Beware of Unexpected Post......

It started innocuously enough, a jiffy bag arrived in the post. Inside were a pair of panties, not skimpy lacy ones but full, figure forming ones, like Spanx Pants, but in a solid thin blue latex.

You look at them, feel them, caress them, smell them, you note they have a small nub at the rear of them, but dismiss it as a joining point or seam. They are lovely, you think, but I didn’t buy them.

You investigate the package and find the packing slip, “Welcome to our introductory gift, from the Latex Warehouse Partwork Collection.” Odd you think but ok. You handle the panties some more before thinking, what the hell.

They feel divine, they grip you and warm to your skin temp, and hold you tight and firmly, as if you are being groped all the time. And the meaning of that little nub becomes obvious, every time you sit down in them you feel just a little cheek separation and as if a finger was lightly stroked across your rear hole. They are delicious, you feel you never want to take them off. But you do, later, but even as you go to bed they seem to be calling you…..

You spend a week like this, wearing them around the house, taking them off to wash them, deliberately going without them even though you know you want to wear them. It was while handwashing them in warm water you make the next discovery, if you twisted them just so, the nub would expand, filling with water, not a huge amount, but noticeably.

You smile at the idea and carefully drying them without removing the water filled nub you put them on again, now you can feel that rear tickle as you walk and as you sit a slight pushing into your bumhole. Nothing too extreme but a nice cheeky feeling.

Exactly one week later the next package arrives, a little bigger this one barely fits through your letterbox. You rip it open to find a jumble of latex and another packing note. “Part 2 od the Latex Warehouse Partworks, enjoy the bra and stockings. Part 3 will need a signature and someone home to receive it.”

You look at them, they are the same blue latex, and feel just as delicious in your hands. You shower, wanting to experience them fully and carefully dress yourself, you pull on your panties, savouring their feel, then a thought strikes you and you wonder.

Yes, in the bra cups are more of those strange little nubs, you put the bra into warm water and twist and caress and notice that they too fill up with water. You smile as you put it on, taking a few moments to work out how as it has a complex arrangement of crossover straps but no buckles or fastenings. It feels delicious, the water even ripples you move, caressing your now hard nipples and the enhanced breasts seem to bring your form into even better shape.

You pull on the stockings, again that tight grip as they slide up your smooth legs is delightful. And once on it feels as if you are being caressed all over by soft hands, every step, twist or turn, brings a whole new sensation of being stroked and wrapped in this fine latex….

Cinderfella

A Christmas Pantomime…..

For the whimsical, for the open minded, for fun and festive times.

Sydney was not a happy boy, He was 17, and alone at home where his Stepmother and Stepsisters had left him to clean up after their whirlwind of preparations for the Princess’s Grande Yule Ball. He of course didn’t get to go, mostly as the world seemed to ignore his existence at his stepmother’s behest.

So there he was, washing the pots and pans and silently wishing he could go to the ball, except it wasn’t so silent, and his words seemed to hang in the air in a strange way, when poof, in a flash of glitter and sparkles two people appeared in the kitchen.

There were an odd couple, one in a well tailored Italian suit and fedora, the other in a pink cocktail dress. They looked identical. The thought they were twins flashed through Sydney’s mind. The oddest thing was that they were holding wands, not sticks, not batons, definitely wands.

‘I have been working too hard and the cleaning fumes have got to me,’ he thought.

The two strangers look at him before the girl said, “Sydders, you have to vocalise, we cannot read your thoughts, it is not allowed.”
He looked stunned and stammered, “But who are you?”

The woman looked at him. “We are your Fairy Godparents, I am Tiff and this.” Pointing to the man in the suit, “Is my husband Tiffany.”

Sydney just stood stunned. Tiff and Tiffany circled him arm in arm. “Yes.” Said Tiffany in a light voice “I think we can work with this.”

Tiff stood directly in front of Sydney and looked him in the eye. “State your desire Sydders, vocalise it, be clear. We can only do what you ask for, we cannot read intent, the rules mean we have to be very literal, like Genies.”

Sydney looked non-plussed, then thoughtful, and finally with a shrug decided to go for it. If it was real, yay! If it was not, nothing lost.

“I would like to go to the ball, meet the Princess and remain disguised so my Step family doesn’t recognize me.”

Tiff looked at Tiffany, Tiffany looked at Tiff, they both nodded and then grinned.

“Stand still,” they said in unison.

Sydney stood, in his old jeans, a battered T shirt, scuffed trainers and short clipped hair and waited. And waited. And waited…..

Then he wasn’t in Jeans or Kansas anymore….

The dress was silver, off one shoulder and cut so the opposing leg had a thigh high split, it clung to his curves perfectly, curves, well he may npot have had them before but he had them now! And the shoes, Silvered like a mirror and shining like glass, he wobbled, and heeled, very high heeled! He breathed out and found he could only take shallow breaths, his chest was…. Constrained and constricted and…..

Hi arms were upholstered in shoulder high gloves of silver silk, smooth and shiny. Along with the glossy sheer tights the whole description of him could be silver and shiny.

