Wedding Dress Scandal

In the steamy confines of St. Mischief’s church, the wedding march growled to life, and all eyes turned to Penelope slinking down the aisle. Her “dress” was a sinful tease of white lace, slashed high and plunging low, hugging her every curve like a second skin. But the real kicker? A massive golden slave collar locked around her neck, its O-ring swinging with a soft clink, begging to be claimed. She moved with a shy sway, her eyes cast down, cheeks flushed under the weight of that gleaming gold.

Rupert, the groom, stood at the altar like a king claiming his prize, his broad frame filling out his tux, a hungry glint in his eyes. The vicar, a jittery twig of a man, nearly dropped his Bible as Penelope approached. “Rupert,” he squeaked, “this, er, collar… is it part of the ceremony?”

Rupert’s grin was pure predator. “Oh, it’s essential, Father. Family tradition—her Great-Grandma wore it when she surrendered to her man, and now it’s my turn to take the reins.” He reached out, hooking a finger through the O-ring, giving it a firm tug that made Penelope gasp and stumble closer, her lips parting in a soft whimper.

The best man chuckled low. “She’s all yours, mate. That collar’s got her name on it now.”

A sudden gust ripped through the church, lifting Penelope’s dress to flash lace stockings and a garter that screamed submission.

Old Mrs. Pimm in the front row sputtered into her sherry, muttering, “Shocking!” - though her opera glasses didn’t waver. The crowd buzzed, half-thrilled, half-aghast.

The vicar, sweating bullets, rasped, “Do you, Rupert, take Penelope...”

"... to be my sweet, obedient wife?” Rupert cut in, his voice a dark velvet command.

He yanked the O-ring again, pulling her flush against him, and claimed her mouth in a kiss so fierce it left her trembling, the collar glinting as she melted into him. “That’s a yes,” he growled against her lips, not waiting for the vicar’s blessing.

The congregation erupted, cheers clashing with scandalized gasps, as Rupert’s hand slid to her waist, gripping hard.

Penelope’s eyes fluttered, submissive and dazed, while the vicar swayed on his feet, overcome.

At the reception, they say Rupert kept that leash tight, the O-ring his tether, and Penelope followed every step, collared and conquered.