. Here's my little fantasy, you dirty, dirty girl! A hotel room, the Honeymoon suite. I dressed you slowly; sliding stockings up your strong legs then turned you, bending you over the large four poster. I slid a black lacy basque under your front and stretched the sides around. I knelt on your back pushing down hard to get enough leverage so I could slowly fasten it, one hook at a time, all the while keeping the pressure on your spine. Then I moved on to the stocking tops, clipping them slowly to the Basque’s suspenders. Slowly, ever so slowly I slid black satin knickers over your arse and finished off by slipping your 3" heels on your feet. I love you in heels they make your muscles tighten and lend wonderful definition to your sexy arse. I have you stand, all the better to admire the sight of you in my underwear. Now the wrapping - you step into the layered hooped net petticoat and I eased it up your body and around your waist. The Gown. As though made just for you, it is made in ivory satin, full skirted with a tight bodice. I dropped it slowly over your head and eased it down, over your strong, wide shoulders and over your arse. You automatically breathed in as I slide the zip up and there you are, ready for the final stage. I sit you on that chintzy bed for lovers, I am the artist and you are my canvas, I prepare to reveal the girl. Foundation first, smooth across your cheeks, hiding the shadow on that stubborn jaw. Then powder, to set the foundation and perfect your face. Eyeshadow, grey and smoky, then black liner, then two coats of heavy black mascara - the perfect backdrop and frame for your pale aqua eyes. Lipstick, L’Oreal True Red - in the end it takes three attempts because I can’t resist kissing you and we both end up with it smeared all over. The dark curly wig is last of all and elated with my handywork, I stand up. I feel like a Victorian Illusionist, ready to pull away the magic sheet and reveal the beautiful girl that’s been hidden all along. I can’t wait to touch you, the liquid heaviness in my lower body a dripping testament to how much I want you my little BitchSlut. But I tear myself away, you aren't for me, tonight you belong to someone else. They have other plans for you, My Blushing Bride. I put you fully on that Nuptial Bed, face down; arse up, legs and arms spread out and tied to all four posts. The sacrificial virgin on her Wedding night – I leave the room and you waiting, breathless with anticipation, scared and aroused. After what must have seemed like hours, the Groom entered the room to see his Beloved displayed and waiting for him. Still dressed in his morning suit, He removed the tail coat and waistcoast, not liking the feeling of restriction they caused. He walked around the bed admiring her from all angles his cock already hard and pushing out the front of his suit trousers. It wasn’t enough to look anymore, he had to feel her – had to- the impulse was overwhelming and he gave in to it, running his fingertips from her shoe following the graceful line of ankle to calf to buttock, following the seam, like Dorothy following the mystical road to OZ. He couldn’t help but admire the framed tableau of arse in the black suspenders and stockings surrounded by the acres of frothy net and lace. He knelt behind her on the bed and pulled aside those beautiful satin knickers. Despite her protests, his two fingers slid in without effort, so he knew she was ready. The Groom, caressed her smooth bottom before swinging back his hand and slapping her left cheek very hard, he pressed his hand to the spot and the smoothed away the sting. Smack, again, this time he repeated the spank and stroke on her right cheek. He gave her six more whacks on each cheek, each time caressing away the sting but leaving the heat. Her arse cheeks began to redden more and more with every stroke. He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the hairbrush,a large square paddle brush, perfect for his needs. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Hard and fast on alternating cheeks, the Bride couldn't contain the whimpers, then howls of pain. Hot tears began brimming in her eyes, threatening the mascara with ruin. "Hush pretty Girl" whispered the Groom leaning over to kiss those glowing cheeks, kissing away the sting although the humiliation of being so displayed and beaten remained. The Groom eased back, opened his suit trousers and with slightly shaking fingers guided the tip of his hard cock into her body, which opened naturally and easily for him, swallowing his cock as though it was her throat he fucked. Her moans prompted him to move, slowly back and forth pushing his cock deep into her body, brushing the exact spot to make her emit gasping little sounds of pleasure and she began to push back hard, riding his cock like her life depended on it. The Groom's control broke, he reached around, grabbed the Bride’s sopping cock and began to stroke it firmly, in time with his hard thrusts into her greedy little arse. The two of them were gasping, incapable of coherent speech, both riding that exquisite line, the tipping point of pain, pleasure and orgasm until with one massive push the Bride cried out long and loud and spouted her orgasm all over the Groom’s hand and bedspread. The Groom’s squealing orgasm was no quieter; he came hard, over and over, until he collapsed over his Bride’s back, utterly spent and unable to hold his own weight. After many long minutes, I was able to raise my head from your sweat soaked back and fall at your side on the bed. I look you in the eyes, kiss you and smile. My Pretty Petticoat Slut.