The Red Bride Denuded

I hear a distinct release of breath and then silence, silence... before his voice returns: 'I love you. I will be true to my word.

'My dearest one, you are mine now. I will be a good, but absolute Master. And expect absolute obedience from you.

'I know you are not alone right now. Ask your friend to stay with you on your final night as a free woman. Let her care for you and help you prepare for tomorrow. I want you to be at the offices of (solicitors firm name) at (street) at 11:00. There you will formally submit to me by signing a contract. Within the hour a taxi will deliver to you the clothes I want you to wear. Goodnight.'

(Click) He rings off before I could say anything else.

Now the floodgates of my tears truly open. My friend holds me and kisses me until I run out of tears. She then takes my head in her hands, looks me in the eye and smiles, 'Hush, my sweetie... I am sure you did what you had to do. Don't fight what is stronger than you. Your life will not be easy, but it will be fulfilling. Oh, sweetie...'

We sit together in a tight embrace until the taxi delivers the promised parcel. My friend takes the delivery and brings the parcel to me, which I unceremoniously rip open.

Oh, what wonders!

I find myself a beautiful red dress made of the finest silk, bell skirt, modest cleavage, sleeveless, short and body hugging. A set of almost weightless satin underwear, sheer and delicately embroidered, red again. And, red once more, a set of hold-ups with embroidered tops. Finally, a pair of elegant Italian 4" heels. I beam at my friend! What a great start of a new life! A bridal outfit.

My friend takes me to bed and caresses me. In time, I start to reciprocate her caresses and we make love, for the first and last time; tender love between one woman and another, before we fall asleep.

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We woke up some 4 hours before I was due. My friend made us breakfast in bed, which we ate sitting naked opposite each other in an atmosphere of great intimacy. She then bathed me from head to toe and washed my hair. She shaved my armpits, my legs and my pubes. My entire body she oiled and she scented my intimate areas and behind my ears. My hair, which was halfway down my back when loose, she braided beautifully in the Scandinavian style. She made up my eyes in delicate tones of blue, the colour of my eyes, and red, that of my dress, and finished off my face by painting my lips bright red. Like so, naked still, she took me to my mirror. We agreed I was a perfect bride, a ripe young woman offering to be picked. Finally, she dressed me in His divine clothes.

His bride... what am I saying! I should not be romantic. Make no mistake: I was to be his slave! His slave, his private property. My will would only exist within the mesh of his.

Outside on the pavement at the open taxi door my friend said goodbye, kissed and hugged me intensely. Looking through the rear window, I see her waving me off on my way towards that fateful solicitor's office.

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I present myself at reception and say my name. I am made to wait a brief moment, before a woman comes to fetch me. She introduces herself as the legal assistant of (solicitor). I see the receptionist look at us. We form a pair of the greatest contrast: I, the pretty one, vividly dressed all in red with my long hair worn in a pretty braid and she, attractive still, but dressed in a very unbecoming grey business suit, skirt and jacket, with a light blue blouse, and her dirty-blonde hair up in a bun. I, a picture of youth, and she late thirties, I'd think. She asks for my raincoat and I hand it to her.

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Legal assistant

From what my boss has told me we ' ll have a novelty to deal with today. Sort of a marriage between a man and woman. But he cautioned - I might be shocked. The woman would more or less sell her soul to the man, who is also a lot older. Why always the woman in the giving, inferior role? He hopes I will Okay. With a playful smile.

'It is all legal', he says with a smile.

Now this is her. Her gaze tells me she is not stupid. Naïve, yes. Beautiful. Too beautiful for her own good. Dressed like a doll in a pretty red party dress. She is young for sure, but a fully developed woman and well endowed. She could get any man she cares to have. But she is not the conqueror's type. Or perhaps it is just the nerves of getting married, if that is the deal, that makes her shy, withdrawn. Although for a moment a spirit awakes and she studies me intensely. I see a flicker of fire. She is not stupid.

We must hurry. The men are waiting.

