It’s not how most girls imagine their special day.  

It’s not how I imagined it as a child, either, but lately, well, lately, my fantasies have gotten rather carried away.

I go by Tribute, and this is the story of my wedding day.

Being a heroine was more difficult than I’d expected.  Turns out it takes more than just a skimpy costume to attract any sort of major villain.  The lowlife scum I’d find did a decent job of knocking me around, but when you start telling them to tie you up tight and take advantage of you, it tends to scare them off.  I’m not playing some mind game.  I’m telling you what I want because when I don’t say anything, you just fondle my tits a bit before you leave me a in dumpster.  That’s fun and all, but it’s hardly enough.

His name was Andrew Vogler.  He was apparently a pretty bad guy.  Some of the more quote unquote ‘real super heroes’ had gone after him and his fiancé for, who knows what, but it was all over the news.  The fiancé got herself killed in the struggle, but everything was in her name, so they couldn’t go after him.  

That didn’t stop me.  Not that I thought I could bring him in, or really wanted to.  I just saw a powerful man, recently bereaved, with an ax to grind against folks in costume.

He was my white whale.

And I meant for that white whale to catch me.

It wasn’t that hard to bait him.  I was sneaky enough to not look like I was trying to get caught while I was snooping around one of his office buildings.  Not too sneaky evidently, as his security team was on me in a hot minute.

There’s not much I’m not into, but after my first experience with them, I’ve decided I don’t like tasers.  For some reason, no one actually carries around chloroform, which sounds like so much more fun.  I mean, at the very least they could wrap their big strong hands around my throat and choke me out.  Yeah, that would work.  That would do just fine.

But tasers, not so much fun.  I barely had time to register that I was being tased before I blacked out.  Again, fun in my fantasies, but really, I just woke up later incredibly sore.

Oh, and I’d missed the best part.

They’d already tied me up while I was unconscious.  Still, it was a LOT better than any of my forays into self bondage.  I wouldn’t have minded more, more is always better, but it was tight and secure.  Plastic zip ties were digging into my wrists and ankles, and I was sitting in a chair, my arms draped over the back.  I was in some sort of conference room, the rest of the chairs empty save for the one I was in.

“Hey!” I called out.  I wasn’t gagged.  Disappointing.

I called out again, louder.  I was answered as two guys in suits came in, followed by my white whale.

He wasn’t nearly as attractive as his pictures made him out to be.  It could be the grief that gave him a slightly frazzled look, but I was alright with that.  He had crazy eyes.

A small part of me considered the fact that I might have bitten off more than I could chew.

Another, larger part of me, was really turned on.

“Who are you?” he asked me.

“I’m Tribute.”

“Tribute.”  He ran my name over his tongue in his mouth.  I wanted him to run his tongue over more than that.  “What can you do?”

Oh right.  Super heroines usually have cool powers, or at the very least can do things.  I tried to think of a plausible lie.  Flight, it was pretty obvious I couldn’t.  Super strength, but that would have gotten me out of the zipties.

“Fine, be that way,” he told me.  I guess he took my indecision and stalling as stoicism.  I was fine with that.

“What are you planning to do with me?” I asked him.

My anticipation rose as his eyes narrowed.  I found myself squirming in the chair, and I’m sure it probably looked like I was struggling.

He turned to his henchmen.  “Dispose of her.”

I felt like I got punched in the gut.  No, I actually would have enjoyed that.  This felt like, well, I don’t know, I’m bad at analogies.  It felt bad, but not in a good way.

“Yeah, have someone else do your dirty work for you.  Just like your wife,” I said.  It was a desperate Hail Mary, but it got the desired effect.

He slapped me.  Hard.

Ohhhh.

“I’m sorry, your fiancé.  You never got to make it official, did you?”

His next hit was so hard it knocked me over, the chair clattering to the floor with me.

I could feel his handprint on my cheek, radiating warmth down my body to between my legs.

I pressed my luck.  “Good luck getting another dumb bitch to say yes.”

