Trap Door

The next evening, the guests are in high spirits. The welcome party takes place in the "Reiterhof". This is the first house in town; a really tastefully furnished restaurant with fabulous cuisine, situated in the middle of our little city. Many citizens crowd around the large windows facing the market square. At least those who have not been personally invited. But to make sure no one misses out, small appetisers are distributed outside and so the atmosphere outside is not bad at all, while inside the main course is already being served. Some people wonder a little where Frau Wohlgeruch is, because she is actually the guest of honour, if not the hostess.

At any rate, Mr Wohlgeruch is enthroned at the head of the long table. To his left, the already familiar and very attractive Frau Bebend, and to his right, there is still a free seat. Finally, the host rises, taps his wine glass, smiles obligingly and speaks:

"Dear friends, thank you for coming to celebrate with me the end of this terrible abduction story. As you know, those were hard times for me, although in the meantime I have found happiness again in the form of this charming young woman, Miss Bebend. Please give a big round of applause for this wonderful lady!"

Miss Bebend stands up radiantly and makes a girlish curtsy, which strains the seams menacingly with her tight dress, and receives such a juicy slap on her fat bottom from Mr Wohlgeruch that it can be heard through the closed windows in the market square. The slap is so violent that tears spring to her eyes and her plump udders spill out of her wide-cut dress.

Fortunately, Mr. Sumpf, Mr. Wohlgeruch's personal butler, assists his master in this embarrassing situation by smacking the young woman right and left, then discreetly stuffing her obtrusively exposed tits back with a coarse grip and fastening them into her dress with alligator clips in such a way that, although they stick out grotesquely to the right and left, they nevertheless remain demurely covered by fabric and do not bother anyone with the sight of her swollen areolas. Applause murmurs all around. Applause for Mr. Sumpf, a straight-laced representative of the classical school of etiquette. Outside on the market square, people are enthusiastically knocking on the windows. The situation is saved once again! Miss Bebend is now sobbing to herself. But that doesn't help her now. She first behaved squeamishly and later obtrusively. Where do we get to! You can really feel sorry for Mr. Wohlgeruch, what the poor man has to put up with here in public! Not like that, no thanks!

But Mr. Wohlgeruch is a brave man and despite this disgusting, even outrageous incident, he does not let himself be put off his guard and continues smiling:

"So dear friends, as you see, dumb cunt remains pig cunt, there is not much you can do, but I will still take care of this stupid fuck sow so that next time she knows how to behave in company. But now to the actual topic: my dear wife!

As you know, she has had a hard time, and there is no denying that for the foreseeable future. What you and I can do is simply this: We should make it as easy as possible for her to return to her usual life. That means above all that we should not trouble her with unpleasant questions, but should pass over her present peculiarities with aplomb. May I just ask that the hall lights be extinguished? I think the candles will do." And now he raises his arm and shakes a little bell, "Dear darling, may I please!"

Slowly the hall door opens and hello hello, I guess you could say it was worth the wait. The dear treasure appears in the form of Frau Grimm, a slender, stern-looking lady who slowly and majestically pulls Frau Wohlgeruch into the hall behind her on a dog leash. The grace of the strict Mrs Grimm is so impressive that everyone present holds their breath before letting their curious eyes glide over the leashed appendage.

Yes, unfortunately, this may sound disappointing to one or the other of you, but Mrs. Wohlgeruch hasn't made much progress since yesterday, although she really would be old enough for that now. Instead of finally speaking plainly, she apparently insisted on exchanging the penis gag in her mouth cunt with a ring gag, from which nothing but drool now drips. So once again she refuses to communicate appropriately and civilly with her dear environment (us!). Furthermore, she has not found it necessary to get herself a wig to politely cover her white, lightly groomed egghead. From this alone it is easy to see that there is still a long way to go before Ms Wohlgeruch can be called a lady again.

Well, of course, her attention was not enough for a brassiere either, you guessed it! She is a slut! Really! The rings on her tongue, nose, breasts and cunt flaps are all in place too, of course! At least she's wearing a blouse, even if the breasts underneath show very obtrusively and hang low. No lady of distinctive manners would ever voluntarily choose such a tight blouse, especially when she has such fat udders in front of her like this cattle.

Although the skirt is long, it is also cut far too tightly and ensures that she can only take very short tripping steps. That's what she gets! Only the high-heeled shoes fit into the picture to some extent and remind us of what she once represented when, uninfluenced by perverted kidnappers, she still played a dominant role in the society of our little town.

By the way, just a small remark in passing for the attentive readers among you: the cunt rings can of course not be seen with the long skirt. But tactlessly, as Mrs. Wohlgeruch obviously is by now, she has probably fastened or had let fasten chains with bells to them, which now flash and rattle with each of her steps from under the hem of the skirt. Simply tasteless, if you ask me, and that's exactly how most of the guests seem to see it.

Simply eating in peace and quiet like the others doesn't seem to be part of her program either, otherwise she probably wouldn't wear her arms tied behind her back in a black leather mono glove that reaches up to her armpits. Such a thing is called fetish clothing and seems repulsively perverse for the taste of many people. No so one makes no new friends. Really not!

Now the sluggish stumbling sow is dragged by Mrs. Grimm on a small platform, which stands in the middle of the room and makes possible for each guest an unobstructed view of this clumsy doltish appearance.