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She leads me up a grand staircase and down a corridor lined with heavy oak doors to the door at the end. She flashes me a smile, knocks and opens the door. With a welcoming gesture she lets me in, then follows me and closes the door.

Master! A wave of emotion rolls up inside of me. He has been talking to another man, the solicitor, no doubt. Both are dressed in smart blue suits. Together they look at me, courteously, but betraying no emotion. I step towards Master in order to greet him, kiss him, embrace, and throw myself at him... but his gestures stop me in my tracks. The solicitor approaches me to shake my hand and introduce himself with a slight bow and a smile. He then turns to Master and invites him to sit down in an easy chair to the right side of his desk. He moves and gets seated behind his desk. Both look at me. Meanwhile, the legal assistant has sat down behind a desk to the left of his, at right angles and somewhat set back. I am left standing and don't have the sense to go and occupy any of the vacant chairs.

The solicitor speaks.

'(My name), you are here to accept and sign a contract of slavery between (Master's name) and yourself, whom I shall refer to as "Master" when I am addressing you, according to his wishes.

'I have explained to Master and will now explain to you that this contract will not stand up in court, since slavery is illegal. My legal assistant and I, however, will witness that you will agree to this contract in a sound state of mind and that you have understood all that it contains. This will remove any prospect of claiming damages from Master or seeking to indict him if you would ever change your mind. He, through me, also lets you know that he will disown you if you default on your agreement and signature.

'Is it clear to you that the purpose of this session is for you both to accept and sign the contract?'

I nod, but he says, 'You need to speak, (my name), for your answer to be legally acceptable. Are you aware of the purpose?'

'Yes!' My voice is loud and shrill.

'Very well then. You know that the contract essentially removes all rights to self-possession from you and transfers these to Master. This removal is quite absolute and not intended as play. Are you really sure that you want this? Are you freely and in your right mind making this decision, without unlawful pressure of any kind? Please speak.'

'Yes, I want it...' I say and softly add, '... gladly. I freely make this decision and in my right mind. You may verify this further, if you need to...'

'That won't be necessary - we see and hear that you do.'

The solicitor then straightens his back and declares:

'Then in principle you are now his in the full sense of the word. Before we shall hear you recite the full extent of the contract aloud...'

I break into a cold sweat... I have to read out loud all details of what he will require of me, which no doubt includes sexual services, in the presence of these strangers...? I should have realised... But what could I have done? What can I do now? I am His.

'... Master has requested he'd address you for the first time in his new and absolute capacity. (Master's name), go right ahead.'

Master stands up, thanks the solicitor and turns his gaze to me. To me! I feel warm! What will he say to me, in my new capacity...? His first words... Will he express his gratitude to me for giving myself to him so radically? When he speaks, he says in an even, low tone of voice, quenching my burning, romantic heart - heart be gone! Be gone! - :

'My slut, you are shameless. Show this to our witnesses and myself. Disrobe.'

'But...,' I plead with him, struck by this sudden request - no, any request is now an order! - glancing quickly at the solicitor and the legal assistant, at her especially...

He comes up close, but does not touch me. Nor does he shout when he repeats, 'My slut, disrobe for me and our witnesses!'

I look at him with tears in my eyes. I cannot disobey his very first order, I cannot, but die with embarrassment when I reach to the back of my dress and pull down the zipper. Master has sat down in his chair again and watches me push the dress off my shoulders, the beautiful red dress he gave me upon my surrender, yesterday, and let it fall to the floor. I step out of my shoes and the dress, loosely fold it up and put it and the shoes to the side. I feel very, very cold in my underwear and stockings.

I have been naked amongst my fashion peers before, sure, and with my boyfriends, but always in safe situations - nude beaches, private parties, around pools... Of course, confident about my body, in the early days with Master I knew a little about embarrassment. Master has had me striptease at a Helmut-Newton-like party, a scene with scene people, and I was embarrassed, but at the same time realised and accepted that that was the point. But it was play.

