Bondage slave wife

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It was almost midnight when Honey and Greg stepped out the door of the Justice of the Peace. Honey hesitated on the steps, smelling the night air and listening to the chirping crickets. It all seemed too wonderful to believe. One minute she was Honey Bromfield and the next she was Honey Harris. "Oh, Greg, I love you so much," Honey said, taking his arm as they walked to his new white Buick.

Greg opened her door just as the lights in the house went out. They'd driven all the way from Cedarville to get married. Honey still couldn't believe it was really happening. She'd lied about her age to the Justice of the Peace, John Ramsey, but Greg had told her he was a personal friend of his and wouldn't check things. Greg had taken care of all the paper work.

Honey ducked her head to step into the car, but Greg stopped her. "Wait," he said. "I want something first." Pulling her against him, he circled her waist and pressed his lips against hers. She felt his tongue stabbing into her mouth and exploring her tongue. When he drew back, his hands moved possessively to her firm tits. "From now on," he said, "you're all mine."

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