Suzannes lesson
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Suzanne's Slave, Part IV: My Wedding Day free porn video
Suzanne's Slave, part IV: My Wedding Day
Melba had trained me well. I had to be up at four a.m. to
dress in my bondage maid uniform. The new uniform wasn't
that bad; an underwire bra, which cradled my breasts in
comfort, black rubber panties with red rubber ruffles,
black pantyhose, black pumps, and a white satin blouse that
was tucked into a black taffeta skirt that fell to my
knees. I was gagged with a red rubber blow-up gag.
At 6 a.m., Melba had made me sign some papers in front of
three lawyers. One was a beautiful young blonde in a gray
striped business suit. She had round firm breasts and
lusciously long legs. She studied my uniform like a casual
buyer staring at a storefront dummy.
"Think I could order that uniform in purple and white for
my man?" she said to the older of the two men with her. "I
want to put some color into his pathetic little life."
Melba celebrated my signing by tying me hand and foot
pulling a form-fitting clear latex tube over form and
strapping me to an aluminized frame on the floor. For the
next several hours, I served her as a rubberized human
footstool. She loved digging her boots into my butt and
giving an occasional pump to my gag.
At high noon, I was unwrapped.
"Now," she said, directing me to a dressing area. "you are
ready to become Suzanne's bride. My twin sissy maids will
help me do this."
It turns out that Melba's helpers were young men, maybe in
their early 20s, dresses in short white rubber maids
dresses, red latex tights, white leather hoods and elbow-
length gloves, and two-inch heels. When we entered the
room, they quickly busied themselves.
One fitted me for a white rubber corset. It cinched up the
back and ran from my neck down to the top of my pubic hair
and around to the below the bottom of my butt. It fit
almost like a mini-dress except that member was still
exposed. On my butt were two inflatable pads that Melba
pumped up to give me the appearance of having a bulky
feminine butt. The corset had 12 short garters.
She next pulled a clear vinyl bondage gown off the bed. The
outfit had white plastic piping and lace around the skirt
and around the high-collared neck. It zipped up the back. I
felt my being forced backward by the metal collar lining.
Melba locked the neck clasp with a 6-inch lock that was
clearly overkill. I found myself staring almost straight up
at the ceiling. I felt a draft around my waist, which told
me that the flared little skirt did not hide my sex.
Next Melba laced me into a matching clear-vinyl single
glove. She attached small gold chains from the wrist area
and the top of the glove to clasp at my neck and pulled so
that the device was stiff and elevated behind me, free from
my dress and any possible access to my padded rear. Next
came stiff white rubber stockings that gave little, as they
were strapped to garters. I could bend my knees, and even
sit, but the stockings pinched and grabbed and let me know
that they were designed for my discomfort.
Next came a pair of high-top, lace-up, 8-inch white opera
heels. When I stood up, the heels forced my body forward,
and I had to learn to balance this forward thrust against
the backwards arch of my neck to walk. Melba forced me to
practice and I walked around the room, bumping into objects
I could not see. I was panting behind my hood again when
Melba finally let me sit back down.
"What am I going to do with your member?" she asked. "I
could leave you exposed down there and attached a leash to
drag you around. Or I could cover it up with some nice
frilly pantaloons."
She thought for a minute and said: "I know."
She reached into the dresser for a white latex codpiece
with a V-strap connector and inserted my member into the
contraption as the maids hooked the straps about my waist.
They pulled the codpiece tightly between my legs and up the
crack in my butt, pulling it up and under the corset. The
maids pulled two small leather straps back through rings at
the top of the V. One tied knots so the codpiece would not
slip back through the rings, and then attached the straps
to an O-ring she pulled from atop the dresser. Melba held
up a pair of clear vinyl panties for me to see. The words
"Bondage Bride" were imprinted in red, both front and back.
She pulled the panties up my legs and over my crotch.
Melba added two finishing touches, a short ankle chain, and
a leash chain that from my ankle chain through the O ring
at my waist and back to about two inches about the floor.
