The church bells are ringing; my wedding day is still not over. It has only begun.
I never knew it would be possible to orgasm over one simple phrase: “I do.” And yet, there I stood, facing Christopher, and it took every ounce of will I had in my tingling body to squeeze and hold it back.
I dared not show it, but at the same time, I didn’t want it to go to waste. God and the priest, whom I call “Father,” were the sole witnesses. The feeling lasted until I heard the words, “I now pronounce you Husband and Wife,” and with one kiss, our future was sealed. Just the touch of our lips, warm and tender, made my pussy pulse. I felt as if I’d run a marathon to everlasting, endless love, and had reached the finish line. My trophy was my husband’s cock.
The scene was strange: it was incredibly romantic and tensely sexual for us both. Looking into each other’s eyes, our vows wrapped us together as one heart and one love. And yet, our pulses raced, and our skin was glazed with a hot flush – he in his wedding tuxedo and me in my cream wedding gown. We couldn’t wait for the one thing we’d never had: marital sex. Forgive us father for we have sinned. While he spoke of the blessings of our future and our fidelity, we were only thinking of the present, the burning power of pleasure that welled up in our groins. I held my husband’s hands and knew that his cock was engorged in his boxers, busting ever so lightly through his pants, just enough to raise a bump through the fabric. I shone like a brand new diamond when I noticed it. I had secrets of my own.
Underneath my wedding dress, the symbol of maiden purity, I wore a strapless Basque, encrusted with diamonds, and a vintage, skin-tight girdle with garter straps on the sides that held up a pair of gorgeous stockings. I had on shiny, six-inch-heeled, domme boots, custom made, hidden by the ethereal flow of my gown. A pair of diamond-encrusted restraints graced my ankles. My undergarments were all the color of cream. And to top it all off, I wore a strap-on harness, pure white. It was wedding attire fit for the other maiden in me: the dominatrix queen.
My bridesmaids were the only ones who knew my dirty little secret. Christopher had no idea, no inkling at all, the poor little pet.
The wedding bells rang out majestically as Christopher and I ran from the church, hand in hand, surrounded by claps, cheers, whistles, and bubbles. We fell into the back of the limousine and the doors were closed, giving us our first marital moment of privacy.
“Oh Dianne,” Chris moaned in my ear, his trembling arms wrapped around my waist. “We did it, and I’m shaking like mad, fucking nervous, and horny beyond belief…I have the most intense boner of my life right now! Fuck…”
“We’re born again virgins, baby!” I chuckled.
“And it feels so fucking good…Mrs. Johnson.”
“Mmm. I love how that sounds.”
“Me too. I feel like I’ve waited all my life to say those words to you.”
Our mouths were sore from our reckless smiling and laughter, but our lips didn’t give a damn, they meshed roughly against each other, tongues diving and wrestling in saliva that tasted of the promise of wedding cake and merlot. We swallowed each other up in a wave of intense emotion, thoroughly expressed in thick moans and timid growling that vibrated against our breath. I wanted to fuck in the limo. I wanted to be ridiculously loud, enough for our driver to hear it. He’d slow down his driving because of it, stopping traffic. With a wink, I loosened his belt, wiggling my hand down his pants.
"What are you doing?” he gasped.
I tickled his cock – it was immaculate, perfectly firm, his foreskin moist. It grew taught as I teased the tip, rubbing it gently.
“Fuck!” he gasped. “Fuck…”
He gripped the shoulder of the seat, his eyes a fiery “I-want-to-fuck-you” blue.
“Mrs. Johnson,” he licked his lips.
My mind raced as I pulled my hand out of his pants. He tried to catch his breath; I wouldn’t let him. His head smacked against the back window as I unzipped his pants with a quick swipe, tugging them down to his ankles, revealing his white boxers, which flaunted his beastly boner.
“Fuck…you…” he gripped my hair, pulling it gently.
