Uniform Bliss

The alarm went. Rachel sat up and got out of bed immediately. It was 6am, far earlier than she needed to be up. She’d hardly slept with the excitement; perhaps four or five hours. But she wanted to be up early, to get dressed and savour the feelings, especially around her tender, innocent neck.

Today was the first day of the rest of her life. A strictly uniformed life.

Rachel was a petite girl of twenty-seven, neither supermodel thin nor overweight, with medium-sized breasts and light brown hair. She was pretty enough, but not unusually so. She appeared to be quite normal.

Yet, as far as her desires were concerned, she was not. For Rachel had always- privately, so very privately- had a secret uniform fetish, one that had become overwhelming over the years and had come to consume her thoughts to an unhealthy degree. Relationships were always short-lived and unsatisfying. How could things be otherwise, when men just would not or could not understand her need to live her fetish, to worship on its altar, to define her life by it?

It had been little more than a month ago, however, that she met Him. She knew not and cared not what he looked like, sounded like, smelled like. He was a strict man, as obsessed with she was with that thumping uniform fetish. And he had promised her a life of strictly enforced shirt and tie uniform during the whole of her waking life, with no slovenliness tolerated and harsh punishments for a slightly askew tie. The thought made her wet below, and it was only 6.02.

Rachel showered, and put on her plain and unremarkable bra and knickers. These were but functional items to her, and she knew that Sir had no interest in the banality of her naked body. 

Rachel had taken great care over recent weeks to purchase exactly the right custom-made items, and she felt a tingle down below as she reverently removed the shirt from its hangar. Like all her shirts, she had excitedly made the collar as severe as possible- more so than Sir had insisted, just to push herself to extremes. It was a little too tight for her neck, higher than was comfortable, and starched far more stiffly that would be at all usual.

She buttoned the shirt, leaving the collar open for now: some pleasures should not be rushed. She put on her socks, her smart shoes, her dark grey knee length skirt. Only then did she try to close the top button- and at first she thought it would not close. She had a brief moment of panic- had she bought a collar size too small to close when so heavily starched?

Thankfully, on the fifth attempt, it closed. It was so wonderfully severe, so unyieldingly stiff, so unimaginably uncomfortable. Yet the tie was still to come.


Excited, happy, so deeply aroused, she took one of the ties that Sir had chosen- medium width, black and purple stripes. She tied it and drew it up tight, ensuring with her usual impassioned thoroughness that the symmetry was perfect and that absolutely none of the placket could be seen between the top of the tie knot and her skin. She had begged Sir to be draconian about this, to punish even the slightest imperfection of her tie knot with the cane. Sir had agreed; her heart swelled with adoration as she admired herself in the mirror. Her knot was immaculate, the tie hanging down just to belt level. She had never felt so happy, or so horny

Her already punishing collar was even tighter now, with the tie drawn up so mercilessly tight. Her heart raced and her sex dropped as she reflected on the fact that Sir would enforce such achingly severe uniform all day, every day. He had promised to enforce this edgily severe dress code for the rest of her life, under the strictest of discipline. It was her dream come true. And in return, she knew, she ached to serve and please him.

Rachel gently moved her fingers over her collar and tie knot. What better way to spend the next hour before Sir arrived, and her life began?

i like the start of your story and i hope read the next part  

Thank you

Fantastic!! More please, it would be delighted to see her in handcuffs and some severe punishment, slap on the face maybe so her tie could give very good motion as well

Thanks for the kind words, both:)

There will be more, but it’ll be a few days as I’m quite time poor at the moment and don’t want to half arse this. Things are about to get kinky but very much with the focus on s&t goodness at all times.

Great start - I hope "Sir" is also strictly dressed!

I'm intrigued by the set-up as well. Does Rachel have to work or maybe she works from home? How will she feel about going out in her strict uniform? Is she aware of the discipline required to wear a strict tie and collar every moment of her life or has it just been a fantasy up until now? By the evening, she may be having second thoughts about submitting so completely to "Sir" - but I'm sure he's not going to let her off! Perhaps he could have some sort of lockable clasp that fits below her knot so she can't loosen her tie even when he's not around ....

