Someday a monster movie will be made in Hollywood about a strange metamorphosis that happens to perfectly normal, reasonable and rational women when they prepare to be married. It is somewhat like the full-of-the-moon changes that happens to werewolves, creating a fiend out of ordinary people. This is what happened to a pleasant, well-liked young woman in the months before her wedding. What had started out as a relatively simple ceremony to unite Susan Montgomery and Jeff Henderson into holy wedlock was transformed into a Cecil B. DeMille extravaganza. Susan Montgomery became BRIDEZILLA, terror of bridesmaids, caterers, printers and, of most importance here, photographers!
In the weeks leading up to "THE DAY," Susan antagonized virtually everyone she came in contact with as she prepared for the greatest event of her life – HER wedding. Emphasis on HER! The virgin bride (a real rarity), wearing her pure white wedding gown, a vision of loveliness to be admired and virtually worshiped by all that beheld her. Everything was to be done her way, every detail was to be micromanaged, no advice on backing off was to be countenanced. Menus were changed, invitation lists were scrutinized and altered -- everything! Finally, despite her actions that came close to creating a revolution among bridesmaids, the minister and, even, her parents, the day arrived.
Among the minions who were involved in making her day perfect was a young photographer, Damon Richardson, who, he had come to regret, had been selected to memorialize the ceremony. He was regarded as the best photographer in town and was particularly noted for his ability to create tapes and pictures of weddings and wedding parties. Susan, of course, ignored his expertise and, once again, insisted on micromanaging this aspect of her gala event as if it were a coronation. She insisted that EVERYTHING be recorded on film and video tape from the rehearsal right through the end of the reception. Damon gritted his teeth and, after informing her of the astronomical cost of such service, complied. So, on the day, in addition to still photography, he had a video camera set up to record the ceremony, another to record the entire reception and, even, one to record the picture taking of the bridal party – if she wanted FULL coverage, she would get FULL coverage!
The ceremony, itself went off like a well-oiled machine despite universal fears of some minor incident causing an explosion from a very overwrought bride. One of the unfortunate impacts of becoming Bridezilla is the inability of the monster to really enjoy the event since the chance of something not being perfect creates a nervous tenseness that wears not only on the bride but everyone around her. The audience was enthralled with the perfect production ("a lovely show") but the smiles on the faces of the bridesmaids were forced, the minister prayed that he would not misread a word in the ceremony and, even the bridegroom, who happily had played only a small role in the preparation, felt that a time bomb was ready to go off as he kissed her. But, she was married and all that was left was the picture-taking of the bridal party and the reception, but, until all was completed, she was still on, the newly crowned Mrs. Jeff Henderson, STAR!
That bomb finally went off, but fortunately, not in public before all the guests. While people went to the reception, which fortuitously was held in a large banquet hall connected to the church, the wedding party went upstairs to a room Damon Richardson had set up as a temporary studio. Several shots of the whole group were taken and Susan approved them in the digital viewer. Then, the bride and groom with the best man and maid of honor were taken. Here, Susan was critical of the posing, the lighting, etc., but after five attempts, Damon finally satisfied her. The bride and groom, predictably, took, seemingly, forever before, reluctantly, she accepted a full length and portrait view. Then, the problem started – the pictures of the bride. No pose was good enough, no lighting was correct, no expression met her demands. After innumerable attempts, the maid of honor hesitantly suggested that the guests must be wondering where they were and perhaps they should go down and mingle until Susan was satisfied with her own photo. Jeff quickly jumped in, agreeing that it would be a good idea if he went with them to explain the problem. Susan's reply did not endear her with Damon when she said, "You might as well. I'm not going to stop until this alleged photographer produces a decent portrait of me and my gown." With relief, the other fled the scene, leaving Damon alone with Bridezilla. In a monster movie, he soon would be dead or he would heroically defeat the monster.
In this case, with things already tense, with a woman who seemed determined to be displeased with any picture taken, and a photographer who was reaching the end of his considerable patience, soon to reach the boiling point, disaster was inevitable. After several futile efforts to produce an image that she found acceptable despite his belief that the pictures were perfect, he finally said, "Mrs. Henderson, you will either take one of the shots that I have recorded or you won't have a picture! I'm fed up! I didn't agree to spend all day attempting to please an irrational woman won't recognize a good picture when I've taken it."
Even the first use of her new name didn't placate her and she forcefully replied, "If you produced a proper picture, I'd be happy! You call yourself a photographer!"
By this time, they were face to face, staring at each with anger-filled eyes. "I'll tell you something!" Damon finally spat out, "The first thing that your new husband should do is turn you over and spank your ass until it turns purple! You are a real bitch!" He started to turn away just as Susan, speechless in her Bridezilla anger, did something completely out of character – she reached up and slapped his face. Damon reacted instantly, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her over his knee. Before she even had time to protest she found herself lying upside down and her long white skirt flung over her waist. She presented a pretty picture – plump, firm hips covered by sheer white lace panties, a white garter belt holding up long white hose – but Damon didn't pay attention to the revealed attractions. Instead, he grabbed the waistband of the panties and jerked them down and off, saying, "Damn it, that's too much! This is not some movie where the woman slaps the man and he turns the other cheek! You are going to get your ass spanked, but it won't be your husband doing it!" With that, he raised his hand and slapped downward viciously, turning the white flesh to a vivid red where it struck.
Susan had finally realized what was happening just as her panties were ripped down and shrieked, "Let me go!" just as the first slap hit. Her shriek of anger turned immediately to one of pain. She began kicking vigorously as she tried to get free, demanding loudly that he stop, her verbal protests interrupted continuously by a barrage of blows that sent waves of agony through her entire body. "Let me go!" Smack "Oooow! Stop it!" Smack "Oooow! Damn it, quit it!" Smack "Eeeeek! Oh, that hurts."
Damon's hand moved up and down like a metronome, slapping her bottom with his full strength. Susan continued to screech each time the hand sank into her buttocks, writhing and kicking the entire time. Fortunately, the room had thick walls and everyone else was downstairs or she might have been even more horrified to have a crowd of her guests storm in and find her with her skirt up over her head, her lower extremities naked and being soundly spanked. She didn't think of that at the time, of course, and her cries of rage and pain continued at top volume.
"Let me up" Smack "Ooooow! Stop it, you bastard!" SMACK "EEEEEK, I'll have you arrested!" SMACK "OOOOOH!" Despite her threats and protests, the barrage of slaps went on, harder, if anything. However, gradually the cries of rage subsided and were replaced with moans and pleas rather than demands. SMACK "Oooouuch Oh, my God, please stop!" SMACK "Oh, please..." SMACK "Oh God, I'm sorry...oooooh." As her ass cheeks turned a deeper and deeper shade of reddish-purple, the punishment was just too much for her to stand. Soon she just lay across his lap, absorbing the blows, moaning and twisting around, but not really trying to escape. Damon gradually wore out his anger and frustration as he spanked her, and that, along with her passive reaction and obvious submission, finally caused him to hesitate and, then, stop.
