Author’s note: Please read “Morgan” before reading this story.
The sun woke us. The master bedroom suite spanned the entire front of the house. Framed by floor to ceiling windows French doors opened onto a wraparound porch. The head of the bed was against the north wall. The morning sun washed across our bed from the east windows. In the evening, we could watch the sun set from our bed. Morgan slept as usual, hands cuffed behind her back, right ankle locked to a chain secured to the bed. We kissed; she wanted more; I told her we would play later. I freed Morgan and we took a shower together, then I sent her to start breakfast.
I wondered how Chelsea slept. I’m sure she never slept outdoors, nude, and bound. Downstairs I opened the front door and found her sitting cross-legged on the floor staring out over the valley.
“Good morning Chelsea. Sleep well?” I asked as I pulled up a chair next to her.
“Good morning Steve! I slept wonderfully— if this is what life is going be like around here, sign me up!” She finished a chuckle. “I never understood what Morgan saw in this bondage thing, but now I’m hooked. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”
“No, you will always be welcome here. Morgan’s doing breakfast. Stand up and turn around, I’ll free you so you can take a shower.” She stretched as I freed her wrists and then her ankle from the chain.
An hour later, I pushed my plate across the table. “Thank you Morgan for a great breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.” She blushed.
“What? No one ever thanked you for cooking a great meal?”
“No, honestly I can’t ever remember anyone in my family thanking me for cooking. Of course I rarely cooked at home— the chef took care of it most of the time.”
“I second Steve’s thank you.” Chelsea chimed in.
“Ok,” I started. “We have a lot to do. It’s too late in the season to plant grapevines and even if we could, I want to get the winery off the ground first. Chelsea, I want you to work on a business plan. I’ll start researching equipment.” She nodded her head in agreement. “Morgan we need legal help. Do you think your friend. . .”
“Yes, ask her what we need from the legal end to get the winery up and running. I know we need both state and fed approval.” I paused; I didn’t know who to put it delicately, so I was blunt. “Chelsea will also need to know how much money we have to work with. I don’t know how much you...” I didn’t get a chance to finish when Morgan interrupted me.
“You!” she almost yelled, “I told you yesterday you own me, and everything I have so it’s your money. I haven’t seen the figures lately, but there should be more then fifteen million in the account right now. That’s after you paid for the all the real estate. Part of the bargain of you taking me back is that I’m yours and everything I owned is yours.” She smiled, “In one word, I’m your slave.”
I sat back stunned— fifteen million dollars I thought. Wow, why build a winery? We could buy an awful lot of wine with that kind of cash. I gather my thoughts.
“I see, well no matter what happens we aren’t going to spend all of it. I’ll stop the whole project and sell out before we squander your whole fortune. Let’s say we ear mark seven million for the project. I think it will be more, but if your folks want to buy into this that should cover us. You need to talk to them.”
Morgan looked up at the clock; it was a few minutes before seven. “It’s Monday, so Jill should still be home. I’ll give her a call and invite her over for supper. I think we need another BBQ. Ah, we need to talk about something else.” She glanced at Chelsea and smiled. “I think we need a few house rules or perhaps we should clarify a few things.”
“What do you have in mind?
“For example, all female friends, must strip when they arrive. The only exception should be when my” she glanced at Chelsea; “or any parents are here. I know my mother doesn’t care,” she giggled. “But my dad would have a bird if he saw me running around like this.” She held her arms wide, displaying her glorious naked beauty.
“I agree,” Chelsea, said, “I also think that both Morgan and I should always be in some form of bondage; depending on what task we are doing. If we aren’t doing anything, then our hands should be behind our backs.”
“Ok, I can’t argue with any of that— anything else?”
Morgan thought for a moment, then said, “We need a wine maker, right?”
“Yep, that is on my list of things we need to take care of…”
“If you don’t mind I’ll try to find a woman that at the least accepts our life style or better yet embraces it.”
Chelsea and I nodded our heads.
“I think one of the first things we need to do today is go check out the bank and the hotel.” Chelsea spoke before I could.
Quickly Chelsea filled the dishwasher, while Morgan called Jill. They found dresses, and off we went. After a brief discussion, Chelsea followed us down the hill. She needed to return her rental car and we needed to find her a new car. She also needed to go home in a few days and wrap up that part of her life.
The bank was a beautiful brick Greek revival building with columns across the front. We parked in front and piled out. Morgan had the keys the real estate agent had sent her. After a few tries we got the front door open. The girls left barefoot prints in the thick dust as they explored. Morgan stopped in the center of the lobby and wiped the floor with her foot. Under the dust was a beautiful marble floor. In the main room a line of teller cages ran along the right wall. To the left was a line of offices. At the back of the lobby was a barred wall and behind that stood a vault door. It is a neat old bank— the kind you can imagine a gang of old fashion gangsters robbing with guns drawn. Just the oak and walnut paneling was worth a fortune. After a quick tour, we went up the grand stair to the second floor. There was an elevator, but the electricity was still off. The second floor was mostly one large room with a stage at one end and wooden chairs aligned in rows in front of it. I understood that the village held meetings here at one time.
With a burst of energy, Morgan ran slipping and sliding in the dust to the stage. Standing on stage, she started to sing “Blowing in the Wind”, an old Bob Dylan song. I love his music; I wondered how she knew what I liked. Her great voice surprised me; I had no idea she could sing so well. She remained me of Joan Baez in her prime. In a fit of giggles she stopped. Chelsea and I clapped our approval. I decided we should have a coffee house.
