A new beginning

Chapter 1 and part of Chapter 2 of a story about a young lady who goes to live with her slightly older cousin. The story is very much inspired by the "Home Schooled in Uniform" story of Claara Z but I wanted to take it in a more raunchy direction.

I've got a lot more material involving, among other things, BDSM, wet/messy and discussions about fetishism, but it's all very disparate and I'm not sure I'll ever have the time or the inclination to pull it all together into a coherent narrative. Anyway, here's the start I made.


Chapter 1: A new beginning
When I was eighteen, my parents’ long and troubled marriage finally came to an end and they departed for different ends of the country. Not willing to live with either of them, I took up the offer of a place to stay with an older ‘cousin’, Mrs S, who also undertook to complete my education.
Mrs S was not, in fact, my cousin but the ex-wife of a distant and fabulously wealthy uncle. Her divorce settlement, plus an adventitious inheritance from an elderly aunt, had left her in the enviable position of never having to work again. Still in her twenties, she now lived in a secluded villa in the country complete with its own small private estate.
This, in sum, was more or less all that I knew about Mrs S – and the fact that she was rumoured to be extremely clever. I had, in fact, only met her once or twice in passing at the occasional family event, and all I could really remember about her was that she was attractive, glamourous and very smartly dressed. I remembered being fascinated by the stiff high collars of the blouses she used to wear to these events and had troubled dreams that I might one day be forced to wear such severely formal outfits myself. All my life I had been violently opposed to wearing dressy or formal clothes, particularly those involving buttons and collars, and I was glad that I didn’t have to attend one of those schools where girls were expected to wear ties and blazers. The thought of having to wear a buttoned-up collar and tie all day made my heart race with fear and yet, as I grew older, my feelings on this subject became more confused. Although I still hated the idea of having to wear such a formal uniform, and would have rejected any proposal to send me to a school where this was necessary, I nevertheless found myself fantasising about being forced to do just that and felt a peculiar form of pleasure that made me feel confused and conflicted.
It was with mixed feelings, then, and a degree of trepidation that I awaited the arrival of my eccentric older ‘relative’. But still, the thought of living with the glamorous Mrs S in her nice house in the country was a far more attractive prospect than life with either of my parents.
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The arrival of Mrs S send waves of terror and excitement coursing through my body – I could hardly believe what my older cousin was wearing and the thought of ever having to wear something similar made my heart flutter with fear and delight. Almost every detail of her uniform – and it was hard not to think of it as a uniform – seemed designed to trigger my deep conflictual feelings about such formal clothing, from the smartly tailored skirt and double-breasted jacket to the stiff high collar of the crisp white blouse framing Mrs S’s attractive features. But it was the smart silk tie, tightly knotted around Mrs S’s throat, that I could not stop gazing at. How could anyone bear to wear such a restrictive item all day – and choose to do so at that? And yet, when trying to imagine what it must be like to submit to the unrelenting pressure of such a stiff collar and tie, I felt myself becoming strangely excited and experienced a pleasurable tingling through my body.
“I see that you’re wondering about my outfit,” said Mrs S as we sat down in the car. “You’ll perhaps remember that I used to wear these stiff-collared blouses buttoned up to the top when we met at family events before. But that was casual wear compared to what I wear at home – I did not want the family thinking I was too peculiar.”
She smiled, then glanced with a slight grimace at my scruffy jeans and hoodie.
“You’ll find I take discipline very seriously at home – and I hope you will learn to embrace it too.”
I listened in silence, terrified and exhilarated by what she might say next.
“Anyway, I would like to propose that we stop off on the way back – to buy you some clothes more suited to your new home and our new life together. What do you think?”
I paused before answering, struggling to formulate my confused thoughts. It would be all too easy to refuse and continue life as I was, but deep down I knew I wanted to embrace the life of formal discipline that Mrs S was tentatively offering me. But was I really prepared to wear a formal uniform like my cousin’s and at the age of eighteen (an adult no less!) start wearing a collar and tie like a little schoolgirl? But Mrs S was no schoolgirl and there was no denying how stunningly attractive and powerful she looked in her formal outfit. Instead of answering my cousin’s question straightaway, I responded with one of my own:
“How does it feel?” I asked.
“How does what feel, dear?”
“To wear such a tight collar and tie all day.”
“While, to me,” said Mrs S, “it feels great – but I admit it’s not for everyone. Even I struggle to maintain the standards I’ve set myself occasionally.”
