Bridaled For Bullion by TRB

Bridaled For Bullion

By

Timothy Reisling Betticut

“And his blood workup?”

The elegant woman in the long medical coat tapped some keys

and the large screen reassembled into a half dozen graphs,

each with at least three different functions  squibbling

their colored paths between the axis.  “Well, it’s clear

that Mr. Kerl is heterosexual,” polite laughter followed the

remark from one of the technicians toward the front of the

table. “And it’s also clear that he likes breasts. Wow, I

don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pronounced attraction to

secondary sexual characteristics,” a remark that brought

nods from all six of the specialists in the darkened room.

“And here,” the first woman drew up another screen, “is

precisely the right place!”

*** ***

“Slide down on it honey… Come on, it’s all slick and

you’re lubed up good, just sit down and keep smiling for the

video Dear.” Self-impalement. Timmy was slowly squatting

down onto the high stool, one hand on the four inch dong

pointing upward from the seat, the other holding his bridal

skirts bunched up high in back, every millimeter he dropped

tightened another tendon in his neck and chin. His legs

shook as he stood atop the second rung from the floor, the

only way he could get high enough to bring his bottom atop

the impaler. Ooooo, it was at his opening, now… now slowly

into… “Drop down Babe. Speed it up. Kay?”

*** ***

The Capucin Institute of America is funded for one purpose.

To develop techniques to control people. And they quickly

discovered that people are best controlled though their most

primal hard wiring – sex. Women know that without studies.

But even the most sophisticated female knows she has a

problem. See, we are a species that lacks an estrus. Our

females do not go into occasional heat. So when they are

hormonally driven, they need to be able to demonstrate the

fact. We are also a species where the male is drawn to the

female by every sense. And one where the female needs to

decorate herself to maximize that sensual attraction.

Problem is, those decorations are difficult to focus. A girl

might be attracted to an earthy brute. But if her gritty

savage has a set of fantasies different from the ones she

adopts, she’ll get a wrong number. So women discovered that

they need the largest range of lures, especially when they

have no one particular man in mind. Those temptations tend

to work on the largest number of men, and can often result

in both unintended and messy consequences. In a word, rape.

So The CIA has at first concentrated on manipulating men in

their search for perfect control. Millions of tests by the

most sophisticated computers have resulted in the CIA-

Battery. Derk Kerl maintains security for the Federal

Reserve Bank of New York. In that bank’s basement is much of

the world’s gold supply. Question, how to get Derk Kerl to

allow an intruder access to the loot?  Heather Kittaen

picked Kerl up. Seduced him. Slipped him “mm of Minoxidoxin.

She slid him into The Sarcophagus and then they gave her

subject the CIA-Battery.

*** ***

Had to relax, let the greased head in. He could feel the

boning of his savagely laced corset forcing his back

straight, feel his calves bulge from the strain of  four

inch spikes, feel his golden curls tossing over his bare

shoulders while the chandelier earrings jounced at his neck.

Careful, don’t fall. Can’t let himself lose his balance.

“That’s it, I’m in close to your face now, lick your lips

and keep them parted. Smile Teather and look startled as it

crams up into you. Great, that’s it. Come on, work with me

Sweets.” Down and down he came. Up and up it went. The gown

was off-the-shoulder with a fat flounce of lace all around.

Hair and lace and clouds of crinolined skirts, couldn’t see

back there. How far to the seat? Oooooo, so full. Four

inches seemed so far. Ahhhh…  So… Ow! Soooooo….

oooo….

“Great. Now wriggle and giggle. Come on a little happy

squeal now that you’re completely onto it and fluff your

skirts out all around, make a ring. GREAT! Stool’s the

perfect height, they just touch the floor. It looks like

you’re standing there. Keep your fat red lips wet Babe, and

now flounce your curls. Fluff them out and let your boobies

jiggle against the satin. Wonderful, it just sparkles in the

lens under those lights. Your nipples look so big and hard.

Stamp your feet a little and bounce just a bit so everyone

can see how good it feels. Come on, DO IT, and smile, smile,

smile!”

