys’ heads was a plus. Once she had done so, Larry and Jordan got down to work and behaved themselves well enough throughout the rest of the meeting. They wrapped up shortly before five o’clock, and Jordan stood up to stretch his legs. “So, what are the two of you up to for Halloween?” he asked.
The reminder of the occasion brought another wave of intense discomfort and resentment from Laurie: nothing intensified the ache in her chest all day long like seeing other women with their breasts free and properly supported, and Halloween was one of the few times where the Flirts from the licensed clubs were to be seen that way out in public. They were always present in the clubs, of course, but at least they were easily avoided there. Laurie had been suffering with just such a sight regularly for much of the week, and it was enough to drive her to tears of vexation. But she kept her mouth shut and her eyes dry for now — the freedom of home was nearly here, after all.
“Home with the kids,” Larry said with a sly grin at Jordan.
Laurie detected the grin, and understood it perfectly well. “There’s a euphemism for ‘going to a girlie show’ I’ve never heard before,” she said, stacking up her papers.
“Just trying to spare your dignity, Laurie,” Larry said. Turning back to Jordan, he said, “But yes, that’s where I’m heading. Of course, tonight I’ll be home to greet the trick or treaters, but tomorrow’s for the men of the house. You, Jordan?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jordan said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Libido Control, but what a relief to see some tits now and then! No offense, Laurie, but life gets a little dull with all you women looking just like us guys in public.”
“I wish dull were my biggest problem with it,” Laurie grumbled. “You try wearing a binding all day long!”
“Oh, come on, Laurie, Maltepe Escort the fount ties knots that the rock cannot loosen!” Larry reminded her. “It’s for your own good, more than ours. They say President Santorum said so when he introduced the bill to Congress, and his secretary of health was a woman — Michele something?”
“Yeah, Michele something,” Jordan said, “I don’t remember her last name either. Quite a lady, though, from what I’ve heard, and look Laurie, she supported the president a hundred percent on it!”
“What was the line, Jordan?” Larry asked, “‘Support gender equality and respect for women, vote for Libido Control’?”
“Pretty sure that was it,” Jordan agreed. “Believe me, Laurie, you wouldn’t want to work with guys like us without that law!”
“We agree on one thing, then,” Laurie said, snapping her briefcase shut. “Happy Halloween.” She didn’t look back as she set off down the hall to head home for the evening.
Decades of tax cuts for the wealthy meant now nearly everyone else lived with his or her parents well into adulthood, and often simply inherited their homes and stayed there lifelong. Laurie, an intelligent degreed woman of twenty-seven, was just as determined to break out of that mold as she was to free herself of her chest-binding one day; but as of yet she had no idea how. At the end of a busy day such as this one had been, she was content to brave her mother’s judgmentalism and piousness as long as it provided for some private time in her room.
Laurie tried not to concentrate on that impending relief as she stood at the transport bay outside her office building, for it only intensified the tight, itchy sense of confinement that every woman in America (except the Flirts of the licensed clubs) lived with whenever she set foot outside the home nowadays. But there was nothing to do but wait. At least Halloween was tomorrow. Tonight was for the children, and Laurie’s heart broke for the little girls in their lovely costumes who had no idea what they were in for in a few more years. Tomorrow was, as Lawrence had said, for the men — unbound women out and about everywhere, albeit under guard, for the guys to ogle as much as they liked and for women like Laurie to be intensely jealous of. But after tomorrow, to her immense relief, she wouldn’t have to put up with the sight of too many more unbound women for a while. Not until Christmas, anyway, when the naughty elvettes would be out and about. As if to offer up a final twist of the knife, though, a troupe of scantily costumed women skipped across the platform while Laurie waited, whooping up a storm and looking delighted to be flaunting their otherwise-illegal appeal.
“Who wouldn’t be happy about that?” Laurie thought to herself.
She made no effort to hide her bitterness as she glared up at the giant portrait of the late President Santorum that was posted by law over every area of public gathering. There he was, in his sweater vest with every dark hair in place, grinning down at the populace of which he had sentenced half to a lifetime of inconvenience and discomfort and absolved the other half of any responsibility to grow up.
Someday, Laurie thought. Someday…
Five minutes or so in the gloomy October twilight were more than enough, thank you, and Laurie was grateful for the relative cheer of the fluorescent light as she stepped onto the transporter. As was often the case, her breathing seemed even more shallow than usual in anticipation of home and the freedom of privacy. Caring little that every other woman on the transporter was feeling the same – it was a dog-eat-dog world, after all, and she suspected most of the other women didn’t have quite as much to bind as she did – she helped herself to the last seat in the female-only front section and did her best to tune out her confinement as it finally approached its end for the day.