“Can I feel the collar and tie?” I asked inquisitively.
“Of course,” said Mrs S. “I’ll just pull over in this lay-by so you can examine them properly.
Once parked, I reached across to my cousin’s neck, gently running a finger around the hard rim of the collar before investigating the firm knot of the tie. My heart was racing and I noticed my cousin’s breathing too had become shallower and faster.
“You can adjust and tighten it if you like,” said Mrs S.
Tightening the knot further seemed scarcely possible, but I dutifully followed her instructions, pulling the small end of the tie downwards and pushing up on the knot. Mrs S’s mouth parted with a slight gasp as she did so, and I wondered what strange currents of pleasure this simple movement had sent racing through her body. I felt on fire myself and sat speechless for a while as Mrs S restarted the car. Some ten minutes up the road, I finally turned to look at my cousin:
“I think I would like to take you up on your offer.”
“Great,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll learn to love it.”
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My misgivings increased even further as we pulled up outside the shop of Mrs S’s tailor. Was it still not too late to change my mind?
“This is a great shop,” said Mrs S with a twinkle in her eye. “When I was your age I used to get all my clothes from here.”
I wondered what kind of upbringing Mrs S must have received and how different it must have been from mine.
Leaving no time for second thoughts, Mrs S whisked me straight into the shop and up to a helpful sales assistant. Within a matter of minutes, I was clutching a pile of formal clothing and being marched into a changing booth.
The whole process of changing into the uniform was an intense and thrilling experience, and the close physical proximity of the smartly suited Mrs S – whose presence was required to help me close the three (yes, three!) buttons of my blouse’s high stiff collar and tighten the tie around my neck – sent electric currents of agonising delight through my body.
Once Mrs S was happy with my appearance, I turned to study myself in the changing booth mirror. I could not believe the transformation.
Above a pair of stockinged feet and smart shiny shoes, I wore a formal knee-length skirt. But it was the top half of my body which commanded my attention: the heavy formal blazer and high-buttoned V-necked cardigan which framed the high stiff collar of a crisp white blouse and tightly knotted tie. I could hardly believe how tight the formal grip of the collar and tie felt around my throat – it was so tight and restrictive it was hard to think of anything else – but also how strangely pleasurable this was. Reaching up to the touch the knot of my tie, I was also surprised by the tightness of the blouse’s cuffs around my wrists, their stiff white material gleaming as they protruded from the arms of my cardigan and blazer.
“You look superb in that tight stiff collar and tie,” said Mrs S, “and everything else fits you perfectly too. No need to put those old scruffy clothes of yours back on – anyway, I doubt you’ll be needing them again. We’ll pick up some more clothes in your size on the way out.”
I could not believe how self-conscious I felt as I walked back through the shop in my smart new uniform and across the car park to Mrs S’s car. The weight of the blazer and cardigan pressed against my body, making me acutely aware of the structure and formality of the clothing. The texture of the fabrics, from the smooth silk of the tie to the crispness of the blouse, sent shivers down my spine. The high, stiff collar of the blouse felt like a vice around my neck, constricting my movements, and the tightly knotted tie added to the sensation of restraint, making me hyper-aware of my body. I could feel a strange excitement welling up within me, as if the very act of conforming to this dress code was awakening desires and sensations I had never explored before.
Back in the car, I continued to feel lightheaded, unable to think of anything other than the incredibly formal outfit I was wearing, particularly the stiff collar, so high and tight around my throat, and the hard, relentless knot of my silk tie. I was feeling unbelievably aroused by my new outfit and wondered how quickly I could find an excuse to retire to my room when we arrived at my cousin’s villa.
“How do you feel?” said Mrs S, as if reading my thoughts. “You certainly look splendid.”
“Well, I can’t believe how smart I look,” I said, “but the collar and tie are very snug and tight. Am I really going to have a wear such a strict uniform every day?”
As I asked the question, I wondered why I had felt the need to seek my older cousin’s permission. Hadn’t I willingly agreed to try out this uniform? Couldn’t I therefore decide to take it off whenever I felt like it?
“Well, dear,” said Mrs S, “of course I can’t force you to wear it – but I would very much pleased if you chose to do so. And I have a feeling that you will come to like it – in fact that, deep down, you already do.”
I blushed. It was as if my older cousin could read my every thought, even the ones I was not entirely clear about herself. I felt an overwhelming need to put myself fully in her power.