*** ***

You’ve got an aura. Oh not the weird thing that ESP geeks

sing about. Nope. But it’s a fact that your brain waves can

be read outside of your head. You know that. Put a naked

body inside ‘The Sarcophagus’, turn on the stimuli, and the

measurements are more revealing than anything – anything –

you can determine in any other way. As you know, Minoxidoxin

will sedate you while giving your brain a hormonal washing

that mimics the return of puberty. Inside ‘The Sarcophagus’

the naked Derk Kerl was bathed in visuals and sounds, scents

and touches – literally billions of them. And his aura told

it all. After just fifteen minutes the great Cray Computers

had a hypothesis.

And now with the blood workup in, the team in that dim room

had a conclusion. There was no doubt about Kerl’s

fundamental fantasies, even his kinks and fetishes. The

right slightly boyish blond, prepared with this material

could make Derk Kerl beg, or rape. Regardless, his

reactions, caught on tape would be enough to coerce him to

anything. Because now they knew what would most shame Derk

Kerl.  “One thing’s certain, the bait in this case has to be

very careful. Or at least we should be sensitive to the fact

that he could be…” “Hurt? Raped? Killed?” The elegant

woman asked the man at the table’s head. “So what? It’s

clear that our agent shouldn’t be the prey, but the hunter.”

*** *** ***

Too many feelings jouncing around inside of Tim  Mitty as he

wriggled and whorled atop the tall stool flouncing his

virginal white skirtings, peering through his thick bangs,

arranging the yards of sparkling material that fell down the

back. But if he was going to get this awful mess over with,

he had to keep some of his sanity. He leaned backward now

and poked his gloved hands under his hems feeling about at

the base of his terrible stool for the silken ribbons tied

to the stool’s rungs.  “Well, you’re going a little fast,

but ‘kay, pull out the ties and yea, wrap them about your

waist. Great. Now how about a big bow in the back. I know

you can’t see it, not to worry, we’ll get it fixed real

sweetly afterward and cut it in. What’s important is that

you’re tying yourself down. Uh – huh. Now the ankles?”

Tim bunched Teather’s skirts up into his lap exposing his

white nyloned legs perched on their ankle strapped pumps.

Again, he couldn’t see what the camera caught, but his

gloved hands soon found the shackles dangling from their

chain where it was wrapped around the stool’s cross-bar.

“Don’t look down Honey, look here at me. At the camera and

keep smiling. Better. Look like you’re doing something

naughty. Give me a little moue’. Yea. Nice and snap the

right ankle. Super. And the left. And now stamp your little

feet again to make sure you’re caught tight.  Hey, they’re

pulled back so you’re sort of on your toes. I like that. Tug

at the cuffs a little and look at me… Look at me. Look

happy with your work.” Tim, packaged inside the mounds of

bridal skirting and the strict snug bodice beamed at the

camera being careful to slick down his glowing red lips

again and felt the humiliating blush redden his rouged

cheeks farther. Each bend and twist seemed to poke the

intruder deeper inside of him but he was determined to get

this awful thing done as he dropped and smoothed his skirts

down over the shiny metal shackles joining his ankles to the

stool. Now, even if the waist bow was removed, he’d never

stand without the key that unlocked him.

“Now, take the first package from beside you and open it in

your lap. Uh-huh. I know, look surprised and curious about

this. Hold it up. Great, for the first time, you can look a

little worried. Yea, now run your fingers over the thing and

shake the strap. Better hold it up. The strap’s white and

getting lost against your bust… God you’ve got big tits.”

Teather didn’t have to fake surprise, Tim wasn’t sure at

first what the thing was. There was the top of  penis,

molded in semi soft latex  ending in a red ball at the other

end. A white strap was strung at the base of the cock

through the ball. It was a gag. He was going to have to push

that apparatus into his mouth, the ball was the same color

as  Teather’s  nail polish and lipstick, ‘Trailer Park

Slut’.

“But slowly now. Turn your head a little so we can see you

open your lips… Wider. Good, now eat it Babe. Right in…

Farther. Good. Sit up straight. Poke out your titties. Now

reach it under your hair in the back and buckle it really

tight. NO! I SAID TIGHT! I don’t want to come over there

Bitch!”

Tim was almost gagging. He knew if he tried to talk at all,

he would gag around the thing. It was so big, jacking his

teeth open as far as they’d go. Already a tiny drop of drool

was seeping around his lower lip. And he knew that with both

gloved hands behind his neck like that he was jutting his

boobs up and out. He could feel them shimmy beneath the thin

fabric that covered his rock hard nipples like paint.

