Marriage
The wedding ceremony was simple, dignified, and rather ‘legal’ in its focus. That said, with Tristan as Dave’s Best Man, and Pierre as mine, we got through it safely. The reception was a rather larger gathering than I’d expected and, as I quickly realised, included the entire membership of the Hell Fire Club! Throughout Dave had been tightlipped about our Honeymoon, and even seated in the back of the vintage Rolls-Royce would not say where we were going, so I was blown away to find myself leaving the car in the Hell Fire Club’s hidden car park.
Jethro held the door, grinning broadly in his shiny latex suit. Beyond him Paul, Colin and Ben waited. Ben and Colin wore heavy latex bondage suits, their crotches encased in shiny steel Carrara chastity belts, though their hands were still free of the mitts dangling from their wrists. Both grinned broadly, their heads and faces still free of the impressive looking hoods and muzzle gags attached to their suits. Paul wore a latex suit like Jethro’s.
Dave slid out of the car to join me, and hugged me from behind, laughing.
“We share our wedding day with Jethro, Colin, Paul and Ben, love.” Dave informed me as I relaxed into his embrace. “They opted to get in ahead of us, so we could all celebrate in style later.”
“Congratulations to you all!” I exclaimed, embracing and kissing each in turn. “Do I get the feeling I’m going to end up having a change of outfit?”
“Our two gimps will get you properly dressed, love.” Dave’s kiss on my neck was loving. “I’ll meet up with you at the house.”
“Get me dressed …?” The penny dropped in my head and I laughed. “Lead me to my wedding fate, fellow gimps …” Stealing a kiss from each, I teased, “Guess we gimps need to learn our place in these marriages!”
It took the combined efforts of all three to get me into the bondage suit, but it was worth the effort. I recognised it, a product of my husband’s creativity, it was very tight fitting, made of heavy grade rubber and had so many cuffs and locks it would take a long time to be freed. The cuffs had dual purpose—restraint and to hinder any removal since they were all locked over the various zip sliders. My cock and balls were locked into a Carrara chastity belt, there was a butt plug in my butt, my hands were encased in mitts, my head in a hood that restricted vision prevented speech and limited hearing. With the suit on I was helpless.
“Oh good, he’s ready.” Tristan joined us, grinning, as Paul and Jethro fastened the mitts and hoods to their respective partners. “The groom is at the house, and we will now leave you three ‘brides’ to make your way down to it.” To Jethro and Paul, he said, “You three grooms will have fun on the ‘key’ hunt together I think. Pierre’s really quite creative!” Stroking my rubber covered butt, Tristan chuckled. “Think you can get to the house, Tom? Enjoy the stroll …” Leaning close to my hood, he said quietly, “You’re carrying the final key David will need. Enjoy his search for it, my dear.” Stepping back, he announced, “But first, our brides must have their wedding photos taken!”
The photo session was hilarious for us, but especially for the onlookers. We were posed individually, and then together for quite a number of pictures in our bondage suits. Some of the poses suggested we were trying to escape, some that we were trying to free each other … it was huge fun, but finally we were done, and now it was time to find our ‘husbands’ and enjoy our wedding night.
Escorted by Colin and Ben, both only marginally less restrained than I was, we set off. In this restrained state it was a longer walk than when not, and, with a butt plug in your backside, somewhat ‘exciting’. It was fun and the three of us supported each other as we shuffled, in my case ‘lurched’ thanks to restricted knee movement in the suit, and finally arrived at the house to find the ‘staff’ waiting to greet us.
Behind them Paul and Jethro flanked Dave, now also ‘dressed’ in a latex suit like Jethro and Paul, waited. All three grinned happily as we approached.
“I hope you guys know who is who there,” joked Pierre. “They all look deliciously the same like that!”
“Oh, I think I’d know my Tom anywhere, even in a rubber burkha.” Dave retorted, stepping forward to hug me. “God, you look gorgeous like this!”
Unable to reply, I simply leaned into his embrace.
“Let the key hunt begin,” called Pierre. “None of the keys are labelled, so each ‘find, means you ‘husbands’ will have to try each lock on your ‘bride’s’ suit. Good hunting.”
