Getting a Corset

“You’ve never worn a corset before?!”


I’d been part of a sex-positive, ethically non-monogamous community for years. I didn’t get dressed up for sex, I got naked. Duh. At some point even “sexy” clothes were like speed-bumps (annoying and in the way) to the reason we were all there: sex.

Besides, I’m a California hippie – not a Victorian costume in my whole repertoire. I’m all bracelets, rings, and chains, wood and metal—natural clanking elements.

But I wanted to feel something. Something else. Sensations. Surrender. Uncertainty. Fear? Pleasure? Painpleasure or Pleasurepain?

So I entered into another arena, one where there are uniforms and rules and consequences.

Buying a corset.  

We had to buzz in to the store like it was a secret San Francisco fortress. Upon entering I noticed the smell first. Beautiful, rich, buttery leather. It smelled soft and touchable. So much leather. So many corsets. And plenty of men (and a few women) to help me sort it all out.

With Rev. Jon as my style guide, I started trying them on, black leather with silver hardware – metal buckles and hooks, and oh so tight. It SO appealed to my inner-bad-ass biker chick self! I loved showing it to the good Reverend—I was already seeking his approval. Then came the red leather strappy number, criss-crossing my boobs like a treasure map! The dudes were fidgeting with the straps, pulling and cinching them this way and that, and me loving it all. But then! There it was, the purple-and-black-halter-zip-up-front-lace-up-the-back corset, like it had its own theme music! I didn’t choose it. It it chose ME! I came out of the dressing room something of a mess. Thank god for Fuego, the corset master extraordinaire – in no time he had me Scarlett O’Hara-like holding onto the display rack like it was a Southern belle’s bedpost. And he pulled and pulled and pulled, tight and tighter still. And then I turned around. I could see it in their faces, and saw for myself . Oh. yes, I got it!  

I learned I wasn’t just getting ready for sex. More than that, I was getting ready for an EXPERIENCE. I knew that with the Rev. Jon I was preparing to receive commands and sensations that I’d only wondered about in my deepest most secret mind.

And it wasn’t just the physical act of putting on a corset – it was everything that went with it. In getting ready I had to remove long familiar parts of myself, parts that I had been wearing like an ID badge. Hello my name is: California Hippie Swinger. Taking that “me” off was as important as putting this new “me” on. I could feel myself getting uncomfortable. In the good way. In the way that anticipates a new adventure, that tingle of “could this be dangerous?”

Corset. Garters. Stockings. Collar. My new uniform for a new scene. What happened next was the opportunity for parts of myself to come to the surface – parts that wanted to feel deeper sensations and explore new limits and cross over old boundaries. It was exciting, and it was honest, and just scary enough to be really empowering.

Now I know some new true things about myself. And now I can say with eyes shining, “Oh yeah, I got a corset!”

-- Miss Chill

Kasidie, for the sexually social