I shushed him with my mouth, sucking on his tongue. Then I let go, on my way down to the love below.
“Oh my God,” he said, wide-eyed.
I pressed my nose into his erection, sniffing his hot, musty, manly scent. It was powerful and strong, enough to make me light-headed.
“Mmm, you smell so good Mr. Johnson,” I purred huskily, humping my tongue against the fabric of his boxers. He kicked his head back, generating a loud thud against the limousine window.
“Is everything okay back there?” the limousine driver asked. He didn’t turn his head.
“Yes e-e-verything is fine good man; it was just the speed bump,” Christopher managed.
Silence. There was no speed bump. The driver didn’t say anything further, and the window between the front and the back of the car went up.
I giggled.
“You are going to get us in trouble my little wifey-whore,” Christopher grunted softly.
“It’s our wedding day, we can do anything we like,” I replied, my breath against his boxers. My probing tongue returned to rubbing wildly and the moisture from my mouth created a hot, pungent sauna as he grew harder. A glance up at his face revealed a feverish blush, and I could feel his cock throb through the fabric. Spreading his legs, he allowed me to pull his boxers to the side. I cooed with glee at the sight of him, and bathed him with flickering kisses and an abundant amount of licks. His shaft and glands were slicked with saliva by the time I was through. His balls were as large as kiwis, visually delicious, and I wanted to eat them up. I suckled them in my mouth with a buzzing moan, making him gasp “Fuck!” He banged his head against the limousine window again.
I turned my eyes upwards so that I could look into his baby-blues as I thrust my hands up and down his shaft, tugging lightly on his pubic hair. He bit his lower lip, then his hands wrapped into my hair. He tugged lightly, forcing me to let his balls go, and then he pushed my face back into his crotch, popping them back into my cradling lips. I sucked harder and swirled my tongue, while my hands traveled all over his cock and inner thighs.
“Fuck, you are going to make me come already, you filthy bitch.”
I pulled away. “Hold it,” I demanded.
“What?” he quivered.
“You heard me,” I said, a militant smirk on my lips. “I said hold it.”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson,” he said, sounding surprised. “You are fucking mad, you know that?”
“The reason why you married me Mr. Johnson.”
“Oh, you are damn right about that, Mrs. Johnson.” He shook his head, a wide smile on his face. He reached out and tried to lift up under my dress. I brushed his hand away. He chuckled. “Playing hard to get?” he asked. “I don’t…”
Before he could continue his sentence, I invited his cock into my hungry mouth. My tongue worked its magic, with lightening speed, twirling, swirling, humping, and gyrating. My head thrust up and down sliding every inch of him deep into my throat and then out to my lips.
“Oh my god!” he cried.
I pushed four fingers into his mouth and he sucked on them like hard candy, sliding his tongue in between my fingers. It felt as good as him masturbating me. My moaning vibrated against his shaft, and in reaction, he grabbed my head. To my surprise, he began to fuck my mouth, uninhibited. He thrust his cock into the back of my throat again and again. And he disobeyed me, his cum sliding down my throat like a soothing, hot, creamy broth. I swallowed every drop, breathing heavily through my nose.
He pulled out slowly, causing his cock to momentarily poke my inner cheek.
“It’s our wedding and I can do whatever I want,” he snickered.
He held my head in place, stuffing my mouth with his cock again, and then he yanked me up onto his lap and kissed me madly. I knew he could taste himself on my tongue.
Our kiss mellowed and then our lips parted. I rested on his chest. My pussy was dripping. It hadn’t been touched all day. He had tried to, but it was important to me not to reveal anything from underneath my dress, not even the heels of my boots. As we got closer to the reception, I slid something in his pocket.
“What was that?” he purred in my ear, melting me into ecstasy with a quick lick and suckling of my earlobe.
“You will see, later. Don’t you dare touch that pocket until I say so.”
“Yes Mrs. Johnson,” he said and nodded.
