In The Amazon Empire: An Amazon Wife free porn video

In the Amazon Empire: an Amazon Wife & Mother Speaks of His Life~ Part Two by Ginny Wolf ********** Principal characters in this episode: Rylann Antonischard, focus of the story Hemia and Uther, his parents Dr Gertrude Hagelaur, teacher of the demanding comazon-prep phys-ed which prepares school boys to become wives Reverend Portia, a priest of the Goddess who serves as a match-maker Nanette Penthesilea, an Amazon noble who wishes to marry Rylann Baroness Sylvia Penthesilea and Dame Oblea Penthesilea, her noble parents ********** Types of Amazon men: drones~men required to have at least two children; perform service jobs; largest group in society covey males~men selected based upon physical fitness and emotional stability to bear a minimum of 12 to 15 babies with a maximum of 25 infants [Uther is a covey male]; breed mares~men selected from the best looking and intellectually brightest of males, usually married off to nobles and required to have a minimum of five babies and no more than twelve; they are the matrons of high society [Rylann is a breed mare] ********** When I returned to school, mama and mother began my preparation for marriage in great earnestness. For school days, I had to wear tights and an open-bottom girdle every day under my school uniform skirt. No more little girby slacks, anklets and light panty girdle for school. They made sure that I excelled in my studies and in all of my extra-curricular activities. My parents started taking me to the salon to have my hair and nails done more often. They required me to wear nail polish daily. On my 13th birthday, they took me a corsetiere who fitted me with several corsets, maximum control girdles, a variety of panty girdles, long-line bras and all-in-ones. My figure training became serious. On First Days for temple, at holidays, or whenever we had visitors, mama squeezed me into a tight corset or rigid girdle. By my 15th birthday, on most days I lined up with Dael and mother for mama to lace us into our corsets or girdles. Mother's example taught me what a male ought to do to please his spouse. From all his child-bearing and breast feeding, mother's figure was more than ample. Wearing his corset was hard. Yet even as he grunted and groaned while mama pulled the laces and cinched him in, he would say "Tighter my dear. I want to be a credit to you." When she finished, she would pat his well-rounded bottom, squeeze his reduced waist and kiss the back of his neck. "You are a credit to me, dearest. You're lovely." Although young and slim, I could not help grunting and squealing as mama compressed me to an hour- glass shape. Only mother's courage kept me from screaming for mercy. Little did I know that like him, I would come to love wearing a good corset or shaping girdle. Poor Dael always squirmed and complained. "Just wait until you graduate and are working somewhere," mother would say. "When you're tightly girdled and on your feet all day, wearing heels, you will have something to complain about." Early in the year 3266A.E., mother and mama took me to a professional photographer's studio for a series of "romantic portraits" which they explained would go to the priest Portia to become part of the materials she used in working to arrange a marriage for me. In a grueling fourteen hour session, my parents, the photographer, a hairdresser, and a makeup artist changed my look numerous times, put me in a variety of outfits, posed me, shaped and reshaped me until I thought I might actually faint. The photographer took pictures of me in cocktail dresses, evening gowns, a one piece swimsuit, a bikini, blouses with skirts, blouses with tight pants, a leotard and tights, a mini-skirt outfit, a ballet tutu, a tap- dancing outfit, my cheerleader costume, my majorette costume and my candy-stripe outfit from the hospital. I loved the photos of me in a comazon's wedding veil. Those made me feel excited. I longed to wear a real wedding veil and bridal gown. However, I felt terribly embarrassed by two slightly erotic poses which the photographer insisted were necessary for a breed mare. For one, mother tight laced me into a pink corset and covered me a pink sheer robe through which my hour-glass waist, panty-covered tush and stockinged legs were visible. I stood in six inch spike heels. The makeup artist gave me a seductive look. For the other photo, I wore a baby-doll nightie, short robe and mules. I felt strange being so nearly undressed in front of these older people but my parents and the photographer assured me that every breed mare male feels that way. The photographer explained that such photos reassure a potential groom and her family that the breed mare is truly pretty. "And it's a lot better than having your future mama-in-law come in and undress you and inspect you like a piece of meat, as often happened in the old days," my mama added. I felt relieved when the session finally finished. Instead of the regular phys-ed class at school, mother and mama placed me in the demanding comazon-prep