"If You Were My Bride"
A Short Story
By JB
"Is that tight enough?"
"No. A little tighter."
"There ..."
She was talking to herself as she tied a scarf as tightly as she could around
her neck.
She was finally going to meet him at a cafe that day and he'd said to dress to
please him.
She'd asked what he meant.
He'd said she should know what he likes by now.
"Just give me a pointer, I mean, how can I wear what you write about in public?
I can't wear bondage gear, people will look ..."
He told her she could please him in a subtle way and be just as extreme ... "Use
your imagination!"
For example she could wear a scarf wound as high, and wide, and as tight as she
could endure.
"Ah yes," she had replied, "and a corset under my blouse maybe?"
He was encouraging.
They set the time, mid-day at the lobby Bar of the Hyperion Hotel on Main
Street.
It would be crowded that day, with women come into town to do their Christmas
shopping.
If he liked the look of what she'd done he would ask to join her and offer her a
mint tea.
If how she dressed didn't please him he wouldn't even say hello.
She was really going to have to use her imagination to catch his eye.
She had no idea what he looked like.
She had, however, read all his short stories, and a couple of his novels, and
seen one of his movies - so she had a pretty good idea of what he liked and what
he didn't like.
They'd been exchanging e-mails for a few weeks and when they realized they lived
in the same city they finally agreed to meet.
It seemed to make sense.
She found everything he imagined so arousing, and they really did seem like a
perfect fit in so many ways.
She was in her mid-thirties and although he was in his mid-forties she felt that
the age gap wouldn't be a problem.
Being on the same page sexually helped and she hoped that - seeing as they knew
so much about each other already - she would be able to find out quickly whether
or not they were right for each other.
So they had agreed upon a very public place for their first meeting and had both
told friends where they'd be and when to expect them back at their respective
apartments.
She had never dated like this before and was really quite excited at the
prospect.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
This was the third outfit she'd tried and she still didn't like the way she
looked.
She took the scarf from her neck.
Pulled her jeans off.
And the T-shirt.
And looked at her slim naked body in the mirror ...
She was a very well-kept, relatively fit woman, successful at her job and with
relatively good self-esteem so why did she long to be tortured?
She'd never really know...
He mind wandered as she stroked her firm proud tits ...
Why did she relish the idea of her tits being tightly bound in wire as he'd so
often described in his short stories?
Why did the mere thought of it arouse her ...
Then a series of images filled her mind.
How she would be for him.
Her waist squeezed into a long punishing corset.
Her legs hobbled by a long tight skirt.
Her toes tortured as she struggled to balance on the highest heels.
Her arms strapped tightly behind her.
Her neck kept high and strangling in tightly strapped steel and leather.
Her mouth gagged in a veil of wire mesh so tight about her face and jaw, so very
tight her eyes cannot blink.
Her hair pulled up painfully and wound into a tiny smart ball then used to
suspend her as he tightened and tightened her collar strangling her and then
tortured her tits even more...
Okay enough of that ...
Now she was all hot again ...
She went back to her computer to look at his last three e-mails.
An exchange called "if you were my bride."
Maybe this would help ...
"Dear S, if you were my bride you'd have to submit yourself to such a strict
regime of restraint and torture that you'd soon wish you'd never entertained the
idea. It would probably be far too much for you to endure, so maybe we shouldn't
even entertain that thought and both stay single and happy and continue to be
friends. Yours JB."
"Dear JB, I'm even more excited by the possibility of hearing what life would
be like if I were your bride and would do anything to find out if this were a
possibility. Yours S. P.S. Send me what you'd expect of me and don't hold
back."
"Dear S, you've read my stories, you know what I like. I'd expect you to have
the strength of will and confidence to enjoy, and I mean truly "enjoy", being
tortured by, and submitting to, me. You will willingly follow a dress-code that
means that you are bound so tightly at ALL times that you are always barely able
to breath and be constantly at the point of near strangulation. Every week it
will be your duty to subject yourself to a new torture in your bondage that will
impress me even more. If I am sufficiently impressed you will be rewarded by
either whippings, stranglings, gaggings, rack and or other tortures while you
are mercilessly fucked every night. If I am not impressed you will be locked in
a strangling tight iron maiden for a week until you come up with a better idea.
You will be dressed by my assistant during the day and dressed by me at night.
You will serve my every whim. In return you will be kept in luxury and want for
nothing.
Variety is the spice of life and keeps the romance of any relationship alive.
There, hope this doesn't scare you off. Yours JB."
"Dear JB, far from it. I'm totally on for it and am eager to meet with you if
you have the courage. Please send me your phone number and I will call you and
we'll arrange to meet. Yours S."
"Dear S, my number is (he gave it) call anytime after seven this week and we'll
make arrangements. Can't wait to hear your voice. JB."
When she called him she was overjoyed to hear a rich French accent answer. He
sounded friendly and warm and best of all, he had a good sense of humor - one
that was similar to hers. They laughed about the way in which they'd met and
exchanged a few stories about their recent past. He said he was unattached at
the moment, and so was she, so why not meet and see where this goes.
He wouldn't tell her his name though, and there was no name on the caller ID on
her phone.
In a burst of excitement she sent him her photo.
He liked it.
But he said he'd rather not send her a photo of himself though.
Why?
If she trusted him and his intuition then she'll know that her level of
commitment was the deciding factor here.
He would have to know about that, see proof of it before he showed himself to
her.
This was the true test to see how submissive she could be.
How much cruelty she could enjoy for him.