“I think I would very much like to wear a strict uniform everyday – and I would like you to make sure I do so.”
Mrs S smiled. “That’s great,” she said.
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When we arrived at Mrs S’s villa, it was getting dark and my cousin suggested that a tour of the grounds be postponed until the following morning so that I could settle into my room for an hour or so before dinner and start unpacking my new clothes. There was plenty of room for them in the wardrobe I was informed.
No sooner was I alone than I had locked my bedroom door and thrown myself onto the bed. Hitching up my skirt to above my thighs, I put my hand between my legs and brought myself to a wrenching, powerful climax almost immediately. Two more followed, my excitement sharpened by the sight of my writhing formally clad body in the large ceiling mirror above the bed.
As my breathing slowed, I wondered what was wrong with me. Was my dislike of uniforms and formal clothes in the past – and particularly collars and ties – simply down to embarassment at how they made me feel – something I couldn’t acknowledge at the time? Did Mrs S feel like this too? And why was I so willing to put myself under the power of my enigmatic cousin and her strange clothing fetish? In a few short hours it was as if I had willingly abandoned every aspect of my former self and entered a world of control and discipline I had hitherto never dreamed of.
Lying on the bed, I was acutely aware of the tightness of the collar and tie around my throat. One part of me wanted to tear away these constraints and reclaim my old carefree self. But another, deeper part of me felt strangely comforted by the constant pressure of the stiff collar and tightly knotted tie and the new disciplined self they symbolised. I also realised how much I wanted to please my older cousin, and be a part of the formal disciplined way of life she was offering – wherever that might lead.
Staring back at myself from the ceiling mirror, I adjusted and tightened my tie then slipped into a doze.
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I was woken by a knock on the door and the sound of my cousin’s voice asking if I was ready for dinner. I quickly leapt off the bed and pulled my skirt back down over my legs, replying in a fluster that I would be down shortly.
After a quick visit to the en-suite bathroom, I checked my appearance in the mirror, folding down the pleats of my skirt and ensuring that my tie was perfectly straight and as tight as possible. I then headed downstairs to the dining room, where Mrs S – still impeccably dressed – was waiting with a light evening meal and bottle of wine.
“I’m glad to see you’re still wearing your new outfit,” she said, greeting me with a gasp-inducing tug and tweak of my tie. “I wasn’t sure whether you would be or not – but I’m so pleased you are.”
I felt a warm glow spread through my body that wasn’t only due to my thick blazer and newly tightened tie.
The meal went well, and under the influence of the wine I began to feel myself relaxing in the company of my cousin, despite the formality and constriction of our respective outfits.
In fact, I was fascinated by the way in which my cousin’s tight white collar seemed to be almost moulded around her neck and how the knot of her tie moved up and down as she spoke. I wondered if my own collar and tie did the same and instinctively raised a hand to touch the knot of her tie.
Seeing this motion, Mrs S stepped forward to offer to adjust my tie for me and a wave of dizzy delight washed over me as my older cousin cinched the knot of my tie still tighter.
“Now then, young lady,” said Mrs S, her one hand still gripped tightly around my tie a short distance below the knot, “we’ve both had a long and exhausting day so I think it’s about time I escorted you to your room and helped you hang your uniform up for the night.”
For a moment, I half thought she was going to lead me up the stairs as if on a leash, and my heart fluttered with the thought of being treated this way. But Mrs S let go of my tie as she stood up, and I followed her upstairs in a more conventional manner.
Back in my room, Mrs S showed me how to hang up my skirt, blazer and cardigan until I was finally standing in front of her wearing nothing but my blouse, tightly knotted tie and underwear.
“Right,” said Mrs S, “let’s get that tie and collar undone. Lift up your chin!”
I stood submissively facing my cousin, arms by my side, while she worked the tight knot of my tie free and struggled to undo the three tight buttons of my high stiff collar. There was a wonderful feeling of release as the collar popped open and I felt fresh air against the tender skin of my neck. The feeling was all the more piquant for being a gift in Mrs S’s full control.
“Thank you, mistress,” I said demurely, before I had time to realise what I was saying. Almost immediately I blushed harder than when Mrs S had been tightening my tie earlier.
“That’s quite alright,” said Mrs S with an impish smile, leaning forward and giving me a brief but full kiss on the lips. “You can thank me again in the morning, after I’ve buttoned you up again for the day – your first full day in uniform! I’ll be around about eight to help you get dressed.”
And with that she was gone, leaving me to crawl into bed and wonder what the next day held in store.
 