He bit his lip, and found it tasted funny. He must have pulled a face as Tiff said in his sweet voice, “Just the lipstick darling, won’t smudge until midnight, or your money back….

Lipstick he mouthed at the pair.

Tiffany finally had enough of her wife, and with a quick wrist flick made several mirrors appear so Sydders could see all his angles. From the top of his silver blond piled high hair, past the circlet, past his restrained but stunning made up face, past the dress and his tightly trim waist and down to his shimmering leg and the high heeled shoes.

He blinked, he blinked again, “But, but, but I am not a girl.”

“No.” Said Tiff. “But it meets all your requirements, no one will recognize you, you would stroll into the ball invite or not and….”

“But the Princess would never look at me dressed like this…”

“Oh dear boy, you really do not know the Princess…..”

Gina’s unexpected adventure.

Gina stood in front of the door nervously about to press the doorbell, why nervously, well, her attire was a little unusual. The short pleated skirt, the knee high socks, the 4”heeled MaryJane shoes, the white crisp shirt with a school tie, covered by a loose overcoat, were not the usual wear for a 25 year old man. Truth be told neither were the two pigtails, the read lippy and fingernails, and the brassiere with modest but definitely noticeable breasts.

Hanging from one shoulder were both an artist’s poster tube and her school satchel. She looked every inch an adult, but dressed as a pretty schoolgirl. And here he, no she, was about to ring the bell on Michaels door, so he as Headmaster could mark her homework….

It was a nice door, white, with a mottled coloured glass panel, and she stood in front of it under the porch light for a moment longer before ringing the bell.

She heard a bump from inside and then saw a shape come up to the glass and the door opened.

It was not Michael, we she suspected it was not, especially as it was a woman, 40’ish, stylishly dressed in a Black patterned dress, with a knee length skirt, fine sheer nearly black hosiery and heeled court shoes. Gina noticed that as her faced had dropped the moment she realised it was the wrong person at the door.

“Hello.” Said the woman brightly, and then a light intake of breath as she saw Gina properly, at 9pm a woman dressed as a schoolgirl was not a usual sight at her door obviously.

Gina somehow managed to mumble “Michael?”

“Oh you want my husband. Dooo come in.”

She pulled the door fully open and gestured Gina into the house. She hesitated.

“Come along girl, I don’t have all night for you to dither over it.” She said.

Gina dithered a little more, before the woman put her hands on her hips and demanded. “In or out girl? Make your mind up.” Then her voice softened as she added, “I have one cat, who can never make her mind up, I don’t need another.”

Gina entered head down, scared, nervous, worried but seemingly under no threat. This was not what Michael had said he had arranged, but the woman was not hostile, if anything Gina thought she sounded amused, slightly shocked, but amused.

“In her,” she said. As she led her into the lounge, soft beiges with a dark carpet, and signalled her to the sofa. “Do sit down.”

“Would you like a drink, tea, coffee, something stronger while I go and find Michael for you.”

Gina shook her head and looked down again, maybe coming in had been a wrong move but she felt she had little choice. She was obviously at the right house, but not greeted by the right person. She heard rather than saw the woman go to the foot of the stairs and shout for Michael, ‘to get down here now! As his guest was waiting….’

She walked back into the room and stood in front of Gina. “Don’t look so scared girl, I do not bite…. Often.” She reached out and gently with a finger under Gina’s chin raised her face so she could look at her properly.

“I am Melissa, how do you do,” and extended a hand.

Gina stood, “Gina, hello.” As she softly shook the proffered hand.

“Now we are introduced and waiting for Michael do take your coat off and get comfortable.” Melissa said, “he might be a while if he thinks he is going to be in trouble.”

“Look if I am causing trouble I’ll just leave.” Gina said, as she made to head for the door.

Melissa moved into her path, “Oh no young Lady, somehow I think you are innocent of this trouble. So do get comfy, please.” There was a kindly but almost pleading tone in her voice.

Gina relaxed a little and slowly slid out of her coat.

Melissa looked her up and down and smiled, “Nice outfit.” She said. “twirl for me.”

Gina felt her cheeks go red as she complied, a shuffled twirl was made, and after a full rotation she found herself facing a warmly smiling Melissa.

“Do sit, and are you sure I cannot get you a drink?”

Gina shook her head as she sat back down.

“So.” Melissa gestured at Gina’s outfit. “Is this normal evening wear, or some weird sexual thing I should worry about?”

“No, no no.” Gina said, “not sexual, well sortof.” She trailed off.

Melissa kneeled in front of Gina and again lifted her chin so they could look each other in the eye.

“Explain the sortof….”

“Well we don’t have sex.”

“But, I can hear a but in there….” Melissa smiled reassuringly. “Come on, tell Auntie Melissa.”

“Well he likes me to be…. To be a naughty schoolgirl, and then he can, can punish me…”

“Ooooooh, so he spanks you and things?”

“Well yes, and things….”

“What things, come on, details girl, details. What depravities does my husband inflict?”

“well.” Gina paused a long time. “He spanks me, he likes to cane me, and tawses me sometimes, and he likes to tie me up as well.”

