The Substitute

Abigail in Trouble Chapter 21: The Substitute Part 2

Led by the uncle, they dragged her over to the dark doorway. She made one last attempt to break free, twisting her head around to appeal for rescue.

"Jake! JAKE! Help me! I don't want to go in there. They are making me! Jake! JAKE!"

They were through the door now and Abigail paused struggling for a moment to take in her new surroundings.

It looked like a men's smoking room. It wasn't particularly large. There were no windows. A small bar was lit in the corner. Very low, purple lighting surrounded the perimeter. The walls were lined with a continuous line of soft leather seats. There was also a freestanding square leather island near to the rear.

But Abigail's stomach lurched as her eyes fixed on the object in the dead-centre of the room. It was simply a vertical, polished stainless steel pole, fixed from floor to ceiling. It looked like one that a pole dancer would use. It was highlighted by some small spotlights.

Abigail's eyes opened wide in surprise as they tugged her towards the pole. "Surely they are not expecting me to give them a pole-dance in this fake bride gear?" she thought to herself. But she reckoned that's exactly what they wanted her to do: to dance for them. A private dance. A private pole dance in front of a number of strange men with no women present.

This was NOT what she'd signed up for!

"No, NO!" She told them. "I'm NOT pole-dancing for you! No! Jake? JAKE!"

The gathered men formed a circle centered around the pole and the reluctant bride lookalike. The rest of the men, including the one with the duffle bag and Jake, filed in, locking the door behind them and took seats around the perimeter. She couldn't see Asahi among them.

The two men holding her suddenly released her and left her standing alone, near the pole. Abigail stopped shouting when their hold on her was dropped, but she was still surrounded by expectant faces. The uncle kept frowning and nodding towards the pole.

Suddenly some loud music began to beat from hidden speakers around the room. The thumping rhythm and inferred indications towards the pole left Abigail in no doubt that they were all expecting her to dance around and with the pole.

She just stood there like a rabbit in the headlights, unsure of what to do, feeling trapped and silly in her puffed out wedding dress. The dress glowed and shone in sharp contrast to the attire of the gathered men who were all wearing dark clothes, suits and the like.

The men started chanting and clapping in time to the music. After a minute, when it became obvious that Abigail was not going to do what they were asking, the uncle lost patience with her.

He snapped his fingers at the guy with the bag who brought it to his side. He looked down into the bag and fished out a black leather item. He stood in front of Abigail and nodded towards the pole and then reached out his hand and offered her the object.

Abigail took it in her hands and immediately recognised what it was. It was a pair of felt lined, leather cuffs welded together at right angles. It looked like leather, but it was all too stiff and heavy to be leather alone. She reckoned they were reinforced with flat steel bands inside. The cuffs had slots and eye-rings rather than buckles.

She squealed and immediately dropped the cuffs in horror, shaking her head.

The uncle pointed at the pole and then the cuffs. She realised he was giving her a choice: dance or be restrained. What option did she really have?

Finally, amidst increased chanting, she moved up to the pole and stood with her back to it, holding on to it behind her for security. As the beat throbbed, she began to move her hips and feet in time, starting to gyrate and wiggle a bit half-heartedly. Her arms waved a little behind her.

She didn't think it was much of a show; her heart really wasn't into it. But she had to show some willingness didn't she? The men calmed down a little when she first started moving, but soon realised that she wasn't putting on the kind of show they were expecting. They started jeering and chanting again.

The uncle watched her for a while, then shook his head disappointedly and picked up the discarded cuffs.

The other men stopped jeering as the uncle walked up to Abigail and regarded her up and down. She stopped moving and simply stood in front of him with her head bowed, intimidated by the situation.

She still held onto the pole behind her for some kind of security. This small sanctuary was removed from her when she felt strong hands behind her, prise hers off the pole and bend her slender, lace glove clad arms up behind her back.

"No!" she shrieked, struggling against the strong hands that held her. "Not that! I'll dance. I'll dance, I will. I'll dance with the pole. Nice and sexy! I will! Let me go!"