Laughing, the trio of ‘husbands’ began the search, each of them keeping his ‘bride’ close. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they had at least some idea of what they were looking for and that the search was confined to the grand salon, the main staircase well and the drawing room on the other side of it. In all each of us had seven locks to be released, one being the chastity belts we all wore, another being the muzzle gag, the cuffs imprisoning our hand, and the zip sealing the only entry to the suit itself. And the suit had to be removed to free the butt plug and allow access to the chastity belt.
As all the keys were unique, every time Dave found one, he first had to try it on my locks, and if it didn’t fit, he passed it to Jethro or Paul, and they went through the ritual. It was fun, it was frustrating, and a real challenge particularly for us ‘brides’ as we were slowly released from some restraints, but had to wait for another key to be found before something else could be released.
The gags were one such item—the keys for all three gags were among the first found, but, could not be removed until the hoods could be removed, and … you guessed, those keys were among the last found. And there was one more trick when we were all released from the suits, but still unable to find the keys for the chastity belts …
“Where the hell of you hidden them?” Dave demanded, half laughing and half frustrated. “We’ve almost dismantled these rooms and the staircase. I’ve even searched the damned statues several times.”
“Ah, but you haven’t searched everything, dear boy.” Tristan teased. “You haven’t searched your lovely partner, and nor has Jethro or Paul.”
“Searched …” Dave stopped. “But he’s only got that damned belt on now. It can’t be inside the belt, not even you are two that devious!”
“Oh, it was tempting, but impractical, of course …” Pierre laughed. “You might have missed something there though …”
“Um, Dave,” I stopped him quietly. “I think I get it. Where did you dump my suit?”
“Your ..?” Dave smiled. “Damn, come on. I know exactly where this devious pair of absolute bastards will have put it …”
“Here steady on, old chap, our parents may have been rather, er, unkind, but they were married …” Tristan protested, grinning.
Dave located the suit where we’d left it over a sofa in the salon, and began to search in all the obvious places. I picked up the muzzle gag and examined it carefully. It had a thin ‘tongue’ depressor for inside the mouth, and I felt that carefully.
“It’s here,” I said, handing the gag to Dave. “Inside the tongue piece. You can feel it.”
“Brilliant.” Dave managed to detach the flat ‘tongue’ and sure enough the key was what it has been hiding. Only problem, it wasn’t the right kind of key.” “Damn. Okay, guys, what’s the trick here?”
“Well done,” Tristan said as the others located their identical style keys. “Take your partners to your suites, you lucky people. Those keys will open a little gift we’ve put in your rooms and inside that …” He laughed. “Enjoy your wedding night.”
“We intend to,” Dave said, slipping a possessive arm round my waist and kissing me. “Don’t keep breakfast for us, we’ll see you when we come up for air …”
In our suite, we didn’t rush. Dave took his time removing the main body of the bondage suit from me, and I took my time stripping his rubber suit off him. By mutual agreement, the chastity belt was the final item he dismantled, and then we rolled onto the bed and simply enjoyed the physical contact. We’d come a long, long way since the night of the flooding, and my taking shelter in the Oubliette.
It seemed like a lifetime ago now, and now we were officially ‘married’, legally partners, Mister and Mister, with our lives stretching ahead of us. Laying in Dave’s arms, surrendering slowly to his caresses and kisses, I felt almost overwhelmed by my feelings toward him. He was my rock, my anchor, the strong fortress in whose embrace I was safe. He was the love of my life, the reason for my happiness, the only man I loved without reserve.
Under his prompting, I surrendered my erection to his attention, and lay back spreading my legs to give him full access to my crotch and control of it. No words were needed as his expert mouth explored my erection, my scrotum, and the most sensitive parts. My ‘husband’ knew every millimetre intimately, and how best to stimulate it. Nor was he done when I came. I needed no command to raise my legs, lift my hips and accept his penetration …
Eventually, spent, wrapped in the glow of our sex, we slept. The morning would bring our first full day as a married couple.
