Bridal Suite Submission

Kneeling Before Peter

The silence was excruciating. For the longest time Peter didn't say anything. He just stood there while I knelt before him. I kept my head bowed, my eyes on his feet. I wanted him to say something, anything, just to hear his voice. But he didn't say a word. I wanted to know what he thought, what he felt. What did he think, seeing me kneeling like this before him with my head bowed so submissively?

As the silence lingered I arched my back a little, willing my modest breasts to swell out a bit more. I knew Peter must have a perfect view of me like this. Without lifting my head I let my gaze drift upward. A smile tugged at my lips. The bulge in the front of his pants was unmistakable.

"I said eyes down, Catherine. I'm not going to tell you again."

I jerked my gaze back down to Peter's shoes, startled by his stern tone. A flush rose in my cheeks. God, I'd never heard that tone before, never heard him speak to me so firmly. He'd never before scolded me like that. And never would I have guessed that should he speak to me like this, like he did now, that I would feel such a strange surge of excitement.

Peter moved away for a moment. The second his back was to me I couldn't help but look cautiously up again. Even from behind he looked so strong and handsome, so sexual. I felt a surge of lust for him, and another as I wondered what he might do with me now that I knelt here for him. It was such a delicious thing to contemplate that I wasn't prepared when he suddenly turned back to me. Our eyes met and in his I saw something that sent a charge racing through me. He'd caught me looking up again. Blushing deeply -- and feeling inside like I'd failed -- I glanced back down to my hands. Such a simple thing, and already I was showing how truly unprepared I was for this.

Peter was quiet for a moment. "Was I not clear before, Catherine?"

"No, you were," I said softly. Inside I was kicking myself. Why couldn't I have just obeyed?

"What did I tell you before?"

"Not to look up."

"What else?"

I was quiet for a moment. "That you wouldn't tell me again."

"And now you've made me."

I couldn't read Peter's voice. Was he disappointed with me? Amused? He sounded so stern, and yet so strangely like he enjoyed my failure to obey this simplest of admonitions. It was almost as if he was amused by how obviously unprepared I was. I waited breathlessly for him to say something more, to scold me further, but instead he moved away. He turned and without a word disappeared into our bedroom. I stared down at my hands, wanting desperately to look up but reminding myself over and over again not to. What on earth was he doing? A moment later he was back. I remained staring down at my hands, but when he went to the couch and set something down on the side table, his back momentarily to me, I couldn't help but steal a quick peek. He'd set there on the side table a small bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom and the champagne bucket and glasses from the bedroom, and in his hands he held a white satin pillowcase.

This time I was quick to look back down before he turned back to me. He sat down on the couch and spoke to me firmly.

"Come over here, Catherine."

It was such a simple request, and yet it sent such a surge of excitement coursing through me. In my mind I envisioned all sorts of things he might do to me there on the couch, not least of which would be to pull me over his knees and bare my bottom and do to me exactly what I'd asked of him. Tingling with the illicit possibilities, I rose and took a step forward.

"No Catherine, on your knees. Crawl to me."

I froze. Crawl!? I was so startled by Peter's command that I forgot myself and looked up at him. Did he really just tell me to crawl?

A smile tugged at the corners of Peter's mouth. "What did I tell you about looking up, Catherine?"

My heart sank. So simple a request, and yet I couldn't seem to obey. I looked back down to the floor, doubt filling me. Had I made a mistake in offering myself to Peter like this tonight? After all, I couldn't even keep my eyes down like he asked. How was I possibly going to let him do everything I'd asked for when I couldn't even do this simple thing for him?

"You heard me Catherine. Crawl."

I felt flushed with heady arousal as I went to my knees. I'd not crawled in years, not even been on my hands and knees on the floor but for an occasional moment while cleaning around the house. I moved cautiously forward. To crawl now like this, to Peter with my eyes obediently down, made me tremble with excitement. How must I look to him, his lovely young bride in my pristine white lingerie, crawling to him on hands and knees? I knew he must have a perfect view of my breasts and I arched my back gently, willing myself to present more fully to him, hoping he liked what he saw. The few feet between us seemed to take an exquisite eternity to crawl across. I willed myself to go slowly, which was a terribly difficult undertaking for I wanted more than anything to scamper over and kneel at Peter's feet. But that wouldn't do. Not at all.