Laurie had grown up with her mother insisting that she would understand if only she knew. “The good old days were horrible, dear,” Mother had told her again and again when she was growing up and out and learning every day that she needed to hide both. “Harassment, women being hooted at in the street every day, even rape was all too common – it’s for our own good! Men simply can’t be trusted to control themselves. We’re the ones with the power, it’s our responsibility to control that power. You’ll understand when you get done with school and you have to work – you’ll get a lot farther when you don’t give men anything to stare at and treat you like a piece of meat.”
Now that she was a grown professional woman, Laurie couldn’t deny that entirely. But she would never stop wondering just why it was that the responsibility had fallen to her rather than to the men. Couldn’t they have learned to keep their lewd stares and inappropriate comments to themselves?!
As if to answer her question, Laurie heard a round of whoops and hoots from the crowded male section at the back of the transporter. Looking back to see what the commotion was about, she saw them all staring out the window on the left, Ümraniye Escort and following their gaze she saw another troupe of Flirts on the sidewalk outside one of the city’s many licensed clubs. Looking chilly but flashy in their dancewear, they smiled and waved at the passing gawkers, who didn’t shut up until the transporter had pulled out of their sight.
Okay, Laurie admitted to herself, she didn’t care for the idea of being treated like that in the workplace, or anywhere else. It was also none too appealing to think of being outside in the chilly autumn air in such skimpy clothing. But, she mused, it sure must be nice to never wear a binding. She quickly tamped down her self-pity; there was nothing to be done about it but look forward to removing hers for the night.
Most women longed for that event, Laurie had known that from whispered ladies-room conversations since she was too young to need a binding herself. But her mother was not most women, and as usual Laurie found her still fully clothed and bound in her usual shapeless pantsuit when she arrived home. “Are those Halloween harlots still out and about?” she asked Laurie with no greeting, the ice in her drink clinking as she shook the glass in annoyance.
“The women from the clubs were out, if that’s what you mean.” Laurie knew perfectly well it was what Mother meant, but she couldn’t abide by her prudery no matter the cost.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Laurie,” Mother said. “You know perfectly well that’s what I mean, and if you had a lick of sense you’d be outraged too. Tonight when there are children out and about — the whole point of having trick or treat one day and Men’s Night the next was to keep the two separated.”
“Yes, Mother,” Laurie said. “Heaven forbid any children should know the natural shape of a woman’s body. Then they wouldn’t stand for bindings, and then where would we be?”
“Laurie, I know what you think about these things, and I also know you’d see it very differently if you were old enough to remember what it was like for women before.”
“Respectfully, Mother, I think you would also see it very differently if you had my breasts.” Laurie knew from the rare sightings of her mother without a binding that she had far less to bind than Laurie did.
“We all have our crosses to bear, dear,” Mother said. “It’s your father’s damn fool genes that gave you those two burdens, and I do feel sorry for you. But not as sorry as I would feel if you had to do your job with the men at the office staring at your chest all day long. The fount ties knots that the rock cannot loosen!”
Laurie nodded and forced a straight face, and ignored the wave of discomfort the conversation was bringing on. Just a few more minutes…but before she could make her escape, the doorbell rang.
“Trick or treat!” sang out two princesses and a pirate.
“Well, hello there!” Laurie said with a smile that wasn’t forced for once. As lousy as adult life was for a woman these days, it was nice to see the kids enjoying it while they could. She picked up the candy bowl from the table by the door and held it out. “Enjoy!”
“Thank you!” they sang out in unison, and left.
“Dinner will be at seven-thirty, and Laurie,” Mother said from the kitchen door as Laurie turned back into the living room. “I would appreciate it if you would be fully clothed for it for once, especially since there will probably be more children coming by.” On that note, Mother turned and was once again lost in the kitchen. Laurie hid her knowing smirk as she continued on her way to her bedroom; no need for either woman to acknowledge that “fully clothed” meant “bound”, or that Mother gave that order every night, or that Laurie never obeyed it, or that tonight would be no exception, trick or treaters or not.
Alone in her room at last, Laurie almost tore her blazer and blouse off as usual in anticipation of the blissful relief that was finally here. One day she would tear the straps off the binding in her haste to undo them, of that she was certain; but tonight once again she got them undone with no actual damage. Beaming with relief as the binding fell to the floor (where she once again vowed she would leave it for good one day), Laurie enjoyed her first deep breath in over nine hours and rubbed her newly-liberated breasts as they fell free. “Ohhhhh, yessssss,” she sighed. The ache of confinement did not vanish immediately as usual, and her bare flesh showed the cruel red marks of the seams in the binding — but they were free. She was free.
