23.
And he did. On the way to the wedding he sat still – at least, as still as he could – in the car. Shirley was in the driving seat this time – in both senses of the phrase – and so their progress was relatively sedate. Mandy sat next to her with a rather enigmatic smile on her face. Shirley wanted to give her niece a surprise. In fact, she wanted to give everyone a surprise. So she left them in the car in the church car park while she went for a chat with the vicar. As a result, she was able to sneak them out, take them around to a back door, and hide them in a little room just off the vestry. She disappeared again for about twenty minutes, and when she returned she was carrying two little scarlet silk cushions.
“Take one each, boys. Mitch, you’ll have the groom’s ring on your cushion, which you’ll offer to Henrietta first of all. She’ll take if off the cushion and put it on David’s – the groom’s – finger. Then Sam, you offer the bride’s ring to David. The vows will be going on at the same time. You needn’t take any notice. Just hold out your cushions and wait for the rings to be picked up.”
“So, where do we stand?” asked Sam.
“I’ve discussed this with Henrietta. She suggests you walk out with Mitch in front and Sam behind. Walk slowly - don’t laugh or giggle, please – and when you’re ring has been taken, Mitch, step to one side and let Sam take a pace forward.”
“And then do we come back here?” asked Mitch, hopefully.
“Oh, no, not at all. When you’ve delivered both rings, stand nicely side by side and face the congregation. And when the ceremony’s over, Henrietta will tell you, and you must lead the procession up the aisle and out of the church. Then there’ll be loads of photos, and after then it’s off to the reception.
It wasn’t the reply Mitch would have liked.
“Will we go in your car?”
“No, you’ll be in a limousine with the bridesmaids. Don’t worry. I’ll be there to supervise. Now here are the rings. Be very careful. This one is yours, Mitch, to give to Henrietta, and this pretty one is yours, Sam.
“So…how do we know when to come out,” asked Sam.
“I’ll be at the door here to make sure you’re both neat and tidy and you have the correct rings. I’ll tell you when to go.”
Mitch had a bad feeling about the whole thing. There was a long mirror in the vestry, and he blushed to the roots of his hair when he caught sight of himself. Shirley noticed him, and attempted to allay his nervousness.
“Yes, Mitch, you look very smart. You’d better be careful of those bridesmaids, I’m thinking…”
“Do we have to go with them? I mean…”
“Of course, silly! All the bridesmaids and pageboys stay together. I expect you’ll all be playing hide and seek or something, later on. Now stop admiring yourself. Remember it is Henrietta and David’s wedding day, so please don’t start showing off.
“We wouldn’t!” protested Mitch. That was indeed the last thing he was contemplating.
“I know you wouldn’t boys. I’m sure you’ll play your parts perfectly. And Mandy or I will take good care of you at the reception. So I hope you’re both hungry.”
Mitch frowned. Shirley seemed so nice now. And only a little while ago she had been so strict with him. He wished he had behaved a bit better. Then he wouldn’t have this horrid plug to contend with. If he could have got rid of it, he would. But after she had slid it in, Mandy had used a little pump thing to inflate it. “That’s to make sure you can’t take it out,” she had said. Sure, it made him stand up very straight. But it was uncomfortable, and made him fidget, and that in turn made his poor squashed willy slide about inside the lubricated rubber, which was making it difficult for him to keep his cool.
“You all right, Mitch?” asked Sam, after Shirley had left.
“It’s this plug…”
“I tried to warn you. It’s one of the ways they keep us in line. I’d sooner be spanked any day.”
“Me too. And my shorts are all slippery inside from that lubricant. My thing won’t stay in one place. Does it show?”
“A little bit, but it’s okay. Maybe you can hold the cushion in front of it when you go out there.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
An hour later the boys were ready for their great entrance. They stood, Mitch at the front and Sam behind him, holding their little cushions. They were both extremely nervous. Shirley was at the door.
“They’re coming up the aisle now. Oh, she looks so lovely! And the bridesmaids are so cute!”
