At this point, Mr. R brought out a garment bag. Inside was the same lavender gown. Something low in Trish’s anatomy clenched in recognition.Mr. R sm...led at the reaction because more was coming. Next was a note from Sheila Schwartz-Richards. She was the bride on the cover of the magazine. To say the picture was famous understated things. It was also the cover shot of the New York Times Sunday magazine and reprinted worldwide. She seemed impossibly thin, famously due to a corset, in a simple. ”“Uh…”“Unless a medical problem arises Jim, a return visitwill not be required. Take care and thank you for yourparticipation!” The phone clicked followed almostimmediately by the dial tone.Staring out the window at the kids in the street andthe neighbor dog as its nose sought a clean dumpingsite in the flower bed, I saw Doris drive in. Watchingmy beloved slowly walk up the driveway, I noticed shewas somewhat more bow legged than I could previouslyremember. I would tell her what I remembered of Mom, and she'd smile, and hold my hand, and prompt me whenever I'd get lost in a memory.I decided to show her the accident and autopsy reports, when I became reticent about talking about our father, and she asked me why. When she'd read them, especially Mom's autopsy report, she was horrified, and in a quiet voice, I told my sickened sister how our parents would be when they came back from their 'outings', then pale and trembling, she threw her arms about. My cry muffled by the ball-gag and cushion as my arse was forced to accept the strap-on that had chocked me. Once passing the initial resistance the strap-on slid deeper in to me, in my prone and held position, stretching and filling me like never before. As I simultaneously wanted to have it out, it was too painful...but wanting it continue, enjoying the pain, humiliation, pleasure and abuse.In my confused mind, while being held by naked hooded men, two of which had already used my arse and.