where wheelchair users and BIID/transabled unite!

Trophy Wife (Bracemaiden) XXX

Chapter One

In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. I grew up in a poor family. I wanted better for myself. I knew I didn’t have the brains to get ahead, so I would use my looks. During each annual school physical, I was be diagnosed with kyphosis (hunchback), and was warned that delaying wearing some hideous brace only made the problem worse, and thus longer to be stuck in it. I didn’t want to hear it, and my family lacked the money for it anyway.

After graduation, I got a part time job as a receptionist at an investment firm. I needed the money, and I needed a nice place to meet wealthier people. I used them like they used me. I met Dave, the owner of a machine shop. We fell in love. He had no delusions – he was my “Sugar Daddy”, and I was happily trotting down the road to be his “Trophy Wife”.

After a year of dating, I couldn’t hide it any longer. The pain from my kyphosis was getting worse and worse. Due to skeletal maturity, I would have to wear a brace for the next 5-10 years. I knew my delaying had literally added years to my sentence. I printed out a picture of a Milwaukee Brace, and sobbed. When I broke the news to Dave, he stared at the picture, as if he had been shot. His beauty queen, his “Trophy Wife” was going to be ugly for the next decade. He just silently stared at the picture. I left the room sobbing.

After an hour, he came to me. I waited for the “let her down easy” dumping speech. Instead, he said “We can get through this. I’ve done a lot of specialty work for an orthopedist. We’ll have him make up a brace for you.” I was shocked he wanted to stay with the cripple.

In just two whirlwind weeks, the brace was ready. I went to the shop with fear and anticipation. The orthopedist started by putting a clear plastic girdle around my hips. It fit snugly on the top of my hips, and rose quite high in the front. Even though I’m relatively thin, I had to suck in a bit to get it to fit. From the top, one perforated bar ran proudly up the front, splitting my boobs, and ending at the top of my sternum, the bottom of my neck. Looking at it, the regular holes in the bar reminded me of a ladder. Two similar bars ran stiffly up my back, framing my spine. Each of the back bars had a large pad that sat on my shoulder blades.

The next injustice was a clear plastic V-shaped piece that split from the top of the front bar, one side over each shoulder, and fastened to the top of each rear bar. They seemed too short. With the orthopedist’s pushes, my shoulder blades were thrust forward, my neck slightly back, and the V was screwed into the back bars, holding it together. Three Velcro strips crossed the gap between the back bars, holding the brace shut around my body. It was rigid and uncomfortable. I felt bent over backwards, forced far too upright by the pads on my shoulder blade

How could I look attractive while trapped in a metal and plastic cage? I looked at Dave. He was being stoic, forcing a smile.

On the car trip home, I was surprised at just how much taller I felt. It was as if I had been slouching my entire life, and now was forced to quit cold-turkey.

As we got home, Dave said “As the orthopedist was making the brace, I made a few…attachments of my own. He proceeded to screw two metal plates between the back uprights, one at the base of my spine, and one at the top. “Just something to assist patient compliance,” I realized the brace would stay on until he decided otherwise. Not only did I lack the screwdriver, but I couldn’t see what I was doing, or reach between my shoulder blades to unscrew the plate if I had it.

The next “attachment” Dave made was a pair of curved wings – they went from the top of the brace in back, under each armpit, and curved up, ending in a pad that pushed my shoulders back. As those got screwed into the brace, I realized my forced posture could best be described as “Look! I’ve got boobs!”

Dave smiled, and guided me to the bedroom. I totally didn’t understand. The brace was so large and ugly – and Dave made it larger? And I couldn’t take it off for seduction?

Sex that night was wonderful. Not that I could thrust up to meet him, but he caressed me so much, running his hands over the brace, my breasts, and really made me feel loved. He teased me so long before finally bringing me over the edge.

About a week later, we were getting ready to go to an afternoon wedding; one of Dave’s workers was getting married. After I showered, and dressed in a blouse, Dave held out the brace for me. He settled the girdle around my hips as I guided the front shoulder-pads into place. As I consciously thrust my chest out, Dave screwed the brace into place to keep me that way.

