Marriage

You’re done rushing around. Hair done up in elaborate pig tails, makeup done, manicure with bright pink nails, pedicure so your toenails were also done. It’s exciting and you look beautiful! Everyone else is rushing about too. It’s a really important day. Your big day! Your family is there for the service. All your friends too. People from work. In waiting the church. Waiting for you!

Wait a second. Why are you not waiting at the altar for the bride to be escorted down the aisle by her father.

Oh that’s right. You’re the bride!? You’re Jo now and you’re marrying Master Mark. But why are you naked except for a white veil and a pair of heels?! This… is how you’ve always wanted to get married? It does seem right.

You’re waiting nervously in the big shiny pink stretch Cadillac. Soon you’ll walk down the aisle and say your vows to commit yourself to serving your Master for the rest of your life. To love honour and obey.

Why are you naked and female though…

Because this is Jo’s fantasy!! You look down at yourself and see that your sex is freshly shaved and not only is your clit a little tender, something white silver and shiny is nestled there. A piercing?!

That’s right your clit was pierced and there was an engagement clit ring nestle there. Master Mark had pierced you and inserted it himself. He was always so conscientious and thoughtful! He knew just what you liked. He was the bestest master ever! It made you want to cum just thinking about it.

But you’re Jack and he’s really the prick who stole your girlfriend… god his prick is the best as well!

You remember how you’d agreed to have a platinum diamond studded clit engagement ring - you’d selected it with Master Mark at the special jewellery store. Trying on clit rings had been the best and had made you feel all girly and submissive. They were a perfect mark of master’s ownership.

In the distance you can hear the organ playing “here cums the bride”. You’ll be coming soon. Soon. You’ll say your vows… can you remember them!? What if your forget? And then the celebrant will so “you can now fuck the bride”. Can you do it?

You’d done the wedding rehearsal and you’d turned and bent over the alter, pushing the candle sticks and the incense burners to the side as Master unzipped his tux and thrust into you.

But what is something went wrong? What if he couldn’t get in? It will be so embarrassing… you want you parents to be proud of you. You can’t fuck this up…

Jo, in your body, opens the door and you look up at him. “Ready Princess?” He asks.

You nod uncertainly. You know how this works but you aren’t Jo. You step out, teetering on the unfamiliar heels. Shit you can’t walk in heels! Somehow the muscle memory is gone! This is the worst. A bride needs to be able to walk in her heals!

You pause and close you eyes. Calming yourself with a few slow measured breathes. Everyone is here to see you today. The blushing bride! You remember. Slow, one foot in front of the other, hips moving fluidly, pink glittered breasts swaying, make sure to move slowly so everyone sees the clit engagement ring…

Jo takes your arm and holds it, providing support and guidance. “Just remember. This is your day. The end of the ceremony is when the real fun starts. When anyone who wants to fuck you can… you are going to have so much fun! I wish I was you!”

“Wait… what…?” You say. He was right. Nothing to worry about… you can feel your juices coating your inner thighs in anticipation already.

There must be more than two hundred people. Lots of people… this promises to be a long ceremony.

Kate and your other bridesmaids (all of your female exes) lead the procession, their maid-of-honor gowns a sleek pink number that hug their curves. They’re tossing strap-ons from a wicker basket like flower petals—vibrant colors, sizes from modest to monstrous—scattering them into the pews where guests snatch them up with laughter and cheers.

The organ swells louder as you enter the nave, arm in arm with Jo. Heads turn. Gasps ripple through the crowd at your resplendent nakedness, your breasts proud and sex slick. You feel a momentary pang of shame and embarrassment that heightens your arousal.

Your parents - Jack’s biological parents - sit in the front row beside Jo’s parents. Your moms are dabbing their eyes with tissues, your Dads are nodding proudly. “Our little Jo, all grown up,” you hear one Mom whisper.

Friends wolf-whistle. Coworkers avert their eyes but sneak peeks at the clit ring sparkling between your thighs.

Mark waits at the altar, tall and handsome in his tux, eyes dark with possession. The celebrant, a stern-faced minister with a collar that looks suspiciously like yours, stands ready with a Bible that’s been… customized, pages marked with pink tabs.

Jo escorts you down the aisle in a slow, deliberate procession, every step a display. Breasts swaying, heels clicking, veil fluttering. The big 5 caret diamond stud clit ring catches the stained-glass light, drawing murmurs of admiration and envy. You reach the altar, and Jo hands you off to Mark with a wink. “She’s all yours Mark.”

The ceremony begins. Hymns are sung. Readings. Then the vows.

The celebrant clears his throat, voice booming. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite Mark and his bride, Jackie, in holy matrimony. This is a union of dominance and submission, as God intended: the husband as head, the wife as obedient vessel. Mark, do you take this slut to be your wedded ****, to own, to command, to breed, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Mark’s voice is steady, eyes locked on yours. “I do. I vow to guide you, Jackie, with a firm hand—to dominate you, to objectify you as my property, to enslave you body and soul for my pleasure. I will fill you with my seed, breed you with many children, and ensure your obedience in all things. You are mine to use, to share, to take in submission.”

The celebrant nods. “And Jackie, do you take this man to be your Master, to love and obey without question, to worship him with your body, to bear his children in abundance, and to submit yourself fully as his **** bride?”

Your voice comes out small, breathy, but certain and needy. “I do. I vow to be your obedient ****, Master, to voluntarily objectify myself for your gaze and touch, to suppress my desires in service to yours, to enslave my body to your will. I promise to worship you with every oriface, every curve. I will bear your children in our fruitful union. I am yours to command, to breed. My body is your chattel.”

The celebrant smiles. “And now, as is tradition in this sacred rite—if anyone wishes to fuck the bride, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

A resounding chorus echoes through the church: “Yes!” Shouts from family, friends, coworkers—two hundred voices in unison, laughter mixing with cheers. Strap-ons wave in the air like flags. The organ strikes a triumphant chord.

The celebrant chuckles. “Then let the vows be sealed with the act. Jackie, turn and present yourself to your Master and your witnesses. Let the fucking commence as part of your eternal commitment.”

You turn—bending over the altar as rehearsed, pushing aside the candlesticks and incense burners with trembling hands. Breasts press against the cool wood, ass high, legs spread in the heels. The clit ring dangles, sparkling.

Mark unzips his tux, his thick, veined, perfect cock springing free. He thrusts in hard and deep, claiming you as the crowd watches. There is hardly a dry eye in the house.

Each stroke seals a vow: obedience with the first plunge, objectification with the grind against your spot, enslavement with the way he holds your hips like property. You moan, loud and shameless, juices coating him as he breeds you publicly.

“I vow to submit,” you gasp between thrusts.

“I vow to own,” he growls back.

The crowd cheers louder.

You cum and then awaken. You’re actually cumming from the wet dream…