phys-ed. This class consisted of drones and breed mares whose parents were planning to marry us off immediately after senior high graduation. Dr Gertrude Hagelaur who taught the course, constantly reminded us that before the first anniversary of our graduation we would all be wives and by the second anniversary, all of us would be mothers or at least pregnant, some with more than one baby. Our duty to our husbands and to the Empire was to be attractive, slim, fit, healthy and fruitful. Dr Hagelaur was a Nordic vixen who worked us hard, even though we were all young and slender. In a foretaste of the spa workouts I would have later as a matron slimming down after having a baby, Dr Hagelaur thought nothing of putting a group of us in a row of steam cabinets and hotly cooking us for fifteen minutes. If any girby stupidly complained, she made us all suffer, turning up the heat and baking us an additional five or ten minutes, To exercise, we wore leotards and tights. She would make us do a series of stretches, bends, pushups, high kicks and running in place. Any girby not putting forth an effort received a swat with a paddle across his behind. Immediately after our calisthenics, she would put us on belt massagers, the belts right across our nylon-covered bottoms. The machines made our rears wiggle for ten minutes. That done, we had to turn around and endure ten minutes of the massagers making our stomachs wiggle. For other classes, she put us through harsh dance workouts, other times endless running of laps and other times playing intense games of volleyball. As we left for vacation between our first and second year of senior high school, Dr Hagelaur warned us. "All my students must watch their weight. I have given your parents a diet which all of you are to follow, religiously, until your graduation By the time you walk down the aisle in your wedding gowns, I will have you trimmed and toned. Any weight gain will be treated by longer dance sessions and more exercise. I have no hesitation about making a student breathless and begging for mercy. Flabbiness will lead to wearing a required girdle under your leotards and tights. Those belt massagers across a girdled rear or tummy have a sting to them. Any violations of your diets will cost you twenty-five or thirty minutes in the steam cabinets instead of a mere fifteen. And those cabinets can be much warmer than you've experienced. A game of volleyball while wearing a rubber sweat-suit will make you regret illegal snacking. If you are going to be good wives, you will learn the discipline required for good figures. Am I making myself clear, all you young missus?" We all answered with an awe-struck, "Yes, doctor." In my second and third years of senior high I never had to endure the massager belt across a girdled bottom but I saw several friends suffering such sessions. However, my own dear mother at times caught me breaking my diet and reported me to his friend, whom he affectionately called "the good Dr Gert." I suffered several sessions being cooked for twenty-five minutes in a really hot steam cabinet. While I stewed in the steam, I swore I'd never touch a forbidden cookie or piece of candy ever again. "Was that snack worth sweating in the steam?" mother would ask when I came home. But like lots of teenage girbys, I gave in to the temptation of sweets yet again. Invariably, mother caught me and Dr Hagelaur boiled me once more. Additionally I played several games of volleyball while wearing a rubber sweat-suit over my leotard and tights. And my own dear mother added to my pain by making me wear a tight, high-waist panty-girdle underneath. Of course he made Dr Hagelaur aware of my predicament and she enjoyed watching me suffer. The combination of tight girdle underneath and warm sweat-suit over top taught me a hot miserable lesson. I hated intense exercise but realized I had to endure it to make a good marriage. The happy thought of being a bride helped me survive those workouts. I lived through my discipline at school but I failed to notice mama's comment to a neighbor that "My dohter is soon to be betrothed." Reverend Mother Portia reported progress in arranging my marriage. On the last day of Twelfth Month of 3266A.E., mother and mama took me out for breakfast. I knew they wanted to talk about something important. I hoped it meant that someone had asked for my hand in marriage. My parents were wonderfully happy. Our celebration of the Solstice had been great fun. The coming New Year promised good things. They would not stop smiling. Once we received our food, mama told me that, for New Year's Day, she and mother planned a dinner party to announce my betrothal. I was over-joyed and begged them to tell me everything. Mama told me that Nanette Penthesilea had asked for my hand. "She is the third daughter and fifth child of six of the Baroness Sylvia Penthesilea and Dame Oblea Penthesilea, 21years old, a captain in the army, working on a master's degree in international affairs. She is considered a bright and rising star in the Imperial government. The Baroness offered us a bride price of 10,000 imperial pounds for you, a generous offer which we can not refuse." I was shocked and flattered that I fetched so much. ~Editorial Comment: The bride price was about $55,000 US dollars at that time. At the current exchange rate one imperial pound equals $7.12 US.