Dave seemed to enjoy putting the brace on me. This time, I noticed a modification to the brace – Dave added four metal eyelets in the bottom of the plastic girdle. I looked at him, and he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Once the brace was tightened snugly around my torso, he slipped behind me, and guided me to lean over a table. Once I was in position, I felt something poking up my ass. Slowly a lubricated rubber penis slid in, twisting deeper and deeper. I tried to relax as it entered. Finally I felt my sphincter close around it. I relaxed a bit. It wasn’t huge, but I was sure not going to forget it was back there! I felt another invader slip in the front door, and it too was worked into position. A small leather cover was put over the plugs to hold them in place, and hooked to the eyelets in the brace. He slid my skirt up to cover everything below the waist. Above the waist, the brace was as apparent as a beacon.

I was very self-conscious about how I looked. To me, the brace was like a beacon of silver and white against my kelly green blouse. I knew that everyone stared. And the brace was so…rigid! It sounds obvious, but until you experience it, the forced immobilization of your torso really restricts how you move. Everyone would treat me differently due to the brace that I was forced to wear. And now I felt like was waddling like a duck due to the plug up my ass.

I put on hose and some low heels, and Dave handed me my fashion purse. I got into the car, just like the orthopedist taught me – watch my head, sit first, then swing my legs in. With my weight on it, the plug really made its presence…unforgettable.

At the wedding, everyone asked if I was OK, what happened, and how long I was going to be in the brace. When I told them 5-10 years, their gasps and amazed faces were startling to behold. It was then that the duration really started to sink in. Everyone stared at it, as if mesmerized by the gleam from the uprights.

Early in the reception, I excused myself to use the ladies room. As I got up, Dave cryptically said “look in your purse”. I got into a bathroom stall, and unhooked the crotch piece of the brace. I took a sigh of relief I slipped the phallic invaders out of my privates. I saw they were too large to fit in my “fashion purse”, so I set them on some toilet paper on the floor, hoping nobody saw them under the stall doors. When I had done my business, I opened the purse. On top were 4 open luggage locks with a note scrawled in Dave’s handwriting – “I have the keys.” I swallowed hard. It’s what he wanted, so I pleased him. I unhooked the crotch covering from the back of the brace, replacing each hook with a lock, and snapped them shut. I put the butt-plug back up my ass; put the dildo back in the front. The dildo slipped in quite easily – I had plenty of natural lubrication. I pulled the crotch shield up to hold them in, and noticed the hooks were longer than the locks – It will be a bit snugger when locked on. I pull it up, thrusting the invaders in deeper. Taking a deep breath, the locks went on. The “click” echoed in my ears.

I sauntered up to Dave, held rigidly like I was. I smiled sweetly, handed him the four hooks. “Could you hold these? I don’t have any pockets.” His eyes widened, and a smile lit up his face. He gladly took the hooks and slipped then into a pocket. I let out a soft groan as my weight came down on the plug. Dave smiled all the more.

Dave was so polite and pleasant that evening, caressing me, and danced with me throughout the night, always looking at me with gazed-over eyes. I smiled sweetly back, and tried to do my best to dance despite the rigidity of the brace and reminders down below.

When the evening was done, and we went home, Dave led me straight to the bedroom. Through the romantic kisses, he unlocked the crotch cover, and took out the rubber penises. As we had sex, I could see it through the lust in his eyes – he truly loved me.

Two weeks later was my company Christmas party. Dave didn’t want to go and hang out with financial accountants. I finally cajoled him into agreeing. I showered beforehand, and he met me with the same “cat ate the canary” grin. I knew he had something in mind to spice up the party.

Dave bent me over the table like before the wedding. A lubed invader went in. It seemed softer in a way, more like a balloon than a penis-shaped object. It was a lot more comfortable, conforming to the shape of my anatomy.

He pulled out the brace. I could see it was noticeably taller. A chin-pad and bar had been added to the front to force me to hold my head proudly up. Another pad and bar had been added to the back to cradle the back of my head. One strap went around each side to connect the two.