After exploring the bank, including the basement, a spooky place that would make a nice dungeon, we checked out the grounds. At the rear of the bank was an old, large two-story factory building. From the looks of things, I guessed they had done some sort of woodworking. It occurred to me that they might have turned out the mill work for the town and the house on the hill. We wondered if belonged to us as part of the bank estate. All of this had happened suddenly, one day we were going to buy a house, the next we owned a bank, a hotel, a train station and a wood working factory. When we checked the deed, Chelsea had a brief case full of papers with her, we discovered we did. On the spot, we agreed that it would become the winery. We also agreed that the first floor of the bank would house a tasting room, sales, and upstairs an upscale restaurant. That meant we couldn't have a coffee house upstairs. In the end, we moved the coffee house to the hotel and put in a high end restaurant. Other buildings on the grounds would become a coopers shop, blacksmith shop, and a glass blower. My plan was to make this a destination spot where families could come by train and spend at least half a day— tasting wine, watching a glass blower, and see how coopers make barrels.
Next, we visited the old hotel. Pete, who lived in the hotel, was our caretaker and resident manager, and he gave us the grand tour. I’m sure he was more interested in the girls then showing us around. The place needed a lot of work, most of the infrastructure was outdated— the kitchen needed a complete makeover before it was usable. The heating system was the only bright spot on the list. Within two weeks, Chelsea and Morgan had contractors lined up and at work. Together Chelsea and Morgan were a great team. Morgan was impulsive, but had a great eye and understood how to make things work in harmony. She is a strong leader who knows how to get the most out of people. Perhaps that was why she loves her bondage; it allows her to let someone else take the lead. Chelsea was the meticulous, practical side that pulled Morgan’s ideas together. In the end, they restored the hotel to the grand old place it had been. I often expected someone to pull up in a horse drawn carriage. They would have been right at home.
We were nearly ready to take Chelsea to the car rental place when she noticed a neat old cottage hidden behind over grown rose bushes between the hotel and the bank. Pete told us it was for sale and he had the keys. The elderly couple who owned it for years had moved into assisted care housing. It was dirty and needed paint, but it was sound. Chelsea fell in love with it and called the real estate agent on the spot. I was a bit shocked at first, somehow I figured she would claim a room in our house, but as I thought about it, I realized that she wanted her own space. In a few days, they passed papers and the cottage was hers. I figured the word would be out that there were some new people around with money and every real estate agent in the area would line up at our door. Oddly, the only agent who did come to see us was my friend who had sold us the house, bank, station, and hotel. The land behind our house, on the other side of the hill, came up for sale. We bought it to protect our place from a development in our back yard.
After dropping off the rental car, we did some shopping at the local farmers market. Back at the house, I got the BBQ going while the girls made salads. A professional grade grill was built into stone wall at the far end of the patio. The wood was burning down to a nice bed of coals—I had found some nice oak splits in the barn. I’m a bit old fashioned, I preferred a real wood fire without the chemicals charcoal has in it. While I was at it I found a hundred foot tape measure and some stakes in the work shop. One thing on my list that I hadn’t mentioned to the girls was a nice swimming pool in the back yard. I wanted it covered with a timber frame roof with sliding doors so we could use it year round.
Jill arrived around five with a surprise. When I heard the car coming, I strolled through the arch in the wall that separated the back yard from the side yard. I wanted to see the expression on Jill’s face when she saw the house. By the time the car stopped Morgan and Chelsea where out of the house and waiting on the porch. To my surprise, Morgan’s mother was with Jill. Later Morgan told me her mom had called and asked if she could come over. Sally didn’t seem surprised that both Morgan and Chelsea had their hands cuffed and were hobbled. Jill was already barefoot she didn’t hesitate to pull her sundress over her head and toss in the car. After a few hugs the gang trooped into the house for the grand tour. Sally had already explored the house so she followed me around back.
“What are you marking out?” She asked eyeing the stakes I’d pushed in the ground.
“A swimming pool; we have the pool up the hill, but in the winter it will freeze. So I thought we might put one in here and have a timber frame building built over it with French doors.”
“Just let me know when you get it done, I’ll be right over.”
I smiled, “I’m also going to put in a large hot tub.”
“I guess I’ll have to become a regular guest.”
“Any time, but if you’re going to be a regular, you’ll have to discuss the clothing rule with the management,” I said with a smile. I was a bit nervous; she is after all Morgan’s mother.
She took it with good humor, “Yeah I noticed and you’re right it is odd to be the only woman dressed.”
I let it drop, but later to my amazement, she stripped and spent the rest of the afternoon nude.
In a few minutes the girls came out with food. Morgan and Jill dragged tables and chairs out of the barn while I cooked the steaks. Stuffed, on streak, fresh corn on the cob, and a big salad we sat, drank wine, and watched the sun sink slowly in the west as we went over the project again with Jill. We talked about small stuff and our plans for the bank, and the other buildings. Sally gave me the card of a contractor they had used in the past. We didn’t talk exact figures, but she told me they would match what we put into the project for a third back on the profits. It sounded good to me.
A few days later we took Chelsea to the airport so she could go home to take care of her apartment and personal affairs. On the way back, Morgan wanted to stop in town. While she was shopping for who knows what I slipped into the jewelry store. After we unloaded her ‘finds’—a really nice lamp and a couple of other things, I took her by the hand and led her up the hill to the cabin. We sat for a few minutes looking at the valley and hills.
“Morgan?” She turned and looked at me. I got up and knelt down in front of her. “Will you marry me?” I pulled out the diamond ring I’d bought in town and showed it to her. She just stared into my eyes for what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds.
“On one condition.”
“You will allow me to be nude and in some form of bondage. I understand that there will be times and places that it isn’t practical, but those will be few and far in between. Well maybe the times will not few or far in between, but as seldom as possible.”
“I love you and I want you just the way you are. I have no interest in changing you or doing anything that will change what we have.”
“Then my answer is yes, I will be honored to be your wife.” Morgan answer formally, I’d notice that she could be that way when something was important to her.
I picked her up and carried her in to the cabin where we made love. Afterward we talked or perhaps I should say I listened while she talked about the wedding. In short, it was to be outside, medieval, and unlike anything anybody I knew had done before. I told her she could do anything she wanted—I was sure she would anyway, but I wanted her to know I supported her.
