Bridal Suite Submission

Innocence Surrendered

As I contemplated my helpless predicament, Peter pulled my thong panties slowly downward until they hung up on my spread thighs. Cool air tickled me between my legs. With my legs spread and ankles bound, he wouldn't be able to get my panties off the normal way. But he didn't give up. He gave a firm tug and the skimpy fabric ripped. Another determined tug and my panties tore free. I shivered with excitement that he would actually rip from me my panties. I'd never before known him to be like this, so animalistic and passionate as he'd been with the crop and now with my panties.

Soft sounds reached my ears, the rustle of clothing. Peter was undressing. More odd sounds. A soft popping sound, like a lid being opened. A gentle squirt. The hand lotion, I realized. Peter had brought it out earlier. I waited for him to massage the lotion into my burning bottom cheeks, to soothe me with it, but instead when his slippery fingers came it wasn't upon my bottom cheeks at all but in the valley between. And he wasn't soothing at all but preparing, spreading the cool lotion around my untried pucker.

I squirmed against the table and against my bonds, tingling with anxiety. I wasn't sure I really wanted him to take my last virginity, but I was sure I had no choice. I was helpless and I'd asked him to do anything to me he wanted... and he was doing just that. He parted my bottom cheeks even further and I held my breath. It was time, and I was helpless. And yet he didn't penetrate me, didn't touch me there except with his gentle breath as he leaned down close.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "Like a little bud just waiting to blossom. I wonder, Catherine... did you have the foresight to stretch yourself before hand? With your fingers, perhaps? Or even a dildo?"

I groaned. I hadn't stretched myself. I hadn't even thought of it! How on earth could I not have foreseen that Peter would want this of me? The entire time I'd prepared for tonight, and anticipated, and dreamt, I'd only hoped that Peter would share my fantasy enough to accept my submission for the night and crop me like I wanted, and not think my request too strange. Not once had I considered how much further he might take his liberties with me, and how quickly. Not once had I considered that he might want me in my virginal tightness. Oh, how short sighted I had been! Now that I felt his fingers pressing gently for entrance, and imagined how big his penis was going to feel, I wondered if maybe I hadn't made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have asked to be bound and gagged, helpless and unable to protest or even beg him to be gentle. And maybe, just maybe, I should have prepared myself a bit more. Oh god...

But it was too late now. Peter penetrated me gently with his finger tip. The lotion felt impossibly cool within my tightness, shallowly at first but soon deeper as he gently worked his finger in further. I instinctively tightened on him and he chuckled.

"Relax, Catherine. Open yourself to me."

I tried to relax, but it was such an odd sensation. I blushed to feel his finger inside me there, in so intimate a place as my bottom hole. He slipped his finger out for a moment to get more lotion and then pressed back inside, deeper and more firmly this time. I gasped at the suddenness. It was mildly uncomfortable, more perhaps from a psychological perspective than actual discomfort. Such a foreign violation, so cool and so reluctant a fit.

And this was only Peter's finger. When he added a second finger alongside the first it hurt a bit. My virginal bottom hole wasn't ready for two fingers. And yet he eased me into it gently, applying more hand lotion and probing me shallowly until I relaxed to him, only pushing deep with his fingers when it was obvious I could let him. As he opened me gently he spoke to me, reassuring me, telling me how much he loved me, how sexy my crop-reddened bottom looked, how snuggly my bottom gripped his fingers.

"How beautiful your submission is, Catherine, that you would allow me such a delight. That you would allow me to posses you so intimately."

His two fingers were deeply within me now, stretching me uncomfortably and spreading the cool lotion deep. I clenched instinctively on him. From time to time he slipped his fingers from me and gathered more lotion before pressing back in deeply. Each time he seemed to penetrate me more easily, my bottom hole each time less reluctant. I was opening to his gentle efforts.

At long last Peter withdrew his fingers and didn't push them back in again. He moved close, pressing up against me from behind as I lay trapped over the table. The hair on his legs tickled the backs of mine. His smooth, stiff cock settled snuggly between my bottom cheeks, lying along the gentle valley there, and I tensed. God, it felt so big. I'd never before felt him so hard for me, so eager. I'd never before felt so attuned to a simple touch. His warm presence between my bottom cheeks felt strangely alive, and in that moment it was almost as if I could feel his pulse throbbing in his cock as it lay against me, as if his stiffness betrayed a pent up excitement at having his new bride bottom up and helpless.

"Do you feel that, Catherine?" Peter asked quietly. He kissed my ear, and then the back of my neck. "That's my love for you, Catherine, and my lust. Do you feel it lying there? I want you to imagine it, Catherine. Imagine it inside you back there, where no one has ever been before. I want you to imagine it stretching you open and pushing deep. Imagine how it's going to feel, Catherine, how it's going to hurt... and how it's going to feel so good."

I groaned around my gag, imagining. In my mind I was suddenly O, bent over helplessly and blind before her lovers. I shuddered to think myself O. O's first violation of her narrowest passage at the hands of her unseen lover had been rough and violent. O had screamed. She had wept afterward. I shuddered. My beloved Peter would be gentler, wouldn't he? Oh god, he had to be. He just had to.