Dave started putting the brace on me, and I felt something pushing against my ass. I groaned as a mushroom-shaped attachment slid in to lightly push against the heavy rubber balloon already in there. I had a bad feeling about this. What would I have to endure at this party?

I really had to lift my head up as high as I could to get my chin strained over the front rest. The chin pad truly cupped my chin, having sides and a front – my chin could barely move enough for me to speak, turning was out of the question! Dave snugly strapped the front chin portion to the rear, and looked at me, quite pleased. I looked back, and tried to smile as best as I could, strapped in like I was.

He fastened the brace around me, and I felt the familiar thrust as he bent me over the shoulder blade pads, and felt the front shoulder pads force me to thrust my chest out. I tried looking down, but my head didn’t budge.

I finished getting dressed, with a skirt and hose. Dave insisted he’d pick out my shoes. He came back with a shoebox I relegated to the back corner of the closet. I cringed. The shoes had 5” heels, which forced my toes down into the sharp tip. They were too uncomfortable even to break in, so I never wore them. I guess today would be my chance to break them in. He lovingly put them on my feet, buckling the ankle strap, and fastening each one with a kiss.

As I stood there, my feet already started to cramp. I looked forward to sitting in the car to get off of these shoes. Dave took my hand, and led me out to the car, even opening up the door like a true gentleman. The spinal brace changes the way that you need to enter a car. I did as the orthotist taught – sit down, and then swing my legs in to prevent whacking my head on the car roof. As I sat, the rear pole pushed against my anal balloon, and I let out a groan. Dave smiled. “Enjoying that anal pressure? Kind of splitting you? Well, your weight is off your toes!”

I was glad the party wasn’t too far away. Dave opened up the door, and I slowly got up off the seat, onto my high heeled torture devices. Dave held my arm, and I stiffly teetered up to the house. He rang the doorbell. “You need to be very attentive. I want you to make a good impression.”

As the night goes on, and the party started winding down, I mentioned that perhaps we should go – my toes are sore when I stand, and my ass is sore when I sit. He considered it a moment, and said he had another way I would be more comfortable. He led me into the kitchen. He had me open my mouth, and put a large metal ring behind my teeth to prop it open. A strap went from each side of the ring, buckling behind my head. He then adjusted the front upright of the brace, jacking it up as high as he could force it to hold my head perfectly still. I stood there stiffly, a forced look of surprise on my face. He opened up the back door, and had me kneel, legs going out the open doorway. He mostly closed the door, and my feet protruded through the small cat door at the bottom. He draped a rope through the door hinge, pulled it tautly across my chest below my boobs, around outside on the doorknob side, and shut the door on it. I found that I could not lean forward a bit, as the rope was holding my back against the door. He smiled and dropped his pants.

I realized I really was his Trophy Wife, and the party had just started.

Chapter Two

Dave pulled out a pair of blue swimming goggles.  I was confused.  I was strapped to a kitchen door.  What were the goggles for?

He put them on my head, and I got the idea.  The goggles were painted blue – an opaque blue.  As they fit over my eyes, my world went dark.

Footsteps left.  More footsteps returned.  Someone’s hand guided my hand up to a penis.  I started caressing it, and it responded.

Another hand guided my hand up to a second penis.  I would have to make both guys happy!  I stroked, and elicited a groan of pleasure.  A third penis started playing around my gaping mouth, tentatively going in and out.

As I caressed, the penises became more insistent, bucking back and forth, thrusting in and out of my hands.  I could feel one getting ready to spooge the load of cum that had been building.  I aimed it at the door.  The hand guided mine to aim the penis more toward the front.  I aimed it in front of me, and the hand guided my aim – at my own face.  I got the idea, and gripped a bit tighter.

The penis thrusting in and out of my open mouth became more insistent, plunging in and out.  I did what I could with my tongue, but I don’t think it mattered.  He suddenly pulled out and I felt warm sperm hit my face in a line from my left cheek to my right eye.  I was glad for the goggles!