* * *
The next six weeks are a blur. Morgan and Chelsea took over planning for the wedding. The contractor dug up the back yard and installed a swimming pool and the timber framed building. I took a long trip to Washington State to check out the wine industry and vineyard tractors. I knew they did things differently; I just wanted to see for myself. We would follow New York methods since their climate was similar to ours. Just as important, we grow the same verities they do. Before Morgan and I met, I had spent several summers visiting wineries and vineyards in NY so I didn’t need to stop there. I had found an ad on the net for a neat vineyard tractor. After checking it out, I bought one. To start with, I would need two tractors. I figured could buy a John Deere with a bucket closer to home and cheaper for general work.
Before I left, Washington, Morgan called and told me to stop in NY and interview a woman who had just graduated with a major in enology and a minor in viticulture. Morgan and Chelsea had picked her out, so I should have known what I would find. Terry was working part time for a small winery. They couldn’t pay her much and she was looking for something better. We got lucky no one was looking for a new wine maker in NY.
We met at the house of a friend of hers. Terry answered the door when I knocked. The day was hot and she was dressed in a halter-top, cut offs, and barefoot. That surprised me; I couldn’t imagine going to an interview in her outfit.
“Come on in, I’m Terry.” She must have caught my glance at her feet, very nice feet I must add. She was a red head, and a bit heavier then I liked, but she was still a looker.
“Morgan told me that you liked girls who go barefoot. I’ve always gone barefoot and when I mentioned it to her, she told me she didn’t see any reason I couldn’t do the interview this way.”
“No problem.” I figured I’d check how she would fit into our life style. I had no interested in hiring someone who would freak out the first time she met Morgan in chains “Around our house you are over dressed. Neither Morgan nor Chelsea wears anything except chains most of the time. In fact they came up with the nudity rule.” Her eyes got big.
“Morgan was very clear about how she lives. I can’t wait to meet her and she how she manages to do all the things she does naked and bound.” She paused, “Can I go naked too?”
“That’s up to you. I’d like to taste some of your wine.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I almost forgot why you are here.” She led the way into the kitchen where she had six bottles of wine open on the counter.
For the next hour she demonstrated not only her skill at making wine— all of them were excellent-- but also an ability to explain how the wines were made and why. About half way through her tour de force, I made up my mind. I knew Morgan had already check out her references and had done a background check. Therefore, the only thing left was for her to visit us and to see if she fit in. I invited her to visit us and set up a time for her to fly in the following weekend. A quick call to Morgan arranged for the flight. I found she had already taken care of it. By six, I was home.
I had the limo drop me off at the end of the drive. I put on my backpack and started up the drive. On the other side of the gate was a narrow river— or that was the way they referred to it locally, I called it a large stream. Today the water was dark as it ran under the bridge. Someday I would buy a fishing license and see what I could catch. As I walked, I made mental notes of some of the things that needed doing. Rolling fields stretched off to either side until the road started to climb, then the trees closed in. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before, but most of the trees where sugar maples. Tucked back off the road and mostly hidden by the trees was a sugarhouse. Its worn gray walls blended with the gray maples. One more crop to look into. After a hundred yards, the trees ended at a moss covered stone wall before the land opened out into fields again. These fields were steeper than the ones below and may have once been pastureland. Although they were steep, we could still turn them into vineyards. We would have to be careful of erosion; growing grass in the rows would help.
As I rounded, the last turn the house loomed up before me; I still found it difficult to believe I lived here. I turned and looked out at the valley below. The village was mostly hidden in the trees, but the windows caught the late afternoon sun. What a beautiful place!
I opened the kitchen door and stepped into wedding central. Piles of magazines covered the kitchen table. Two-startled woman looked up from their laptops as I walked in. With a squeal, Morgan jumped up, hobbled over to me, and held up her hands so I could hug her. Bound as I’d left her, hands six inches apart, ankles connected by sixteen inches of chain locked to her ankle cuffs. Chelsea was bound the same way. When I left, she had been free, nude, but free.
Recovering quickly Chelsea said, “Hi” as she closed her laptop, then reached over and closed Morgan’s. I got a warm hug from her too. I had a moment of curiosity, but soon forgot about it. It wasn’t until later I realized it had all been a show. I know now that by this time the wedding had been outlined and put in the hands of Morgan’s friends.
Dinner was beef stew and was ready in the slow cooker. Over dinner, I filled them in on my trip.
“Tired?” Morgan, asked me as Chelsea picked up the plates.
“Not really, why what did you have in mind?”
“Can we go downstairs?”
“Sure, I’ve been thinking of a few things that might interest you.”
Once the plates were in the dishwasher I told Chelsea to go up stairs. In her room, I quickly cuffed her spread eagle to the bed with a rope around her waist and rope that went between her legs to hold in a dildo. I plugged the dildo into the wall and turned it low. She gave me a grin as she felt the vibrations. I knew she would be very frustrated before long.
Downstairs I took Morgan by the elbow and led her down to the basement. A few minutes later, we were in the dungeon. While in Washington, I saw a video of a tie that I wanted to try. I began by bringing Morgan’s wrists up and crossing them between her shoulder blades, the rope locked them against her body. The next step was simply winding rope around her chest and hips and stomach. With my help, I had her sit down, then lean forward. With more rope, I lashed her torso to her legs. This pushed her breasts out to the side. I held a penis gag to her lips, she opened her mouth and I slid it in. She took it without a problem. A leather hood prevented her from seeing what I was going to do to her and it insured she couldn’t spit out the gag. Stepping to the wall, I unhooked a box that controlled a hoist hidden in the ceiling. With the push of a button I lowered an aluminum I beam attached to the hoist wire. All I had to do was hook the hooks on the beam to loops I’d left in the lashing on Morgan. A push of the ‘up’ button and the hoist lifted Morgan up until she was suspended a few feet off the floor. I stopped the winch and watched her spin slowly in the air. Picking up two new lengths of rope, I tied her feet loosely to rings in the floor. Slowly I raised her until her knees pulled out to side as much as the bondage would permit. She was the right height for me to enter her.
