The Wedding Reception

The grand reception hall glittered with crystal chandeliers and elegant decorations, but for you, it was nothing more than another stage for your degradation.

Dorothy led you in on your leash. You crawled slowly behind her on all fours, your sheer white wedding dress completely ruined and soaked with cum. Your new pink gold collar gleamed around your throat, the engraved words “Slutcunt Voss – Wife & Breeding Bitch” proudly displayed for everyone to see.

She took her seat at the head table and pointed to the floor beside her chair.

“Kneel, wife.”

You knelt obediently. While the other married males sat properly in chairs next to their wives, you remained on the floor like an animal.

Your “meal” was soon served.

A large silver dog bowl was placed directly in front of you on the marble floor. The contents were vile:

Scraps of food from the guests’ plates

Thick loads of cum collected from multiple guests

A generous amount of warm piss

And most disgustingly, fresh shit from several guests who had contributed especially for your bowl — soft, warm logs mixed in with the rest of the filth.

Dorothy smiled down at you and patted your head.

“Eat, Slutcunt. This is your wedding dinner. Made with love from our generous guests.”

You lowered your face into the bowl. The smell was overwhelming — bitter, earthy, and revolting. The mixture of shit, piss, cum, and food scraps coated your tongue as you lapped desperately. The little bell on your pierced tongue jingled softly with every humiliating gulp. Drool, piss, and bits of shit ran down your chin onto the floor.

Throughout the evening, more guests came over to “congratulate” the couple. Many of them added to your bowl — squatting over it and pushing out fresh waste while chatting casually with Dorothy, then forcing you to eat it while it was still warm.

Dorothy occasionally pushed your head down deeper into the bowl with her foot when you slowed down.

“Be a good wife and finish everything,” she cooed. “Our guests worked hard to make this for you.”

You ate like a starving animal, face completely filthy, while the elegant reception continued around you — speeches, laughter, and toasts. The contrast between the sophisticated guests enjoying fine cuisine and you devouring their shit from a dog bowl was absolute.

Later, when it was time for cake, Dorothy smashed the bottom tier and mixed the pieces directly into your already disgusting bowl, turning it into a sweet, filthy paste.

You continued eating while Dorothy fucked you slowly on all fours on the main table in front of everyone — the traditional “first dance.”

By the end of the reception, your face was unrecognizable — covered in layers of shit, cum, piss, and cake. Your new collar was stained. Your stomach felt bloated and heavy.

Dorothy finally stood up, clipped the leash to your collar, and announced:

“Thank you all for celebrating with us. Now, if you’ll excuse us… I need to take my new wife home for our wedding night.”

She tugged your leash.

“Crawl, Mrs. Slutcunt Voss.”

You followed her out of the hall on your hands and knees — broken, filthy, and officially married — while the guests applauded and laughed.