“And you like this?” Melissa asked. “You do this of your own free will?”

Gina nodded and softly whispered “yes, yes I do.”

“And have you done this with Michael a lot?”

Ina hesitated again before answering. “Not a lot, a couple of times, once at a party, another time at my place and well…. This is my first time at his place.”

She took a deep breath and in a much firmer voice. “I am sorry I didn’t know he is married, he never said.”

“He never does.” Melissa sighed.

“Stay here, please.” Melissa stood up. “I think we have more to discuss. Oh don’t look so worried, I am not mad at you.”

She stood and this time strode out of the room. Gina heard her speaking after a moment, and realised she must be on the phone, as no replies could be heard. Then she heard her climbing the stairs, heels clacking on the bare wood. Gina shivered; it was a lovely sound, but what a mess she was in.

She heard loud voices upstairs, two different ones but while she knew they were arguing she could not tell what was being said. Next thing was a heavy bump, bump, bump as someone ran down the stairs, the front door opening and then slamming.

Gina jumped in her seat and was just standing up as Melissa re-entered the room.

“Apologies.” She said, “Michael seems to have run away.”

She stoof in front of Gina and looked her square in the eyes.

“So tell me, do you give as well as receive….”

It all started with my family

By Estarriol

It all started with my family, as such things often do. My sister was a leading actress (elongate the word for how she pronounced it) in the local Amateur Dramatic society, with pretensions to move on up. Anyway, Mum was also involved as an actress, and I at their behest, ‘we need the help, you’ll get out and meet people, your new years resolution was to get out and meet people you know!’ (Families, quoting back the things you say) I helped out backstage and set building and stuff with dad. No pretensions to act in me, happy to be a worker drone behind the scenes. In fact I was spending much of the time with Dave (sound) and Ivor (lighting) learning the technical side and being happy to climb ladders and recite lines etc. for them to test their set ups.

This year in the lead up to Christmas the Spendiham Players were doing a Panto, and had even been persuaded to do a run of matinees for local schools to attend, so instead of the three nights and a Saturday Matinee, we were running for a whole week, five matinees and three evening performances. It had taken the cast a bit of juggling to get the time off but they had managed, in the lead up it felt like a real Professional Company production instead of our usual shambling through!

All was good, even had a serious reviewer from the local city paper do a write up on us, and tickets were a hot item. Hell we might even make a profit from the show itself, not just the refreshments and programmes, seats on bums normally just covering the Hall rental and things.

So all was good until the Saturday before, when chief utility actor and general dogsbody Mark broke his leg playing rugby…. The news was heard about an hour before the final dress rehearsal, while I Dave and Ivor were doing final technical things ready for them, I was up the lighting tower adjusting a spot onto the stage to Ivor’s satisfaction, the last chance before we dissembled the scaffold tower to get it out of the way of seating.

Anyway I climbed down the tower and there was sis, and mum, and, well most of the cast. Uh Oh, this wasn’t good, what had I done now?

It turned out I had not done anything, it was doing something that was about to be discussed. Mark was out of the show, would I kinda, like, you know, maybe, fill in….. I looked at them, they were serious. So I agreed. He had no spoken lines that I remembered but was Pirate 2, the Gorilla, The Butler and something else, cameo fill ins to keep him busy when there wasn’t really a bigger part for him.

So dragged into the dressing rooms, and dressed, I’ll tell you something, a group of three Ladies ordering you around like Sgt Majors as clothes went on, off, back on, had its definite moments. Pirate on, loose but ok, Gorilla suit fine, Butler, need better trousers but the tailcoat is fine and then the final outfit, where my not checking first came back to bite me. The Fairy, summoned to finish off the play.
Now I was never the manliest of men, and despite being twenty, I didn’t really chase girls, yes I had asked girls out and been asked out, smooched and danced and fumbled etc., more because it was expected than anything else, but something had always been missing. When attraction had raised its head it had been with androgynous types, I wouldn’t say I was Gay or Bi, just a girlish man or a boyish woman ticked the buttons I had that firing in that area.

And truth to tell I did have a huge crush on Kat in the play, she was principle boy, pixie haircut, and all thigh slapping, leg showing boy, but wasn’t….. As far as I was aware she didn’t even know I existed, she always had a following of men around her, and a different boyfriend seemingly every season. That and she was a close friend of my sister, three, no, four years older than me and a world apart in terms of life.

Anyway, back to the story, Fairy, yeah, White basque, long blonde hair, coronet, petticoats and flouncy skirt, Elbow length gloves, wings, stockings…. Stockings! Fortunately the Theatre group ladies heels, man sized, panto use, one pair, were much too big. And I suggested as a joke, bovver boots, all this dainty fairy dress and then big black kick’em boots to finish it off. The wardrobe Ladies loved the idea, and as I had a pair, one more issue sorted.

So there I was, dressed in girls things, feeling…. Odd. Not bad odd, not wrong odd, not OH GOD I AM IN A DRESS odd, just out of my comfort zone odd.