In the closet, I found a soft flogger and a crop. I’d never done this before, but I’d spent some time watching and talking to people I’d met in a club in Seattle. A woman who craved whipping let me practice on her. She was very good at explaining to me what worked and what didn’t. The way Morgan was bound stretched her skin and making it more susceptible to cutting so I had to be careful. Standing behind her, I started with the flogger. She jumped at the first stroke, but settled right down. When her bottom gave off a nice glow, I switched to the crop. It took a few practice swings, but soon I was able to lay on nice even lines. Despite the gag, Morgan was making quite a bit of noise, mostly grunts and groans that were making me very horny. Dropping the crop, I unbuttoned my shorts and dropped them. Without hesitation, I plunged into her sopping wet cunt. Morgan came first and I quickly followed her.
I staggered back and found a chair to sit on while I watched her twitch and jerk. When she calmed down, I went to her and gently rubbed her butt. It was cooling and many of the lines had begun to fade. When I was sure I hadn’t done her any damage I lowered to the floor. I freed her legs and ankles and with my help she got to her feet. When I removed the hood her face was red and sweaty, but she looked happier then I’d seen her since the day I found her in the quarry pit. Holding my finger to her mouth, I indicated I didn’t want her to speak. She gave me a quizzical look, but nodded she understood. I removed the gag, and then reinstalled the hood. Picking up a short length of rope, I wrapped it around her waist and tied it behind her back. The free end I took down between her legs and ran it back under its self. A tug was all that I needed to start her following me.
When we reached the stairs, I lifted one foot so she could feel the first step. We slowly made our way up the stairs. At the top I led her to the stairs to the second floor. In our room I had her lie on the bed, and I tied her ankles to the sides of the footboard. I teased her until I couldn’t take it any longer. In one swift thrust, I was in her. Exhausted, I took her hood off and sent her to bathroom. When she came back, I untied her, gave her a moment to shake out the kinks, and then locked her cuffs together behind her back. As usual, I locked her ankle to the chain that had become a permanent part of the bed.
In the morning, during breakfast, they brought me up to speed on all the things that had happened while I was gone. The first night I was gone the village experienced a great tragedy. Behind the freight yards stood half a dozen mobile homes. One of the trailers caught fire. A young girl caught in the fire died. Morgan and Chelsea, awakened by the sirens, could see the flames from the front porch. The next morning, Chelsea went down to see what happened. The family had nothing left and no place to go. The people in the village were upset, but no one was doing anything to help. Chelsea came back and reported to Morgan what had happened. Morgan tossed on a dress, tied up the chain between her ankles and went down with Chelsea. I think she would have gone alone, but I had expressly forbidden her to drive with her ankles shackled. I had the keys and she never gave a thought to finding a bolt cutter to cut the locks. Startled and a bit disgusted at first by Morgan’s bondage the people soon recognized her leadership. She opened the nearly finished hotel so the family had some place to stay. Then she set up a drive for clothing and toys. The hotel kitchen was finished so she organized the women to put on a potluck for everyone in town.
One of the issues that came out of this disaster was the lack of a local fire station. The village was unincorporated and the neighboring town provided, police, ambulance, and fire. For the most part, it was a poor, ignored district that, according to the people I talked to later, did little to support them. No money, few votes, and the big shots didn’t care. The old fire station, a reminder of richer times, sat across from the bank with its back towards the freight yards; abandoned when the town pulled the last engine out thirty years ago. At first, the people of the village wanted to partition the town to put an engine back in the station. Morgan took the stand that it was better for the village to start its own fire and ambulance service. Later we started our own police department. When the subject of money came up, she told them we would donate money to the cause. She pointed out that we were investing a great deal of money in the village and it made sense that there would be a fire department right across the road. This discussion led to a movement to incorporate the district a town. It took time and a lot of help from Jill and Morgan’s father, but we finally became a town.
While Morgan was organizing the villagers, Chelsea did her share by finding and renting a house for the family to live in. In the end, despite the tragedy, many good things came out of it. The father, Ira, turned out to be a first rate mechanic. We hired him to do all our mechanical work. From tractors to winery equipment, he could fix it. His wife Sara had been a schoolteacher and she was good with people. She became our office manager. They had five kids and most of them worked for us at various times. Several still work for us. Maggie, the oldest, became our housekeeper. I should add she adopted our life style. She took over the maid’s quarters. She lives nude and in bondage. I asked her once if she minded and she told me she loved it from the first day. Something else came out of this incident. The village simply accepted Morgan. Her nudity and her bondage became non-issues. From that point on we never removed her bondage except on the rare occasions we went into one of the larger towns for dinner or to see a doctor.
Friday I sent Chelsea to the airport to pick up Terry. We had a small problem before she left. Starting after the incident with Morgan I had dominated her the same way I did Morgan. I tied her up whenever I felt like it and she spent most of her days nude and in some form of bondage. However, the keys to whatever she was wearing hung next to the phone in the kitchen. I made it clear she had permission to remove her bondage in an emergency and do whatever was needed.
When I asked Chelsea to go to the airport to pick up Terry, she agreed and went upstairs to find a dress. In a few minutes, she came down in a nice dress and low heels. As she headed for the front door, I stepped in front of her.
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Aren’t you a bit over dressed?”
She cocked her head, “I’m going to the airport.”
“Right, but why are you all dressed up?”
She looked up and studied my face. “You want me to go barefoot? Will they let me in?”
“Morgan’s been to the airport more than once barefoot, but that’s only part of it, what do you have under the dress?”
Chelsea smiled. “Yeah, I haven’t even left the house and I’m uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”
Without another word she pulled, the dress over her head, kicked off her shoes, took off her bra and panties. The bra and panties she handed to me.
“Please put these where they belong.” She kicked the shoes under the hall table, and then pulled the dress back over head. She did a quickly twirl and went out the door with a giggle. I dumped the offending items in the trash.