The limo slowed to a stop.
“Guess I better put my pants back up before we get out of here, eh?” he asked, his voice playful.
“Oh yes,” I chuckled. “We don’t want our mothers to faint before they get drunk.”
He dressed and I smoothed my hair back into place. I glanced at him, wondering how he would respond to what I had planned for later. Chris was sexually daring and adventurous, but at heart, I knew he was old-fashioned vanilla. As much as I loved fucking him in a bathtub full of roses or in a bed surrounded by romantic, cinnamon-scented candles, at heart I had always been a latex angel. And I hoped that after tonight, I would be the mistress of the dreams he had not yet dreamt. Tonight was the night to unleash my domme side.
“Let’s do our best to not make our eagerness show…” Chris bit his lower lip.
“I will try, but I can’t promise you baby.”
The limousine door opened onto a beautiful resort and spa, surrounded by majestic gardens. Most of our guests were waiting inside. I could hear their laughter, and Elton John’s “Your Song” played on a piano.
“Next time, I will watch for those speed bumps,” said the limo driver as we stepped out and he closed the door behind us.
When we entered the reception room, Chris and I blushed. Over fifty sets of eyes were staring at us, and a hundred hands clapping sounded like thousands. We were surrounded by devil-red floral pieces, glowing candles, and our three-tiered wedding cake was the main attraction. Our guests raised a multitude of glasses and the whole reception flashed before our eyes. Our first dance was to Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe.” and before I knew it, I was throwing my bouquet.
Our hotel room was waiting. We walked through the halls slowly, hand in hand. When we got to our room, Chris pressed me against the door and his lips burned against my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair, moaning “I love you,” in his ear. He swiped the key-card through the lock quickly, causing the door to fling open. We fell down on the plush, gold carpet, laughing.
Gold-hued lights warmed a queen-sized bed. A bouquet of white and red roses graced the rectangular glass-topped table that stood in front of a luxurious sofa. The room smelled of vanilla and perfume, and outside the wide window, the ocean rolled in the dark
“What do you think my queen?” Chris smiled at me.
“Beautiful…just beautiful. This day was the most beautiful.”
He grew silent, caressing his hand along the line of my chin and across my cheeks.
“What are you thinking about Mr. Johnson,” I smiled coyly.
“I’m wondering what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours…and what’s underneath your dress. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
“See that window, how it overlooks the ocean?”
He nodded. “What about it?”
“Get a chair and sit in front of it. Watch my reflection. Don’t turn your head to stare.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He stood up and then lifted me to my feet. He grabbed a chair, carried it to the front of the window, and sat down with his back towards me. Standing behind him, I could see his eyes staring at my reflection, patient, wondering, wanting.
“Watch closely.”
Gazing at the window, I slowly and gradually wiggled myself out of the dress. First I revealed the Basque. The cream-colored diamonds sparkled in the light. My breasts bulged at the top, so full and voluptuous, pink with heat. His jaw dropped and he was speechless. He looked as if his life-long prayers had finally been answered by the sight of my bosom.
“Do you like it?”
He nodded quickly. I could see his hands shaking.
“You can touch yourself if you like,” I whispered.
“You are beautiful.” His voice quivered.
I pulled the dress lower, revealing the garter belt. The sight of its eroticism and flirtatious innocence, girdling my waist, hugging every line of my voluptuous curves, locked him to my every movement – a wink of my eye, a jerk of my hip, the purse of my lips. Watching him watch me with such hunger made my pussy drip.
I pulled my gown all the way down to the floor, stepping out of it completely, flaunting my harness, stockings, ankle cuffs, and boots.
“My fucking lord!” he gasped.
I came up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders. His body jumped and shivered, as if I were going to pounce on him and eat him alive. Indeed, I did feel like he was my prey. I was now the tiger.
“Remember the little present I gave to you in the limo,” I said my voice low in his ear.
“Y-yes.”
