Wedding Day Blues







“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”  Those words were haunting Chelsea as she watched her friend Anna waltz across the dance floor with her new husband.  This was the sixth time she had attended a wedding of an old friend in the last year, four of them as a bridesmaid, but somehow it looked as if it was never going to be her turn.


Anna looked fabulous in her dress, the diamond laced bodice shining in the spotlights as Dave took her around the floor.  She had really pushed the boat out of her dress – and that of the bridesmaids.  Chelsea looked at herself in the hallway mirror as she passed.  The dark blue silk hugged her chest like a second skin, tapering into her waist before it flowed out into a floor length skirt.  The material hugged the top of her breasts and her back, leaving her shoulders bare save for the long blue chiffon scarf that was wrapped around her neck.  Long silk opera gloves covered her arms over her elbows, while her feet were nestled in a pair of three inch stiletto heeled pumps made from velvet of the same shade of blue.


“Are you all right, Chelsea?”


She looked down to see Anna’s younger sister looking at her, dressed in a similar manner save that her gown had short capped sleeves instead of being strapless.


“Yeah, I’m fine - I just need some fresh air.  I’m going to step outside for a minute, all right?”


She watched the young girl smile as she walked off.  Truth be told, she was not feeling much like partying, so Chelsea made her way quietly out of the reception room and up the large open staircase.  Anna had secured private suites for all of her party, set back from the main part of the hotel, and it was to one of those that Chelsea slowly made her way. 


From the small clutch bag over her shoulder she drew out a key card and inserted in into the slot at the front of the door.  The soft click of the door unlocking was followed by her gloved hand on the handle and the cool air from the fan hitting her face as she stepped into the room.


The lights had not yet gone on, but as Chelsea slipped the card into the holder by the door the lights slowly came up, dimmed as she had left them.  Walking into the room, she placed her handbag on the four poster bed and sat in front of the large mirror on the design table, looking at herself in the mirror.  A small silver tiara was perched on her black hair, which had been done into a bun by the hairdresser earlier that morning.


“Maybe one day I will be the bride,” she said to herself as she sat with her chin resting in her hands, “but somehow Mister Right just never comes along.”


“Maybe you just have not met him yet.”


The voice was quiet, soft and gentle, but unmistakably male, and Chelsea sat up in the chair, wondering where it had come from.  The answer came when a black gloved hand appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and gently placed itself over her mouth.


“Whtthhl,” she mumbled under the glove, the taste of leather getting through her lips.


“Hush now,” the male voice continued, “I have no wish to hurt you, merely to relieve you of some of your nice things.  If you promise not to struggle, then I promise I will not harm you.  Nod if you understand.”


Chelsea nodded, eyes darting from side to side as she tried to see where this man was.  “Stand up and stand still,” he said as he removed his hand, allowing Chelsea to stand up and turn round.  He was about five foot ten, dressed in a black jacket and trousers over a black shirt with a bow tie.  If truth be told, he could easily have passed for a guest at the wedding, were it not for the gloves on his hands and the dark stocking that covered his face.


“Who are you,” Chelsea said as she looked the man up and down.


“As I said, just someone who likes pretty things,” the man replied as he reached into a pocket and took out a large velvet bag.  In his other hand, Chelsea could see what looked like a gun pointing in her direction.  “Please, take off the tiara and place it in this bag.”


Slowly, Chelsea reached up and removed the tiara, handling it carefully as she accepted the bag and placed it within.  “Please, don’t hurt me,” she said quietly as she saw the masked man smiling at her.


“What’s your name?”


“Ch... Chelsea.”


“Well, Chelsea, I promise you I will not hurt you, merely – incapacitate you for a while.  Tell me, why are you here instead of at the reception.”


“I don’t know – somehow I’m getting a little tired of never being the centre of the attention.”


“Not found Mister Right yet?  I understand – please, take off the bracelets you are wearing and place them in the bag as well, as well as that rather startling diamond ring you have on your finger.”


“This one?” Chelsea said as she held up her right hand, watching the man nodding as she did so.  She carefully removed the ring, as well as the pearl bracelets she was wearing, and placed them into the sack as well.


“So what happens now?” she asked as she watched the man put the gun on the table, in plain sight of both of them.  In reply, he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a length of white rope.  Handing it to her, he said “I want you to feel this – tell me how it feels to you.”


Handling it in her gloved hands, Chelsea whispered “Soft, smooth – and I think I’m going to be wearing this, right?”


“Right,” the man said a she took the rope back.  “Please turn round and place your hands behind your back, palm to palm.  Then stand perfectly still.”