Only a few minutes, and the ordeal – or at least, the worst part of it – would be over, thought Mitch. But there was something he didn’t know. In fact, something that nobody knew, except Mandy, who had chosen his butt plug. Mandy was one of those people who presented a very conventional face to the world. She came over as very English upper middle-class – self-confident, competent, and conservative. That was why Shirley had employed her. Part of her function was to deal with potential customers face-to-face. Most were of that class, and found the smart, efficient and sympathetic Mandy understanding and impressive – one of their own.
“Yes, madam,” she would say, a serious and concerned expression on her face, “I understand completely. I have a son not unlike yours myself. In his case, a short, sharp course of babification proved to be the answer. Now, in the case of your boy, who is clearly – like his parents, if I may make so bold - highly sensitive and intelligent, and whose problems are more complex, I think we need to adopt a slightly more subtle approach. I suggest we take him two days a week – perhaps Friday and Saturday, if that were convenient? We could present the project as a treat – a weekly visit to a spa – but our skilled staff would slowly and gently introduce him to the pleasures of babyhood – soft nappies, pretty baby clothes, regular feeds, a range of flavoured pacifiers. I think, within three months or so, you could see a new Septimus, much more compliant and docile… Yes? Oh, I’m so glad. No, not at all. It will be a pleasure to help, if we can… Now, as to the charges… Really? That’s very kind…thank you, madam… Friday, then…”
But underneath all this urbane charm, Mandy had a streak of mischief. And on this occasion, it had prompted her to furnish Mitch with a vibrating plug, which she could control from her phone. And she had arranged to sit near the front of the congregation – in the third row, to be precise – so she would be able to observe the effects at close quarters, and adjust the speed of agitation to a level appropriate to the occasion.
The moment came. It was time for the vows.
“All right boys, go now,” whispered Shirley.
Mitch and Sam processed into the church. There was a moment’s silence, then a ripple of murmurs and giggles ran round the congregation. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch caught sight of Lettie, sitting right in the front row. Well, she at least seemed quite impressed. She gave him a little approving nod, a surreptitious wave of her fingers, and a smile of encouragement. Fortunately he couldn’t see the internal struggle, as she fought off an almost overwhelming desire to burst out laughing. But she knew it was vital that the pretence of normality be maintained, if hers and the ladies’ plans were to be realised. The bridesmaids – there were four, aged between about ten and fifteen - gaped, until they were rebuked by a stern look from the priest. “Look at pageboy two!” whispered one to another. “How cute is that?”
The boys took up their places to one side of the couple. Henrietta, a blonde with a very happy and friendly face, glanced at them, and did a double-take, her gaze flicking between the little rubber hot pants and the matching lip gloss. Then she smiled, and gave Shirley, standing by the vestry door, a surreptitious wink. Trust Shirley, she thought, to come up with a special surprise on her wedding-day.
The ceremony proceeded satisfactorily. It was time for the vows, and, as instructed, the boys held their cushions within easy reach. It was at this juncture that Mandy turned on the vibrator in Mitch’s plug. She registered the faint jolt that shook his body with satisfaction. Good. It was working. And he had had enough self-control not to drop the cushion, or let the ring slide off. A boy who knew how to keep his cool would be a real asset to P & S. Surely he was going to make one of the best models they had ever had.
Henrietta turned to him and reached for the ring. She was a little surprised by the expression on his face, and the redness of his cheeks. He looked distressed, his eyes wide and his lips quivering. “You all right?” she mouthed. Mitch nodded reassuringly, despite the fact his hands were trembling, so she took the ring off the cushion and then slid it onto the grooms finger. “Poor thing,” she thought. “The ceremony’s maybe a bit too much for him. I’ll check he’s all right before we leave the church.”
Sam’s delivery was much smoother, and things continued as planned. The blessings and vows over, the couple processed towards the church door, followed by the bridesmaids and finally the pageboys, still carrying their cushions, Mitch’s strategically positioned in front of him. To his qualified relief, the vibrations had ceased after the ceremony, and been replaced by a gentle, regular pulsing. The vibrator was in standby mode. The bridesmaids couldn’t resist sneaking little curious glances behind them and the two unconventional pageboys. And in the protracted photo session in the churchyard they contrived to surround the boys for a closer examination. One of them – Mitch couldn’t work out which one, though he suspected the tallest, eldest girl – one of them gave his leg band a tug and let it snap back onto his thigh.
