The Wedding Night

The limousine ride back to the Voss estate was silent except for the occasional wet sound as Dorothy lazily used your mouth.

When you arrived, she didn’t make you crawl. Instead, she carried you bridal-style through the front doors, your ruined wedding dress leaving a trail of dried cum and filth behind you.

But before taking you to the bedroom, Dorothy brought you to the master bathroom.

She gently stripped off the destroyed sheer wedding dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Then she turned on the large marble shower, letting the water run warm.

“Come here, my wife,” she said softly.

She carefully washed you — using her own hands and expensive scented soap. She cleaned every inch of your body: your face, your hair, your breasts, your thighs, and especially between your legs. She was gentle around your fresh piercings and brands, washing away the layers of cum, piss, and shit from the reception.

She even carefully cleaned the new pink gold collar around your throat and the little heart charms dangling from your caged clitty.

Once you were completely clean, she dried you with a soft towel and brushed your hair.

Only then did she carry you to the master bedroom.

The room was beautifully prepared — dim lights, white rose petals scattered across the enormous bed, and chilled champagne on the nightstand.

Dorothy laid you down gently on the silk sheets.

“You’re finally clean for your wedding night, Mrs. Voss,” she whispered, climbing on top of you.

She made love to you slowly and deeply — kissing you tenderly, sucking on your pierced nipples, and thrusting into you with long, possessive strokes. The bell on your tongue jingled softly every time she kissed you. The heart charms on your clitty ring tinkled with every thrust.

For the first few hours, she was surprisingly gentle and romantic — holding your face, looking into your eyes, and whispering how proud she was of her new wife.

Later, her lust took over. She became rougher, fucking you harder, pulling on your new collar, and claiming you again and again until you were moaning and trembling beneath her.

She finished deep inside you multiple times, filling you with load after thick load.

When she was finally satisfied, Dorothy pulled you into her arms, spooning you from behind with her cock still buried inside your warmth.

She kissed the back of your neck, right above your permanent pink gold collar.

“Welcome to your new life as my wife,” she whispered lovingly. “Tomorrow, your real training as Mrs. Slutcunt Voss begins.”

You lay there — freshly cleaned, thoroughly fucked, permanently collared and ringed — listening to the soft jingling of the bell on your tongue with every breath.

The wedding was over.

Your life as Dorothy’s official wife had officially begun.