The uncle was unmoved, and so were her arms. He faced her as his two accomplices behind her bent her arms high up behind her back and her dainty wrists were crossed together above the elbows. As she struggled to get free from their grip, the uncle handed them the cuffs.

"Let me go! What are you doing? No! I told you I'll dance for you, just let me go!"

The cuffs were fitted snugly around each of her upper arms, close to her narrow wrist. Each was tightened firmly around her narrow wrists over the lace gloves, firmly trapping them in an immovable grip. The uncle passed over two tiny padlocks and she heard the ominous clicks as they locked her arms securely in the cuffs.

The men behind her continued to hold her while the uncle drew another strap from the bag. This looked to be the same construction but was longer and wider. He held it up to her neck. Abigail shrieked again and tried to turn her head away, but she was being held tightly from behind and the uncle had no difficulty fitting the collar around her slender neck and tightening it up until it was snug all around. Another padlock secured the strong collar tightly around her neck.

A short, sturdy strap hung down from the back of the collar. Her wrists were lifted higher behind her back and a fourth tiny padlock secured the cuffs to a loop on the lower end of the short strap pinning her arms up high into her back. The men stood back to admire their handiwork.

Abigail found herself wearing a ridiculously fluffy wedding dress, standing in the middle of a dark room surrounded by men, with her hands tightly secured behind her back and clipped to her collar. She tested her bonds, but they felt as tight and immovable as steel. She also realised that the restricted position of her arms behind her between her shoulder blades, coupled with her futile struggling, was thrusting her ample cleavage up and outwards. This was not lost on her audience.

"Oh god" she thought. "What have I got myself into now?"

The uncle stepped back a little and let the rest of the men, mainly the younger ones, close in on the restrained substitute bride.

As one young man approached her, he reached out to touch her hip. Abigail scolded him and pivoted away from him as best as her platform heels and her bound arms could manage, only to fall within easy reach of another's groping hands. She tried rotating to fight them off, but soon found the crush of men had closed in and hemmed her in.

She felt fingers on her exposed arms, holding her still and stroking her skin through the long lace gloves. She felt hands grip around her narrow waist, stopping her from rotating. She felt palms on her largely exposed shoulders, smoothing over her soft skin. But most alarmingly, she felt a number of hands cup under, over and around her bountiful breasts. They stroked, cupped, squeezed and fondled her through the bodice of the dress, and her underwear beneath.

Abigail screamed loudly, trying to scare them off. When this had no effect, she appealed to them to leave her alone. Finally, she appealed to the only other westerner in the room, Jake, Lindsey's brother.

"Jake, Jake! Help me! They're grabbing me. Help! Please! Is this what your sister wanted? Please get them off me! HELP!"

Jake seemed happy to just sit back and watch the crowd molest his sister's best friend in her substitute wedding dress, and ignored her pleas.

The uncle, however, thought that she was making much too much noise. He rummaged in the bag and pulled out a large ball gag on a similarly sturdy black strap. Unseen, he pushed himself through the crowd and up to the struggling girl from behind. Then he quickly looped the gag around her neck, under her lustrous hair and brought the large ball up to her mouth, just as she was screaming for help.

He pulled back firmly on the strap, firmly seating the large ball deep in her mouth, stretching her jaw and effectively silencing her. Abigail tried screaming but all that came out was a series of grunts and moans. The uncle lifted her hair out of the way, tightened the gag strap, then secured it at the back with another padlock.

Now Abigail was in real trouble. She was gagged with her arms strapped tightly behind her, in a locked room amidst a pack of groping men who seemed to like the look of her. Her only western compatriot seemed to be ignoring her plight which made him complicit in it.

She tried to turn and twist this way and that, trying to break free from the throng who were mainly trying to squeeze her lovely breasts through the dress. She didn't have much success since enough hands held her bound arms, or her narrow waist firmly.

The uncle, however, having secured her arms and mouth, decided that things were getting a little out of hand. He shouted out and clapped his hands. Reluctantly the group of men crowding around her withdrew their hands and took a step back. The music was also switched off: since she wasn't dancing for them, it wasn't required.