“Right” said the Ladies who dress, “walk around, make sure you can climb the steps for your entry and stuff, and remember you have wings so you are wider than you think.” So I did as I was told.

I wandered around backstage, and into the hall, where I had been told I was to walk up the central aisle, throw magic dust on the audience and then up the steps at the side of the stage. It felt oddly good, something about the tightness of the basque and the pull on the suspenders, and the sheerness and smoothness of the stockings, were waking up sensations I had never really thought of. Then came the comments, critical ones, no you’re striding, smaller steps, you will need to shave your legs, ooooh don’t you look sweet, wanna date darling (Ivor, I will end you!), but all in good nature and it got me past my nerves and the cast had a laugh with me, not at me, except Ivor who got a lot of arm punches and pinches from the women in the cast.

What, he said, he has good legs. All eyes suddenly on me, petticoats lifted, do a twirl, I would have been safer as a calf in a circle of hyenas than in the middle of these women in the cast. I felt like meat on a butchers block, as they inspected me, the general consensus was…. Bitch! “He has better legs than us.” In the midst of all this though, one hand slid up the white nylons, softly, caressingly, fondly, I couldn’t see who it was, too many women crowded around, and then a snap of elastic as one of them did the obvious. Ow!

As I headed back to the changing room Kat sidled up to me, come and see me in a minute, she whispered, and winked at me. Because she had multiple costume changes and several of them very quick, so she had one of the two private dressing rooms, rather than the common changing area the rest of us were using.

I knocked and entered, still as the Fairy as there was no one free to unhook, unlace or undo me at the back for a moment. Kat smiled at me, a warm wide smile. “You do have great legs,” she said, “almost as good as mine.” I froze, is Kat, flirting with me, dressed as a girl? She came and stood with me, and I felt that soft hand again. Yes she was. Oh she definitely was.

“Hmmm Basque can be tighter, you have a waist but let’s make it a knockout, and you need a little padding.” I looked blank, “up here,” she said and cradled her own breasts, “you are a little flat, even for Panto Drag.”

My jaw must have dropped as she put a finger under it to close my mouth, then kissed me, kissed me hard, leant me over (dipped me I later learnt it is called) and made sure it lasted until I needed to come up for breath. Wow!, ummm Wow, great, ummm brain short circuit, out of cheese error, redo from start.

Kat moved back and laughed, oh you do blush prettily. I blushed even prettier. My crush was kissing me, caressing me, flirting with me, and I was basically in lingerie while she did it. While I stood in a stupor she rummaged in the Drama groups bits of costume chest, and finally came over to me with two nylon bags of something, rice or birdseed I think and pulling my cups out, dropped them into place.

“There you go, insta-cleavage.” She stepped back and looked at me carefully, “a little slap, better styled hair and you do make a very passable woman.” She smiled radiantly at me, kissed me on the cheek and sent me back out to the general melee of the backstage changing area. Where I was helpfully divested of the costume, so I could dress as Pirate 2 for the final run through which was about to start.

It passed in a blur, the Director sending me on at my prompt points, luckily having done the lighting I knew the marks to stand on, in each of my little cameos. Sword waving and general “Yahhhh’ing” as the pirate. Abducting the heroine (my sister) as the Gorilla was the highlight, especially when Kat rescued her by hitting me with her stage sword. Then, finally into the hall, up the steps, wand waving as the Fairy to close the show. All was going well, I could do this.

Then the bombshell, the Director thrust a page of lyrics into my hand, and the music started. I had a song. Oh shit, I had to sing, in front of people, dressed as a fairy…..

I managed, how? Don’t ask me, by this point I was punch drunk. I had been moving at 90mph for hours now and it was starting to tell.

Still rehearsal over finally, final points, props and costume checks, everything in place for Tuesdays first performance. “Oh, are you free tomorrow afternoon” the director asked, “if so come in and you can rehearse the song.” Ummmm yeah fine, by then I was so punch drunk I would have confessed to shooting JFK!

That night I struggled to sleep, it wasn’t just being dressed as a girl for the first time that got to me, it was being noticed by Kat that left me hot and bothered. I mean Kat, tall, athletic, knock out Kat, kissing me, caressing me, I mean, I had had a crush before, but the dial was now at 11!

Sunday morning was a fog, but normal, then I walked to the hall we were using for my rehearsal. Inside were the pianist and Kat, just in Jeans and stuff. She smiled, I melted. “Just here for moral support” she said, “I saw the song throw you.”

“Thankyou” I managed to get out, then the pianist got to work, scales to open my voice, song sheet and an admonition to ‘Learn the Words’ and we were off. After three or four run throughs we had it sounding acceptable and no longer scaring cats and making dogs bark. And we were done. With a passing reminder to learn them by Tuesday the Pianist was off. Leaving me with Kat, alone….

Hello, rabbit, headlights….. She laughed, “calm down, I am not here to ravish you… yet.” She winked. My heart leapt and did a right turn. “Oh come on” she said, “I need a coffee.” She locked up and we wandered round to the pub (not a lot of places open on a Sunday afternoon, small village). Two coffees, two slices of cake, well we had been working hard, and we sat at a small table, heads close as it was busy doing Sunday Lunches.