“You don’t strike me as the normal type of robber,” Chelsea said as she turned round.  Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he quickly doubled the rope over and passed it round her wrists, the silk creasing slightly under the coils as he tightened them and held her arms together.


“Good – I don’t want you to be scared or upset,” he said as he passed the rope between her arms, further tightening the coils as he tied the ends out of reach of her fingers.  “I promise you, this need not be an unpleasant feeling if you allow it to be.  Now, please hold still.”


To her surprise, Chelsea felt her shoulders been pulled back as the soft rope was applied around her arms, just below the elbows, pulling them gently together as the man ensured she was well bound.  As she glanced to the other side, she saw a small holdall sitting on the floor, various coils of rope sticking from the top.


“Are you really going to use that much rope,” Chelsea said in a breathless fashion.  Despite her fear, she was finding out something new – she liked this feeling of helplessness.  A gasp escaped her lips as her elbows almost touched, before the man turned her round to look at him.


“I always like to come prepared,” he quietly said, and Chelsea saw a small smile on his lips under the dark stocking.   “How does it feel – not too uncomfortable, I hope?”


“Not really – but how am I meant to get free?”


“You’re not – that’s the point.  Please, take a seat on the end of the bed.”


As Chelsea sat down, she watched her captor taking another length of rope from the bag, shaking it loose and doubling it over.  Kneeling at her feet, he lifted the hem of her skirt up slightly to reveal her ankles, and passed the rope quickly around them.


“Hmmmm,” Chelsea said as she closed her eyes and felt the soft constriction around her ankles as well.  As they rubbed together, she imagined who this man may be outside of this situation – a lawyer, or a doctor.


“Do you do this to all the girls you meet,” she said quietly as he tied the ends of the rope off under the soles of her shoes.  “I try not to meet too many people when I’m at work,” he replied as he took yet another length of rope out.  “Chelsea, I am afraid I must ask an indelicate question at this point.  I need to secure your legs together, but I do not want to cause any unnecessary damage to this wonderful gown.  Would you allow me to lift your skirt up for a few moments so that I can secure your legs together underneath?”


She looked at the young man, wondering why he was been so polite, so considerate.  “You’re the one with the gun,” she said eventually, “You could just order me to lift the skirt – or even take the whole dress off me.”


“I could – but your friend whose wedding this is picked well – the dress suits you and should not be gratuitously removed.  As to forcing you, I prefer it if people co-operate – violence gets nobody anywhere.  So, what is your decision?”


Chelsea nodded and watched as he carefully lifted the skirt up, revealing the tops of her stockings as he laid the material to the side of her.  Quickly, he wrapped a length of rope around her legs, just below her knees, and secured them together, cinching the coils between her legs before tying the ends off behind her.  Folding the skirt back down, he stood up and smiled.


“I’m not going anywhere,” Chelsea said as she looked down at her skirt, effectively covering the ropes around her ankles and knees.  “Now what?”


“Now, a choice – I am going to blindfold you, Chelsea, but I can do it now or when I am finished.  If I do it later, you will see the other things I will be doing to make you secure.  If not, then you will have to guess.  Which is it going to be?”


She sat for a moment in thought, before turning and smiling at him.  “And what are you going to use,” she said in a questioning tone.  In response, he gently lifted away the scarf that was around her neck and hanging down her shoulders shaking it loose so that Chelsea could see him through the gossamer thin chiffon.


“I can see easily through that,” Chelsea said lightly, but as she watched him fold the scarf into a band, she began to doubt her own thinking.  As he placed the cloth over her eyes, she realised that it was almost impossible to see anything except a blue haze, especially as he pulled the scarf tightly around her head and knotted the ends together at the back of her head.


“Sit still, please,” she heard him say at the same time as she felt the mattress giving slightly behind her.  Wondering what was happening, she felt against her shoulders what she instantly recognised as the rope, pulling at her bare upper arms and forcing them into her side.


“Oh,” she said as she felt the rope passing around her upper body, “I did not think you were going to do this.”


“A necessary precaution,” the man whispered into her ear as she felt the rope pass around under her breasts, pulling the front of her dress into her chest.  “I promise you will not be left in an indecent condition.”  She could tell he was as good as his word – although she could feel her arms been forced against her side and back, the front of her dress still covered her breasts, even after she felt them tighten under her arms.


“Forgive me,” the man then said as he kissed her neck, “I need to take one more thing from you.”  Chelsea felt her pearl necklace been unclasped as it slid down her front, before been removed completely.