She then posed me standing and sitting, taking overall
shots and close-ups. She then showed me the photos.
The shot of my reflected a garish little girl, perhaps in
her earlier teens, and the close-up of my crotch, indeed,
made it appear as if I had a well-strapped puss.
Melba grabbed my leash.
Suzanne was brought into the room. She was dressed
identically. Somehow, though, she looked like a true bride.
I looked like a crossdressed bondage queen.
It was a very short ceremony.
I minced up the aisle escorted by Melba, who, dressed in a
black latex tuxedo, helped me to keep my balance. In front
of the assembled guests, Melba presented me to Suzanne.
Melba served as the maid-mistress of honor, and when I was
asked: "Do you take this woman, Suzanne, to be your owner,
master, and co-slave," Melba answered: "She does."
The ceremony was repeated for Suzanne. Instead of the
usual, my new bride and I exchanged nose rings.
After the ceremony, and after being fondled unceremoniously
by guests of both sexes, the two maids ushered us off to
another dressing area.
They rolled a trunk to the center of the room, set it on
its side, and lifted the top off.
"Time for the honeymoon," Melba said.
"If you please," one maid directed, walking over to a
crate. The maid helped me step into it and had me put my
knees into openings that had been molded for them. The
inside of the box was made of some sort of very soft
material topped with a layer of foam covered with rubber.
The maid attached leather straps and pulled me into
position at my ankles, knees, waist, and neck.
"Now put your arms in these holes and lean forward," I was
told.
I inserted my hands into the holes and leaned forward, the
maid guiding my breasts into the indentations. My arms went
down and then forward as far as they could go. My hands
felt as if they were in gloves.
"We call this the penalty box," Melba said. "It is our
newest toy."
There was a click and I felt something shut around each
wrist. I tried to pull my arms out, but they were
immobilized. My temporary teeth were extracted from my
mouth and I moved from jaw from side to side. I was pushed
forced into the depression, my lips forced into an
inflatable rubber phallic shape that projected from it. I
offered no resistance as the maid pushed my head down and
strapped me to it. As the gag entered my mouth, I noticed
it was hollow, allowing me to breathe through it. My head
was strapped to the spot.
Finally, I was finally fitted with a rubber helmet with
built-in earphones/earplugs. When the maids wanted me to
hear, I could hear what was going on outside the box. When
they didn't, I heard nothing.
For now, I could hear. And what I heard was Suzanne being
ushered into the other side of the crate and bound in a
fashion that appeared identical to me.
At one point, I could feel her breasts pushed against mine.
Then her hands touched mine. We held hands, bound as we
were. I wondered if she, too, had been gagged with a dildo
gag.
The maids put the top on the crate and closed both sides. I
felt myself confined. After the exterior buckles had been
fastened, the maids completed their last task. Each took a
hand pump and, attaching them to fittings outside the
crate, began to stroke. As the rubber and satin interior
lining inflated, I felt myself constricted tightly; no part
of my body, not even a finger, could be moved at all.
Suzanne and I were locked into place, holding hands, but
shackled apart.
Finished, the maids called a porter, who loaded our crated
bodies onto a hand truck. We were carried out to a delivery
truck and, within minutes, we found ourselves at the local
rail station.
Melba had ordered her own compartment on this liner, big
enough for her, us and the attending maids. I could hear
the train pull out of the station and felt the trunk shift
slightly with the momentum despite its weight with us
packed so firmly inside.
Then my earphones went dead.
There was nothing to do but stare into the ovoid and
reflect upon my fate. I had become the character of my own
creation, and even though my heart raced with some
uncertainty about what would have next and in the future, I
knew that Rhonda would revel in her captivity. Indeed, so
did I. I dozed off with an enormous throbbing in my loins.
I don't know how long I slept. There was no way to tell.
But I was awakened to the sounds of soft music coming
through the earphones. It was The Wedding March, played
over and over.
I smiled into my gag. I pulled against my bonds. I felt
Suzanne's hands try to press mine. Yes, it was real, wasn't
it? I had really tied the knot.
Liesl
- 21.02.2020
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