This only seemed to encourage the two guys getting hand jobs.  Within a minute, my face was dripping with two more streams of warm, fresh semen.

I felt it dripping down my nose, and went to wipe it off.  A hand grabbed mine, and without a word, guided it to a penis.  I could tell this one wasn’t one of the first three.  A few seconds later, I had another “customer” for the other hand.  I realized that I wasn’t going to get up until someone opened the door, and I couldn’t reach.  One of these guys I was servicing would have to do it.  I gripped and thrust back and forth as the penises enlarged.  I had no idea if one of these was Dave’s.

Through hand motions and moving their hips, they aimed their penises where they wanted.

A few moments later, I was “rewarded” by warm sperm shooting onto my breasts.  The other penis in my hand became more excited and insistent.  I had to hold tight as not to lose my grip and I couldn’t see what I was doing.  He kept trying to aim to I don’t know where.  He let loose, and I felt the warm stickiness splatter a line across my chest on that side, slowly dripping down onto the pad that held my shoulder back.  Does cum leave a stain?  What was I going to say if I was asked?  Some stranger orgasmed on me?

A minute later, Dave took off the blindfolding goggles and rope, and let me up onto my uncomfortable heels.  He led me into the next room.  There was Dave, two male guests, the host and his wife.  They were all smiling.  I had no idea if all of them participated.  I was still missing at least one penis in my counting.

I went to wipe off some of the semen on my face.  Dave grabbed my hand, and put a U-bolt over my wrist, guiding it to the back upright.  A few seconds later, it was bolted in place, followed by the other wrist.  The message was delivered loud and clear — the semen would stay were it was put.

The party went on for another half hour with my hands secured as the cum dried on my face.  It was surreal with everyone except me knowing who did what to who where, yet talking about other topics as if what happened was normal.  Cum kind of itches at times as it oozes and dries.  A few facial twitches were all I could do to satisfy the urge.

By the time we were ready to go (actually when *he* was ready to go), my feet were aching again, and my ass was sore from sitting.  I was ready to go hours ago, but I was his doting girlfriend and I sure couldn’t do much else with my hands fastened behind my back!

Two months later, I was teasing Dave about how early he gets up.  He jokingly warned me “You’d better not tease me, or I’ll decorate your girdle as you sleep!”

“If you want to decorate it, to make it more pleasing for your eyes, go right ahead!”

He smiled, and I walked back to the kitchen.  Two minutes later, he was back with a case of small paints and a dremel.

I bent over the counter, he pulled down my skirt, and he went to work just over my butt, using the dremel to make a groove in the plastic.  I asked what design he was putting on, and he only said “It’s pleasing to my eye, and you’ll see it when it’s done.”After the gouging came the brushing of paint.  I leaned over patiently.  When it was all done, I went to a mirror.  Dave held out a second mirror so I could see his work on the girdle.  There it was, in bold letters just over my ass “BUTT-FUCKING.”

Now in our time together, Dave’s fascination with anal sex had become more apparent.  He knew I didn’t really enjoy it, but I let him do it sometimes to make him happy.  He loved using the two rear uprights as handholds during the act.

And now, I have a billboard on my butt proclaiming my love of it?  That brute!

I felt his proud member even now rubbing against my ass.  “Where’s the KY?”

We looked around for where we left it.  It took a few minutes, and by then, his excitement waned.

“I want you to always have some on you.  Make up a pouch to hold it.”

He made me go to a sewing machine right then to make up a sturdy pouch, just the right size for the smallest tube of KY and U-bolts to hold my hands behind my back.

He riveted it to the bottom of the right side, so it would be handy whenever he needed it.  It was my responsibility to make sure it was always full.

While he was at it, he attached garter hooks to the bottom edge of the plastic girdle.  “That should eliminate the need for pantyhose.  And if we are together?  No need for you to wear panties either.  I’d enjoy knowing you are…accessible.”

I consented “If that’s what my Sugar Daddy wants, that’s what my Sugar Daddy gets.”