Abigail stood still, panting through her nose, observing the faces that surrounded her with fear and trepidation. The gag did not let out anything more than unintelligible mumbles, but even if it had, nobody close would understand her. The uncle walked slowly around her, regarding both her and the surrounding men.

Then he stood behind her, held her bound arms and pulled her backwards towards the pole. Abigail was startled as she felt the solid steel in the cleft of her backside and against the back of her cuffs. The uncle held her head upright, the back of the gag strap touching the pole, as a couple of men approached with something metallic from the bag. They clamped the back of the stiff gag strap to the pole on a slider. It held her head upright against the pole.

Abigail could not tilt her head to the side or forwards or back at all: it was held too rigidly to the pole via the strong gag strap and the slider clamp, but she could feel that it would slide up and down the pole. She whimpered into the gag as she felt another liberty being taken away, her frightened eyes darting around the room, searching for help.

The uncle kept discipline by taking a truncheon from the kit bag. Abigail wondered whether he had been a policeman in an earlier career. He circled her, using the truncheon to keep the circle of men at a distance.

Then he stood in front of her, regarding her face and looking her up and down. He particularly took his time to take in the beauty of her pretty face, partially obscured by the gag, and also her swelling cleavage, thrust out towards him by the position of her bound arms. She looked quite edible to him.

Then he turned to the circle of men surrounding them. He dismissed them from the circle, using the truncheon to indicate that they should all take a seat. He walked round the bound beauty making a little speech not addressed to her, but the surrounding men. Abigail thought that he was sizing them all up, or considering their pecking order, based on age or which family they belonged to.

1

Eventually, he pointed at one young man and beckoned him to stand up. Some of the others cheered him, some jeered, and some looked jealous.

The uncle receded out of the spotlights into the dark as the young Japanese man approached Abigail, helpless as she was. He gleefully walked around her, surveying her whole body from top to bottom. He placed his hand on her hips as he walked around her, feeling her body tremble through the layers of her clothing. Abigail waited anxiously to see what he would do. What he would be ALLOWED to do.

After several circuits and lewd comments from the young man to his friends, he stopped directly in front of her. He brought his hands up and gently cupped her face, stroking her cheeks around the gag strap. He looked into her frightened eyes as he stroked his palms down to her chin, down her neck, over the collar and down to her exposed decollage.

Abigail whimpered as she felt his hands stroke lower, over the generous swell of her cleavage and onto the bodice of the dress. His fingers spread wide as his hands closed around her full breasts, squeezing slowly but firmly. She gasped as his hands pulsed in and out, feeling the young, firm flesh of her breasts through the layers of her clothes.

Then his hands left her breasts. She was thankful for a minute.

But then she noticed his fingers closing on one of the many white ribbon bows that held her dress together, at her shoulder. Abigail had forgotten about those! He started tugging at it, making lewd eyebrows towards his friends in the shadows. They encouraged him with whistles. The little bow gave way and she felt her dress shift as it dropped a little from her shoulder.

"Oh no!" she thought in horror. "How many more is he going to loosen?"

The young man grinned at her as he found another bow, this time near her hip, and gently tugged it loose. She felt another loosen behind her at the small of her back. He began picking off the little bows all over her dress, including down her skirt, and at her short sleeves, allowing the dress to loosen, part slightly and slip from her hips and shoulders a little.

In her head, Abigail cursed the dress-maker for the design: the wife of the man in charge of her current humiliation. She Scolded the poor design as being stupid, until a dreadful thought occurred to her: "What if the dress is SUPPOSED to be loosened and taken off like this!"

While she was pondering the possibility of this, the young man got bored of the random effect he was having on the dress. He stood in front of her and picked off the little bows at her hips. She could feel the dress loose around her middle now. Next he started pulling the bows loose right down the middle of the front of her dress. Her cleavage swelled more as the bodice of the dress was loosened over her large bust.

He undid all the ties down her front, all the way down to her skirt, allowing a vertical glimpse down her front through a narrow strip. Abigail started to whimper with anticipation and dread. With her hands pinned tightly behind her, her large breasts thrust out in front of her, and this action opened up the gap all the way down her front.

