A tale of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal
A Love Story tendered by a member of the Society
This story was originally written as an appendum to the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal tetraology published on the Long Island Staylace Association site. For many years I had thought it to be lost but now, rediscovered, I post it here. In time I hope to post all the other stories on this site. In the meantime they can be read here, something that I recommend as they explain the mindset and concepts discussed in this work:
The start of the tetralogy
Following the recent publication of Mr. Potter’s stories on the World Wide Web detailing the travails and lifestyles of wives of members of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal, there have been several enquiries directed through the appropriate channels by interested readers as to how we in the Society deal with various matters and emotions, and in particular with the time-old and ever-interesting issue of love, or at least, to be more exact, falling in love. The problems that readers seem to be unable to get their heads round is exactly what happens when a member of the Society, or indeed a wife of the Society falls head over heels in love (Romeo and Juliet style as it were), with someone else. Unfortunately, all of Mr. Potter’s stories do not deal with this issue sufficiently. Araksia and Gabrielle may have loved their husbands initially, though it is clear that it was not so the other way round, (which after all, in Society terms, is what matters). Maria Lundstrom and her daughter were not in love, and neither was Miss Ihbat. Thus it is that the issue is left unresolved, and thus it is that I submit my own story to fill that much-questioned void.
My name is Mr. Andrew Bradbury, I am an Englishman and have been a Member of the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal ever since I made my fortune at 22 in the field of web-hosting and was introduced to the Society by a very good friend of mine, one Simon Fallows. For years before had I admired the restricted and helpless female form without fully realising it, but after joining the Society, my eyes were opened as it were, and I became an active user of arm-restricted females for my own personal pleasure. Not that I had had no experiences with the fairer sex beforehand mind, I had had considerable as it happens, but compared to that after my enlightenment, well… they are incomparable.
It was at the age of thirty years however, when I began to feel the need to permanently attach myself to someone else as it were, find a life-partner and in short, get married. Now, for Society members, there is only one sort of wife that is appropriate, that of course being an entirely arm-restricted one. However, finding a wife can be done in several ways, which are listed below as follows:
- One may chance upon a woman in the outside world who enjoys restriction and bondage and wishes to be rendered armless for life, thus entering marriage to a Society Member willingly. As you can imagine, marriages formed in this manner are extremely rare.
- One may select the daughter of an existing Society member and take her as one’s spouse. Society Daughters are naturally born into the Society and thus can never leave it. Furthermore, they tend, on the whole, to be rather pretty, since their mothers, hand-picked for their beauty by some of the most powerful males on the planet, were pretty also. Perhaps surprisingly though, many members shy away from picking a Society Daughter as their spouse. Partially this is due to the fact that their fathers know what is going on and so more severe modifications and lifestyles are often out of the question. On top of that though, there is also the issue of innocence and rebellion. Society Daughters are of course, accustomed to being restrained, living restrained and being dominated. More than that in fact, they are actually trained for in our Society Schools and, due to this, make excellent submissive little house angels. However, as you may have guessed from Mr. Potter’s previous tales, many of our members have a more sadistic side to their natures and actually enjoy their wife’s rebellion and discomfort, and indeed relish the challenge of training a spouse, thus making Society Daughters entirely unsuitable for their needs.
- And then, finally, one may select a girl (or boy, if that be your want) from the outside world, have her abducted and taken to the Society Training Centre on Kalimantan, fed with the Love Drug and then throw herself willingly into a life of restriction.
I, like the majority of Society Members, decided upon the third option, and so scoured the streets of Nottingham (that being my hometown) until I found a suitable candidate. She was a charming girl, 19 years of age, long blonde hair and the most beautiful pair of legs that I had ever come across. I imagined restraining her in a Venus corset and enjoying anal congress with her whilst she screamed into a penis gag, and knew that I had selected the right person. A week later, the Society Kidnapping Squad was called in and she was abducted whilst on her way to work in a local supermarket. The items on the local TV news concerning her kidnapping I dutifully recorded so that I may play them back to her some months later after we had set up our home. I then went over to Hungary where I bought a large old house and had it specially equipped with restriction and exercise facilities for my new spouse before finally hiring some lady’s maids from Thailand and enjoying their pleasure for a week or two. Finally, a month after the abduction, I got myself onto a plane and headed off towards Indonesia.