This past Saturday morning, Dave surprised me.  After breakfast in bed, he said “Why don’t you take a shower, then we can go out shopping together?” How many men will offer to take their girlfriend shopping?  I leapt up and into the shower before Dave could change his mind.

As I came out of the shower, Dave told me I didn’t need a bra.  I looked at him skeptically.  I’ve always been a bit top-heavy, and going topless isn’t very comfortable.  None the less, I followed his lead, and put on my top without a bra.  Dave helped me into my brace, per the norm.  He enjoyed watching how I had to thrust my chest out to get into it, then he would happily screw it shut.  As he put it on this time, I could feel there was a change.  He lifted my boobs up into the pre-made cups.

It felt like I was wearing a push-up bra that was trying to put my boobs into my chin, but all in all, it was pretty comfortable.  Most bras, especially push-ups, are quite snug on the band to get a good hold, and dig into the tops of your shoulders as they lift.  Due to the structure I was already wearing, this wasn’t a problem.

I looked in the mirror.  Dave’s smiling reflection said “I took the measurements from your Wonder bra maximum cleavage bra!”  It looked every bit of it.  My shoulders were thrust back, chest out, and now my boobs were jacked up and presented on a shelf.

I smiled sweetly at him.  If this is how he wants his Trophy Wife, so be it!  He’s going to take me shopping!  How many women can say that their guy not only *goes* shopping with them, but *offers*?

As I finished getting dressed, I noticed that the seam on the back of my skirt had been carefully slit around my butt.  Dave was scheming.  I put it on and got ready to go.

Dave pulled the delivery van from his business around, and I happily got in.  He’s such a gentleman at times.

On the way to the mall, Dave told me that he would love it if I was in a wheelchair for the shopping trip.  I figured “Why not?  I’ll try anything once!  And even if I don’t enjoy it, Dave will appreciate it.  Sure!”

We parked in the ground floor of the parking garage, in as secluded of a corner as he could get.  I found out Dave came prepared he had a wheelchair in the back of the van!  He got it out, and wheeled it over to me.

I looked at the wheelchair.  It was not the folding-type like I had expected.  It called itself “Invacare HTR5500” That’s such a caring name for such a structured, formidable beast.  A tall, rigid, padded back rose from the chair, even having a curved headrest.  I leaned over in my brace to get a better view.  My god!  There was a butt-plug built into the seat!  A padded abduction pillow was attached to the seat, clearly meant to go between my thighs.  There was a pair of heels already on the footrests.

I looked at Dave.  His face was a sea of conflicting emotions.  Clearly so nervous that I would freak out, yet so awash in hormones, hopeful I would willingly impale myself on the plug right here in the parking garage of a shopping mall.

I smiled sweetly at him, kissed him on the lips and knelt down next to the chair.  I got out the KY from my pouch, and started to slowly, lovingly lubricate up the plug.  I let my fingers slide up and down, licking my lips seductively in fake anticipation for his visual benefit.

After both the plug and my butt were lubricated, I lined up the anal invader with the hole in my skirt, and got my legs on each side of the pillow.  Tentatively, gingerly, I eased my way down onto the chair.  I felt the slippery rubber plug worming its way up insistently my ass as my weight came down onto it.  Once my butt hit the seat, I gave a sigh of relief and I relaxed.

Dave went behind the chair, and started driving some screws with a rechargeable screwdriver.  The first two screws tugged on the brace by my lower back, the second two tugged right by the top.  He then took off my shoes, slide my feet into the shoes from the chair, and buckled the ankle straps.

Dave walked back into my field of view.  “OK.  Why don’t you get back in the truck, and we’ll go home.  I’ll give you a nice long massage.”

I tried to lean forward.  I realized my back brace was securely screwed to the seat back.  I tried to lift my feet, but my shoes were rigidly attached to the footrests.  I reached forward to get the ankle straps, but there was no way I could reach.  Maybe I could unscrew the bolts!  I put my arms around the side of the chair, but the cushion was too thick and my hands weren’t close, even if I had the screwdriver.