And we talked, well Kat started talking until I relaxed enough to jump in. Talking about herself, her job (yuck), the men who chased her (bigger yuck), her degree, her taste in books, ahhh finally something, we discussed books, she was a Sci Fi fan like me, and we agreed LeGuin topped the list, then onto music where again we had similar tastes, and we relaxed, I hadn’t realized she was nervous as well until the stream of chat.

I laughed, got the next coffee’s in and then yucked about my work and stuff, why I hadn’t gone to Uni, that sort of thing. Then we got onto my sister, oooh bitching session, except it wasn’t, she was a good sister, just older and with few overlaps that were not family. It was a definite getting to know you over coffee deal now. Oddly I found I had more in common with Kat than she did, interests wise. Then the big breakthrough, we got onto films, and actors and actress’s, ones we admired for skill (Robert De Niro) ones we admired for looks (Scarlett Johansson) and ones we had a crush on….

And that was it, we both crushed on Tilda Swinton…. Then a lightbulb moment, Orlando, and she looked at me, really looked at me, all serious and nodded. Now she was blushing, well only fair, I had been since before we arrived! But now her interest was explained, she liked androgeny in her men, rather than the macho types who wanted her as arm candy.

I went up to the bar to get us both another drink, no more coffee though, Lime and Soda’s this time and the barman, who I knew slightly grinned at me, “first date,” he asked? I kinda nodded, I wasn’t sure if it was, but it felt like one.

Having recovered slightly, back to business, “shave your legs,” she said. “You can see the hair through the lights, and you are neither hairy enough to be funny, nor smooth enough to not be noticed at the moment, so it looks wrong. Learn the words, Tuesday will be fine.” More talk, then time to go home, food called. We parted, Tuesday, and she kissed me, on the cheek this time, but not a peck, a proper kiss and waved as she headed off.

I floated home on cloud nine.

Tuesday came, the Play was the Thing, we had fun, Pirates pirated kids loved the Gorilla, and loved Kat chasing it and hitting it more, the aloof butler buttled, then time to Fairy, Wardrobe Mistress on hand, Basque, wow that’s tight, stockings onto freshly shaved legs….. I nearly died at the reaction, “well darling” she whispered in my ear, “you don’t think we ONLY wear them for men do you?” Skirts, wings, wig, breasts, coronet, wand, then boots. Wrong boots, these were bovver boots, but these had heels, stompy platform heels, and were bright cherry red, and were brand new.

“Kat left them for you.”

In all the palaver I had barely seen her, as she is onstage basically the whole show when not changing. But her fleeting grins in passing now made sense. I put two and two together, and I asked, “she adjusted the basque didn’t she?”

“Yes she did, said it was a bit loose so had a dart or two put in.” I mentally added her name to the hit list with Ivors. And off I pranced. It seemed to go down well with applause and much laughter (the song was a comic one). Curtain calls, bows onstage and we were done for the afternoon. Shattered, euphoric, and back to the dressing room, where I just sat with the rest of the cast for 10 minutes as we recovered.

Then out of costume, makeup off, reset everything in place for tomorrow, coats on and off home. As we went through the doors in a mass I felt a bum pinch, I don’t know who it was but I had my suspicions….

Wednesday much the same, but no more costume surprises, Thursday, the first two parter, the afternoon went well, it was a younger years classes and they were loud and exuberant and made everything extra fun. And then backstage to put in my needs on the Chinese order being collated. And to my surprise at my spot were flowers, and a card, addressed to the best legs in the show, from Mark (another one on the now growing list, he also made Kat’s for that one). Apparently my legs had a bigger fan club than I did.

Friday, same again, but really into the stride of the show, it ran slicker and quicker, the punchlines sharper, the pauses better, the ad libs honed, I think I was enjoying being on stage instead of backstage. Another convert to the greasepaint groupies.

Saturday morning, shattered, oh god more shows…. Shoot me now. Sis wakes me up with a mug of tea and a bacon roll. Uh oh…. Something was up.

Me was up it turned out. I had been volunteered to assist sis and Kat with last minute shopping as doing the Panto had seriously curtailed retail therapy time. It was then I realised it was 8:00 am…. I drunk the tea, ate the buttie, showered, shaved, top AND bottom as it were, as I had noticed my legs were feeling stubbly and scratchy the previous day, and still only half awake shambled into the kitchen where Mum, Sis and Kat were sat waiting for me.

“Right,” said Mum, “no breaking the Beast of burden and be at the hall by 1pm…. Or else…”

And off we jolly well went. Shopping with two attractive women was ok, realising they were hitting every Ladieswear shop in the complex, was less so. Especially as Kat would hold up something, look at me, the item, back at me and smile or shake her head. Plotting was afoot, I could tell. Still we stopped for lunch, I was carrying bags, Sis had bags, Kat had bags, I was beginning to worry about her car for space, but that was fine apparently, I could always go in the boot so as to not crease the clothes….