My flight however, as it happened, did not fly to Jakarta directly, but instead I had to change planes in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and so being an ardent traveller, I decided to break in that fair country for a week before continuing onwards. Furthermore, I had a very good and old Society friend, one Jack Baker, an Australian, whom I knew lived in a large villa on one of the islands off Malaysia’s western coast so when I arrived I called him up and he invited me to stay at his place for the duration of my visit. And so it was that I found myself being welcomed by that good gent and introduced to his family.
“This is my wife, Michelle,” he said, showing me an attractive lady of about 50. “I found her in Melbourne, my home city. In fact, we went to school together — all the lads lusted after her, but she was too haughty to ever glance at a bloke like me. Still, I got what I wanted in the end, as you can see.” Jack laughed and Michelle looked downcast. Looking at her enormous breasts and tiny corseted waist, I guessed that he had got what he wanted and then added to it considerably.
“And here is my daughter, Jennifer. She’s just finished school and is living with us for the first time in years.” I looked at Jennifer Baker. She was clad in the typical school uniform of Society Schools; a white corset and matching monoglove and the golden underpants of a Society chastity belt barely covered by the short, splayed out blue school skirt. She was plain in fact, but her figure was acceptable, a tiny waist and long legs, although, alas, tiny breasts and small and manly buttocks. Her posture, on the other hand, was excellent, helped by the standard-issue 15cm heels and her head held bolt upright by her ponytail which was, in usual Society School fashions, wrapped beautifully around her encased arms, the monoglove itself being attached to the chastity belt by a short golden chain. As I’d said before, acceptable, yes, but plain in face, although not unattractive. I greeted the girl with a kiss on the forehead and then moved into the lounge room with her father, where two of the Romanian maids were about to perform a lesbian sex show for our benefits.
The following morning, I awoke early and decided to take a walk around the beautiful grounds of Baker’s estate, so after Katya, the maid who’d been assigned to me, had administered my morning blowjob, I got up, showered, and started on my stroll.
Pulau Langkawi, the island upon which Baker’s villa is situated, is truly one of the most beautiful places in the world, and he, being who he is, had one of the best spots on that paradise. As I walked around his well-tended gardens, amazed by the views and flowers, and felt myself to be almost in heaven. However, as I rounded a corner, I spied a figure, sat on a white bench, looking decidedly glum and downcast. When I moved closer, I saw that it was Jennifer.
When she heard me, she lifted her eyes and smiled. “Mr. Bradbury,” she said.
“I disturbed you?”
“No, not at all, sir. I was just… sitting and enjoying the morning sunshine.”
The tear streaks on her face however, belied that she had not been ‘enjoying’ anything. Still, whilst not the best-looking girl on earth, she was still pretty and, I was tiring in the tropical heat, so I decided to sit beside her and chat.
“Well, it’s certainly beautiful out here,” I started, “though your presence makes it all the more so.”
She smiled again. “Sir, don’t jest please. I’m not beautiful and I know it; it’s been said all throughout my life. Mamma is pretty, exceedingly so, but I have always been the ugly duckling. I shouldn’t say this perhaps, but I seem to have taken papa’s looks instead.”
I smiled inwardly. Yes, she was the spitting image of her father in many ways. “Well those who say that you’re not beautiful are liars.” I declared. “You’re not conventionally beautiful it’s true, but you do have a certain special something.”
“Oh Mr. Bradbury, no one has ever said anything so kind as that to me before,” she said.
But to be honest with you, dear reader, I must confess that I had not been lying. Miss Baker was plain, indeed, but there was a certain spark about her and a twinkle in her eyes. To give a comparison to that you may be able to relate, think of someone like Jennifer Jason Leigh or Bridget Fonda. The beauty is not striking, but the more one looks, the more one sees.
“But Miss Jennifer, you seem to have been crying.” I continued,. “Let me wipe those eyes.”