Peter stroked my hair gently, kissing the back of my head and my neck and my shoulders even as he shifted and positioned himself at my tight hole. Not pressing, not pushing, just resting there, his thick glans suddenly feeling so impossibly big between my bottom cheeks and against my tight, virginal pucker. His voice was husky as he whispered to me. "I love you, Catherine. I will always love you, and always lust for you. I want you to remember that as I push up inside you, Catherine. As I take your last virginity, as I have you as no man ever has before. You are mine, Catherine, now and forever."

If I hadn't been gagged I would have told him I felt the same, only twice as much. But I was gagged, and all I could do was groan as his presence against my tight bottom hole became an insistent pressure as he pushed for entry. Not forcing, but firm. Oh God...

In my fantasies, whenever the hero took the heroine's unused bottom hole it always happened in a rush, and it was always to her moans of delight. But this was different. I was tight and unprepared, despite the lotion and Peter's fingers earlier, and I could only grunt into my gag... not with delight, but with discomfort. It hurt. Peter was being gentle and not rushing, but still it hurt. Ever so slowly he eased inside me, just the tip of his cock.

Just having him inside me back there, stretching me open even that little bit, made me instinctively tense. I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax, tried to imagine my virginal bottom opening to him like a flower and accepting his penis. Only it wouldn't come, at least not more than a little bit each time Peter pushed gently forward.

"Don't worry," he whispered in my ear as he stroked my arms reassuringly. "Just relax, my pet. It'll come."

I groaned around the gag. Why, oh why had I asked him to gag me? If my mouth had been free, I would have surely asked him to pull out. But I couldn't ask him that. I couldn't ask him anything, or beg, or plead, or anything, except strain helplessly against my bonds and try to force myself to relax.

Through the heady flush of my predicament I was barely aware of Peter slipping his hand beneath me and feeling between my legs. He searched with his fingers, sliding easily there along the wetness between my folds, and when he brushed against my clit I couldn't help but smile and push back a little. Oh, that felt nice! I moaned into my gag, and in my mind I begged him to please, please touch me like that again. He did. And again. And his fingers stayed, stroking gentle little circles around my clit even as his cock continued to press for entrance at my bottom. I couldn't help but relax a little, couldn't help but angle my hips so he had better access with his fingers, and in that moment I felt myself open to him behind. I winced and grunted in surprise, biting down hard on my gag as he sank suddenly into my tight bottom hole.

"Mmmm... so that's the trick!"

I clenched on Peter instinctively, even as he continued stroking me with his fingers. His thick presence within my bottom took my breath away. It was as if he penetrated me to my very core, as if he possessed me as deeply and thoroughly as he ever could. It was an oddly foreign sensation to have him within me back there, a cool, uncomfortable, throbbing violation unlike anything I'd felt before.

For a long moment Peter remained still within me, as if letting me adjust to this new and intimate presence. When he began moving it was ever so slowly and only the shallowest of movements, working gently at my clutching tightness. As I opened reluctantly to him he pushed a little deeper, pulled out a little further. He began enjoying me slowly, and as he did he leaned against my backside and gripped my shoulders, putting his lips to my ear and whispering.

"You can't imagine how exquisite this feels, Catherine. I can feel you clenching on me. Do you feel that, my pet? How I swell inside you? Milk me, Catherine. Make love to me with your bottom."

I groaned around my gag, too overwhelmed to do anything but lie there and let Peter have me. Milking him with my bottom, making love to him that way, was out of the question. The aching strain of being possessed so deeply and thoroughly was such that I could barely concentrate on opening myself to him, let alone making love to him with my tightness. He would just have to make do... and he did, slowly and deeply, the entire time lying heavily against my backside, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Telling me how tight I was, how exquisite my receptiveness, how enjoyable the taking of my last virginity was. For I was his, he reminded me softly, his voice echoing in my consciousness. My body was his, my submission, my tightest of holes. I was his, and he would do with me as he liked.

I was on the edge of orgasm the entire time, not so much from the act itself – which was rather uncomfortable, to say the least – but for Peter's softly whispered words and the helplessness and thoroughness of my violation. More than anything I was aroused by the simple fact that Peter had decided unilaterally to take me this way, and that I'd been entirely helpless to stop him. Not that I would have, but being helpless to was simply delicious. Even the simple embarrassment of being had in such an intimate, forbidden manner fueled my arousal. This wasn't how husbands and wives made love on their wedding night, nor most couples ever. This was an illicit, uncomfortable taking, enjoyed solely for Peter's pleasure. And for that I trembled so very near to my own.

After a while Peter stopped moving and remained buried deep inside my bottom. I could feel his balls against my pussy, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, so near and so wonderfully familiar. When he spoke, his voice was soft and loving.

"I could keep this up all night," he told me quietly. I groaned around my gag. My poor bottom hole was already aching something dreadful from being stretched for so long, and my insides felt raw. I had asked for this, yes, but I didn't think I could take being sodomized all night.