Chapter 2: The start of a new life
I woke up a little before seven and almost immediately felt an upwelling of nervousness and excitement at the thought of the day to come. Was I really going to be wearing that strict, formal uniform and uncomfortable collar and tie from breakfast until bedtime? I must be mad! And yet the thought of doing so – and, moreover, of being required to do so by my glamourous cousin – sent a powerful jolt of electricity coursing through my body. I wanted more than anything to put myself under her control and submit to this strange formal bondage she so insisted upon.
I decided to get up and shower and start getting dressed, wishing I knew how to knot my tie but also looking forward to Mrs S tightening it for me. Once again, I found it hard to control my excitement as I buttoned up my blouse, cardigan and blazer – particularly when I succeeded in securing the triple-buttoned collar of the blouse. Lifting the hard white material, I placed the tie in position around my neck in readiness for Mrs S’s arrival. Facing a mirror (there were several in the room), I ensured the buttons of my blouse were straight and aligned with those of my blazer and cardigan, that it was tucked neatly in to my skirt, and that its gleaming white cuffs were visible beneath the sleeves of my cardigan and blazer. Trying to control my breathing, I sat waiting patiently for the arrival of my cousin.
As expected, Mrs S knocked on the door at eight on the dot. She was already dressed, with a different colour tie the only indication that she had not spent the entire night dressed in her strict formal suit, and was very pleased to see that I was already dressed and just waiting for help to do up my tie.
“We’ll soon teach you how to form the perfect knot,” she said, as she pulled the hard knot of my tie tight against my throat and smoothed down the stiff high collar of my formal blouse. She then tucked the tie neatly below the cardigan and blazer before tightening it once more for good measure. “Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you, mistress,” I said meekly, still gasping from my newly tightened tie.
“Good – I’m glad you remembered our little conversation from last night. Now I think it would be a good idea for you to address me as mistress at all times. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, mistress,” I responded, feeling a strange pleasurable sense of submissiveness that both shocked and excited me.
“Now, let’s have a look at you in the mirror.”
I could hardly believe how formally dressed I was. Seeing my elegant shiny dress shoes, the crisp pleats of my formal skirt and the stiff white cuffs of my blouse tightly gripping my wrists from under the edges of my cardigan sleeves, I marvelled at how proper and formal I looked. But it was the top half of my body that astonished me most: the heavy formal blazer and high-buttoned cardigan, and, protruding above them, the crisp white blouse, its stiff collar buttoned so tightly around my neck. And to top it all, a tightly-knotted shiny silk tie, arcing elegantly from my throat and disappearing beneath the buttons of my cardigan.
Once I had remembered to breathe again, I dutifully grasped my tie the way my cousin had shown her and tried to tighten it even more. It was difficult since it was already knotted so snugly, but Mrs S pointed out how the placket of my formal blouse must never be visible, even slightly, above and behind my tie. So, to make sure, I had to get it very tight. She also reminded me that I was required to keep my tie worn this tightly at all times, until I had permission to change at bedtime.
“Now, how does it make you feel, knowing that you will be putting on a strict uniform every morning and that you will have to wear a stiff tight collar and tie from morning until night?”
I felt lightheaded from her words – I just couldn’t believe this was happening. Was I really going to have to wear a formal blouse, all buttoned up, every day? And did I really have to actually wear a tie tightly knotted around my throat at all times? I took a deep breath.
“It sounds difficult but I really want to dress in a way that pleases you – and I also quite like how smart I look and the feel of the collar and tie around my neck.” I blushed, embarassed at the sensations I was feeling but also wanting to talk more about them at the same time. “I would really like it if you make me wear my uniform at all times.”
“Don’t worry,” said Mrs S, overjoyed with my response, “I intend to be as strict as possible with you, particularly with regards to your uniform and especially your collar and tie.” She pulled my tie even tighter at these words, making me redder still. “You like it when I do that, don’t you?” continued Mrs S, noticing how limp I had gone. “I bet you’d like to be punished regularly as well, wouldn’t you?”
At the mention of being punished, I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me. For some reason, I couldn’t wait to find out how I might be punished! I hoped my cousin would be ridiculously strict and find reasons to punish me for the slightest mistakes.
“Yes, mistress,” I said. “I would like you to punish me in whatever way you see fit.”
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Please include a tuxedo and bowtie in this story. It gets very old and tiresome reading story after story about school-girlish uniforms. Yes I like breathplay and it’s fun to read about how tightly a necktie can be knotted, but it gets very repetitive and sometimes unrealistic after a while because a simple gasp from the tightness shouldn’t be their only reaction.

Excellent story.

I liked so much the original story and I love this story! The three buttons collar, the mistress word, the arousing of everything makes or tells Mrs. S. I am curious to see what are the rules for the posture in this story and how their relationship will evolve. Thank you for this story, it's amazing!

Wonderful work. Hope to see more!