That may have been too far.  His lips peeled back in a snarl and he raised his foot.  I screwed my eyes shut, bracing myself.

But the kick never came.

I opened one eye to see him walking back out the door.  One his henchmen pulled out his taser.  Fricken’ tasers.

I spasmed in the chair as the electricity coursed through me for a brief second before I blacked out again.



I really, really don’t like tasers.  Maybe I could get some sort of really, really tight, electric proof suit, if that’s a thing.  That has to be a thing.  I can still make it sexy.  Like a catsuit, but taser proof.

Everything was sore when I woke up.  My limbs screamed at me as I felt myself being rolled over and maneuvered.  

Well hello.  I could feel cold air on my sex and ass as my white latex bottoms were pulled down my legs.

“She’s waking up,” someone said.

And what a good time to wake up.  I opened my eyes to see three guys over me, stripping me of my costume.

“Knock her out again,” one of them said.

Oh god, please no.

“Nah, we’re almost done.  Besides, she’s not going to put up a fight.”

I like you, 5 o’clock shadow guy.  You get it.

“What are you doing with me?” I dared to ask as they took my bra, leaving me stark naked.  My new best friend, 5 o’clock shadow guy, was pretty generous with the boob groping as he took my top off.  Yeah, he really gets it.

“Shut up,” one of the other one said.

“Make me,” I challenged.

They took me up on it, wasting no time in forcing my bottoms into my mouth.

I’d gagged myself plenty of times with my own panties, but hadn’t thought to try my costume bottoms yet.  The latex was a wholly different sensation, actively repelling my saliva rather than absorbing it, and not compressing nearly as much.  It definitely filled my mouth far more than my panties.  I had the feeling that if they’d tried harder, they could have fit them all behind my teeth and I could have closed my mouth over them, but as it was, they left them protruding a bit, slapping tape over my open mouth.

I wasn’t complaining.  I couldn’t.  Instead I moaned and mumbled nonsense into my gag, enjoying just how muffled I was while they grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet and turned me around.

And then I was speechless.

Hanging on the door was a wedding dress.

I struggled, confident that no matter what I did, they were going to get me into that dress no matter what I did, enjoying the feel as they slid lacy white panties up my legs despite my useless kicking, followed by a garter belt and stockings.

I screamed into my gag, and 5 o’clock shadow guy even handgagged me over my tape gag and pulled mover his knee, giving me a spanking when I got too noisy.

“I think she’s actually enjoying this,” he noted.

That was an understatement.  My new panties were already soaked.

I felt his fingers rubbing me through the damp fabric while he held me over his lap.  I could feel his erection against my belly through his pants.  Oh god.

“Hey, save her for the boss,” one of them said.

No need for that.  You can have your fun too.

But he didn’t, the others pulling my off his lap and holding my arms above my head while they pulled the dress down over me, and tugged long white silk gloves up my arms.  They finished by strapping my feet in tall white heels.

I looked down over myself, now fully dressed in the wedding dress.

It fit surprisingly well.  I was a little small in the bust, but that’s always been my curse.  A shiver ran down my spine as I wondered if it belonged to his dead fiancé.  Oh god, I hope it did.

“Let’s go, ‘Tribute’,” they said, grabbing me by the arms and dragging me through the door, down the hall to another room.  There was a blonde woman waiting by a big mirror, a makeup case sitting in front of it.

I got a better look at myself in the mirror.  The slightly frazzled look I was rocking was really working for me, my hair a mess, my mouth plastered in duct tape.  I spied the big white ballgag sitting on the table as well.  Maybe a little makeup wouldn’t hurt.

“Oh, very nice,” the woman said.  “She looks beautiful.”

Damn straight.

The men hustled me over to the stool in front of the mirror, forcing me to sit down.

The woman ripped my tape gag off, and pulled my drool covered latex bottoms out of my mouth.

“You might as well put the ballgag in my mouth right now,” I said as soon as my mouth was free.

