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The Heirloom
© 1999 by J.Z. Sharpe



Meredith's father presents us with the bed at the big family party, a week before our wedding. He makes a big deal of it, of course, the way he makes a big deal out of everything. "This came from my great-grandfather Daniel," he says, running his hand along the smooth upper bar of the footboard. "He bought it in France and had it shipped here by boat, then carried west on a horse-drawn wagon. The whole Hamilton clan has slept quite soundly on it over the years."

I smile politely at my future father-in-law. "Thank you, sir. It will look lovely in our bedroom." And your daughter will look quite lovely lashed to its bars, I add to myself.

"Daddy, it's even prettier than I remembered it," Meredith says, and kisses her father's cheek.

"I had it polished, and tightened up a little, too. I'm so happy for you, honey." He cocks his head. "Dinner must be almost ready. I think I hear your mother calling."

"We'll be down in a minute," I tell him. "Meredith and I want to admire the bed for a little while."

"Of course," he replies, and smiles.

The door clicks shut behind him. Meredith and I are alone in her parents' guest room; the gentle din of music and conversation floats up to us from the first floor. "You know," I say to my beautiful fiance, "Your father has no idea what a slut you are."

She smiles and shakes her head, her long hair shimmers like a waterfall over her shoulders. "No, of course not."

"But I do." I walk over and take her in my arms. "Come, my precious one. Let's try this thing out."

"Right now?"

"Why not?" I reach into my jacket pocket. "I just so happen to have some rope with me. It would be such a shame not to use it."

"Leave it to you to bring that along," Meredith laughs. "Always prepared."

"So take off your clothes."

She glances over her shoulder. "But what about the party?"

"They can wait. They'll hardly miss us." As she slips out of her skirt, I fold it with care and hang it over the back of a nearby chair. "Besides, who is your master, my dear? Me or them?"

She is down to her bra and panties now. "You, of course, sir."

"Correct answer," I say, and sweep her panties to the floor in one grand motion.

*****

I bind Meredith's delicate wrists to the headboard. She kneels with her back to me, which provides a glorious view of her creamy derriere. I grab one thigh and pull it toward me, spreading her legs further apart. The motion makes her quiver along that delicious curve between hip and upper leg. "Is the door locked?" she asks.

"I'd rather not. Wouldn't you love it if your mother came in and saw you like this?"

"No, I wouldn't!"

"She would see the true you, my dear. She would see the secret Meredith, the one who is so in need of my loving command." I run my palm down her soft back, and my fingers take a brief detour into her ass crack. "But if you wish, my dear, I'll lock it."

"Thank you."

"Plenty of time to shock everyone after the wedding." Our privacy assured now, I return to the bed and put my fingers back where they belong. I press my lips against her ear. "Speaking of the wedding, I think your back door needs opening before the big night. Feels awfully tight."

She nods. "I could use your assistance, sir."

"I'd be more than happy to help." I tickle the puckered little opening with my fingertips, and it responds by relaxing ever so slightly. Not enough, though. "Come on, come on, you can do better."

Meredith shakes her head. "No, sir, I can't!" she whispers, grimacing.

"Do I need to spank you?"

"They'll hear you!" She bites her lower lip as I slam my open palm against her right butt cheek. I deliver an equally forceful blow to her left side, and she moans and falls forward, as best as she can with her wrists still tied. "You make me want more."

"You are such a slut, my dear, you deserve more." And I deliver more, several spanks to the right and the left, and three hard ones right in the middle. I prepare for a fourth when the music stops downstairs. Better not, I think to myself. The music is a perfect camouflage (although Meredith's aunt has a laugh that works almost as well).

Someone switches CD's, and as soon as the music resumes, so do I. Meredith sways, her breath short as she struggles not to make noise. I reach between her cheeks to check on her little hole -- it feels remarkably improved. "Much better, my dear," I tell her. "In fact, I think you're ready for your wedding present."

"Wedding present?" Meredith pants.

I return to my jacket and take out a small box, which I open for her. "Do you know what this is, my dear?"

She squints. "It's a butt plug. You showed me a picture of one."

"Very good!" I have remembered to bring a small tube of lubricant as well, and I use this to ready the gift for entry. "Take a deep breath, my dear, here it comes."

Meredith groans, low and deep at the back of her throat, as I push the plug into place. "Oh, my god..." she mutters. "I've never felt anything like this..."

"Do you like it?"

She nods. "Yes, yes, I think do..."

"Of course you do. You're a slut, that's why." I start to untie her from the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Put your clothes on. It's time to go back to the party."

"With -- with the plug?"

"Absolutely. I will enjoy watching you, knowing what's underneath." After putting away the rope, I help her step into her panties, fasten her bra for her behind her back. "You're going to wear it as you walk up the aisle, you know."

"I am?" She beams. "Oh, this is going to be fun!"

"You better believe it. And just the beginning, too."

As I hold the door for Meredith, I look over my shoulder at the bed, so grand and stately in the center of the room. I think about how it will look in our own home where, as in the past, it will hold a place of honor. Then I follow my future wife, imagining how she will feel as she walks up the aisle, penetrated in the way she is now. If I had ever been reluctant to give up bachelorhood, I can say now with confidence that those fears are gone.

My future father-in-law stands at the bottom of the stairs, grinning, a drink in one hand. "Welcome to the family," he says, and slaps me on the back.

"Thank you, sir," I reply, and smile.

Copyright 1999 by J.Z. Sharpe. All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced, redistributed in any form whatsoever without express written consent. This means you.
For more excellent erotica by J.Z. Sharpe, visit The Sharpe Tongue

[Filigrie]



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