Again Mr. Wohlgeruch charmingly takes the floor and solicits understanding for the attitude of his wife, who does not yet want to dare to return to normal existence. And then he develops ideas that meet with loud applause throughout the hall.

"Dear friends," he says, "please understand if I myself take a step back in the near future and try to do what is good for my wife! Mrs. Grimm, if you please!"

In the meantime, the latter has thrown Mrs. Wohlgeruch's neck line over a ceiling hook and pulled it nice and tight, that the lady has now got a firm hold. After the words of the caring husband, she ratchets up the zipper of the skirt and reveals the heavy well-mannered buttocks of the sow. Mrs. Wohlgeruch unfortunately does not hold herself as tightly as she would undoubtedly like. But Frau Grimm selflessly helps her to keep a good posture by hooking the ring eyelets at the end of the cunt chains to the heels of her high-heeled shoes. Do you understand? Now the good woman is in a conflict of goals.

If she stretches her legs to relieve her neck from the choking collar, she tugs her cunt flaps even longer than they already are, and that hurts. But with pain she has now experience, and probably it is exactly what she wants, I guess, and with me guesses the whole group of the evening. So we let her do her stretching exercises undisturbed for half an hour.

Mrs. Grimm wipes the dripping drool from her pets blouse from time to time, so that she doesn't look so slutty and unkempt. Every now and then a dear guest also rises and looks at everything from very close, also reaches sometimes into the tense cunt chains and lets them vibrate whirring, which contributes to the amusement of the whole society considerably. Many pull out their digital cameras and take souvenir pictures for the family album. And I mean, looking at this body is all well and good, but what's especially appealing is simply looking into those aroused eyes. This intensity! You can clearly feel that Mrs. Wohlgeruch is completely in her element: love! Dear reader, isn't it nice to meet a person for whom self-realization is not a foreign word, isn't it?

Meanwhile, the first course is being served and everyone is enjoying it heartily. Quiet smacking, glasses clinking and cutlery clattering, animated conversations and now and then resounding laughter, which generally finds its reference to the delicately tense and amusingly strangled hostess, the mood could not be better. And Mrs. Wohlgeruch herself is certainly the happiest of all, since she is so intensely noticed by everyone. I think this is a form of therapy that is generally criminally underestimated. But the husband, although he has not studied psychology at all as a trained butcher, this man therefore does everything right. Isn't that amazing? So you see, dear reader, education is not everything, is it? In any case, in abundance...

Since he fears that his wife might find the uniformity of her occupation boring in the meantime, Mr. Wohlgeruch speaks up again: "As you know, dear friends, my wife loves correct posture above all else. But I can tell just from the discharge of her drool that she is now probably more in the mood for relaxation."

The guests look each other in the eyes meaningfully before thunderous applause breaks out again. What a foreboding and kind man! Whether his wife even deserves such a helpful altruistic gentleman at her side, some may also have wondered, as Mr. Wohlgeruch, that shining light, continues. "Mrs. Grimm, Mr. Stumpf, and Mr. Wupp as my wife's psychological counselor, please see to it that my wife is made quite comfortable now."

Of course, it doesn't take long at all for Frau Wohlgeruch to be freed from many a shackle and tied over a low side table with a tight belt that very delicately constricts her belly fat and supports the effect of her corset in the most graceful way. In order to provide her with a really firm hold as well, her arms, which are still bound, have been pulled under the tabletop. This allows the bacon belt to be tugged even tighter without disturbance. A stupid side effect, however, is that her fancy stockinged legs now start twitching disorientedly. Fortunately, the two male helpers each grab one of the frantically wriggling feet and confidently pull the legs so far apart that it almost looks like Frau Wohlgeruch wants to try the splits. And at her age, that's not bad, is it?

She must be proud to be able to demonstrate this ability in front of such an interested audience. However, as far as the Wohlgeruch (= fine odor) is concerned, which she somewhat boastfully carries in her name, I'm afraid I have to confess: it's not so impressive anymore since she's been spreading her legs in such an exhibitionist manner. Now everyone, whether he likes it or not, has to endure the smell of her cunt and it is not as fresh as one would expect from a well-groomed appearance. This is such a smell that you can definitely call stink, stink of fish and decayed, which, by the way, is no wonder when you know what has been stuffed in there lately.

Her husband is once again the one who grasps the new circumstances as quick as a flash and embeds them into his reflections in a very superior way.

"Although, dear friends, for a given reason there is a taste in the air, I would like to ask you to stand up and quietly come closer, so that you can see all the beautiful things that will happen to my wife now. Take a good look at this gaping stinking cunt. I beg you all, feel how overstretched and flabby this fuck organ has become. A cunt must not be so slobbery! This must be a terrible feeling for anyone who wants to sink his cock in this cave. Go ahead and try it, you can fit almost a whole truck in there now." At the same time, he pokes around nonchalantly with his walking stick between the long flaccid labia, lets them wobble heartily back and forth, and also pokes a bit perkily into the opening behind them.

Many do not let themselves be told twice and quickly convince themselves of the truth of these words. And you can say what you like about that. There is definitely something to this way of looking at things. Thanks to the rings, you can also pull the cunt flaps apart comfortably and look look, there's really a lot going in. Maybe not a magnum bottle, but already quite a lot. The ladies giggle indignantly and the men find clear words for this worn-out opening to paradise.