“Look in the box Teather. Isn’t there something more in

there dear? Right, grab that tiny lock and hold it up in

front of you to examine it carefully. Good, I’ll zoom in –

hold it still, so you’re concerned face is just slightly out

of focus behind it. Okay, as I pull back, open it and feel

around for the loop in the gag strap behind you. It’s right

between the twin ‘O’ rings. Got it? Is …is it on. You can

nod. Fine, that’ll keep you nice and mum for the ceremony

huh?”

Ceremony? The hell was she planning now? But no time to

wonder, Tim grabbed on the floor for the last elaborately

wrapped wedding gift and slowly opened it atop his fluffy

lap. Shit!

“Aren’t they pretty? I spray painted them white myself. Now,

just take one of the thumb cuffs and put it on your right

hand. Good, not too fast. Shake it a little and now before

you tighten it too much make sure the open cuff comes out

toward the left as you look down at your hands. Snick it

tighter. Almost done Sweetie. First, drop the veil now and

arrange it around your face. Fine, fluff up your hair and

stretch the veil in back over your shoulders. Right,

demure… Do it demurely over your boobs. Kay. Pick up the

corsage and , right pin it to the front of your waist

ribbon. Arrange it sweetly on your lap. NOW! Put your hands

behind your neck and slide the empty cuff through the twin

‘O’ rings right over the lock. Got it?”

Teather was going to be helpless. If  Tim snapped that other

cuff around his left thumb he would be hopelessly trapped

atop this stool. He knew that his corseted, hosed, heeled,

blonded, gloved and gowned body would be shackled and bowed

onto that intruder poking horribly up his ass. He knew that

his hands way up there would put even more pressure on his

engorged back end. He understood that the boned corset would

make him sit up straight ramming all of this weight down

upon the finger that he wobbled upon. And he also knew if he

didn’t do it, this woman would ruin him. She’d share these

new pictures with the others. He’d never teach again. Tim

Mitty did not want any of this. One night of weakness. One

night when he’d let his beautiful student seduce him. His

horrible sin was that he was too attracted to sexy

intelligent women. And this one was not just sexy. Kim

Bassinger was just sexy. Heather Locklear was just sexy.

Pamela Lee and Jenny McCarthy were JUST sexy.

But there was a hidden video camera! All of the wonderfully

terrible things that she did to him showed. And it showed

just how much he wanted them done. And that would never do.

Not for a teacher with a student, even an older student.

She’d offered to let him have the tape back if he’d just do

one thing. Then another. “What was her motivation?” Tim

wondered as he teetered atop his stool. Did she hate men so

much or just him? Professor Tim Mitty was never a ladies’

man. Probably why he’d become a teacher at a women’s

college. He was attracted to girls of course. He wasn’t some

sort of fag. Or at least he didn’t think he was. But now,

after the feminizations. NO! He wasn’t He could escape this.

And…. ‘CLICK!’

“Ohhhh, it’s even cooler than I dreamt. You’re so beautiful

and you can’t resist anything can you Teather? With your

hands cuffed up like that you’re presenting your tits.

Actually offering them! Neat. And the veiling softens your

features even more. Good thing we used dark makeup. You

can’t even take off your gloves now. You can’t kick off your

shoes. You can’t wipe off that inviting lipstick or

eyeshadow. And the girls did a fabulous job on that hair.

Even if you flail, it’ll still look so sexy with all of

those curls. You’re the ‘Fuck-Me’ bride and…. Ahhh…

that’s the doorbell. Time to get your groom. Don’t go away

honey.” Go away? Teather was in no position to do anything

but proposition. It was impossible to tell that she wasn’t

simply standing there, hands behind her neck in a seductive

pose for her husband-lover. But Tim Mitty was frantic. She

didn’t say anything about anyone else. That’s where he would

have drawn the line. Heather Kittaen was going to display

him as Teather. Or at least that’s all he hoped she was

going to do. Except, she had a video of  Tim turning himself

into Teather. Of Tim donning corset, lingerie’, stockings

and makeup. Of Tim combing out and attaching his wig,

smiling all the while. Then she’d filmed him pulling on his

gown, veils and gloves and swishing out to this stool. All

the while alone. Finally, she had the pictures of the virgin

in white binding herself… Making herself into bridal bait

for … for…. .

“Tah-Dah! Teather, meet Derk Kerl. He’s going to watch your

video. Then he’ll…” the elegant blond grinned, but the

room grew cool as a grave,  “marry you.”

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