“Ow! Stop it!”
“Sweet little hot pants, boy. And cute makeup, too! You should have been a bridesmaid.”
Mitch was rather wishing he had, now. Especially as the bridesmaids had such pretty silver dresses and flowery headbands. No, he wouldn’t have minded that at all. He was just wondering how he could escape the unwanted attentions of the four mischievous little girls, when he heard Henrietta calling him from the front of the group.
“Pageboys? Come out here, boys. It’s your turn to be in front. Pageboy one…?”
“I’m Sam, miss.”
“And I’m Mitch.”
“You look great. You were absolute stars back there. Thank you so much for being my pageboys. I couldn’t have hoped for two more handsome fellows!” And she gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. For a moment Mitch felt quite proud, and forgot his embarrassment.
They made their way through the throng, still clutching their cushions.
“Have you still got those?” said Henrietta. “Here, give them to me.” And she peremptorily threw them aside, leaving the boys to clasp their hands demurely in front of them. She stood them in front of her and put a reassuring hand on each of their backs. Mitch would have been fine had not the felt the vibrator spring into life once more. He gasped.
“Are you all right, Mitch?” asked Henrietta.
“F-fine, thank you…” he replied. Then, thinking he might be able to get out of the photos, added, “though I’m feeling a bit sick…”
“All the excitement, I expect. Never mind. This won’t take long. Hands by your sides, now, boys. Stand up straight. That’s right.” She moved own her hand up to his shoulder and tightened her grip. He wasn’t going to escape now. She wanted something to remind her of her two remarkable pageboys, and what better than a beautiful posed photograph?
The shoot only lasted a couple more minutes, but to Mitch it seemed interminable. The sun was shining in his eyes and warming his shorts, making them exude the heady scent of latex mixed with strawberry lubricant. And when he noticed Mandy, standing slightly apart, glancing at her phone, and watching him with an enigmatic, amused expression on her face, he knew then who was the controller of his discomfort.
He tried his hardest, he really did. He squeezed his buttocks together, gripped his wrist, bit his lip, and tried to think of other things. But despite all his best efforts, he could feel the pressure in the front of his shorts steadily increasing. Fortunately, the lubrication obviated any discomfort, allowing his member to slide unhindered up his tummy, until it had attained its natural proportions and settled in a comfortable position just short of the waistband. Mandy must have been satisfied with the results of her experiment, because the vibrator dipped back into standby mode, the gentle pulsing being enough to maintain the status quo. His humiliation was complete. He blushed red to the roots of his hair, imagining what he must look like in the photographs, and what the guests – and the bridesmaids especially – would think when they pored over them in a few days’ time.
He dare not look down. He knew he must keep looking ahead, smiling unconcernedly, doing nothing to draw attention to his plight. Perhaps no-one would notice. But the temptation to check on the reality of the situation was just too strong. He waited until the photographer was seemingly adjusting the focus of the camera, and surreptitiously moved one hand up from his side, casually hooking his thumb in the waistband of his shorts and allowing his fingers to explore the cause of his confusion. What he discovered provoked a little gasp of dismay, which drew a sidelong glance from Sam. He unhooked his thumb to have a quick feel. Was it really as bad it seemed? Unfortunately, it was that very instant that the photographer chose to resume the shoot. The flash of the flashgun alerted him, but he returned his hand to his side too late. He began to feel faint, and he may even have fainted, had not Henrietta taken his and Sam’s hand.
“All done, boys. That wasn’t too bad, was it, Mitch? Now we can all relax. I think Shirley will let you travel in the limo with the bridesmaids. You’ll be able to chat them up on the way over." She grinned. "So I’ll see you both at the reception, and you can help us demolish the mountain of food, if you’re up for it.”
Mitch smiled weakly. He saw Shirley approaching, and the little knot of bridesmaids giggling by the church gate. He cast about for some protection, and, noticing the discarded cushions by a flower-bed, ran over and grabbed one, and held it casually in its former place.
“How far is the reception, Sam?”
“Dunno.”
“However far, it’s too far,” he returned, dismally.
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Topic: Mitch (Read 67172 times)