She obliged, shoving it between my teeth.  It was huge.  I owned a bigger one, but I couldn’t actually wear it because it was too big.  This was bordering on too large, but I couldn’t pussy out and take it out when my jaw couldn’t take it anymore.  As she strapped it tightly at the back of my neck below my hair, I knew I was going to have to deal with it until someone, probably my future husband, took it out for me, to use my mouth for something else.

I moaned.

The men pulled my arms behind my back, tying them with rope, while the woman went to work on my hair and make up.

I moaned and grunted into my gag, twitching my elbows, trying to let them know they needed to tie me tighter.  My boy 5 o’clock shadow quickly remedied my situation, cinching ropes excruciatingly tight above my elbows, locking my arms together, and thrusting my chest out.  It definitely helped me fill out the dress better.  

But 5 o’clock shadow wasn’t done helping me out.  Mmmm, if I wasn’t being forced to marry your boss, oh buddy, we’d have some fun.

He wrapped more ropes around my chest, fashioning a tight breast harness on me over the dress.  I looked down, drool dripping down from my ballgagged mouth onto his hands as he worked.  He wiped his hands dry on my breasts, rubbing across my nipples.

I screamed into my gag, begging him to take me.  Fuck, let all them just rip my dress off and go nuts.

But they did their jobs, the woman applying bright red lipstick that really made the white ballgag pop, and the men adding more ropes.

I mumbled questioningly into my gag as my dress was pulled up my legs.  Maybe they were going to have some fun with me after all.

Instead they just bound my legs together, wrapping ropes above and below my knees and around my ankles.  I begged into my gag for them to lift me off the stool and put a really, really tight crotch rope on me, but guess you can’t have everything you want.  I wondered if I was going to have to hop my way to the altar, or if they’d drag me.  I was alright with either.

They finished and stood me back up, turning me to a full length mirror, letting me take in myself.  If they had put a crotch rope on me I’m sure I would have cum so hard there’d be a wet spot on the front of my dress.  The dress, the ropes, the giant ballgag.  It was so hot.  

“I think she’s ready to go.”

“One last thing,” the woman said.  She put a veil on me and pulled it over my face.

I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together, aching for some sort of relief.

Two of the men grabbed me again by my upper arms, and dragged me out again.

A trip down an elevator and a short car ride later and I was being dragged up the front doors of a church.  I looked around I was pulled out o the black town car, but there were no bystanders to see the bound and gagged bride being hauled into the church.  I wouldn’t have minded an audience, quivering as I imagined strangers watching me, but I didn’t want to risk a rescue either.

I looked at my handlers as we stood in the front of the church, grunting questioningly into my gag.

“You have to wait for your cue,” one of them said, guessing what was on my mind.  And then it started, the organ playing ‘Here Comes the Bride.’

A slap on my ass prompted me to start moving.  So I was hopping my way down the aisle.

I teetered on my heels each time I landed on my tightly bound legs, looking down as I watched my bound breasts jiggle.

I looked up to see him, Andrew, my new husband, standing at the altar with a priest.  He really pulled out all the stops.  More of his men stood in the pews, making it clear that any attempt to try and hop away would end with me being caught rather quickly.  Not that I had any intention of trying to run.

I was a sweaty, drooling mess by the time I finally hopped all the way to the altar, panting through my nose, my legs feeling like jelly.  I wanted nothing more than to fall over and curl up into a ball and rest, but a look at Andrew’s eyes told me that that wouldn’t be tolerated.  I navigated the three steps up onto the altar, and hopped the last five feet until I stood in front of Andrew.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight,” he said.

“Mmmph,” was my exhausted reply.  

“We’re gathered here today…” the priest started, but I was elsewhere, imagining my new husband consummating this forced union.  Carrying me out of the church, into his waiting limo.  He’d be ripping my dress off before he even shut the door, his mad eyes full of carnal desire, while I lay there, helpless, just waiting for him to take me.

“Do they not do the part about ‘does anyone object to this union’ or whatever anymore?” a female voice ripped me out of my fantasy.

Who the hell was this?  No one objects.  There were no objections!