One of the greatest aspects of arm-bondage is that the wearer is almost completely helpless, and thus relies on her protector for such simple acts as wiping tears away from the eyes. As I took out my handkerchief and wiped her face, I imagined doing the same in a month or two’s time for my own wife and felt excited about the prospect.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured, “but please, call me Jenny.”
“Jenny it is then,” I confirmed. “But pray tell me, Jenny, why is it that you cry?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“One doesn’t cry over nothing…”
“Well, no… but, well… it’s just going to be a big change, that’s all and well, I’m scared…”
“What will be a big change?”
“I’ve finished school now so I’m ready to be married. I must marry soon and well, there’s a man interested, but…”
“Oh nothing, it’s fine.”
“I told you Mr. Bradbury, it’s nothing! Forget it please.”
That evening I mentioned the matter to the girl’s father. “Oh yes,” said Baker, “it’s marrying time all right. To be honest with you, I was quite dreading it, actually. As you know, most men prefer a fresh, untrained recruit, and of those that do want Society Daughters, well, how many would choose such a plain, small-arsed thing as her.”
“You can always have improvements made.”
“Well yes, you can, but men prefer it natural as a general rule and besides, improvements cost money, and you can always make the wrong ones. I was thinking of giving her a tit job for her 16th birthday but then I thought, no, what happens if the one bloke in the world who’d want her isn’t into big tits? Money down the drain entirely. However, as it happens, we seem to have dropped on it — we have an offer for her hand.”
“Really? And who’s that?”
“Don’t know if you know him, but a bloke named Sederburg, one of the Americans living in Saudi.”
“Yes, that’s him. Saw her at a School Open Day and approached me. I know he’s a bit extreme but, well, beggars can’t be choosers now, can they?”
“Indeed they can’t.”
Now I knew why Jenny had been crying. Brad Sederburg was renowned throughout the Society for his unorthodox tastes. He had a total of three wives whom he kept in total restriction. He was especially interested in minuscule waists, no more than thirteen inches was meant to be his standard, but it didn’t stop there. All were trained to keep their arms permanently in the difficult and painful reverse-prayer position, and many other indignities from mammoth-sized breasts to lotus feet, voice removal to neck extensions were piled upon them. ‘Poor Jenny,’ I thought to myself as I remembered her tear-stained eyes in the garden. Still, I was interested in exactly what he had planned for her.
“Your father says that you’re engaged to be married to Brad Sederburg,” I said when we met in the garden again that afternoon.
“Not yet,” she replied, “but it is probable.”
“What do you mean?”
“My Coming Out has not taken place yet. However, he is the only man invited.” Comings Out are specific ceremonies for Society Daughters. They are restrained in some total way and then put on display for prospective husbands to admire. Then, the men approach the girl’s father and he chooses for them.
“What are you to wear?” I asked. A girl’s Coming Out costume is normal a big event.
“I am to be a butterfly,” she replied. “I shall be encased in a full body cocoon, immovable save my head, and attached to a post. Then huge wings are to be fastened to the cocoon and I shall wear a crown on my head. It’s very beautiful indeed.”
“Did you choose it?”
“Yes, but papa was pleased with the choice. I am excited about wearing it. Especially as I can’t…”
She stopped. “Can’t what?” I asked.
“Jenny, I’m your friend, you can tell me.”
Then, to my surprise, tears started streaming down her face. I held her to my chest and dried them. “My wedding.” she sobbed. “We girls don’t have a lot of freedom, you know that, but I’d always hoped, dreamt, that I could wear a big white dress for my wedding, with a wide skirt and veil and look like a princess, if only for a day.”
“But that’s normal, Jenny. Why can’t you?”
“Mr. Sederburg, ‘Brad’ I am told I should call him, when he visited papa last month and made his intentions known, he refused. He said that he had done that three times before and this time he wanted something different. He said that I was to be his Jenny Bunny and so he wanted to marry me dressed as a bunny rabbit, with only a corset, bikini bottoms, huge fluffy rabbit feet, rabbit ears and my hands in reverse prayer with a fluffy glove holding them.”
