The Wedding Dress Fitting

Three days before the wedding, Dorothy brought you to the most prestigious bridal atelier in Dominara for the final dress fitting.

The head seamstress, Madame Lorelle, studied you carefully as you stood naked in the center of the luxurious fitting room. Dorothy watched with a pleased smile while the assistants worked.

The dress itself was stunningly beautiful yet deeply humiliating.

It was made of the finest sheer white chiffon and delicate lace. The bodice was almost completely transparent, with intricate floral patterns that did nothing to hide your pierced nipples or fresh brands. The long skirt had high slits on both sides that reached your hips, and the back was entirely open, proudly displaying the “Dorothy’s Slutcunt” brand above your ass. A long, flowing veil completed the look.

You stood silently as they adjusted and pinned the dress around your body.

Madame Lorelle nodded in approval. “The transparency and slits are exactly as requested. When she walks down the aisle, very little will be left to the imagination.”

Dorothy stepped forward and ran her hands over your body through the sheer fabric.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “I want everyone to see her cage, her brands, and her piercings as she becomes my wife.”

She then turned to the jeweler who had been waiting quietly in the corner.

“We won’t be putting the permanent pieces on today,” Dorothy said. “Those will be placed during the ceremony, right after the vows.”

The jeweler brought forward three items on a velvet tray for final approval:

A delicate, thin pink gold collar — elegant but clearly a **** collar, engraved with “Slutcunt Voss – Wife & Breeding Bitch”.

A tiny pink gold ring with dangling heart-shaped charms, designed to be locked behind her Prince Albert piercing.

A small silver tongue ring with a tiny bell that would jingle with every movement.

Dorothy smiled as she examined each piece.

“These three will be the highlight of the ceremony,” she said. “After we exchange vows, I will personally place the collar around her neck, lock the heart charm ring onto her clitty, and pierce her tongue with the bell ring… all in front of the Council and every noble family.”

She looked at your reflection in the mirror — dressed in the sheer, slutty bridal gown — and kissed your shoulder.

“Three more days, Slutcunt. You’ll walk down the aisle in this dress… and leave the altar as my fully collared, ringed, and officially married wife.”

Madame Lorelle made a few final adjustments to the veil, then stepped back.

“The bride is ready.”

Dorothy admired you one last time, her eyes dark with lust and satisfaction.

“Yes,” she whispered. “She’s finally ready.”