And so I crawled.

"So obedient," Peter chuckled. When I was but a couple feet from him he stopped me. I hesitated, almost forgetting myself again and looking up. Without a word he rose and stood towering over me. He touched my hair gently, and my cheek, and then as I knelt there before him, my eyes on the floor, he began to circle me slowly. Once, twice, and soon a slow third time. I stared down at his feet when he was in front of me, and held my breath when he was behind. He spoke not a word. What was he thinking? Why didn't he say something? I wanted desperately to know what was on his mind. I wanted more than anything to look up, to see what was in his eyes. This wasn't fair. How could he expect me to keep my head bowed, to keep my eyes down? It was only natural that I should want to look up into his. But then, perhaps that's why he wanted otherwise. Perhaps this was but a test.

On his third circle around me Peter slowed, and then suddenly he knelt down behind me, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel the tickle of his breath.

"I wonder, Catherine," he murmured, "if you really know what you've gotten yourself into. If you have any idea what you've begun."

His words sent a stab of excitement coursing through me. I was still tingling when suddenly he drew my arms behind me. Cold hard steel encircled my wrists, tightening with soft clicks. The cuffs! I'd not even realized he had picked them up. As I tugged gently at my new bonds, my heart racing, he touched my shoulders, my arms, and then suddenly he was reaching around and cupping my naked breasts from behind. It seemed a stolen, delightfully illicit caress, coming as it did while I was so suddenly helpless to defend myself. One of his hands drifted lower, between my legs, and I trembled as he nudged aside the delicate 'V' front of my thong panties and felt with his fingers. He chuckled softly, as if amused by what he found there.

"You're excited by this, aren't you Catherine? You really do want this, to be on your knees and helpless before me. To have me use you as I like." He nibbled my earlobe, his voice husky. "To be defenseless to my whims."

I couldn't answer, couldn't even nod. I felt breathless and wetter than ever before.

It was the cold steel encircling my wrists, and the insinuation in Peter's words. I was completely and helplessly at his mercy, and for that I trembled. This was ten times more delicious than I'd ever imagined. A hundred times, even. I was so excited, and Peter's gently stroking fingers so delicious, that when he drew his hand away I groaned in frustration.

Peter chuckled and whispered in my ear. "You know, Catherine, if I didn't know any better I'd think there's more to your submission than you've offered me. In fact, I wonder if perhaps there's more there than you even know."

As I knelt there trembling Peter moved around in front of me again, crouching down so he was almost eye level with me. His sweet breath was hot on my face, his cologne faintly alluring. He had the satin pillowcase from our bed in his hands, and now he brought it to my cheek and caressed me gently with it. It was so impossibly smooth, so delicate to the touch. I trembled and shivered and ached deeply with need as he trailed the pillowcase over my cheek and downward, over my shoulders, my chest, my naked breasts. He teased my nipples gently with the silky fabric, chuckling when I stiffened and gasped. He moved lower and played the fabric over my thighs, letting it slip between just the slightest bit. The touch of the luxurious satin on my bare skin had me breathless for more.

"Look up at me, Catherine."

I looked up and gazed into his eyes, trembling to see the hunger there.

"Since you couldn't keep your eyes down before, Catherine, I'm going to help you a little." And with that he brought the pillowcase up, folded it neatly over on itself, and placed it over my eyes.

My world plunged into darkness. Adrenaline surged through me, a tingling, excited shock and a feeling of completely helplessness as Peter tied the makeshift blindfold snuggly behind my head. Words of panic caught in my throat. All that came out was a surprised gasp. I'd not anticipated this, never once imagined that he might rob me of my sight as well as my freedom. The neatly folded pillowcase made a surprisingly effective blindfold. Not a hint of light peeked in around the edges, nor even the faintest of glows through the satin fabric. My sudden blindness was terrifying, and yet at the same time I trembled for this was what I'd asked for, only so much more.

I waited breathlessly with anticipation. Peter would lead me to the bedroom and crop me now, I was sure. He would use me as he liked. But instead he kissed me gently, hardly more than a fleeting, teasing brush of his lips against mine. I leaned forward instinctively, trying in vain to find his lips again with mine, but he chuckled and without a word rose. I could tell this by the soft rustle of his clothes, and the fact that my lips met not his but empty air.

