From trulylala@aol.com Fri Jan 10 23:05:08 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW STORY: Roberta ties the knot (bd, tv)
From: trulylala@aol.com (Trulylala)
Date: 11 Jan 1997 04:05:08 GMT

Please: this is adult material. Do not read if you are under 18 years of
age.


ROBERTA TIES THE  KNOT
Charmaine Cockmeister sipped her tea. 
"My niece has plenty of suitors, but you know how we British are. Too
stuffy! Too conservative! None of her callers will admit to sharing her
fetish fantasies.  That is why you are here, Mr. Bondetta."
Bernard Bondetta almost choked as he sipped on his coffee.
"Me? Why?" he asked.
"Because she is fascinated with your novels about damsels in distress,
tamed transvestites, and petticoat punishment. Oh, yes! My niece has read
every one of your 38 books, from 'Our Fettered Forms' to 'My Petticoated
Pets' to 'Gagged Guys and Girls in Girdles.'"
Mr. Bondetta smiled his appreciation.
"Well, as an American novelist, it is good to know I have fans in Great
Britain," he said. "I have been fascinated by your niece's letters to me,
and that is why I decide to visit your castle when I finally made it to
the U.K. Without ever meeting your niece, I feel as if I know her
intimately."
Ms. Cockmeister pursed her lips.
"Well, you know my niece is in my charge. It is as if she is my own
daughter. So I try to screen every possible suitor. And that is why I
usually make some initial inquiries. Most of her suitors find my inquiries
too personal."
Mr. Bondetta smiled again.
"I have no secrets," he said matter-of-factly.
Really?" Ms. Cockmeister said. "So it won't bother you if I suggest that
your novels seem slightly autobiographical. I have the sense you have
created one of your continuing characters, Bobby Roberts -- also known as
Roberta Ruffles -- as a sort of alter ego. Is Roberta Ruffles you, Mr.
Bondetta?"
Bernard Bondetta sat silently in his chair. The question had caught him
completely off guard. How had she guessed? What would happen if he
admitted his fantasies? More importantly, what would happen if he didn't?
After a minute of silence, Ms. Cockmeister stared at him sternly, stood up
and pointed at the door:
"If you are not Roberta Ruffles, you should leave. My niece will only
share her life with a truly sissified slave she can dominate and torment,
and who, in turn, can share in her humiliations. For she sees herself as
another of your characters, Submissive Slut Suzanne, and only wants to
meet you if you will admit your own true passions."
Mr. Bondetta hesitated. He gazed at Ms. Cockmeister. She was a tall auburn
beauty. She was wearing a simple velvet A-line dress, in dark forest green
with gold trim at the neck and hem. She wore flesh-colored nylons,
small-heeled black shoes, and only a modest gold watch as jewelry. Hardly
the image of the classic dominatrix, he thought to himself. But she was
certainly in control of him right now. He tried to measure her looks to
get some clue of what her niece might look like. 
Finally, he spoke:
"May I meet your niece first and ...."
"No," she snapped. "You must decide now. If you admit your true self to
me, Mr. Bondetta, I promise you will not be disappointed. I will take you
into the ante room and prepare you for the arrival of my niece. She is
truly beautiful. If you are truly ready to be the petticoated prisoner of
your dreams, this is your chance."
He hesitated only a second.
"I am Roberta Ruffles. He ... she ... is me. I am her."
He gazed up at Ms. Cockmeister, who stood there in stone silence. Finally,
she nodded her head and gave him a sinister little smile.
"I thought so," she said. "Let's get on with this. I want you in character
to meet my niece."
His coffee cup clattered as he nervously placed it back on its saucer and
followed her into another room. It was a wardrobe room. And it was filled
with women's clothing.
"Take off your clothes," she said.
"You want me naked in front of you?" he asked.
"I want you to obey -- or leave!!!" she said.
He nodded his understanding and began to undress.
He was ordered to drop his clothes and all of his personal belongings into
a white leather hamper, which Ms. Cockmeister chained and locked. Then she
handed him a pair of white silk pettipants with red laced trim and
ruffles.
"From now on, we will choose your wardrobe," she said.
"We?" he asked himself. He wondered who "we" was.
But he began to dress, his penis stirring slightly as he felt the familiar
touch of  soft silk against it. White knee socks and red mary jane shoes
came next. He was then ordered to put on a high-collared, puffy-sleeved
white taffeta dress with a sewn-in red petticoat and red trim and lace. It
fit him perfectly and fell just two inches below his waist -- high enough
to show off his petticoat and pettipants to all who saw him. 
Charmaine Cockmeister then attached a 2 1/2 inch pink leather collar about
his neck and added matching wrist, ankle and knee restraints. She locked
them all. Next came a pink rubber cap that hid all his hair. A short,
curly brunette wig came next. And then a pink screw-in, three-inch,
inflatable cock gag. 
"Open your mouth," she commanded.
He did.
She pushed it into his mouth, secured it, and pumped it up. He had never
been so completely gagged. She padlocked his wrists together behind him
and locked his  knee restraints together. She topped it all off with a
silky white bow atop his wig.
"Comfy?" she asked.
"M-m-m-m," he said, looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection of
what appeared to be a six-year-old girl, dressed for a social affair. Of
course the bindings and the cock gag -- not to mention his 6-2 frame --
made it all look so silly, so humiliating. part of him was turned on; part
of him was very nervous. At least the bondage made it simple: he wasn't
going anywhere.
"Good," Ms. Cockmeister said. "Now return to your chair and we will await
my niece."
He hobbled slowly back to his chair, breathing deeply through my nose as
he waddled.
She watched from behind.
"You make an excellent little girl," she said. "Too bad your my niece's