“Take it out of your pocket.”
He dug into his pocket, and at the same time, I unzipped his pants and took out his firm, succulent cock. He opened his hand to reveal a chrome silver cock ring lying innocently in the center of his palm. His eyebrows went up and he stared at it, hypnotized.
“What is this?”
“Put it on your cock.”
“Are you serious?”
“I said put it on!” I could hear the steel in my own voice.
He jumped. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Mrs. Johnson,” I corrected.
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson!”
He slipped it on slowly. I encouraged him: “Lower…lower…all the way down to the base. Don’t worry; it won’t hurt you, darling.”
An evil thrill went up my spine when I glanced at the expression on his face in the window reflection. He was turned on in a way that I had never seen him before. He looked bewildered, excited, aroused, and captivated, all at once. His cock was growing steadily, the supple veins visibly pronounced along the shaft.
“Is it too tight?” I asked tenderly.
“Fuck, no. It feels…amazing.”
“Are you ready for your next surprise?”
“There’s more?”
“Don’t turn around. Stay.”
I blew him a kiss and walked toward our bed and our luggage. He was being a good boy, sitting there in his tux, his pants at his thighs, his erection standing beautifully before him. I unzipped one of the suitcases and took out a narrow-tipped riding crop, thirty-two feet of silver chains, tethers, a six-inch, black, flared-based dildo, and a pony-bit gag head-trainer. I rested them all on the rectangular glass table, glancing over to make sure he was behaving. His eyes were riveted to the window and he was squirming in his chair.
“Turn around. Face me. Now.”
My voice was as strict as a mother scolding her child. He looked afraid, but his cock betrayed him.
“Get down on your knees.”
He fell down immediately to his knees; sweat was beading on his forehead. I slapped the tip of the crop against my palm, which emitted a sharp, whip-lash sound that cracked through the air. I wanted the sound to underline my dominance, and it seemed to work. His eyes were glued to me as he maintained his submissive posture.
I walked a circle around him, looking down at him as if he was a worthless dog.
“Are you afraid, Mr. Johnson?”
“No, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Do you like the sound of my crop, Mr. Johnson?”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson.”
I smiled to myself. He seemed to be a natural at this game. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson!” he screamed, releasing some hidden, erotic pressure.
“Do you want it?” I growled.
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson!” he howled like a little girl.
“Take off your tuxedo coat.”
He did as he was told and I kicked the garment to the side. I trailed the tip of the crop against his back, seeing him shake, watching him shiver.
“I really want it, Mrs. Johnson,” he confessed out of turn.
“How much do you want it?”
“As much as I wanted you to be my wife.”
“Good answer.”
I told him to remove the rest of his clothing, leaving his pants down around his ankles. He moved quickly and then sat still on all fours, waiting. I lifted the riding crop and savored the delicious moment.
I brought the crop down against his naked flesh and his back arched. He shrieked with each powerful smack, his fingers clawing into the carpet along with the rhythm of my beatings. Red splotches appeared on his back, as if by magic. I felt a surge of passion at the beauty of my work. Judging by the everlasting erection of his throbbing cock, the more smacks he received, the more he wanted it and loved it. With amazing restraint, he gradually leaned his face towards my boots as I spanked him. He praised my boots with licks and kisses, putting his heart, soul, and inner-submissiveness into every movement.
“That’s a good puppy,” I grinned, smacking his cheek with the bottom of my boot.
“Oh, Mrs. Johnson!”
“Bark like a dog!”
I knew that every smack I delivered sent shivers of pain through his veins and down his spine. He growled and barked each time I delivered a blow. His bottom looked pale and empty, so I whipped him there as well. How delicious his skin looked, sprinkled with light pink lines and bright, hickey-red splotches. I hadn’t expected him to endure so much, and I was giving him more than I had originally intended.