An hour later, she was back with Terry. After checking out Morgan, she said, “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you lived in bondage. I’ve never tried anything like this. Do you have the keys? Or does he keep them?” She blushed, “Sorry, I only half believed that you really live this way.”
“No problem,” Morgan reached out and touched her arm. “I don’t know where the keys are and I don’t care.” She turned and smiled at me.
* * *
The morning was bright and warm. It was a beautiful late summer day except I was alone. Morgan had spent the night with Chelsea and Jill. I missed her terribly, but this was the start of what was going to be the most mind-blowing wedding ever held. I’d been given my orders yesterday afternoon at the rehearsal dinner. They were simple, but like many simple things hard to accomplish. I’d been told to go home, the easy part, relax, the hard part, and show up at the altar at one PM. I did know this was going to be a production worthy of Cecil B DeMill.
When I got down stairs, Al, an old friend from college, was nursing a cup of coffee. I knew he knew a great deal more about what was going to happen then I did. We talked about all sorts of things except what was going to happen after noon.
About noon, we got up and headed up the hill. We took the left fork above the barn. The road ran across the gently sloping hill for nearly half a mile before it wound its way back down into the valley. To our right a forest stretched up the hill. A hundred yards across the hill, the forest ended abruptly on the edge of rocky cut in the side of the hill. All the local stone foundations had been a quarried here. Now the cut formed a man-made amphitheater. A chain wrapped in red tape bared our way. To the left on a level spot stood a tent. A beautiful woman, one of Morgan’s friends from college stood waiting. She was dressed as a gypsy complete with bare feet and a belled anklet.
“Hi, you guys are right on time,” she said as she pulled the tent flap open. “I’m Molly, and if you need anything let me know. Linda is in the tent and has some food and drink for you.”
The inside of the tent looked like something out of a movie. Deep oriental carpets covered the floor; pillows invited us to sit on the floor. Linda, dressed as a topless harem girl, greeted us. Slave bells hung from rings that pierced her nipples. They tinkled as she offered us finger food and drink. About 12:30, we went to the back of the tent where we got dressed. I dressed in knee britches, black riding boots, a purple shirt and a vest. Al was dressed the same except his shirt was black. I was told purple has been the traditional color of royalty. It took a few minutes and we were done.
The curtain swung to one side and Al’s wife Janis came in. She had spent the night with Morgan and the other girls at Chelsea’s house. With a shy smile, she stood in front of Al, her hands behind her back, and swayed her hips. Her bare feet twisted in the grass. I couldn’t help staring at her. Her dark green dress was beyond anything I’d ever seen a woman wear. Two cloth triangular panels hung from brooches that hid her nipples. The panels widened until they reached just below her naval then spread out and swung around her hips to her back. The hem barely covered her pussy. I couldn’t figure out what held the dress up. Al just stood watching her for a moment and then stepped up to her. He must have wondered the same thing because he looked at the brooches. Then he did something to the right one and it came off. Janis hissed and screwed up her face. I realized that the brooches were nipple clamps! Al grinned and put the clamp back on. Janis just smiled up at him she hadn’t said a word. Al hugged her, but she didn’t reach up to hug him. He turned her around and found her hands cuffed behind her.
He shook his head. “Who’s got the key? Chelsea?” Janis smiled and nodded.
“It’s time,” Linda broke in. She handed Al a leather collar that matched the cuffs Janis wore. A chain leash completed the set. Quickly Al locked the collar around her neck, picked up the end of the chain, and led her out of the tent. We were alone as we walked to the quarry. The guests came in from the other side of the farm.
At least a hundred people filled the quarry. Chairs lined up in rows facing a low stage. People were also perched on the rocks to each side. Behind the stage granite ledges soared more than a hundred feet in the air. A large oriental rug covered the stage and a large throne-like chair stood in the center. Elaborate candle stands flanking the throne supporting candles nearly two feet tall. Off to right a low table stood with a bible on it. Behind the throne was a harpsichord. The stage was low enough so that we could step directly onto it. We took our places next to the throne. Janis knelt to Al’s left. The audience watched us intently. I idly wonder how many of them had ever seen a nearly naked girl-wearing collar and handcuffs at a wedding. I was willing to bet none had.
Less than five minutes after we took our places two girls dressed as fairies appeared at the entrance of the amphitheater. They were identical twins with blue eyes and blonde hair, maybe eighteen, around 5’ 5”, and very slender. The girls were dressed in wisps of transparent cloth around their waists and wings. I’m not sure how the wings attached— they looked naked from the waist up. The wisps of cloth did little to hide their shaved pussies. Behind us someone began to play “Green Sleeves” on the harpsichord. The girls slowly danced up the aisle tossing rose petals from baskets. They danced on to the stage in front of us and briefly flirted with us. One squatted down in front of Janis, stared at her for a few seconds, and then kissed her. It wasn’t until later I discovered the fairies were Janis’ younger twin sisters.
One fairy then jumped up and turned cartwheels around the stage. Clearly, the girls stunned the audience. The other fairy went to the table and came back with two lit candles. Together they lit the candles on the stage. Finished, they sat down cross-legged on either side of the throne. The harpsichord fell silent. After the fairies sat down a figure appeared on the rocks above us, raised a horn to his lips and blew a fanfare. As the last note drifted down the valley, we heard a bag piper playing “The Blue Bells of Scotland” from another lookout across the quarry. As the pipes fell silent we heard a tin whistle followed by the low beat of a Bourg or Irish drum. From the direction of the road appeared a jester in full costume. He was juggling sticks, he held two in his hands and flipped a third in the air. Then he would flip the third stick between the sticks in his hands.
Behind the jester strode a tall man dressed as a king. A woman, nearly as tall, dressed in a purple cape walked beside him. The only thing holding the cape together was a gold clasp at the neck. Clearly, she was nude under the cape and considering how she held herself, I’m sure her hands were bound behind her back under the cape. They approached the stage and stepped on to it, then walked to the throne. On the way by the “King” shook our hands. He pointed to a spot near one of the fairies where a pillow lay. The queen knelt without a word facing the guests.