And now it was the morning of their meeting and she had to get her outfit right
or she may lose this opportunity...
This chance at genuine happiness.
She looked at all his stories and saw that all of them focused on breath control
of some kind, and varying degrees of helplessness.
So she started over and this time she chose her outfit very carefully.
She decided on her four-inch high-heeled boots, and a pair of leather pants.
She didn't want to hobble herself today - though she longed for the day when he
would hobble her.
But now she thought that he'd enjoy the confidence she showed by wearing pants.
Then she decided, that in contrast to the freedom the pants gave her, she would
corset herself as tight as she could, and bind herself in every other way
possible that wouldn't get her chucked out of the hotel lobby.
She started to dress again.
First, she put on her favorite corset and after struggling managed to get her
waist down to 22 inches!
Over this, she put on a very smart white shirt blouse with a high collar that
she left undone for the moment.
Then she pulled on the tight leather pants, and the boots.
She decided to tuck the shirt blouse in, and put on a wide belt, and buckled it
as tight as she could.
She looked very striking, maybe too much so.
A bit like a pirate.
She laughed ...
So she decided her long leather coat would help mute it down.
She tried the coat on.
Yes, that looked great, very subtle.
She tried sitting down.
The corset made it almost impossible for her to breath when she was sitting.
If he didn't like this, he was a fool.
Now for her neck...
She suddenly remembered something he'd written.
She rushed to her dresser and pulled out her longest silk scarf.
Then she got out a 5 inch wide leather belt and a pair of sharp scissors.
She got her tape measure, and measured her neck.
A 12 inch circumfrence at the top.
5 inches long.
And 13 inch circumfrence at the bottom.
She cut the leather belt into a simple strip 10 inches long and leaving it 5
inches wide.
Then she wrapped the leather strip up in the scarf.
She smiled.
So she would be wearing a leather collar, but it would be hidden, and this way
she could wear it as tight as she, and he, liked.
She stretched up her chin and placed the leather-lined scarf around her neck.
She had to wind the remaining scarf length three times round her neck and
tighten it quite a lot in order for the leather strap not to show ...
This meant even though it looked like a soft scarf wound tight and high around
her neck, it was in fact a very stiff, very high, very tight leather collar, one
that wouldn't loosen.
God, it was uncomfortable!
It was as if her neck was in a steel collar.
The steel collar and metal face-bondage he wrote about was what turned her on
the most, and just the mere thought of this was bringing her to an orgasm. She
wanted to tighten the scarf even more but the only problem was, her face was
turning red and purple from being nearly strangled like this.
Solution!
She would put a light colored foundation on and maybe wear a veil... ?
No!
The foundation would be enough.
Then if anyone looked closely they'd see her eyes were bulging a little ...
This was sure to work.
Then she tried closing the blouse collar over her scarf choker.
It wouldn't close.
That was a shame.
It was already 11am.
She'd have to rush ...
She put on the coat, gathered her things, went out to her car and set off for
the Hyperion on Main Street ...
The hotel lobby was almost full when she got there and it was ten minutes to
twelve, she sat at a table by the window. Holding herself very straight because
her corset was so tight.
People looked at her.
She didn't look back, she just sensed their eyes on her ...
Then she noticed at the next table, by the next window there sat another young
woman, similarly straight-laced and erect.
Their eyes met.
The younger woman's eyes were wide and surprised beneath a tight lace veil, as
if she were struggling for attention but to no avail.
The veil loosened under her chin and then was gracefully draped around her neck
and shoulders.
But under the veil S could see that the Young Woman's neck was stretched to what
must have been at least seven inches in an even higher tapering collar of steel
and leather!
The collar was far more impressive and punishing than her puny scarf.
And to top things off the Young Woman was wearing a long velvet cape where the
openings for the hands are closed with little straps, on the outside, and the
cape is fastened at the back of her. So someone must have dressed her. Then
god knows what bondage she is in under that cape ...
Good grief, had JB set it up to meet two blind dates here and they were in
competition against each other. Could he really be that cruel?
Then she looked at the table in front of the Young Woman and saw that there were
two cups set there, and a teapot ... She was with someone. Maybe she was with
JB?
This was intolerable.
S got up from her seat and walked stiffly to the ladies room.
In the ladies room she looked at herself in the mirror.
Thought for a moment.
Then decided she wasn't going to be beaten!
She took the ends of her scarf and tightened it even more around her neck.
She was gasping, for air ...
But now her neck was so tightly bound she could close the high linen collar of
her blouse quite easily and she looked very smart, even if she was definitely
strangling ...
She stiffly and almost swooning made her way back to her seat.
The Young Woman was gone ...
She sat at the table ...
God! Her collar and her corset seemed to be getting tighter.
Her fingers lifted to her throat ... She was on the verge of fainting.
In that moment another hand closed around hers ...
And a voice softly gasped, "No ... You mustn't loosen it. You have made the
right choice..."
The hand was tightly gloved in leather ...
It belonged to The Young Woman, who now had been allowed to open her cape enough
to reach out to S.
Behind her, a tall handsome man, smartly dressed in a suit and tie, stood
smiling. His voice, in a gentle but firm French accent quietly asked the waiter
"Please, waiter, there will be three of us this afternoon. My assistant and I
are being joined by my fiance."
Then he looked at her ... "Would you like a mint tea, my darling"
Then she gasped, her throat so tightly bound she could barely make a sound,
"Yes, I'd love a mint tea, thank you ..."
The End.