~ "Dame Oblea is a breed mare male like you, dear, a sweet, darling man who will make a wonderful mother-in-law." Mother smiled. Mama continued. "Captain Nanette has two older sisters, two older girthers and one younger girbyther. She is the only one not yet married. The service she is doing for the government, even at so young an age, will most likely cause the Queen to make her a knight in the next five or six years, so you my pretty girby, will be Dame Rylann, probably by the time you have your second or third child." I trembled with joy at the prospect. Suddenly all the schooling, corset tight-lacing, dance classes, terrible comazon-prep phys-ed classes and everything else all seemed worth the efforts. I would be the wife of a noble woman, bear her babies and become a Dame. I could hardly finish my breakfast. Mama explained that the Baroness and Dame Oblea would arrive from the capital in the afternoon. As soon as we finished breakfast, my parents would whisk me away to the salon to have the works, including a herbal body wrap, steam, massage, full body waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure, hair styling. Tomorrow I would luncheon with my future in-laws and spend time with them. In the evening, we all would celebrate at mama's dinner party. The coming summer I would fly to the main island in the North Pacific and spend the summer at the Penthesilea estate in the capital, getting to know my husband-to-be and her family. Further, mama explained, I would be trained as to what is expected of a political wife. Mama dropped me at the salon where I spent the next eight and a half hours receiving beauty treatments. The body waxing was my first ever. I loved the total smoothness afterward but the waxing itself felt unbearable. With tear-filled eyes and gritted teeth, I explained that I was preparing for my betrothal. Bradie, the beautician waxing me, commented, "Yes, we men pay a high price to be beautiful and to please our women, don't we?" as he pulled another strip of wax from my tender flesh and I winced. The other treatments felt much better. Finally, after my hair was set and dried, they sent me home in a taxi with my hair still in rollers. My stylist would come to the house in the morning to comb me out and a beautician would apply my makeup. In the morning, after mother fed me a light breakfast, he and mama dressed me. Although I was quite svelte, measuring 36"-24"-36" mind you, they put me in a pretty corset of light green fabric which they laced firmly until my waist measured 18". As they tightened and measured and tightened again, I whimpered and barely held back tears but mother encouraged me to be a good girby. And when I considered his rotundity encased in his corset I knew I had to be as brave and submissive. Next came a bra and panty set which matched the underbust corset in color. Stockings, slip, a pretty dress and high-heeled pumps completed my outfit. By the time I finished dressing the stylist and beautician arrived from the salon. The beautician reminded me of the one four years ago who did my makeup before mama took me to the temple. As he applied a demure daytime makeup he chattered away like a magpie, congratulating me on my betrothal, wishing me love, luck, prosperity and fertility in my upcoming marriage. The stylist removed the rollers and with brush, comb and hair spray, teased and shaped my hair into a very mature style. As I watched in the mirror I realized that I would be wearing such hairdos for the rest of life. My mama usually wore minimal makeup so I was surprised when she had the beautician apply her makeup as well. She wore a distinguished-looking pants suit, with a girdle underneath, which was also rare for her as she was quite fit for her age, and high heeled boots. I must say that we made quite an impressive mama-dohter duo as we walked across the lobby in the best hotel in the city to meet the Baroness Sylvia and Dame Oblea Penthesilea. The Baroness was in her mid-50's, lithe, tall and dark-haired with just a little trace of distinguished grey at the temples. She wore a figure- hugging, expensive, knee length dress which revealed attractive, muscular legs. High heels added to her stature. The ear rings, necklace and bracelet she wore must have been worth 1100 pounds. ~Editorial Comment: The jewelry was worth over $6,000 US at that time.