plaything, Roberta Ruffles."
Roberta Ruffles indeed. He was embarrassed by my own humiliation, but the
rush of his imprisonment was exciting. For, indeed, he was realizing his
own fantasy.
"Please show the proper restraint," Charmaine Cockmeister scolded him as
he sat down in the chair. She fastened two chains -- one from each side of
the back of the chair -- to the collar around his neck. She reached down
under his petticoat and dress and felt the bulge in his pettipants.
"Hm-m-m-m. Yes, we must retain ourselves!"
Charmaine Cockmeister took a seat again on the settee across from Roberta
and began to read a magazine. Roberta began to think through the last few
hours --arriving here at the castle, meeting Ms. Cockmeister, being
dressed and bound.
Ms. Cockmeister did not seem to notice the way his eyes darted around the
castle and back to her. She did not seem to notice him testing his bonds.
She did not seem to notice the bulge in his panties.
But when he finally sighed an involuntary sigh, she looked up from her
magazine and stared him in the eyes.
"Patience, Roberta," she said. "Suzanne will be here shortly. If you can't
stand the wait, perhaps we can arrange a little bare-ass spanking for
you."
He let out a small whimper.
"Not a peep," she said. "Or it will be the birch for you."
He nodded silently and sat back in his chair to wait.
It was at least a half hour later when two maids wheeled a black figure
into the room on a hand truck. It was Suzanne, bound head to toe in an
leather hobble dress, boots, gloves, and hood. She had a leather blindfold
over her eyes. Only her lips -- painted cherry red -- peeked through her
hood. She was strapped to the hand truck at the ankles, knees, waist,
wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck and forehead.
Ms. Cockmeister removed Suzanne's blindfold and Roberta watched Suzanne's
eyes dart around the room, finally focusing on his sissified, bound form.
Suzanne's eyes widened.
"Submissive Slut Suzanne is in punishment today," Ms. Cockmeister said.
"Obviously, she needs discipline because I know she couldn't control
herself if she were not restrained for your first meeting."
Suzanne's eyes rolled back in her head. Roberta looked at Suzanne's eyes
and saw a look of urgency, as if she couldn't wait to explain herself. 
Yet, for some reason, she didn't speak.
Suzanne stood silently as the maids undid her bindings. Finally, she
stepped off the hand truck. The maids unlaced her mask. She took a deep
breath through full red lips, then tossed back her long brunette hair. 
Roberts sighed through his gag. Suzanne was lovely. Beautiful. Radiant.
She was slightly taller than her aunt, with all the right curves. And her
face -- he wanted to kiss her passionately, right there.
Suzanne stared at Roberta as the maids parted Suzanne's lips to reveal a
metal gag wedged between her teeth and held there by a dainty crank. The
maids worked the crank, but instead of loosening it, they made Suzanne's
face longer by cranking it up. Soon, Suzanne was unable to put her lips
together, and her eyes glared as the maid fit her arms into glove-like
bondage mittens. Suzanne cried behind her gag.
"I don't like the look I'm getting," Ms. Cockmeister said. "Albert,
blindfold her."
Albert? 
Who was Albert, Roberta wondered.
Suddenly, the more buxom maid came forward to blindfold Suzanne.
This buxom tart is a man like me, Roberta asked himself?
Yes, indeed. But Roberta would soon find out this wasn't the only mystery
in this mansion.
Suzanne was pushed in the direction of the stairs. As she walked away from
Roberta, he watched her butt shifting from side to side. What a sight! He
felt himself swell inside his pettipants.
He moaned and twisted about, feeling my bulge grow larger and larger. He
started to writhe in time as Ms. Cockmeister's reached under his dress and
began to play with him. He could smell her perfume as she rubbed her chest
against his  face.
"Hold it, hold it," she commanded.
But he could not. His sperm squirted against its silk prison in spurts,
loud enough for Ms. Cockmeister to hear it.
"Shame on you," Ms. Cockmeister said. "I'll shall have to teach you not to
disobey me."
She called for the maids.
"Dispose of him," Ms. Cockmeister said.
Roberta was retired to his room, strapped to his bed by his collar and his
ankles, still wearing his little girl's dress and all of its accessories.
A television set was affixed over his bed, and the monitor was showing
pages from illustrated books on forced crosssdressing.
The drawings showed Amazons dominating men into submission.
One drawing showed three adult baby boys lifting up their frocks to show a
crowd of women their pink plastic panties. All had their heads bowed, but
it was clear the three had faint erections.
Another drawing showed a man wearing nylons, heels, panties, a bra and a
ball gag, all in white, tied to the four corners of a red leather
footstool, his mistress resting her boots on his back. She was watching
TV, and ignoring him, but was resting her crop on his ass. There was a
large bulge in his panties.
Yet another drawing showed what appeared to be two women, gagged and
bound, wearing 6'' heels, black rubber hose, black rubber miniskirts, and
white high-neck rubber blouses. One was very shapely, with large breasts.
She wore a sign around her neck that said: "HE." The other had the shape
of a young teenage boy and a sign that read: "SHE."
Behind the two bound victims, a sign on the wall said: "Welcome to
TAME-A-TART, where amazons rule everyone!"
As the televised images changed, Roberta saw more drawings of men made up
to look like can-can dancers, maids, nurses, showgirls, and even
dominatrixes.
Every last drawing was signed "S.S.S."
"Submissive Slut Suzanne," Roberta wondered? Were these her fantasies? The
idea made his loins stir again.
He couldn't wait to finally talk to this wicked little slut. He was
certain he had found his soulmate. The bulge in his pettipants told him
so.
END OF PART ONE

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