His last romp before the wedding.
She kept tugging on the laces until finally she was satisfied and there was no more air left in me. Gabrielle fumbled with the laces and I heard a zipper and a click. She made me turn around and with a big grin she showed me a little key on a silver chain.
"The knotted laces go in a little pouch along your spine which is closed by a zipper. The zipper is locked by a little padlock. I designed it myself. Neat, isn't it?" she said as she put the chain around her neck. "Just to remind you who's the boss," she laughed, trying to sound sternly.
I felt lightheaded and extremely excited. Gabrielle started kissing me, wrapping her leg around me. I looked sideways in the mirror and if the corset hadn't taken my breath away, the picture of two hot girls kissing and touching each other surely did. I was stunned at my hourglass figure and noticed the little brass padlock just above my bum.
"Kissing is always the best way to remove makeup," Gabrielle laughed, "now sit down for your war paint, honey."
She redid my makeup in a very dark, almost Goth like style with blood red lips and thick black mascara which made my blue eyes pop out even more.
Rings on every finger, hooped earrings and a posh pearl necklace made my look complete.
I sashayed to the living room and waited for the rest to appear. Everyone looked spectacular. Gabrielle was clearly in a domme mood, wearing a longish leather skirt over a lace top which showed her bra. She wore the black high heeled boots I had worn yesterday. She looked gorgeous and the little key she wore around her neck gave me butterflies in my tummy.
Debbie had ordered a cab to take the six of us to the venue where the party was. The driver ogled the colourful bunch with an amused grin, and with a particular interest in my legs.
The party was in an old industrial building which had been turned into some sort of theatre. It was beautifully decorated in a bit of a Victorian style, with chandeliers and red plush seats in cavities in the wall. It also had a stage.
We were warmly greeted by a large group of friends. Everyone was dressed to the nines. Some of them I had met last night and I got a lot of comments on my outfit. Linda, a sparkly American girl in wetlook leggings and a shiny top, noticed the little padlock, frowned at first and then smiled when she saw the little key around Gabrielle's neck.
A band started playing. Nice but nothing spectacular, just alternative rock covers. Gabrielle noticed that my band played almost the same music. I did a little air guitar for her and she laughed.
The band took a short break and we mingled. Gabrielle seemed to know almost everyone and introduced me to a lot of people as Irene from Holland. While she talked with some band members I chatted with a nice guy who seemed a little bit surprised by my alto voice, but otherwise just enjoyed what he saw and offered me a drink.
The band started playing again. Gabrielle and I danced in front of the stage. Dancing on my spikes was fun and went remarkable well. I exchanged smiles with Debbie, Eric's arm wrapped around her. Becca was having a good time as well, tickling Mandy.
A song ended and suddenly the singer said, "Ladies and gentleman, we have a special guest for you. From Holland, on guitar: Miss Irene Nyman!" And he pointed at me.
I felt the ground sinking away and I looked angrily at Gabrielle, who just smiled and winked. I shook my head, nonono, but my friends cheered and started to push me towards the stage.
With a pounding heart I climbed the stage, which fortunately for my stilettos had a little stairs. The guitar player handed me a Telecaster and a pick with a sarcastic grin, wondering how this blonde bimbo would make a fool out of herself.
"What are you gonna play for us, baby?" the singer said mockingly into the microphone.
I thought what the heck, selected a distorted sound on the pedal board, batted my eyelashes sweetly at the singer and exploded fiercely in the opening riffs of Foxy Lady.
The audience roared, the singer's jaw dropped to the floor and the rest of the