In my helpless blindness I could only listen as Peter moved about softly and sat down on the couch in front of me. Ice clinked. A soft trickling sound reached my ears. He was pouring himself a glass of our champagne. As I knelt there with my heart pounding I heard him set the bottle back in the bucket of ice and relax back. Though I couldn't see, I knew he would be gazing down upon me as he enjoyed his drink. I straightened my back and pushed my chest out a little more, hoping he liked what he saw.

Time lost all meaning for me. My world was but darkness and soft sounds. I knelt there anxious and untouched. Peter spoke not a word to me, and I didn't dare break the silence. I knew without being told that it wasn't my place to. After a long while I heard the couch move as he leaned forward. I held my breath, waiting for his touch or even his lips.

Instead, without a word, he put his glass to my lips and let me have a sip of champagne. I accepted it eagerly. I'd not realized before how thirsty I was, how dry my throat. The fleeting sip wasn't nearly enough. I searched vainly with my lips but Peter had already sat back.

We repeated this silent act a couple more times as he enjoyed his drink. He would lean forward and offer me but a sip, and chuckle when I followed the retreating glass with my lips in vain. Once, twice, a third time. He seemed to enjoy teasing me like this, as if my helplessness amused him.

After awhile Peter leaned forward again, only this time no glass came to my lips. Instead he put his hand on the back of my head and drew me slightly forward, closer between his legs. Even in my blindness there was no mistaking the sound of his zipper, the rustle of his boxers as he fished himself out. I smiled and leaned forward, searching with my lips. But Peter stopped me with a chuckle.

"No, not yet Catherine. I just want to enjoy your beauty for a moment."

I hesitated, the flush rising in my cheeks, my lips poised. In my blindness, knowing his naked erection was but inches from my mouth, I felt strangely hungry for him. I wanted to take him into my mouth and make love to him, to pleasure him while he finished his champagne, to show him how demure and obedient I could be for him. To be stopped short like this was agonizing. I waited breathlessly. Ice clinked. Peter was pouring himself another glass of champagne. I heard him set the bottle back, heard the couch shift. His hand came again on the back of my head, and this time he drew me gently forward until my lips touched the underside of his stiff erection.

"Just kiss it, Catherine," he told me softly. "Worship it for a moment. Do you feel that, Catherine? It's stiff with lust for you. It wants you."

I kissed his penis gently, again and again, the blush rising in my cheeks. Being told to not take him in my mouth made me want to do just that. But I obeyed and only kissed him, from the tip of his swollen erection all the way down to the base, and even on his balls, the soft wisps of hair there tickling my nose. Finally Peter leaned down and put his lips to my ear, whispering softly.

"Now, Catherine, I want to feel your sweet lips on my cock. Make me happy, my pet. Show me how obedient you are. Show me how talented."

I trembled at Peter's words, both as his sudden reference to me as his "pet" but also simply at his use of the word "cock". I'd never heard the word from his lips before. It was such a crude word, and yet I flushed inside to hear it now, to be bidden to put my sweet lips upon it. I smiled and moved imperceptibly higher, finding the tip of his cock and taking it into my mouth. If he wanted my sweet lips, well, I'd give them to him like never before. **** I'd never before fellated Peter with just my mouth, without being able to use my hands to at least steady myself against him. It seemed an entirely new and deeply submissive experience to pleasure him now like this with my wrists cuffed behind me. He wanted only my mouth on him, wanted only the pleasure of my lips and tongue. I wasn't even allowed to see him. My existence for the moment was concentrated entirely upon pleasing him orally, a task which I now sank into eagerly.

I'd never been able to swallow Peter all the way, and now was no exception. He didn't put his hands on me, didn't guide me, just let me fellate him at my own pace. A tingling heat welled inside me as I tended to my task. Peter was delightfully, stiffly erect. I wanted to do everything at once, to suck him, to swallow him, to lick him. I wanted to look up and gaze into his eyes, to know his pleasure at this moment, and yet I couldn't. So I concentrated solely on fellating Peter, and as my excitement swelled so did my eagerness.

"No, slow down Catherine. I want to enjoy this."