Kat dashed off for some last minute thing, and came back with yet another full bag. Then back to the car, back to Kat’s place briefly (closer than home) to drop off the bags and car, and walk to the hall on the dot.

Last two shows to go, the afternoon show, was raucous, and fun, they even wanted an encore of me. I think it was the masochists convention or something. Then a surprise back in the dressing room, on my chair was a wrapped parcel, red with red ribbon, quite large, and when I lifted it, it felt like several things were inside it. Then I saw the tag, ‘To my favourite Fairy, Well Done. Do not open until after the ‘after party.’’ I looked around and one of the other cast just mouthed Kat at me and smiled.

I put it out of my mind, did the final show, cheers applause, adrenaline, champagne backstage, backslapping, bum pinched multiple times, Mark even hobbled in on crutches and gave me a big kiss on the cheek for stepping in. We changed, we had a party to go to. Someone whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget your parcel.” I didn’t.

The afterparty had food, yay! Alcohol, yay! Kat in a white shirt, the black tailcoat I had butlered in and high heeled ankle boots over skintight wet look red leggings. She looked superb, all bossy and Ring Mistress. There was other good company to wind down with and in the end I found myself in the corner of the sofa, Kat on the arm, Sis next to me and someone else asleep on her as we chatted about my first time on stage and stuff. Finally yawns and a long week caught up and Kat dragged me out of the door, with my parcel wrapped in my arms as we headed back to her place, ‘for a nightcap’.

Sis headed home, “I’ll get the car and shopping tomorrow,” she said winking at me.

Me and Kat walked to her place, living in a village had its advantages, everywhere was close! I was all nervous again, not sure why I was here. I mean there were several reasons it could be, but none were being mentioned.

In through her door, and, I was grabbed and hugged and kissed, and I mean kissed, full on kissed, lipstick tasting, tongue wrangling kissed. Then finally up for air, and a big smile as she ordered me into the front room and to open my parcel, she wanted to see what her girl really looked like.

Amazing where a New Years Resolution to get out and meet people will lead you….

Hi good people here, late last year I was very involved here and did a lot of story work and read many fine works from you all.

Then I had an accident, I tripped on the pavement and went headfirst into a stone gate pillar.

It meant a trip to A&E for thirty stitches to my head and a repair to a damaged small artery, I have a scar line starting just above my eyebrows going vertically to the top of my skull.

The cut itself healed clean and neat, but I have had ongoing symptoms from it, things like nausea, lack of concentration, mild headache, lack of appetite and a few other things.

I finally and hopefully feel better and am trying to get some semblance of my life back.

Anyway, waves to all.

This story contain female domination, fetish scenes and deviant behaviour.

It is for OPEN MINDED ADULTS ONLY.

Read at you peril.

Wedding Day

Finally it was time for the lucky bride to get ready for the main part of her big day, first a shower, with ample use of the depilation cream, no stray hairs to ruin her panty line today. Then a good long clean in and around her small neat cock chastity device, again cleanliness was paramount today. She wanted to be perfect for her husband to be. And finally her hair, shampooed and washed, no need of a wig anymore, but having her own long blonde locks did mean a lot more maintenance. Oh the things a girl does to please her partner.

Then out of the shower, and wrapped in a long fluffy dressing gown while the girl came in and cut, polished and painted her toe and finger nails in a lovely girly pink. Then in rushed her bridesmaids, themselves all prettied up, except for their final dresses and ready to dress the bride.

‘Grooms orders’ they said. ‘No mistakes today’.

Firstly they placed the corset around her middle and pulled and pushed and shoved until it was done up so tight she could barely breathe, but it met at the back and its ivory coloured lace tracery over the white body shimmered and shone. Then they rolled the sheer, fine, white, nylon stockings up her hairless smooth legs and clipped them to the suspenders. Then the sheer see through lace fronted panties, again in white with ivory detailing. But through the mesh at the front her chastity device was clearly visible, again a reminder that though she was the bride of the day, she was still technically male.

The bridesmaids signalled for her to give a little twirl so they could enjoy her tight nipped waist and her splendid curves, the corset so tight there was no need for falsehood, the clever shaping giving her the appearance of neat trim breasts and even some cleavage. Then her shoes, they were white satin with silver tapering 6” heels, and a wide ankle band with a little silver lock. Once in there was no way out until her groom decided to unlock them.

Then perching on a stool, as sitting while the corset settled would be awkward, she had her makeup applied, a fine foundation, then understated eye shadow and liner, and the prettiest of pink lip stick painted on. Finally they added a thick, solid, layer of gloss to keep her lips wet and shiny all through the ceremony. Now onto the shoulder length Ivory silk gloves, carefully rolled up her arms and fixed with little buttons under the worsts and silk ties high on her arms.

Then out came the dress, a marvellous creation in white silk with Ivory lace work and detailing, and petticoats, so many petticoats to get the full flow of the circle skirt and train. Fitting it was almost an operation in engineering, making sure it was tight in the bodice over the corset under-pinnings and flaring from the widening of the hips, to accentuate the small waist and make it so alluringly feminine. The dress was strapless, but the over the finely fitted corset and with the dress makers art, it fit snugly over her breast area, then the little Raglan jacket to cover her shoulders and pull it all together, a confection again of white silk and the delicate ivory lace.