As the audience watched the show, and that is the only way I can describe it, I watched the audience. First, the nearly naked fairy girls, and then the Queen in nothing but a cape must have blown them away. Some of the women looked around in shock while the men ignored the jester and concentrated on the twins and Janis. The only people who looked right at home filled the front row. All the women wore collars, they were in some form of bondage and nearly naked. Only two appeared to be wearing shoes— they weren’t. Chains ran up the arches of their feet held on by rings piercing the skin underneath. The men were dressed in leather britches and boots. Most wore shirts and others wore vests.
A quartet of barefoot women musicians dressed only in short peasant dresses and playing a Celtic jig walked in from the road. Once on the stage, the quartet arranged themselves around the harpsichord. One put down her pipes and sat at the harpsichord. Behind them came an old man dressed as a friar; he would perform the service. Morgan’s father and her mother Sally, Chelsea, Jill, and Maggie came next. Morgan’s father was dressed in the robes of judge and indeed, he was. Sally, Chelsea, Jill, and Maggie wore dark blue dresses that hung nearly to their ankles. On their wrists and ankles they wore leather cuffs. Bells adorned their right ankle cuffs. All four wore flowers braided in their hair. In addition, they had complex symbols dyed in henna on their hands and feet. Morgan’s father seemed happy enough— perhaps he had fortified himself with a wee bit of Scotch. I doubt he had ever seen Sally, nearly naked, wearing cuffs, and barefoot in public.
A few paces behind them strode a tall man dressed in a long robe, carrying a staff and wearing a broad brimmed hat. All I could think of was Gandalf from the Hobbit. However, this hat was flat on top, not peaked. Behind him, the four brides’ maids formed a square surrounding Morgan. They were dressed like Chelsea, but their dresses were green. When I saw Morgan I was shocked! Locked in a shrews fiddle, and gagged, she wore a sack dress. Her bare feet and legs were dirty. She wore ankle cuffs, but they weren’t connected. She glanced up at me, winked, and tried to smile around the gag. The procession stopped in front of the stage. The friar stepped up and went over to the table with the Bible on it. The four women, led by Chelsea arranged themselves in a circle surrounding all the people on the stage. Morgan’s father stood across from us.
The King strode to the front of the stage. “Welcome all yeas fair Ladies and Gentlemen. Less you think we have all gone mad, all that you see before you has been done at the request of the bride. “We,” he swung his arm, to indicate the people on the stage, “are the Canter Hill Players. We stage medieval fairs and plays all over the northeast. Morgan was one of our serving wenches when she was in college. We are delighted to be here to help her celebrate this wonderful day in her life. Let the fun begin!”
He waited for the applause to quiet before he when on. Looking down at Morgan and her bride’s maids he said, “What is the meaning of this? Isn’t this woman here to be married? Why is she in bonds, Bailiff?”
The somber guy in the cape and hat stepped forward. “My Lord; early this morning we found her outside the ale house drunk.” He turned to the congregation and said; “Perhaps she was celebrating this day or trying to forget it was coming.” The congregation laughed. Turning back, he went on. “When the Sheriff tried to arrest her she attached him. For his own safety he bound her then turned her over to her maids”
“Well unbind her now so she can get married! Doesn’t she have something better to wear then those rags?”
Chelsea spoke up, “Yes, my Lord. I have something here for her.” She pulled cloth from inside her dress.
They took but a minute or two to strip off the sack cloth and throw it aside. The wrapped the cloth Chelsea provided around Morgan making a simple dress, a dress more beautiful then something costing thousands of dollars. The Bailiff took off the fiddle and then the gag. Morgan worked her jaw. Glancing over at me, she mouthed the words, “All night!” I just shook my head. The King returned to his throne.
Chelsea and the other three women in the circle called on the spirits to open a pagan circle. This would be both a pagan and Christian wedding.
The friar stepped forward and the service began. In a few minutes we said ‘I do’ in the right places and he pronounced us man and wife. The woman closed the circle.
After we kissed, I took Morgan by the hand and we walked down the aisle. The crowd pelted us with bird seed—I guess rice is out. A horse drawn carriage waited for us on the road. I helped Morgan in and put my arm around her. The driver moved off without a word.
At the intersection, we turned right toward the barn. “I thought we were going up to the cabin to give the guests a chance to walk down to the house?” Morgan spoke for the first time.
“I have my secrets too,” I told her.
Behind the barn stood a shed that had once been a blacksmith shop; everything was there but needed fixing up. A friend fixed it up for me as a wedding present. Linda stood waiting for us at the edge of the road. I got out first and then helped Morgan down. Linda quickly tied a blind fold around Morgan’s head. I led her into the shed. Inside Linda handed me a padlock. I took Morgan’s hands behind her back and locked the cuffs together. We undressed her, and then removed the blind fold.
She looked around for a moment, puzzled, until she saw the old forge. A coal fire glowed in the gloom of the shed. A wicked, knowing smile played across her lips.
Before I could say a word, she said, “Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes, just do it!”
Al stepped through the door, his wife right behind him. “I heard that! Shall we begin?”
Without another word, we strapped Morgan to a bench I’d made. Her legs spread, her torso bound, so she couldn’t move. Carefully we strapped her right leg so there was no movement. Despite her protest I gagged her, I didn’t want half the county to hear her when she screamed.
Stepping to the forge, I pulled the iron out and ran the end through a box of clean sand, then tapped it on the side of the box to knock off the sand. I stepped between Morgan’s legs while Linda filmed the action. Al stood on Morgan’s right side holding a light. Janis stood next to Morgan holding her hand. With great care, I lined up the branding iron with the inside of her right leg, a few inches to the left of her labia. It would be just outside the bikini line so even if she wore one it would show. Quickly I touched the iron to her flesh. It smoked and smelled of burning flesh. I held it for a count of two and then removed it. Done! Even raw it was beautiful, a heart with an S in the top left corner and an M near the bottom. It is an inch and a half high. It had happened so quickly that Morgan barely had time to react. When I looked up there were tears of happiness in her eyes.