As I slowed back to a more leisurely pace he rested his hand on my head and followed my motions. After a moment he stroked my hair and coaxed me to tilt my face up, as if to look up at him though in my blindness I couldn't see. "I wish you could know how lovely you look right now, Catherine," he told me softly. "How incredibly sexy you look with your lips wrapped around me. This is what you want, isn't it Catherine? To be on your knees before me, devoting yourself to my pleasure?"

Without taking my mouth off him I nodded. It was what I wanted, more than anything. Even like this, pleasuring him with my mouth. I'd never been particularly fond of performing fellatio, but now like this, blindfolded and on my knees before Peter, it seemed a comfortably satisfying way to demonstrate my love and submission for him.

For the longest time I made slow, sweet love to Peter with but my lips and tongue. He enjoyed his drink in silence punctuated only by the wet sounds of my sucking. He didn't say anything, didn't guide me, just let me pleasure him at my leisure. From time to time he caressed my hair, or rested his hand on my head and followed my motions, or reached down to cup one of my naked breasts. My heart raced. Why did this excite me so? After all, I'd fellated Peter many times before, and my naked breasts were nothing new to him. But this time it was different. This time I was on my knees for him, blindfolded and helpless, and everything I did for him took on a whole new exciting freshness as if I were feeling it for the first time. There was something supremely illicit about being on my knees topless before Peter, pleasuring him like this while helpless. As I sucked him, my head bobbing rhythmically, he cupped my swaying breasts. I've always thought my breasts too small, a self-modesty that amuses Peter for he thinks them absolutely perfect. Now, though, I felt only tingling excitement as he followed my motions with his hands on me.

"You look so beautiful, Catherine," Peter told me softly. I could hear the love in his voice, and the lust. "Today when you joined me at the altar you looked absolutely angelic, a lovely vision in white." He chuckled with amusement as he followed my motions. "If only our guests could see you now..."

I couldn't help but shiver at the thought. If I'd been angelic on the altar today, right now I felt downright slutty. How else could I feel, on my knees and blindfolded before Peter, my hands cuffed behind me, working obediently at him with my mouth? It was an intoxicating, strangely comforting feeling, to have no task at hand but to fellate my love until he bade me otherwise.

"You have the most exquisite lips, Catherine," he told me softly. He stroked my hair, caressing the side of my face with just his fingertips. "The lips of an angel. I could sit here and enjoy them all night long."

How long did I fellate Peter like that, on my knees and blindfolded, everything else for the moment forgotten? My existence centered on his cock, the taste of him in my mouth, the feel of his stiffness upon my tongue, the gentle aching of my jaws as I kept to my task even when it seemed he would want my mouth forever. I was beginning to worry that Peter might even finish in my mouth, an unpleasant prospect which I'd never allowed him or anyone else before. But my worry was misplaced. After a long, long while Peter stroked my hair gently and then coaxed my head up. I took my mouth off him reluctantly, sucking one last time as he slipped from between my lips.

"Did I please you?" I couldn't help but ask softly in my blindness. Peter hadn't spoken to me in the longest time. Now he leaned down, his breath tickling my face, and kissed me.

"Very much," he chuckled. "But not nearly as much as you're going to." As I stared up at him in my blindness he traced my lips with his finger, as if examining the opening which had given him such exquisite pleasure. "Open your mouth Catherine."

I opened my mouth. I waited expectantly to receive his cock again, but instead I was surprised to feel thick rubber nudge between my lips. Oh my god... the gag! I'd become so intent upon pleasuring Peter that I'd forgotten all about the other things. I'd forgotten everything I'd asked of him. Now as the gag filled my mouth I felt a rush of excitement. The taste of the rubber was strong, it's thickness far more demanding on my jaws than I'd anticipated. I instinctively tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a quiet, helpless murmur.

"It's too bad I have to gag you, Catherine," Peter told me softly as he fit the straps around my head. "You have no idea how much it would turn me on to hear you scream and beg for mercy." He chuckled with amusement. "Not that I would show you any, but it would be an absolute delight to hear you beg."

Panic welled within me as Peter buckled my gag securely in place. I'd prepared myself for this in my dreams, even worn the gag strapped in place on a few private occasions around the house so I would be familiar with it come today, but nothing had prepared me to actually be rendered so completely helpless and suddenly at Peter's mercy.