Still gulping in the air gratefully, Laurie unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down with nearly as much gusto as she had done with the binding, and last but not least she tore her panties away and stood defiantly naked in the warm light of her bedroom. As she always did at the end of an especially frustrating day like today, Laurie pranced to the window, where the curtains were drawn, and fantasized about tearing them open to flaunt her unabashedly female body for anyone who happened to look up from the street.
She had never actually done İstanbul Escort any such thing, of course, since only licensed women could appear in public in any state of undress, never mind complete nudity. Licensing was strictly for exotic dancers and Flirts in the clubs, whose owners had lobbied long and hard for an exemption on the grounds that with no feminine charms on display all day in the workplace, men would have to let off the steam somewhere. And so some exemptions had been allowed, with ironclad guidelines about grooming and breast size among other things. In the name of keeping up standards, no woman with C-cup breasts or larger needed apply at any club, and all body hair was to be removed whether on display or not.
Laurie, with her generous bosom and heavily forested pubic area, was doubly cursed. But that had only made her defiantly proud of her body, and one day, she vowed, she would open the curtains. Tonight, though, she was content to enjoy the gifts she was forced to hide all day long. Standing before the window, she imagined it wide open and her feminine charms on full display for all who cared to admire them. “Behold!” she imagined herself proclaiming shamelessly. “It’s only breasts and hair, and if it makes you lose control, I feel quite sorry for you. But I’m not sorry for being who I am!”
Removing her one remaining article of clothing — her kerchief — Laurie shook out her red curls and closed her eyes, and imagined an audience of male admirers outside the window, free to gaze upon the beauty she was free at last to display. Breathing comfortably at last and enjoying the dissipating pain in her breasts, Laurie began rubbing the lingering tender spots where the imprints of her binding still had their red marks, and imagining it was men she had chosen from the crowd outside doing the rubbing. “Oooh, thank you,” she whispered. “That’s right, they’re to be celebrated, not bound, isn’t that right! Feel free to kiss them better! Yes please!”
With the pleasant fondling of half a dozen imaginary hands or more working their magic on her breasts, Laurie moved her own hands down to her pussy and began rubbing in tight squiggles. “That’s right, boys, have your fun in my forbidden garden of love,” she murmured. “You won’t see anything like this in those clubs, will you? Not with those bald coots! Come enjoy a natural woman for a change!”
Deliciously aware that her hairy pussy could cause all sorts of legal troubles for herself and any man who appeared to approve of it, Laurie thrilled to the idea of dozens of horny male eyes gazing upon it just outside the window and a lucky few she would welcome to caress it. “See just how wonderfully corrupting it is, gentlemen!” she imagined herself bellowing out to the crowd, who roared back their approval.
As her own strokes grew more intense along with her imagination of her guests somehow knowing just how to touch her, Laurie retreated to her bed and plopped down joyfully on her back with her legs spread wide. “That’s right, fuck me!” she whispered as loudly as she dared, half fearing and half hoping that her mother might hear her if she said it out loud. “Come drink of my full breasts and my hungry pussy, and look upon them without any shame!” She saw herself somewhere free and uninhibited, unashamed, an unabashed earth mother at one with nature and utterly unapologetic about her body, and sharing it with all the men she liked — but only those who shared her lack of apology and shame. Hard bodies and harder cocks abounded, and she saw herself partaking of each of them in turn as she rubbed herself harder and enjoyed the warm wetness that her fingers were eagerly spreading throughout her big bush. One of those lovely hard cocks in her pussy, another in her mouth, and some others being rubbed reverently up and down her torso, each of them worshipping her feminine beauty in its own way, enveloping her in delightful sensation until she couldn’t hold back from bursting into orgasm.
As the real world came back into focus after she came, Laurie struggled — as she always did — to stay in her little cocoon of fantasy just a little bit longer. As always, it was no use, and she found herself back in the narrow little bedroom that had always been the only place where she didn’t have to apologize for her body at best and hide it at worst. As always, the joy of her imagination left her just a little bit more committed to one day escaping to a place where she’d be free, or at least freer.
With plenty of time left before dinner and no desire to hide in her clothes again just yet, Laurie got up and drew a bath. The hot water felt marvellous, but as usual the aftermath of her fantasy was bittersweet as she came to realize just how farfetched it was. Once again she was overcome with stories and rumors she’d heard of other countries. The one that always bubbled up for her at a time like this was the love-hate relationship so many women had with their bras: what a drag it was to find a pretty one that fit, how they resented having to wear it at all times in public, what a blessed relief it was to take off at the end of the day. Laurie believed all of that, but what a delight it would be for all that to be her biggest problem when it came to her breasts! How she longed to have any cause to complain about finding the right bra or needing to wear it to work!