Dave was all googly-eyed, mouth in a wide grin.  I asked, “You knew I couldn’t reach, didn’t you?”

“Yep!  But I enjoyed watching you try!”

“Well, in that case…”  I tried worming my hands behind my brace as much as I could in different spots, lightly tugging on it for Dave’s amusement.  I tried to push myself out of the chair.  While I knew all my efforts would come to naught, they did bring some insight I had become part of the wheelchair.  I was as integral of a piece as the wheels; I was able to move, but only as much as was allowed.

After another two minutes or so, a car came close, so I stopped my futile struggles.  I saw the bulge in Dave’s pants didn’t stop so easily.  I guess that’s his problem.  I smiled, and started pushing the wheels to roll toward the mall entrance.

As I rolled past the first parked car or two, I squirmed to get comfortable; the anal plug didn’t feel right.  After a couple more, I realized why” The plug was growing as I rolled!  I glared at Dave.  That bastard, tormenting me like this!

He smiled back.  “I guess you realized it!  I think we will both enjoy this shopping trip!”

I groaned and rolled on.  The invader kept growing in my ass, stretching it and filling it.  After about 40 feet, I was panting and let out a light grown.  I didn’t know how much larger I could take!  I clenched the thigh pillow, bit my lip and rolled on.  Ever so slowly, the plug deflated.  The inflation/deflation was going to be a cyclic event.

After my pushing anally filled me for 3 more cycles, we finally neared the entrance.  A family was just leaving.  It looked like parents with teenaged son.  As we passed, each one of them turned to watch and stare at the poor lady pushing herself in the wheelchair.  I could swear them men watched quite a bit longer than just a glance.  “Wheelchair Gal” was going to be a spectacle all day.  I could see the ones in front of me staring, who knows how many to the side or behind me?  It’s not like I could turn my head.  I realized it didn’t matter; there was nothing I could do about it anyway.  I wasn’t going to stand and get off the chair and its damned expanding plug until Dave wanted me to.  I rolled onward, repeating the cycle of self-inflicted anal torment.

As we entered the crowded mall, I realized my seated vantage point meant that I couldn’t see a lot of things other than people’s backs and chests.  It struck me.  Chests.  I was in a gleaming push-up bra.  Every guy past puberty has a bird’s eye view to stare down at my offered cleavage.  I sure don’t move too fast, my shoulders are thrust back, and I’m sitting bolt upright (in more ways than one!).  My boobs are eye candy to anyone who chooses to look.

Dave finally had me turn into a shop.  It was a jewelry store!  Talk about a thank you gift!  I love jewelry!  I beamed.

The clerk came over, and asked the inevitable question “What happened?” I knew the truth about my Kyphosis requiring the back brace wasn’t going explain the institution-style wheelchair.  I quickly made up a story about my spinal injury incurred while falling down the stairs while trying to avoid stepping on my cat.  It came out well, so I figured that would be what I stuck with.  It wasn’t going to be the first time I was asked.

We looked at the selection in that store, and moved on to see what else was available.  The anal pulsing was just another reason to have me roll through the mall as much as possible.

We had gone through about half of the jewelry stores in the mall when we passed Victoria’s Secret.  We stopped in.  While I obviously didn’t need new bras or panties, Dave did buy me some cute thigh high stockings.  We put the shopping bag on my lap, and rolled on.

After another storefront or two, Dave had me stop, and picked up my hand.  Before I knew what he was doing, he had attached a pair of thumb cuffs to one thumb, and had threaded it behind the front upright on my brace.  He pulled my other hand over, and cuffed that in place, covering the cuffs with the Victoria’s Secret bag.  I nervously clutched the bag in place.  I couldn’t reach the wheels?  What did Dave expect?

Dave grabbed the handlebars of the wheelchair, and pushed me onward.  Now I truly was just a piece of the chair to be moved at his whim.  I squirmed in the restriction, clenching down on the thigh pillow.  Now that I didn’t have to exert myself so much to move, that thigh pillow was feeling nice in all the right ways!  Not *quite* long enough, and I sure couldn’t slouch down into it, but it still had a nice presence!