And there she was.

She was pretty, certainly; most girls are. But it was an everyday, endearing, girl-next-door prettiness, with her dark hair falling just beneath her folders and her pretty face looking delightfully submissive to me... although perhaps I was looking for what I expected. But it wasn’t her prettiness that aroused me as as soon as I closed the door to her flat and looked ahead.

No; it was the crisp white shirt, freshly ironed for me, the stiff, starched collar, and the purple and black striped tie, not too fat and not too thin, lying as far as her waist and with an immaculate- and severe- tie knot over which she had clearly taken a great deal of care.

Most deliciously of all, of course, was that the collar was quite visibly at an uncomfortable tightness, pressing and caressing her neck at every moment, and that on top of that she had starched the collar to a severe leak of stiffness. Within a few hours the severity would become far more unbearable than it was now. And the long day stretched ahead.

i knew that she knew this, of course, and that it made her dripping wet. We had discussed these things online many times before this, our first meeting. And yet it was she, excitedly, who had humbly asked for this level of severity- as well as for the strictest possible discipline when it came to her collar and tie remaining perfect at all times- no matter what. 

Another possible influence on her behaviour was, of course, that I was carrying my favourite rattan cane.

“Good morning, Rachel”, I began, looking her straight in the eye.”

“Good morning, Sir”, she replied softly, averting hers. Already she was putty in my hands.

I moved in, invading her space like I owned it, and caressed her collar and tie knot. 

“You are perfectly dressed. Good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir”.

“I expect this level of perfection at all times. Any imperfections will be dealt with most... severely.”

She had, after all, placed plenty of mirrors around her flat, I suspected for the main purpose of adjusting her tie- and that this is how she spent many an evening alone.

I tapped her buttock gently with my cane. She smiled a nervous yet happy smile.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

I smiled the smile of a cat playing with an insect, if cats could smile.

“Good. Then let us begin...”

I’m pretty much stuck there- I had this in mind as more of a vignette, but there’s not much more I can add to it than is better than leaving what comes next to the imagination, I think. But would it be worth a bit of a flash forward to another chapter once the two of them have settled and we can see what her life is like in stiff and strict collar and tie at all times?

It was mid-afternoon, and she had been in strict collar and tie since 6am, with the collar deliberately at an extreme and punishing level of tightness and stiffness. After eight relentless hours of punishment her neck was truly suffering. She loved it. She glanced again at the mirror to check her tie knot was perfect.

Every waking hour of the rest of her life would feel like this. She would never, ever be dressed in a collar and tie less severe than the one her tender neck was enduring today. There was no way out, ever. She had never been happier.

To make things even better, Sir was constantly inspecting her tie knot and would cane her brutally for the slightest imperfection. Rachel was no physical masochist, her neck aside, but she needed the extreme discipline to make the uniform discipline truly intense and unrelenting. Under no circumstances- not even on her birthday- would Sir fail to punish her agonisingly for the slightest asymmetry or looseness of her to knot. 

Suddenly, Sir’s hand reached under her skirt to fondle her sex, as was his right.

“Thank you, Sir”, she purred, closing her eyes in pleasure as he roughly groped her. He stopped well before there was any chance of climax, of course, and rightly so. Her place was to serve him, not the other way around.

Opening her eyes, she glanced at the mirror. Horrified, she saw that her tie knot was oh so slightly askew by less than a millimetre.

“Sir?”

His eye followed and saw the imperfection. As she straightened and tightened her tie knot, he pronounced sentence.

“Girl, this is simply intolerable. Bend over and touch your toes. You are going to be caned without mercy.”

“Sir, yes Sir. Thank you Sir” trilled Rachel, as she elegantly obeyed, eager to please. She was apprehensive, yes; but genuinely full of gratitude.

“You will receive twelve hard strokes, girl. If your uniform is in any way imperfect after that, you will receive further punishment.”

She was in love. Life was perfect.

“Sir, yes Sir. Thank you so very much, Sir.”