“Reverse prayer! Isn’t that… well, difficult…?”
“Awfully. At school they never taught it, as few men insist on it. It’s difficult and very painful, but he insists on it all the time, even at night. His wives have specially made beds with a niche for their bound arms. I am learning it now. Everyday I have to lie on my front for five hours whilst my arms are bent a little more and then secured there. By my coming out I should be ready.”
I smiled inwardly as I thought how attractive she would look with her arms in that extreme position, but then shuddered at the ordeal she would have to face to get them there, and then the further ordeals that she would doubtless encounter in the house of Brad Sederburg.
We walked on in silence.
Every day that week I met Jenny Baker in the garden and talked with her. She was a charming and pleasant girl, and if only her buttocks and breasts had been a bit larger, she would have been a real catch. She told me of her history, her time at school and her fears for the future. Apparently, she had never excelled in the Venus Academy of Murmansk where she had been sent, save for in the field of waist training. Her waist was in fact remarkable, perhaps only fourteen inches in circumference, and beautifully shaped. I guessed that was why Sederburg, a known waist man, had selected. “Well, yes it is,” said her father when I mentioned the matter casually to him, “but there is more than that. Brad, apparently, likes to take plain girls and use them as a sort of blank canvas upon which to create his masterpiece. All his girls, even the maids, undergo extensive body modifications, and I am sure that Jenny will be the same. Still, she does need some work doing on her I suppose.”
I had to agree with him, but wondered if she perhaps did not need quite so much work as Sederburg was sure to mete out.
On the final day of my stay I was walking in the gardens in the evening when I again met Jenny Baker. We smiled when we saw each other, and began to walk and talk as per usual. And then, without warning, she suddenly burst into hysterical tears and buried her head into my chest. “What is it, Jenny?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh Andrew,” she replied, “you are leaving tomorrow and it’s just that, well, you’re the nicest man that I’ve ever met. You’re the only one who hasn’t criticised my looks and shown me any kindness. Oh I wish I was marrying someone like you instead of fat old Sederburg.”
“Come, come…” I said, comforting the wench.
“No! No! It’s terrible! My life will be a misery as soon as I enter his house, I know it. However, you have given me a glimpse of happiness and of a good life and so, Andrew, I should like to repay you for giving me the happiest days that I have ever spent.”
I was surprised, and touched. I, who had done so little for this delightful young girl, had meant so much. For a moment, I felt like crying myself. “My dear, it’s nothing, nothing at all. I need no repayment.”
“Andrew, you say that, but I still insist. I must give you something back.”
“But what dear, what can you do for me?” I asked, caressing her delightfully bound arms.
She went to a tree and leant against it. “Papa says that you are a waist man. Unhook my monoglove from the chastity belt, lift it up and tighten my corset.”
“But… can it get any smaller?” I asked in astonishment.
“Of course, a full inch almost. Remember, I went through extreme waist training at school. Pull Mr. Bradbury, pull!”
Well, I pulled, and how delightful it was to see that tiny waist contract even further, and her young face huff and puff and grow redder until eventually she passed out and I caught her in my arms. I tied them off them and revived her and when she came to she started panting furiously. “Oh, Andrew,” she declared, between breaths, “that feels fantastic. Thank you! Thank you!”
I encircled her minute waist with my two hands and thanked her also, for the repayment.
“No, Andrew, that wasn’t the repayment — that’s coming next!” she said. Then she went over to a bench and bent over, revealing her naked buttocks under the school skirt. “I cannot pleasure you using my love passage,” she continued, “since I am wearing this accursed chastity belt, but at least my bottom is ready for your pleasure.”
I looked at her small buttocks held in the air and was touched. “But Jenny,” I protested, “you’re a promised woman. I can’t give it to a promised woman.”
“I’m not promised exactly, yet, and besides, I don’t love him. I love you!”
By now of course, my member was standing as tall as a flagpole, so I got it out and backed up to her. “No! Wait!” she said. “The pessary!”