Then a wide ivory ribbon choker, with a lace rose at the front was delicately placed around her neck, the delicacy was needed as the steel core of the choker made it firmer than it looked. It was pulled tight at the back and the tell-tale of a little click told the wearer her wedding collar was now locked on.

Finally there was the veil, pinned into her hair and the lace covering her head, making an ivory embroidered lace waterfall flowing from the crown of her head.

The Maid of Honour led the pretty bride into the middle of the room and had her twirl, all the while taking pictures. Finally she rolled a blue garter from her own leg and kneeling before the bride, rolled it up her leg, to be both the something borrowed and something blue. Once it was high on the thigh, she gave it a playful snap and then let the skirts and petticoats drop to the floor. The Bridesmaids and bride all stood talking for a few moments until finally there was a knock at the door, and the call of ‘five minutes’ was given.

The Matron of honour, smiled and signalled the bride to turn around while she locked pretty silver handcuffs on her wrists and elbows, pulling her arms back behind her back and making her chest heave forwards in a most alluring way. Then with a final flourish she took the brides bouquet and placed the spray of flowers across her mouth so she could hold them in her teeth.

She was ready now to be led into the hall to be married…

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So it was time, she stood before the double doors leading into the Registry Office and took one last deep breath, her bouquet was in her mouth, her arms were bound behind her, her dress was perfect. It was time. She nodded and the doors were opened to the strains of the Wedding March as she slowly walked down the lush carpet.

From the aisles of friends and admirers came many oohs and smiles, and also many camera flashes as they captured her entrance and her slow walk down the aisle. Holding the train of the dress were the bridesmaids and at her side, the Matron of Honour. The walk seemed endless, and in front of her, her husband to be turned and smiled at her.

She was dressed traditionally as well, a long morning suit over pinstripe trousers and polished black brogues. A crisp white dress shirt and bow tie, and in her hands a top hat. Her hair was slicked back in a mannish style, but her makeup was feminine and perfect, pale cheeks with smoky eyes and bright crimson wicked, decadent lips. The final statement was made by her trousers, tight at the waist they showed up her manhood as being well endowed.

The bride continued her slow hobbled shuffle until she stood beside her groom, her Matron carefully unlocked the arm and wrist chains and handed them formally to the fiancé, along with the keys to them. She removed the bouquet from her friends mouth and placed it into her hands, and with a peck on her cheek and a whispered good luck she smiled and stepped aside. The Registrar, somewhat red faced but willing, started the service. He asked about any who knew reasons and all the various pre-ambles before finally asking her if she loved, honoured and promised to obey her new husband. She ‘did’ in a soft breathless voice and looked deeply into her husband’s eyes as (s)he repeated the vows to love, cherish and discipline her new wife. The registrar then asked them to exchange rings, asked the groom to kiss the bride.

She expected a brief kiss, but no, her husband took her in her arms and bent her over before fixing their painted lips together for one long sensuous, earthy kiss which left her breathless and flushed when they finally parted. The assembled room applauded and shouted now as the registrar finally pronounced them Husband and Wife.

The husband then took her wife’s wrists and using the cuffs locked them together again, in front this time, so she could throw the bouquet when it was time. And linking her arm inside her wifes, she led the way out of the room and off to the reception. They could have been any newly married couple.

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The reception however was a different matter, many of the guests had taken the chance to change into their best party wear, and there did seem to be a lot of black in the hall as the band struck up for the evening festivities. Of course the bride had some preparations done to allow her to thank all the guests for attending. Into the middle of the hall had been wheeled a small steel barred cage, into it was stuffed the bride, just her head sticking out of the round hole in the top of the bars. Her ankles were cuffed to fixing points as was her wrist chain. So now all she appeared as, was a boxed confection of silk and lace, and a head exposed. Her veil was removed, and a nice big O ring gag was fitted by the groom, who also fitted a padded seat onto the cage box in front of her head. Then she sat there, spread her legs and undid her flies, letting the well-proportioned cock she had been packing all through the service out into the air and then into her bride’s mouth for the first face fucking as a married couple. The first of many I am sure by the smile on the grooms face. The Bride would have smiled but her lips and tongue etc. were otherwise engaged at the time….

Once the Groom had finished her initial servicing, she stepped aside to allow others to take the hot seat and be thanked by the boxed bride. And they did, men, women and the in-betweens all let her willing tongue and open mouth show the appreciation for her special day.

Then came the various festivities, guests were busy comparing costumes, admiring footwear and bondage gear and rattling the chains or tightening the ropes and straps of the many confined guests, while the bride was released from her cage.

Once free she was allowed to tidy her dress and to redo her lipstick and makeup, and repair the other damage to her face that the various fluids that had leaked or jumped onto it had caused. Then finally, once more the blushing bride in her finery she was led onto the dance floor by her groom and they had the traditional first dance. It was a long slow smoochie number and they held each other close, with the groom whispering in her ear and kissing her cheek and neck all through the number. The bride just seemed to float, lost in a world all of her own.