~ Dame Oblea, early-50's, even in his 5" heels barely reached to his husband's shoulders. Wasp-waisted and buxom, he looked much slimmer than my own mother. His appearance at his age and after birthing six babies made me appreciate again the difference between a covey male like my mother and a breed mare male. I hoped to look as beautiful when I reached his age. He wore a becoming mid-calf length dress, his frosted hair and delicate makeup meticulously done. Privately, I suspected that he had received a surgical face-lift. Like his husband, he wore expensive and tasteful jewelry, though more pieces, including a large engagement ring and other rings on his well-manicured fingers and a slim diamond wedding ring in his cute nose. When mama introduced me, I curtseyed as I had been taught at school. Mama exchanged kisses on the cheeks with both the Baroness and Dame Oblea. Obviously the three knew each other. During my betrothal, wedding and early years of my marriage I learned how well-connected my mother was. It explained much. To my surprise, Dame Oblea stepped close to me, pulled me to himself, hugged me lovingly and kissed me sweetly on the lips. In our hug, I realized that he too was very tightly corseted. "Welcome Rylann! Your pictures fail to do you justice," he gushed. I curtseyed again. "Thank you Dame Oblea," I answered, blushing deeply. "Please, dear child, please call me Mother Oblea. My other children-in- law all do. I know I can never replace your own wonderful mother. He can rightly be proud of you. But I care deeply for my children by marriage." "I'm honored, Mother Oblea," I answered spontaneously. "I shall try to live up to the opportunity to be part of your family." My mama and the Baroness beamed their warm approval. The restaurant hostess, an attractive drone, obviously aware of his distinguished guests, led us to a private table. Reverend Mother Portia, wearing a gorgeous clerical suit, joined us at the table. Her presence indicated both the serious business nature of this marriage contract and its religious and political significance. We ate a rich and leisurely lunch. While mama, the Baroness and Reverend Mother Portia talked at length about all kinds of details, Dame Oblea and I sat quietly side-by- side, sharing occasional gossip or comments. Several times during the meal I noticed how intently he studied me. I realized that as my mother had taught me much about being a good girby, Dame Oblea would teach me how to be the good wife of a political figure. In turn, I considered his beautiful clothes, his fine shoes, his well-manicured hands, his expensive jewelry and classy makeup. I was thrilled knowing that I would become such a sophisticated wife. Our party lingered over a wonderful dessert, the women enjoying their coffee while Dame Oblea and I sipped our tea, when I noticed the Baroness give a little head-nod to her wife. In response, he picked up his handbag and said, "Will you excuse us, please, my Ladies? Reverend Mother? Rylann and I need to powder our noses." Gracefully, I took the hint, picked up my handbag and walked arm-in-arm with Dame Oblea to the rest room. I felt very adult, walking with this fine man as our high heels clicked in unison. After we had relieved ourselves, Dame Oblea took me by both elbows, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Take a deep breath, child, and relax as best you can. When we return to the table your betrothal becomes official. No changing of mind or circumstances. Your mama and the Baroness are signing the written contract. The Baroness will place on your left hand an engagement ring exactly like the one I wear. Reverend Mother will bless you. You will officially be on your way to becoming wife and mother. I remember many years ago being in your position. I understand what you feel now and will feel in the days and years to come. I am here for you, darling girby." "Thank you, Mother Oblea," I managed to whisper. He again kissed me on both cheeks, then on my lips. "Freshen your lipstick, dear," he instructed me. When he saw how my hands trembled, he said, "Here, let me help you, child." As I puckered my lips, he applied two fresh coats of lipstick to them. Next, he reapplied my mascara and blush and did indeed powder my nose. I watched in silent admiration as he expertly redid his own makeup. Taking my hand he led me back to the table. I liked the look of our intertwined polished fingers. Just as Dame Oblea said, mama and the Baroness signed a written contract. The Baroness, with mama's approval, asked me to extend my left hand. Taking my hand lovingly in her own, she slipped a glittering engagement ring, just like the Dame's, on my ring finger, saying, "On behalf of my daughter, Captain Nanette Penthesilea, and with the consent of your mama, My Lady Hermia Antonischard, I place this family ring on your finger, Rylann Antonischard, thereby proclaiming you the beloved of Nanette and betrothed in the sight of the Goddess and of Amazon women everywhere." Reverend Mother Portia took both my hands and prayed, asking that I have good health, joy in preparing for my marriage, pleasure in the marriage bed, fertility in the conception of children, honor from my husband and satisfaction in being a sweet, obedient, faithful and submissive wife. My deep scarlet blush caused the others to laugh. Among other things I realized that if Nanette so wished she could rightly command me at any time now to spread my legs for her and deflower