Then I remembered. The traditional engagement gift for Society Daughters is a pessary in the shape of the future husband’s penis. I reached in and pulled out a marble reproduction of Brad Sederburg’s little man. Looking at it, I felt disgusted and yet confused. I felt angry that another man should have his member inside my girl and yet, she was not my girl, and that was not his member. I threw it on the ground and entered myself, causing her to gasp and shudder as my hands encircled her waist and I pumped away.
After it was finished, I reinserted the pessary, attached the monoglove to the back of the chastity belt again, and sat her on my knee. For an hour we gazed at the setting sun without speaking.
At the Training Centre on Kalimantan, I met my future wife, just as gorgeous as she had always been. We sat, introduced one another and she was fed the love drug. Every day, I saw her becoming more devoted to me and more eager to climb into bed. I caressed her beautiful round buttocks, tickled and squeezed her nipples, and kissed her gorgeous mouth. Eventually, the day came.
“You can’t leave me!” she cried. “I love you!”
“But Emma, how can you love me? You’re so frigid. Whenever I mention doing it, you back off!”
“But I want to, I truly do, but I should marry you if we do it.”
“So marry me then.”
“But your terms, Andrew, your terms! How can I?”
The terms that I had set her were complete arm restriction, extreme breast enlargement, corsets 24 hours a day and some work on her buttocks.
“Well then, I must leave if you can’t accept.”
Two days later, we were married. She wore a billowing white dress and veil just as Jenny Baker had always dreamed about.
On the way back I decided to stop at Jack Baker’s again for a week. I don’t know why exactly, but I did. Something about that beautiful place compelled me to return, so I had Emma sent ahead as freight and got on the plane.
I didn’t tell Jack that I was coming this time though, and as I approached the house I was greeted by an incredible sight. There, fastened to a post in the middle of the lawn, was a huge, gorgeous, colourful butterfly. I wondered quite what was happened and then I remembered. I had chanced upon Jenny’s Coming Out.
“Andy!” cried Jack when he saw me. “I didn’t expect you to return so quickly, but never mind, you’re always welcome and besides, you’ve picked a good day. It’s Jenny’s coming out and doesn’t she look a picture?”
I gazed at her, squeezed mercilessly into her cocoon and fastened to the stake, and waved. She smiled back, smiling of course, being all that she could do.
“It’s a great outfit,” said a plump American man stood beside Jack. “Her arms are folded into reverse prayer behind her – you can see if you go round the back – the bottom forces her feet into en-pointe position and the waist, only 13 inches!”
“Indeed!” I said, walking round to examine the aesthetically pleasing, yet no doubt painful arm bondage.
“By the by Andy,” said Jack, “this is Brad, the guy interested in taking that butterfly over there off my hands. Brad, this is Andy, an old friend of mine. During his visit here a few weeks ago he was quite a companion for your future bride you know, but now you’re married yourself, are you not?”
“Yes, Emma’s her name; she’ll be arriving later in the afternoon by boat.”
“She good?” asked Brad Sederburg.
“So far, yes, although I’ll have to modify her a bit.”
“I’ll be doing more than a bit of that myself in the near future,” said the American. “I was just telling Jack here, I’ve a vision for young Jenny here. I’m thinking cartoon character-cum-bunny rabbit. Breasts the size of beachballs, waist no larger than 13 inches, and massive, and I mean massive, butt implants. She’ll be out here, then nothing in the middle and then huge up top. I’m having her ability to speak removed too – can’t do with nagging women – but shall have an apparatus put in her throat which will allow her to squeak like a rabbit. Cool, huh? ‘Bunny’ is the watchword here. I’m renaming her ‘Bunny’ and she’ll be dressed as a rabbit for the wedding.”
I smiled and agreed it was cool and then excused myself, getting a drink and looking at Jenny from a distance. Then suddenly, most unexpectedly, tears filled my eyes. There she was, a beautiful young spirit, a fresh girl, with her whole life in front of her, about to be turned into an animal capable of only squeaking and fucking. ‘Don’t be a prick,’ I said to myself, ‘you’re as bad as Sederburg; you’ve done the same to Emma, and besides, you’re a man, and men don’t cry.’ But the tears did not stop and it was then that I realised that I was in love with Jenny Baker.