We gave her a few minutes to recover then untied her. Free she dropped to her knees. “Thank you, Master, for the pretty brand.” She looked up with a smile, “It hurts like hell, but it is a good hurt.”
Linda handed me a gauze pad, I taped it over the brand to protect it. I helped her to her feet, “We have reception to go to, but before we do I have something else for you.”
Linda handed me the collar I had had hand made for Morgan. She lifted her hair as I locked it around her neck. It was silver with Celtic designs depicting the Wiccan Calendar worked into the metal. Worked into the design were four folding rings, hidden to the casual viewer. It passed for jewelry, but was very secure.
Linda helped Morgan into a skirt, slit on the right side from hem to belt. It hung to just about her knees. An embroidered silk vest that had one simple tie barely covered her breasts. I looked her over then took my knife and carefully cut off the tie on the vest. I took her hand and we walked through the barn to the party.
It was a good reception. Just before we entered I freed Morgan so she could mingle and eat. The number of local villagers at the wedding surprised me. Of course of the villagers all were invited, but considering how unusual the wedding I didn’t expect that many to show up. Without counting, I’d venture to guess that only a handful didn’t show. Something else surprised me, most of the women quickly lost their shoes and more than a few lost at least their tops. Sara and Maggie helped serve and they were nude from the start. I had to wonder what sort of Magic spell Morgan had cast on the village— no one had a problem with anything and even the few that had too much to drink just went home quietly . Around six, Chelsea took Morgan aside to check her brand and cover it with a fresh pad. She also removed all of Morgan’s cuffs and dressed her in a simple peasant dress. When they came back, I signaled for silence.
“Morgan and I thank all of you for coming today to celebrate our marriage. As I’m sure you are aware, all of you will always be welcome in this house. We have a plane to catch so it is time we go.”
My announcement was greeted by a chorus of cheers, boos, and hisses. A few called “don’t go yet,” but we did have to go. I hadn’t told Morgan anything about what we were going to do or where we were going for our honeymoon. She was surprised when I led her from the backyard through the stone arch to the waiting carriage. From there we went up the hill to a flat area near where the wedding had been. A helicopter sat waiting for us. Our bags were already on board—Morgan’s stuff fit in a hand bag. I helped Morgan climb aboard— her brand pulled when she tried to raise her leg. As the copter climbed into the sky, we had a wonderful view of the house and land.
Thirty minutes later, we landed at the city airport. Two gentlemen from customs and immigration were waiting for us beside a Hawker jet. When I told Morgan’s mother what I wanted to do for a honeymoon, she took over and made all the arrangements. The customs and immigration guys quickly looked at our passports over, stamped them, and wished us a good trip.
On the plane, I changed into shorts and a sport shirt. Morgan stripped. The owner of the jet used it to travel the world so it was equipped like a flying motor home with a nice living room, galley, head, and a master bedroom. A woman attendant showed us were everything was then served us drinks and light snacks. Morgan was beat; they had kept her in strict bondage all night and didn’t let her have any sleep. I led her back to the stateroom. First I put her ankle cuffs on. Then I cuffed her hands behind her back and tucked her in. She was asleep before I turned out the light. Three hours later, we landed on an island south of the Bahamas that caters to people with a life style like ours.
I woke Morgan as we taxied to the terminal. “Sleep well?” I asked.
“Yes, but not enough.” She glanced out the window. “Gee, I didn’t feel the landing.”
“The lady driving this thing really knows what she is doing. I talked to the crew and found out she flew F-14’s off carriers in the Navy before they retired them, so she left the Navy and now makes three times as much.”
“Don’t you think you should unlock my hands so I can put something on before we get off the plane?”
“No, you are fine except I have to fix your hobble.” I pulled her ankles out from under the covers and locked a 16-inch chain between her ankles.
“This is going to be interesting. What are customs and immigration going to say about a naked cuffed woman landing on their island?”
“Nothing. You always wanted to do long term strict bondage. For the next two weeks or so this will be your normal dress. I’ll change your bondage once in a while and I have a surprise for you starting on the weekend, but for now relax and enjoy.”
“Yes, Sir,” she smiled up at me.
I studied her for a moment and knew she meant it. There was no sign of mockery in her face. I bent down and kissed her. Without any help from me, she stood up. I clipped a lead on her collar and led her to the hatch.
When the hatch opened, a wave of warm air greeted us. The night was warm and soft. A beautiful nude young woman in a minivan greeted us. She had so many piercings I wondered how she ever got through the security check at the airport— then again if she flew out of this airport I doubt if it was a problem. Her skin was an even brown broken only by the silver cuffs around her wrists and ankles. I’d never shared this secret with Morgan. When we started making wedding plans, I started researching places we might go for our honeymoon. It took some time, but when I found this place, I knew it was just what I was looking for. While supposedly looking at winery equipment I’d made a quick trip here and arranged for membership.
“Hi, I’m Cindy. Welcome to the islands! I’ll be your guide while you are here. If you need anything, just ask.”
“Is SSC around? I thought from the way he spoke the last time I was here we would be staying at his home.”
Cindy looked very distressed for a few seconds and then gathered herself. “You don’t know?”
“SSC pasted away. He was working on a story when he just keeled over. The doctor said it was a massive heart attack. Klaus took his body back to Texas so he could be buried in the family plot.”
“Oh!” I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked beyond words!
Cindy went on to say; “Don’t worry, Sir, your stay will be just as you requested. Desiree went with Klaus, but she left instructions that we are to make sure that all your plans are carried out as you requested. Your room is ready, Sir, and if you are ready, we’ll go down to the dock and go over to Majestic. Right this way, Sir.”