Standing in front of his face, I rested one boot against his back, beating him furiously on his sore, tender, throbbing ass. He looked at my crotch and made low grunts, barks, and growls. He sounded so perverted and my pussy pulsated in tempo with the speed of my wrists.
At last I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stopped.
“Do you wanna be the dog in this relationship, my pet?” I asked bluntly.
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson,” he cried. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “I will do anything and everything to make you happy, be the best husband, and the most obedient slave.”
I trailed the tip of the crop against his lips, shutting him up with a pitiful smack.
I pushed all of the toys off of the table, grabbing the chains. They chimed together as I swung them slightly back and forth in one hand, smiling sweetly at my little pet.
“Get on the table,” I said.
He quickly obeyed. He sat cross-legged, and his cock stared straight at me, nodding up and down, submitting to me. Chris bit his lip tightly, as if holding himself back from coming at the sight of me with chains. His face was just as red as his crop-spanked back and behind. I never had seen him look this submissive, this vulnerable. It was a fucking turn-on.
I lifted one leg out to him, flashing the ankle restraints. He immediately grabbed my boot, stuck out his tongue, and licked the leather clean. It was as if he could read my mind. God, it felt so good to be in control.
“Take off the ankle restraint.”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson.”
After he took it off, I lifted up my other leg. I snapped my fingers and removed the second one. I circled behind him, and took the restraints from his hands. I forced his arms behind his back and fitted him into the restraints, attaching them with a mini metal padlock. He squirmed and struggled. He was a helpless creature, and he was mine, all mine.
I laughed.
He shuddered, sighing with pleasure and relief.
“Get on your back, dog!”
I smacked him in the face with my bare hand. He was almost taken aback at first, but then his lips curled in a wicked grin.
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson,” he declared triumphantly.
Steadily, he lay down on his back against the table, shivering from the cold of the glass. I caressed his face, tracing my finger down from his Adam’s apple to his cock.
“Oh, I fucking love you, Mrs. Johnson. I am so fucking glad I married you.”
“You are mine. Forever.” I smiled sweetly down at him.
I strapped him down, the chains pressing into his flesh in a web-like design, spreading from his shoulders all the way down to his toes. He squirmed like a caterpillar in its cocoon; it was a satisfying, breathtaking sight.
I kissed him and my hair tickled against his chests and his nipples. An animalistic groan escaped from his mouth. “I love you, Mrs. Johnson. I love you.”
I twisted his nipples and an orgasmic grin appeared on his face.
“What are you going to do to me, Mrs. Johnson?” He cringed, and I wasn’t sure if he was pleading for me to stop or to keep going. Spreading my legs outward, I let go of his red, pinched nipples and stood over his head, my crotch about six inches from his nose. He smelled my pussy, its scent hung in the air. He closed his eyes, smiling, smacking his lips. His cock was beyond hard. I sat down on his face; his nose nearly penetrated my pinkness. I instantly grinded my hips into him; in a horny rage his tongue dived in my smelly, dripping cunt, swirling, thrusting, thumping, and slurping rapidly. In minutes, with his hot breath and buzzed moaning, I felt myself exploding; I let it all go at last. His tongue sounded more slick and slippery when he pounded my cunt deep; my legs shook and shivered as I rubbed my clit against his nose, his groaning vibrating against it.
“That’s a good doggie,” I moaned, smacking his face.
I kissed his forehead and then got on top of him. I slid my crotch down his belly and then lower, my ass cheeks caressing his cock. He sighed with anticipation, trying to thrust his hips up. He wanted to fuck my asshole so badly. Pre-cum lubricated the entirety of his shaft.
I pressed my fingers to my pussy, pushing them in deep and glazing them with my cum. I slapped the juices against my throbbing asshole. Lifting my ass above his cock, I sat down on it slowly.
My asshole swallowed him up, inviting him in deeper and deeper until my ass cheeks were pressed against the hot and sweaty warmth of his base. I could feel the metal of the ring against my skin. I groaned loudly, I was hot and pounding inside. My entire world was focused on the slow stretching of my hole as I grabbed him by his chained shoulders, riding him like a pony.