All that long long day I ached to go over and speak with my beloved, but I could not. How could face her, knowing what she was destined for? When Emma arrived and was unpacked and paraded before the others, I felt even worse. I felt unfaithful before my darling, low and base. “She’s a fair catch,” said the jovial Sederburg. “And that’s the unmodified state you say?”
Emma, glared at me. The love drug had now worn off and she had had to be gagged securely. She hated me. “What I’d give for something like that!” exclaimed the American.
Then, at the end of the day, Jack clapped his hands and gathered us round. “And now ladies and gentlemen, for the business of the day, although of course, I suspect it’s only a formality, we still should go through the ceremony. Today has been of course, my beloved daughter Jennifer’s, coming out day and so I should like to ask any males here who wish to vie for her hand, to make themselves known now.”
Brad Sederburg smiled and raised his hand. “I do,” he declared.
“Right, and anyone else?”
Silence reigned, but inside my heart a fierce battle was waging.
“Fair enough, as I thought, so Brad, she’s…”
All faces turned to me.
“Andy!” queried Jack. “Are you joking?”
“No, I’m not joking,” I said. “I do.”
“Andrew!” cried Jenny.
“Mmmphf!” said Emma into her gag.
“But dude, you’re married already,” said Sederburg.
“So are you,” I replied.
“Yeah, but… she was promised to me, Jack here promised her. She’d got a replica of my cock shoved up her bony ass. That should mean something, surely?”
“Yes Andy,” said Jack, “it was more or less agreed and besides, Andy, come on, look at this gorgeous fuck toy you’ve got here and compare her with Jenny. You must be mad!”
“Jack, I’m sorry,” I said, “you too Brad. I didn’t mean this, but I guess I just fell in love with the girl. I couldn’t help it, and, well, promised or not, Society Protocol states that…”
“…that anyone who’s interested can express an interest on a girl’s coming out…”
“…and that it is up to the father to decide, Jack, so what’s it to be?”
“No dude, I think I shouldn’t really be mentioning this,” butted in Sederburg, “but you’ve got it wrong. It is up for the girl to decide, as all Society Members are equal and fathers can be bribed.”
“That’s true Brad, but… I feel bad, about promising her and all…”
“And I do too, and so…”
“Let the girl decide, gents,” continued Sederburg.
We stood in front of my darling butterfly and Jack asked her. “Jennifer, who is it to be, Mr. Sederburg or Mr. Bradbury?”
And my love smiled and whispered softly, “Andrew.”
“So there you are, gents, she’s yours Andy, congratulations!”
“But Brad, I feel bad. Is there anything that I can do for you in return?”
The American smiled and said, “Well, there is one thing…” And he gestured towards Emma.
Jenny Baker and I got married in Malaysia exactly five years ago and since then we’ve been very happy. On her wedding day she wore the white dress that she dreamt about and since then she’s been allowed to live as a human being, not a bunny rabbit, albeit an armless human being. At first she was overjoyed thinking that she would be free of any modifications, but of course, I couldn’t let her carry on as she was, and her breasts and buttocks have been suitably enlarged so that she now has a curvaceous figure to be proud of.
And for the past five years, we have been extremely happy. She is submissive and always willing to service me and dressed up in her finery (I insist on ballgowns everyday) she looks the princess that she always wanted to be.
From time to time we still see Sederburg and Emma who are married, although not so happily (or at least, not so on her part). She now looks like a cartoon character with titanic tits, an enormous bubble butt and dingy lips. She cannot speak, nor do anything really, save service Sederburg, but her fire has not left her and her constant rebellion pleases her husband, as do her reverse prayer bound arms.
And that is how the Society for the Fulfilment of the Venus Ideal deals with love. We let the girl choose between suitors so that no one can claim they were out-bribed or cheated, and thus whilst hard for the loser, they know that it was a fair fight and go on to win the next battle.
I hope this rather long reminiscence has been of interest to your readers,