She led us to an electric cart. Morgan didn’t say a word. I think she was as shocked being led nude and in bondage to the cart as I was with the death of SSC. Fifteen minutes later we were at the dock. I helped Morgan onto the boat while Cindy loaded our two bags. There was a fighting chair bolted to the deck. I led Morgan to it and fastened the seat belt so nothing would happen to her. I knew she could swim with her hands cuffed behind her, but I was more worried if the boat started to pitch and roll. With no hands to catch her, she could take a header.
Expertly Cindy pulled the boat away from the dock and pointed it at a dim shape on the horizon where a few light flicked in the night. “May I crank it up, Sir?”
“Sure,” I told her as I grabbed for a good handhold. Judging by the lines of the boat and the rumble under the deck, I was sure it could fly.
Cindy pushed the throttles forward and we were off. Half an hour later, the lights were bright and Cindy was slowing down. Instead of turning to the right side of the island where the largest concentrations of light were we turned left and went behind the island. A few minutes later we pulled into a dock lit with just a few lights. I jumped onto the dock and tied the bow, then went aft and secured the stern. Cindy let the engines idle for a few minutes before she shut them off.
I retrieved Morgan from the chair, her eyes bright with excitement; “Wow that was awesome!”
“Yep, it sure was. I wouldn’t mind owning a boat like this.”
I helped Morgan off the boat while Cindy grabbed our bags. Another electric cart waited for us on the dock. A few minutes later we pulled up in front of an enormous house— more a castle then a house. It was after nine thirty by now and several people greeted us at the door. We were quickly introduced to the chef, head housekeeper, and a maid we were told was assigned to us for the rest of our stay. Wow! This was well beyond first class. I noticed Morgan relaxed a bit when she saw that all the staff was nude and sported at least half a ton of piercing hardware! When asked if we were hungry we both realized we were. We were led to a formal dining room. I could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. I pushed open the door and found seven or eight people gathered around large table eating dinner. They stopped talking as soon as they noticed me.
“Ah Sir,” it was ‘our maid’ who was standing behind me, trying to get my attention.
“Ah, that’s the staff and friends eating, I’ll ask them to quiet down.”
“As I recall SSC told me he liked to eat in the kitchen with the staff. Right?”
“Yes Sir, he felt we were all one big family.”
“Well, unless the staff objects we would like to join them.” The expression on her face and those in the kitchen was priceless, but quickly smiles appeared and then someone started laughing and the whole room broke up. Quickly they cleared a space for us and we sat down. The meal was wonderful and by the end, we were adopted into the family.
After dinner, Morgan and I retired to our bedroom for a little loving. Afterwards, exhausted, we slept and I didn’t wake until the sun shone in my eyes. Morgan was still asleep. I got up and took a pee. As I started the coffee pot I started thinking about how lucky I was to have her, but something just didn’t seem right. I realized how quiet she had become. Normally she was bright and always had something to say. I hadn’t told her not to talk, but last night at dinner she had only spoken when asked a question. I wondered if something was bothering her. By the time the coffee was ready Morgan was awake. I walked over to her side of the bed and set a cup on the bed side table.
“Morning Sir,” she swung her legs out of bed and stood up. She stretched as much as she could. “I got to take a pee, I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, she was back. I motioned her for her to turn around. I freed her hands. “Sit and have some coffee, it’s really good.” Without a word, she sank into the chair across the table from me.
“Ah, it is good.” She said with a nod.
“Is something bothering you? You seem very quiet.”
“Yes and no,” she said. “I’ll start with the ‘no’. I love it here; I love the nudity and the bondage. The ‘yes’ part is that in some ways I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to the cold and having to wear clothes again. I’m quiet because I feel as if I’m really becoming a slave girl. Slave girls are not supposed to talk unless given permission. I’ve been trying not to talk unless someone speaks to me. You read me very well. You knew that I’d be happy here.”
“Ok, I just wanted to know. Don’t forget we agreed that you would be yourself.”
“Hummm,” she grunted, “can we amend that a bit? I feel more and more like a slave and I want more and more to be a slave in full time bondage.”
“As your Master I like the idea, but as your husband I don’t. During our stay here, you can be a slave. When we go home, you will return to the Morgan I fell in love with. Don’t forget you are a large part of the business we started.”
She smiled; she had gotten part of what she wanted. It would have to do for now.
The week passed in a blur. In reality, Morgan spent equal time bound and free. Free because I wanted her to have an all over tan and the cuffs would have left white rings. On the weekend, we went fishing and joined the staff for the weekly dungeon session. The dungeon was in use all the time, but on the weekend, they pulled out all stops and they partied.
On Sunday, another couple joined us. I’ll call them Tim and Ann because they have a web site and I’m sure they would not want to be named in this story. Tim is a Japanese Bondage Master and Ann has been his model for years. Several times a year they visit the US bondage shows. Tim is a great teacher and much in demand, I was lucky to have them spend a few days with us. For the next week, he showed me more ways to tie Morgan up then I can name. Yeah, he tried to teach me the names, but I’m not good at names. However, I did learn the ties. As a result, Morgan and Ann spent three complete days in some form of bondage. At the end, they were both exhausted, but happy.
On Thursday, the four of us packed up and took the jet to Connecticut for the New England show. We had a great time and I spent a great deal of money on rope.
Saturday we headed home. When we got home Chelsea, Jill, and Terry were working overtime. Terry had found a winery in New York that was going out of business and bought all the equipment we needed. Chelsea had a contractor working on the factory behind the bank. It was going to be a great winery. Jill had started on the legal paper work.
Sunday morning we awoke with the sun as usual. After breakfast Jill, Morgan, and I hiked down the hill to see how things were going. It was a wonderful morning. Morgan, naked, was stunning. Her brand nearly healed. I loved walking behind her. Her ass was round and just big enough to fit her body. I loved how her bare feet kicked up tiny puffs of dust. As she talked with Jill, she wiggled her fingers. When Morgan talked, she often waved her hands. With her wrists locked to her elbows behind her back she couldn’t wave her hands, instead she waved her fingers. All was right with our world.