Here, in a business environment it is real and I am confronted with the biggest overbearing shame in my life. Oh, could I vanish into thin air, I would. My face is beet red. It is especially the presence of a fellow woman that embarrasses me -I feel she will despise the fallen me, confirming the inferior positions women still have, letting the side down! Her composure stuns me. I don't want contempt, but I do need sympathy. Yet a glance at her does not reveal any.

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Legal assistant

I don ' t know how to react. Should I laugh or cry? Should I be angry and then at whom? At the 'Master', who exploits the hold he has on her, calling her a 'slut', the poor wench? At my boss, who must have known what was coming, and facilitated this degradation? He prepared the contract himself without my help. At the girl, who simply does what she is told? It is so embarrassing and not only to her. I am not very hung up about nudity, but I am about exploitation of, indeed, fellow women. And yet she does it ' in a sound mind.' She does not seem drugged. Is it possible that she loves him this much? Is it possible that she loves the exploitation? Masochism exists and has existed before it got in vogue. Even I have been tied up and teased in play, when I was younger.

She keeps looking at me. Naturally, she is looking for an ally. Don't know. I don't want to openly side with her against these two men. They should not think all women are like this. Property, if you press us hard enough. No, it is better not to show any reaction at all. I am not sure I want to talk to my boss about this later - at all, but certainly not from a defensive position.

Oh, God, this girl will be naked soon and all her attributes for grabs. Beautiful attributes, yes....

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'Go on!' His command shocks me back to the here-and-now. Don't think!

I bend over and strip down first the left and then the right stocking, neatly fold each of them in turn and place it on the dress. I am so cold! But I go on and undo the clip of my bra behind my back, naturally with my shoulders curved back and my breasts pert, slide the shoulder straps down with my back curved forward and my breasts quenched together, and let the pretty bra fall off. It follows the way of my stockings. My breasts have now been evicted from their safe haven and exposed for all to see. In an office!

Should my nipples not be erect? Should I not be aroused under the circumstances? I am ashamed! When I finally remove the knickers, I am stark naked - not even pubic hair offers a semblance of protection. I mechanically fold up the knickers and put them down with the rest.

There I am. Open to three pairs of eyes. Two that leer at me and one that judges me.

'Slut, put your heels back on. Pick up that stack of clothing and bring it to the assistant's desk. I will issue instructions to her on what to do with the stuff later. You have worn these clothes for the very last time.'

I am very conscious of my bare butt and swinging breasts as I bend over and pick up my clothes. I am sure all eyes have been on me all the while; certainly, they are now when I take the few steps towards the other woman's desk. Her gaze is so frightfully composed - with a glimmer of understanding? Her gaze turns even friendly, which sets me off balance, as she was so professional and formal. She takes that little stack of my new and glorious clothes, which no doubt are still warm, and thanks me - those clothes in honour of him that I have to discard so soon, again for him!

She thanks me! For what?

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Legal assistant

I amaze myself by my business-like behaviour. As if there were nothing unusual about being handed the fine set of clothes which ' you will never wear again' in front of the woman who has just been stripped of them.

'Thank you.' Was that all I could think of? The instructions ' to her on what to do with them ' ... Keep them here? Give them to him? To her not, I ' d think. To me, God forbid?! For me to take home? I don ' t think so. Unless to give them to charity. To my boss? He ' d wish! We will find out.

Meanwhile there is a beautiful and naked woman here. I am affected by her presence.

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'Slut, you look beautiful. You know I love you for that. I want you obscene, however. Show your all.

'Assume the display position, feet apart and hands behind your neck! Our witnesses will see that you do this without force by me, with you in sound mind.'

I comply. My 'tits' and bare 'cunt' in good view - I am certain these would be the words that Master and the solicitor would use. I see the concentration of both men here in front of me looking at me, but both remain composed. It is unnerving. And the woman? She is in the corner of my eye... so hard to tell... Oh, let me assume they are all, the men and the woman, admiring me. They may lust after me, as long as they admire me. I may spell no more than sex to them, as long as they at least respect and enjoy me in that capacity. You know why I am not so sure about the woman. She is less likely to lust after me and may project that I am wasting myself and may despise me for that reason. But she showed a glimmer of friendliness just now.