Then the band struck up its second number and the various dominants got to take the bride for a spin around the floor, while the groom enjoyed herself with various bound slaves, most of them too immobilised to move she was just spanking them in time to the tune and eliciting various ‘ows’ and ‘yelps’ as counterpoint to the music.

Then to the final formal part of the event, the cutting of the cake, ahhhh the cake, it was a single tier round white iced cake with a white Icing pentagram across the top, partially obscured by the bride figure that the confectioner had placed onto it spread-eagled and marzipan chained to 4 of the salient points and the groom figure stood over her on the fifth point above her head. And the figures were good likenesses of the happy couple. The pair approached it and hand in and they gripped the long sharp knife and sliced into the succulent cake, the room cheered and clapped and there even a few muffled yelps
Now the formalities were over the festivities began, dancing and chatting between guests, some of the submissives were led off into the side rooms containing the various pieces of equipment that had been laid on for the party and soon the bands swinging style had the counterpoint of torture and whippings etc. to contend with.

During this time the bride spent her time stood against a pillar to the side of the dancefloor so she could watch the festivities , but with her arms pulled around it and chained at the back, she was unable to join in. Although there did seem to be a steady stream of admirers who took advantage of her bound position to kiss and talk to her, play with her nipples and clamp and abuse them, or even some of the ruder ones place various things into her hands to stroke or otherwise handle…

As the evening wore on, and the party got into full stride, the groom released her blushing bride and led her to get changed into her going away outfit. As they entered the side room and the bride saw what was laid out for her, she hesitated, but her groom tightened the grip on her arm and whispered into her ear, ‘oh no my sweet, you’re mine now, so smile and accept your fate.’
Laid out for her was a great deal of latex, and she slowly started to disrobe from her white virginal wedding apparel in readiness for the much more knowing ensemble that awaited her.

Once nude the groom took her in her arms and kissed her long and deeply, her tongue reaching and searching into her prizes mouth forcefully even as she attempted to return the kiss. Then she stepped back from her bride and signalled the dressers into the room to assist, smiling as she slipped out of the door and locked it after herself.

The three dressers all formal in their sensible suits advanced upon her and quickly had her sprawled onto the bed face down while an infernal device was entered into her pretty arse. Then came the steel waistband and the under crotch steel band to hold the anal invader, than she was roughly turned over as they fitted the front band of the chastity belt to her. Her cock now stuffed and locked away in its Steel prison and they checked and adjusted all the tolerances before finally clicking shut the padlock that totally secured her for her husband’s usage.

Then two of them started rubbing an oily substance on her nude legs, so they could slip and slide the clear latex catsuit up her legs, the lubricant making the task easy. Then onto her body their hands went and down the arms before sliding her into the rest of the catsuit and zipping her into it. Now she was covered from her toes to her neck and all down to the tips of her fingers in a clear light catsuit, moulded to her body shape. Then came the thick heavy Black corset, tightened around her waist and laced and laced until her hourglass shape was perfect. The latex panties were then pulled up over the catsuit , before long black stockings and the shoulder length gloves in black. The dressers then had an orgy of rubbing and polishing to make her shine. Then a blouse in black rubber was buttoned onto her and a long bubblegum pink, back laced pencil skirt in rubber was moulded on before they finally slipped her feet into the black 6” heeled Oxford shoes and laced them on tightly.

Again polishing was done to make her shine and her makeup was repaired and finally one of them stood her by the locked door and rapped on it. The door opened and there stood her husband, dressed in a business suit with a knee length skirt over sheer nylons, high heeled court shoes and a tight severe tailored jacket with a white shirt showing from underneath. Her hair was pulled back tightly and her face was made up smoothly but dramatically, there could be no doubt that she was in charge. As she saw her bride stood in her layers of black latex and the shocking pink contrast from the skirt she smiled warmly and gently kissed her on the cheek, careful to not smudge her lipstick, and reached up with her black leather gloved hands to lock a fine silver Celtic torc style collar around her neck. Then she attached a leash to the torc and gently pulling led her bride back to the reception for the final part of the wedding ceremony.

Once more the dance floor was clear and sat in the middle of it was an old fashioned trunk, its lid open and its insides bare except for lengths of leather with buckles. The bride had a terrible premonition, but was led forwards and assisted from behind by the dressers until she stood before it. She looked into the eyes of her husband who smiled warmly at her before making a gentlemanly bow and gesturing her into the box. With hands holding her steady she stepped over the edge, a fraught task given the height of her heels and the tightness of the skirt and into the box. She was pressed to lie down on her side so a gas mask could be fitted to her. Thankfully she could see the tube leading to an air hole in the side of the box. Then the restraints were fitted, pushed and pulled until she was fixed and bound into the trunk, ready to travel for her honeymoon. Then blowing her a kiss her husband closed the lid and she heard the click of the locks sliding home.

Welcome to married life she thought….