It was at this point that she remembered the scanty and downright provocative style of her underwear which was being slightly revealed. Her cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. But there was nothing she could do about it.

The young man finished undoing all the ties down the front of her dress. She was relieved when he disappeared from view, leaving her bridal dress hanging on her shoulders. But then she felt a gentle tug at both her shoulders. The men in front of her suddenly crowded in a little, straining to get a better view of her.

The young man released the final bows on her shoulders. Suddenly Abigail gasped as the bridal dress, unsupported, fell away from her body and pooled at her feet.

The helpless teen substitute stood, fixed to the pole, gagged and bound in the most provocative lingerie that anybody could have designed. The men gasped, all agape at the vision before them.

Her hair was beautifully made up in soft curls and tendrils which cascaded over her shoulders in waves. A veil was pinned into her hair and cascaded down her back. Her mouth was gagged fully and tightly. Her lace covered arms were pinned securely up behind her back and linked to her collar.

Her voluptuous body was beautifully displayed at its best in the delicate white lace lingerie. The strapless basque, laced very tightly at the back, held her pert D-cup breasts up from below. The fine lace cups only just covered her areolae. Her amazing cleavage swelled and pulsated with her quick breaths.

Deep lace stockings were clipped tightly via garter-straps to the bottom of the basque. Her matching lace panties were sheer over her mound, presenting a lovely soft, but deep cameltoe to the onlookers. The rear of the panties were a small lace triangle at the top, and a narrow thong strip down between her cheeks..

Abigail was mortified, blushed deep red, and clamped her legs tightly together in shame, hoping that the floor would open up and swallow her.

The watching men could not believe the vision of innocence and sexiness in front of them. They were staggered, flabbergasted, amazed and very turned on. The uncle knew he had to maintain discipline in the face of an overwhelmingly hot temptress helplessly bound in the middle of the room. He prodded the young man in the ribs until he reluctantly found a seat. Then the uncle stomped around the pole, slapping the truncheon into his hand.

2

He pointed in the darkness and a small cheer went up. As a new protagonist approached Abigail, the uncle reached down and swept the disassembled remnants of the bridal substitute's dress away.

The new protagonist was a much older man. He was grinning from ear to ear as he approached the bound girl. Abigail whimpered and tried to control her panic as he stalked around her displayed body, surveying all her best assets, before disappearing behind her.

She was startled and shrieked through the gag as a hand came down on one mostly exposed bum cheek with a loud smack. It didn't really hurt, but certainly surprised her. A few seconds later another landed on her opposite bum cheek, making her shriek again.

Then she felt two warm hands firmly cup her exposed butt-cheeks. The hands stroked around, then squeezed her tight bottom, smoothing over the soft skin and tweaking the flesh to make it bounce delightfully. He stroked and squeezed her butt-cheeks firmly, making Abigail squirm and shift her legs to try to avoid him, but she couldn't move beyond his reach.

He knelt behind her with one arm on either side of the pole as he fondled and molested her young but firm buttocks in his middle-aged hands. She could do nothing but gently sob into the gag as she felt his hands squeezing her bottom all over.

Then he started grabbing a handful of her flesh on either side and spreading her bum cheeks apart. She opened her eyes wide in surprise as he exposed the thin strip of her thong panties that ran down between her butt-cheeks. Then she felt a finger run down the narrow strip, down the crack all the way to the bottom, where the soft shape of her cameltoe started. She clamped her legs as tightly together as she could, but it wasn't enough to prevent the finger tracing the outline of her slit from behind, and running back up her crack.

The finger was removed while she could hear him rummaging around in the nearby bag. There were murmurs of approval from the watchers seated around the perimeter as he found what he was looking for. Abigail could hear a quiet sucking noise from behind her. Then she was startled as a finger hooked into the vertical strip of her panties at the top of her rear, and tugged the material away from her skin.

As the hooking finger moved lower, it peeled the thin strip at the back of her lace panties out from her bum crack, and clear of her body. She closed her eyes in shame as she felt her bum being fully exposed by this action, especially when he reached her puckered little bum-hole and stretched the lace to the side here, exposing her rear.