'Finally, slut, you will briskly pace to the wall to the right of you, then to (legal assistant)'s desk on the left and finally up close to (solicitor)'s. Briskly, because I want your parts bouncing. At her desk and subsequently at his, you will turn your back and bend over deeply, whilst pulling your buttocks apart. Again, they will witness that you do this freely and in sound mind.'

Freely and in a sound mind... I am wondering about my mind. I will do it, freely, so much is certain. Can I draw on the knowledge that I am beautiful and clean? And the fact that I have done a little modelling and have been striding a mile or two on the catwalk? Let me just pretend that that is what I will do now. I fix my eyes on infinity and walk towards the right wall, placing one foot in front of the other and swaying my hips, turn and walk to the legal assistant at the other side of the room... I then make half a pirouette in front of her, throw my left leg away from the other like an acrobat and in one continuous motion flex my torso forward. My hands fly to my buttocks and pull them apart.

Stop! This is not what a model would do, show her anus! Between my legs I see the legal assistant look at me in the most neutral of ways, while at the same time her head turns beet red, along with mine. In my case, is it just from the blood flowing down? And in hers?

One, two, three... Up the model goes and she strides the few steps back to her original position facing the solicitor, turns around... Oh, my mother, I find myself with my glowing head upside down, looking at the solicitor from between my legs and pulling my buttocks apart again. His gaze is composed, not leering, but still far from neutral and full of interest. Oh...! Go on... One, two, three... up I go. Freely and in a sound mind, with a red face I turn around, spread my legs, move my hands to my neck and face the solicitor and my Master once more.

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Legal assistant

I have never seen anything like this - in several senses. I am shocked. This girl showed her anus to me and then to my boss. To show her vagina, that is sacrifice enough, but the real taboo is on the anus. I have never even looked at mine!

But I try to show no reaction. I have talked about that already. Oh, I would react if I were on my own with her. How? Possibly according to all seasons: embarrassment, interest, sympathy, disgust, anger, enjoyment - in whatever order. I might have walked up to her and touch her or ask to look closer. No reaction? I cannot control the blood that rushes to my cheeks.

I feel associated with her as a fellow woman. And the power of the naked female form is overwhelming.

Associated, yes. That does not mean I have come close to understanding her. The Master's motives are clear: to own and use. He will have sex without consent, or at least won't be asking her for consent, he may beat her in the interest of owning her and humiliating her, he may pass her on the friends.

To be owned and used, beaten and humiliated, why? I will never know. But I sense that I can't despise her any longer.

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The solicitor speaks. 'I have prepared the contract document with your Master. I will now hand you your copy. Please...' He stands up and holds out a little stack of paper. I cannot hold his gaze when I inch forward and take it from him... muttering 'Thank you...'

'The document is a series of articles that define the relationship between you and Master and each addresses a condition or an activity you are obliged to fulfil or perform, or in contrast not fulfil or abstain from. You will read each article aloud first and then we shall briefly check your understanding thereof. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Sir, it is. It is...'

I break in a cold sweat. Not only will all details of my humiliation be spelled out to the solicitor and the woman, but it will also be I that will bring the humiliation upon myself, it's not one of the other three. For a flash, the wish to walk out of the room and disappear surges up. I actually make half a step in that direction, but stop myself before Master or the solicitor does. I look at Master and think I see a little smile. What is the sense of leaving this office and then the building in my present naked state? Away from him. I truly have no option.

EDITOR'S note: The following quotations from the contract are supposed to project the gist of it, and the spirit including the mind-numbing detail, but do not pretend to be the full and complete contract. There are details on her nails, her eyebrows, about the Gorean positions, about maid-services, about how to rouge her areolas, about the various whips and cane she might be beaten with etc.