Dave happily pushed me along, powering the anal tormenter as we went through all the shops, discussing what we did and didn’t like.  We finally went back to one of the first stores, and Dave bought me a glittering set of diamond pendant earrings!  He even lovingly put them into my ears.  I love this guy!  I went to hug him, but that thought was squashed short by the thumb cuffs becoming taught after an inch.  I truly was part of the wheelchair, like a hood ornament on a car.  A loving smile would have to suffice for the embrace.

Dave wheeled me, heading back toward the entrance.  He stopped me in the middle of the mall, parking me by some benches between the escalator and glass-walled elevator.  “I’ll be back in a bit.  Sit tight, and don’t go anywhere.” was his only explanation as he strode away.

Sit tight?  The plug up my ass was pretty tight!  And where could I go?  I couldn’t even reach the wheels to roll after him, slow as that was.  I sat in my torso cage, and watched the shoppers come down the escalator.  The women were looking around or talking.  The guys were staring at me.

It was then that I realized what I looked like.  I was parked so anyone coming down the escalator would be coming at me from above.  My breasts were lifted up and thrust out.  I was dressed in a skirt and heels, and had a lingerie shopping bag on my lap.  And I sure couldn’t cover up or go anywhere until Dave returned.

After a few minutes, Dave came down the escalator, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he gazed lovingly at me.  He came over to me, and kissed me on the forehead.  “You look delicious my dear!”

Before I could respond, he walked off again, leaving me like a decorative statue, staring straight ahead at the escalator!  I’m sure others were looking over the balcony, still more looking from the elevator behind me.  I couldn’t even lift a leg.

After what felt like an eternity, Dave returned, and wheeled me toward the elevator.  He took me to the third floor parking garage.  We parked on the ground floor, but I didn’t say a word.  On the first ramp down, he held the handlebars, put one foot on the chair axle, and pushed off with the other, like a kid riding a shopping cart.  I gasped as the anal bulb pounded me, and then shrank.  With the increased speed, the pounding was enough to have me groaning audibly each time.  By the time we reached the bottom, I was panting.  And I knew there was another ramp to endure.  I tried lifting my feet.  I tried leaning forward.  I tried pushing down to lift my butt off the chair.  I didn’t budge enough to have Dave notice the attempt.  I clenched the thigh pillow and readied myself.

At the next ramp, he did it again.  The speed picked up, and the insistent thrusting was like anal sex with a stallion of a guy ” while seated, speeding down the ramp of a parking garage.  When we reached the bottom, Dave was chucking.  I was panting from the assault.  He hit some kind of a switch to turn off the inflation mechanism.

“I’d like to take you out to Ming-Shui for dinner.”  Ming-Shui was a fancy restaurant next to the mall, having its own gardens to stroll through while waiting for a table.  That sounded great!  I was hungry, and I could never have afforded dinner there without Dave.

We dropped the shopping bag off at the van, picking up my purse to cover the cuffs.  He wheeled me over to the gardens, on the small bridge over the brook.  Dave seemed really nervous.  He unlocked the thumb cuffs, dropping them on my lap.  I stretched my arms for the first time in what seemed like hours.

Dave knelt down on one knee, and showed me an enormous diamond ring to match my earrings.  “Will you marry me?”

I was overjoyed, yet speechless.  Tears of joy came down my face.  Thankfully a “yes” leaked out of my mouth.

He wrapped his arms around me and the chair in a giant hug, and we happily kissed for the first time as an engaged couple.

After a few minutes of bliss, I held up the thumb cuffs.  I smiled for him as I dropped the key down my cleavage.  I knew he was going to enjoy fishing it out.  I locked the cuffs to one thumb, looped it behind the front upright of my brace, and locked the other thumb in place.  I playfully tugged on the cuffs to show my new fiancée hands were now secured by my belly button.

His grin was ear to ear.  “What do you think about reprising your role as blinded pleasure “giver for the guys at the bachelor party?”


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