me for her pleasure as I was henceforth her marital property. At the moment I could only turn deep red at the thought of pleasure in the marriage bed while the others enjoyed my discomfort. "In truth, he's as modest as you were, my dear Dame," the Baroness laughed. Looking at me, than at Reverend Mother Portia, she continued, "Knowing my Nanette as I do, I'm sure Rylann will know much wifely pleasure." While my cheeks grew redder yet, the others laughed heartily. We parted with much more kissing and hugging all around. I noticed the Baroness quietly hand my mama a check; my bride price was paid, the deal sealed. At home, mother and my siblings admired my diamond ring, everyone calling me "Mistress Rylann." While mama checked on the maid service's last minute cleaning and conferred with the caterers, my mother took me to my room, undressed me and put my night gown on me. With great deftness, he wrapped my hair in a protective sleep cap, removed my makeup and applied a mud pack to my face. When I resisted taking a nap, he gave me a little sleeping potion which insured my rest for a couple of hours. My mother and my sister Hermia, who is one year older than me, gently awakened me, telling me it was time to prepare. Mother looked stunning. It was readily apparent that he was corseted within an inch of his life. How he could breathe laced that tightly was beyond me but I loved him for making such a sacrifice for my sake. He wore an opulent shimmery evening gown with matching high heeled sandals. Mother's hair, nails and makeup had been done. Never had I seen him look so lovely. After I put on my bra and panties, mother helped me wiggle into a skin-tight, high-waist, long-line, open-bottom girdle. Despite being colored pink and with floral design, the monster held me with a steely grip. My sister relished watching me slither into it and making me squirm and squeal a bit while she zipped me up and measured me to be certain that my waist was down to 18" again. After my form-fitting girdle came a full length silken slip, stockings and then a sumptuous mermaid style, lilac-colored evening gown. Once I managed to wiggle into it I looked like it had been painted on my body. No wonder I needed to be so imprisoned in my girdle. Since my girdle and figure-hugging gown made it impossible for me to bend over, Hermia put my shoes, pumps with 5" heels, matching my gown's color, on my feet Mother went to join mama welcoming their guests while my sister redid my makeup. Her skill amazed me as she gave me an extremely sophisticated look. "Get used to this, little girbyther," she said. "You will need look like this quite often in your marriage, honey." She carefully removed my sleep cap, gently nudged a few stray curls back into place and lacquered my hair with a great deal of hair spray. After she took me downstairs to meet the Baroness and Dame Oblea in a side room away from the sight of arriving guests, Hermia went to assist mama and mother entertain and seat our guests. Baroness Sylvia wore a dazzling black evening gown with matching pumps. In addition to the jewelry which she wore at lunch, she sported a brilliant diamond circlet in her hair which had obviously been styled since our lunch. When we hugged, being careful not to spoil each other's makeup, I noticed that slim as she was, she wore a girdle under her gown. Dame Oblea wore a glistening tight-fitting gown with matching pumps, close in color to my own gown and shoes. Clearly they had coordinated with my parents. When he and I hugged, I recognized that like my own mother he too wore a corset laced impossibly tight, giving him a delicate wasp-waist. He wore 6" heels. He had his done hair in an elaborate updo in which the stylist had inserted diamond pins at key places. Judging by my experience being brought downstairs by my sister, I knew that Dame Oblea and I, hampered by our foundations, heels and tight skirts, would mince into the dining room with dainty steps. "You look lovely, my dear," the Baroness said, smiling. "Indeed you do," added Dame Oblea. "With your slender figure, you do wonders for that dress." I whispered in his ear, "It's not all me, Mother Oblea. I'm squeezed into a really tight girdle. What with my heels and tight skirt, I can barely walk." He hugged me again, whispering back, "Never fear, my dear. I completely understand. I'm in the same situation. You will grow used to that and even tighter foundations. It comes with being the wives of noble women. When we enter, I'll take your right arm, the Baroness your left. She understands our predicament and will set an easy pace. You and I shall look and walk ever so daintily, like runway models, dear. Relax." While we waited for mama to signal our grand entrance, Baroness Sylvia said, "Turn around my dear. The good Dame and I have a little gift for you in honor of your betrothal." Obediently, I turned my back and to my surprise the Baroness fixed around my neck a diamond necklace matching the ones that she and Dame Oblea wore. I gasped, utterly speechless at their generosity. "Don't cry, my