“And just who might you be?” my soon to be husband asked for me, since my mouth was otherwise occupied.

“Doesn’t matter who I am.  I’m not actually opposed to the union, though the fact that the bride is bound and gagged might suggest that she might object.”

I shook my head furiously.  I repeat, I did not object.

“But I do have to take you in,” the newcomer continued.  God, couldn’t she at least wait until after the honeymoon?

“I’ve no interest in a wedding crasher.”  He gave a nod to his men, and they approached the woman standing at the front of the church.

“Well, lucky for me I checked plus one on my invitation.  Sorry if you didn’t get it.”  She winked and gave a thumbs up.

The newcomer was familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw her ‘plus one’ that I knew where I recognized her from.  There was no mistaking the man that stepped out of the back of the church.

Oh my god.  

I don’t pay a lot of attention to the heroine scene.  If some villainess wants to tie me up and have some fun with me, I’m all on board, but the heroines are, well, not my speed, even in my fantasies.  But this guy, this chiseled mountain of black sweaty flesh and muscle.

Oh my gawd.  

I don’t give a damn if he’s got no fucking tongue, his dick has got be fucking ginormous.

Thunder Clap.  He can thunder my clap any day, whatever that means.  Good god.

Being the forced bride of this psychopath was one thing, but even though I knew he’d never do it, he was one of the ‘good guys,’ I imagined Thunder Clap taking me as his prize, splitting me in half with his monster black cock as he raped me for being a shitty super heroine.

No such luck, unfortunately for me.  Still, I couldn’t help but watch him.  Or what was him.  Future hubby’s men drew their guns and fired, but the bullets passed right through him.  The same with the girl.  They fired where the two had been standing, their figures slowly fading, and then the two of them burst out from behind the pews, tearing through the men.

I watched as Thunder Clap actually picked up a guy and threw him.  Just tossed him like a rag doll.  And it was a big guy.  I could only imagine what he could do to me.

My apparently not to be husband tried to run.  The chick popped out of nowhere, sweeping his legs out from under him and slamming him to the ground, knocking him out.

“Mmmph!” I screamed at the two of them once my groom and his men had been dispatched.

The woman rolled her eyes, but she removed my ballgag.

“You’re free to go,” she told me.  “Or you can wait until the cops show up, but we’re only taking him,” she thumbed at my brief fiancé, “and leaving the rest.”

I looked around, looking for 5 o’clock shadow.  I spotted him, his unconscious body sunk into a smashed pew.

“Seek therapy if you need it, but this isn’t our fault.”  Her words sounded rehearsed.  

“I’m not blaming you, I just think, well…”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes studying me.  No, judging me.  “Oh my god,” she said finally.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re one of those,” she said.  God her voice was judgy.

“One of what?”

She shuddered.  She physically fucking shuddered.  

“One of what?” I asked her again, defensively.

“Ugh,” she said, her shoulders physically shaking.  She and Thunder Clap did the whole sign language thing for a bit.  “We’re done here.”

“At least tell me, tell me…” Despite my eagerness to know, I couldn’t say it.

“What?” she asked me, glaring.  

“His cock is fucking huge, right?” I asked, glancing at Thunder Clap.

“You’re disgusting,” she said.

“If you haven’t seen, you have to at least be curious,” I called out as they walked off.  

“You’re a disgrace,” she called back, not looking back.  Thunderclap walked after her, carrying the man who’d almost made me his bride over his shoulder.  If he took notice, he didn’t show it.

“At least put my gag back in my mouth!”

They didn’t look back.  I let out an exacerbated sigh.  I looked around.  Maybe one of the unconscious henchmen would rape me when they woke up.  A girl could hope, right?

“Get your shit together,” she called back.

I thought about it.  Not likely.  I tugged at my restraints.  No, I wasn’t going to get my shit together.  These guys were going to wake up, bruised, beaten, humiliated, leaderless.  And I was going to be there when they woke up, tied up, helpless, ready to help them reassure their male dominance over something.

Call it my consolation honeymoon.  I was going to have a good time.