“You are so fucking amazing, Mrs. Johnson!” Chris roared as I stroked up and down his cock. I quickened my pace, feeling the pleasure building up all through my body. I bucked him faster and I felt how close he was.
I slowed. Leaning back slowly, I grabbed the dildo that was beside the leg of the table, easy to reach. My pet sighed; he knew exactly what I was going to do. With one hand I sucked on the head of the dildo while I caressed his balls with my free hand, watching every aching, pleasure-filled expression on his face. That smile, those eyes. I pushed the dildo into my cunt, lubricating it with my own juices. Heat, sweat, and excitement drenched my face by the time it was slick and ready. I pulled the dildo out and took Chris’s cock out of my ass. He had quietly come inside me. His creamy nectar oozed from my asshole down to my inner thighs.
He was speechless as I untied the chains from his body. Braided imprints branded his skin. To me, every mark was a work of art, my masterpiece.
“Did that hurt, my love?”
“No,” he sighed, as if he was going to pass out while standing up.
“You know what else I’m going to do to you?”
“Fuck my ass, with that.” He stared at the dildo, showing no signs of hesitation. “You are going to take my virginity.”
“You got it, baby.”
“Mrs. Johnson?”
“Yes, dog?”
“You are a dream come true.”
I bent over and grabbed the pony-bit gag head-trainer and the reins.
“I saw that in a porno once,” he said. “Such a fascinating toy.”
“Get on the bed,” I snapped.
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson.”
I smacked his bottom with my bare hand. He jumped on the bed, standing on all fours as before. Perfect. I placed the head trainer over his eyes, adjusting it on his head, and inserted the rubber gag in his pretty little mouth, his teeth biting down on it gently.
“Comfortable?” I caressed his cheek.
He nodded.
I set the black dildo in place in my harness. It hit perfectly on my clitoris, adding just the right amount of pressure to get me off. I stood behind my love and took hold of the reigns.
Seeing his little ass in the air made my heart skip a beat, and I felt so much power and lust, my head went dizzy. I had waited all day for this moment. I had waited my entire life.
Spreading his ass cheeks, I saw his asshole twitch and close in nervousness. I finally realized that, in all this time, in the over seven years we had been together, he had secretly wanted this. Perhaps, more than I did. When I pushed the head of my cock inside of him, the most glorious release came out of his mouth. He screamed when I pushed in again; it wasn’t a scream of pain, it was a cry of, “I love you Dianne!” My breasts hung over his back, my nipples scratching against his skin.
When Chris’s body got used to my cock, I fucked him good and hard. He screamed for more, cried for me to fuck him faster, shouted for me to do it harder. With my boot on his back, he commanded me to go deeper, saying how much he loved the pain. I pounded into him faster, harder, pulling back on the reins, lifting his head up. I thrust into him, pushed, and fucked, and he came like a wild animal, bucking beneath me. The intensity of his release took me right along with him.
He fell onto his stomach and I collapsed on top of him.
“Fucking hell,” he mumbled with the gag in his mouth. I rolled off of him and he looked up at me with a grin, sighing with relief when I released him of the trainer and tethers. Falling down on my knees beside him, exhausted and spent, I devoured him with a kiss. It felt like it would last forever, just like our love, and hopefully, our marriage too.
“How are you feeling Mr. Johnson?” I chuckled.
“Absolutely marvelous,” he winked. “You look so gorgeous in that get-up. I can’t believe you wore all that under your dress.”
“Trust me, I felt like I was out of my mind for doing it.”
“But you did it anyways,” he smiled. “Priceless.”
We snuggled together, hot, warm, and sticky. Closing my eyes, I could hear our breathing, hearts beating, and a distant sound ringing, the music of wedding bells.
Originally published September, 2008