dear, or you'll spoil that lovely makeup," the Baroness said. "Oh, Baroness! Oh Mother Oblea! What can I say?" I gushed "You don't have to say a word, dear," Baroness answered. "We know that we have made a good choice. You will be a wonderful asset to our family. Just be a good wife to our daughter and give us grandchildren as pretty as you are, my dear." After a short pause while we three squeezed hands, the Baroness added, "One more thing my dear. In public, because of necessary political decorum and for the sake of our daughter's career, always call me Baroness Sylvia. But in the family circle, when it's just us, please call me Mama Sylvia. As with my dear old Dame, all the children-in-law do. I understand how hard it may be to call another woman 'mama,' especially after being graced with one such as you have. I've done business with your mama for decades. I admire her greatly and value her friendship. When I learned she had a marriageable breed mare for whom she sought a good husband, I wanted to consider the opportunity to join our two houses. When I approached Reverend Mother Sophia and read your school records, your astrology chart and looked at those lovely photos, I knew that you would make a good match. I immediately spoke to Nanette who needs a wife to continue her advancement. I'm delighted to bring you into my family, Rylann." Again I blushed deep scarlet with such praise. "Thank you . . . Mama Sylvia. I pray that Goddess will enable me to live up to your expectations," I murmured softly. "I'd love to kiss you but I know we mustn't spoil our makeup." They both laughed. "Right you are, Mistress Rylann," the Baroness responded. "We can kiss later at the end of this wonderful celebration. You're learning already that wives like you and my own dear Dame must make compromises, sometimes inconvenient ones." Another pause, then she looked at Dame Oblea and said, "Let's give dear sweet Mistress Rylann one more test." Dame Oblea nodded and the Baroness said, "This is in the nature of a state secret, my child. You can tell no one. If you do, I'll find out and I'll be greatly disappointed." I gave her my promise. She continued in a firm, quiet voice. "I have it on good authority that after your wedding the new queen will bestow knighthood upon your mama, both in recognition of her business services to the Crown and because of the tie which you are creating by marriage into the house of Penthesilea." My eyes opened in wonder and my jaw dropped. My marriage helping mama accomplish her life's dream! Baroness continued, "This is a secret. If you need to talk about it, you may do so with the two of us and your mama. No one else. Yet. Not even your mother nor Captain Nanette know of this just yet. I've worked out the arrangements with Her Majesty." "Oh Mama Sylvia! Mother Oblea! Today you have made me the happiest girby in the Empire. Thank you." I heard the string quartet in the guest dining room cease playing. My mama's clear voice said loudly, "I am pleased and honored to introduce to you, family and friends, our special guests for the evening, the Baroness Sylvia Penthesilea, her wife Dame Oblea Penthesilea and the future Mrs Nanette Penthesilea, Mistress Rylann Antonischard." The Baroness took one arm, Dame Oblea the other and walked me between them into the guest dining room to the applause and cheers of dozens of standing people. The Baroness set a comfortable pace which was just right as mama's guests all wanted a good look. Girdled and skirted as I was I could not have walked much faster if I wanted to move quicker. I followed the example of the Baroness and Dame Oblea, smiling and nodding to the right and the left. As we approached mother and mama at the head table, they both beamed with joy as they saw me with my future in-laws and dressed so beautifully The dinner succeeded as mama wanted. When mama slipped into my room late that night to check on me, we hugged and kissed. I thanked her for arranging my marriage and the wonderful party. As she bent down to bestow a final night kiss, I whispered my congratulations in her ear. She gave me a broad smile. When I returned to school at the end of solstice break, the word of my betrothal preceded me. Two of my dearest friends in the comazon-prep class were betrothed as well. Envious classmates admired our engagement rings. But no one had long to wait. By the end of the academic year 58 of the 178 girbys in the program sported engagement rings. When school restarted in the next Ninth Month, the number reached 109. By the solstice celebration in Twelfth Month, 178 weddings were in planing. Nanette and I exchanged photographs after her parents returned home. From First Month through Fifth Month, we wrote numerous love letters and often spoke on the phone. How I grew to love the sound of her womanly voice. School and extra-curricular activities kept me busy which I needed to keep my mind off of Nanette. Finally in mid-Sixth Month, mama took me on the long flight to the capital to spend my summer in preparation for my roles as a bride and wife.