“So what happens now,” Chelsea asked as she turned her head in the direction she could hear her captor walking in.  “You have my jewellery, what else are you planning to take?”


“Merely the memory of you sitting there,” she heard him say as soft footsteps heralded his walk back.  “Are you comfortable sitting there, or would you prefer to lie down?”


“I’d prefer to lie down,” Chelsea replied, and she was surprised to feel his gentle touch as he helped her to lean back onto the bed and turn onto her side.  Gently lifting her head, she felt a pillow been placed underneath as she tried to settle down.  “One last thing,” he said as she felt her ankles been drawn back, and something been placed around them.  After a few moments, she heard him walking round, but was surprised to find she could not straighten her legs out.


“And one last thing I plan to take,” she heard him say, and then she felt a pair of lips brushing against hers, gently kissing her before he said “Please open your mouth.”  Something was pushed between her lips, which tasted of smooth silk and smelt of lavenders, before it was pushed back into her mouth.  Chelsea closed her lips around something soft and absorbent, before she felt a small amount of pressure at the back of her neck.


“Good night, Chelsea,” she heard him say as his footsteps could be heard walking to the door.  As it softly clicked shut, Chelsea lay still for a few moments, testing with her fingers to see if there was any give in the ropes around her wrists.  What she discovered instead was something extending down from her wrists, which felt very much like the rope she had been handed.  As she tried flexing her legs, she realised that her wrist were been pulled down at the same time.


She lay quietly, listening to see if anybody was coming past, but as the minutes ticked away she began instead to move herself round as best she could.  Whatever was in her mouth was effectively muffling any sounds that she could make, so calling for help seemed not to be an option.  On the other hand, she was not uncomfortable, and in some ways it felt quiet sensual to her to be lying there helpless.


Her mind started to imagine scenarios like this, where she had been captured or held hostage, waiting for a handsome man to come to her rescue.  She could also feel strange warmth growing between her legs as she moved around, and to her surprise she realised she was actually getting aroused by her situation.


Surprises, but not shocked and certainly not unwelcome to her.  She let out a low hum as she twisted her legs around as best she could, the silk of her dress rubbing her legs as the rope caressed and held them firmly together.  The feeling s grew stronger as she did so, and she was surprised to her herself groan slightly at the sensation.  Could it be she actually enjoyed been treated like this, like a victim, like a kept woman, like a – like a goddess?


She heard some noises from outside the door.  “she said she was going to get some fresh air,” she heard a voice like Anna’ sister say, “So maybe she is in here.”


There was a knock on the door.  “Chelsea, are you in there,” she heard a voice she recognised as Rob, the best man, say.  She tried to call out, to say “Yes, help me,” but all that came out was “Yshlpm.”  She called louder, hoping he would hear something was wrong, but instead she heard him say “Go back downstairs and join the others.”  Chelsea turned herself over and lifted her head up screaming “HLPMMMMM!!!!” at the top of her voice.


To her relief, she heard the door opening, and Rob saying “Chelsea, are you.... shit!”  She blinked as the scarf was pulled away from her eyes, and she saw Rob standing over her, a concerned look on his face.  “Who did this to you,” he said as Chelsea looked over her shoulder, and saw that her wrist and ankles were connected by a length of rope.  She turned back to look at Rob, who leaned down and pulled what she now recognised as the belt from her cotton dressing gown out of her mouth, allowing her to spit what she saw were a pair of her own panties out.


“I’ve been robbed, Rob,” she said before bursting out laughing.  “Robbed, Rob – that’s funny,” she said as she tried to twist round.


“Look, I’ll call security, but I need to get you free first.”




“I beg your pardon?”


“No – I want to stay this way for a while.”  She looked up at Rob, his clear blue eyes, his rugged face.  “What do I look like?”




“Be honest.”


“Like a princess who needs to be rescued by a handsome prince.  Why?”


“Ever fancied playing the prince?”


Rob looked down at Chelsea as she lay on her side.  “How long have we known each other?”


“Since college.”


“Yeah – and I think I’ve liked you for that long.  I have to admit, you look rather attractive lying there.”


“And what do you think the prince would do?”


Standing up, Rob walked over and pushed the door shut, before walking back.  “He would wake the princess with a kiss,” he said as he leaned over and brushed her lips with his.  Reaching over, he untied her ankles from her wrists and allowed her to stretch her legs out and sit up.  She could now see the ropes around her breasts, forcing them out as they held her arms tightly to her side.


“What am I going to do with you, Chelsea,” he said as he sat beside her.


“Whatever you want,” she said as he held her head in his hands.  “Whatever you want.....”











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