Suzanne's Slave

by Maid2serveher

 

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 pad 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 the 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 cod piece with a V-strap connector and inserted my member into the contraption as the maids hooked the straps about my waist. They pulled the cod piece 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 cod piece would not slip back through the rings, and then attached the straps to a 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 awaken 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.

 

 

 

*********************************************
© 2002 by Maid2serveher. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.