"You're so tight and warm," Peter whispered. He began moving slowly inside my bottom again. "So receptive. Push out, Catherine. Open yourself to me."

I did it... or at least I tried to. It was so instinctive to clench on him as he pushed back inside. I willed myself to open to him, aching deeply inside for his thrusts were becoming more urgent. He began taking advantage of my receptiveness, enjoying me more thoroughly. Again I found myself short of breath, wincing with each deep thrust. The hand lotion didn't make for the best lubricant. It was satisfactory at best. As Peter slowly sodomized me the ache became a deeply raw sensation. His steady thrusting was causing a turmoil in my bowels. And yet for all the discomfort there was something else there, a strangely illicit arousal at being possessed so intimately and so thoroughly. An arousal at the thought that Peter wasn't using me for my pleasure but for his own. And as he did, at every moment he whispered in my ear, telling me how exquisite my submission to him in this manner was.

"I'm going to enjoy having you this way any time I want, my pet." He chuckled. "In fact, maybe I'll have you this way every time, in your tight little bottom. Maybe from now on the other way will be a treat that you'll have to earn."

I trembled with delight, both that he was going to take me like this again, and that he might make a habit out of it. As I clenched on him at the thought he paused, his cock lodged oh so uncomfortably deep inside my bottom. "I wonder, Catherine... if you could talk, would you beg me to take it out of you? Or would you beg me to fuck you harder, and faster?" He slipped his hand beneath my belly and felt between my legs, his fingers quickly finding my clit. "Or would you maybe beg me to allow you an orgasm?"

I whimpered around my gag and shifted back against him, trying to move myself on his fingers. Peter chuckled. "I thought so." He stroked me for a moment, little circles around my clit, and then stopped. "But not yet."

I groaned around my gag. God, I needed an orgasm so bad! Why was he teasing me like this!? But I knew the answer to that. He was teasing me because he could... and because he knew I wanted it.

How long did he enjoy me like that in my tight, no-longer-so-virginal bottom hole? It felt an eternity. From time to time he withdrew and added more lotion, each time pressing swiftly back inside my tightness. I was reluctantly receptive to him now. He had opened me, vanquished my last virginal defensiveness and made me his in this most intimate manner. I throbbed with aching need and burned inside my bottom where he thrust so deeply and so purposefully. I ached where he penetrated and stretched me so tightly, and felt raw to my very core. My legs trembled, tense against my bonds. The corset constricted my chest, forcing my breath to come in short, sharp gasps. The cuffs dug into my wrists as I squirmed. Peter's weight was heavy on my back, adding to my difficulty breathing but feeling so comfortably reassuring, so familiar. And at every moment his cock felt so wonderful inside me. It possessed me, violating me to my very core. It gave me such discomfort and arousal at the same time that I ached for it to stay within me forever, and for Peter never to let me from his arms.

It was during this time, as I lay bent over the table with Peter enjoying my bottom deeply, that he again slipped a hand down between my legs. I hardly noticed it until he pressed a finger into me there between my folds, and another to the gentle swell of my clit. I gasped and bucked against him at the sudden sensations. He knew me so intimately, knew exactly how to stroke me that would send me up the wall. He wasn't just teasing me this time. This time he was pushing me over the edge, and as he did, his fingers stroking deliciously between my legs, he put his lips to my ear and spoke huskily.

"Let yourself go, Catherine. I know you want to. Show me how much you're enjoying this. Show me how much you like being my submissive little wife." He chuckled softly, pressing his finger into me still deeper. "Show me how much you like being my submissive little pet..."

I couldn't help myself. His words, his cock, his fingers, my helplessness to move in my bonds and beneath his weight... it all was too much. I showed him with a strained moan around my gag as I came, clenching on him in my passion. I ached so deeply inside, felt so raw as he continued thrusting in my bottom, and yet it was the most exquisite orgasm I'd ever enjoyed. I closed my eyes and grimaced around my gag. If my mouth had been free I would have surely cried out, but as it was all I could do was grunt incoherently in orgasm as Peter kept at me with his fingers and cock.

It had been building inside me since Peter had cuffed my wrists behind me, since Kim had first laced me into my corset, since I'd first laid eyes on my wedding-gown-to- be... it had been building inside me for months, even. Now it was as if Peter had unlocked the floodgates. One orgasm rolled into two, and then as Peter refused to let up with his fingers and cock it rolled into yet another. Or perhaps it was all one long orgasm. I was too far gone to know, or to care. I bit down hard on my gag, clenched on Peter, dug my fingernails into his belly as he lay thrusting heavily atop me. My toes curled, my legs tensed. When I come my legs naturally want to close and now, bound as I was to the table legs, it felt an exquisite torment to be prevented from doing just that.

Just when Peter joined me in orgasm I wasn't sure. I was faintly aware of him grunting in my ear, telling me how much he loved me and how he always would even as his grip on my shoulders tightened and his urgency in my bottom reached a feverish pitch. He was flooding me there where no man ever had before. It was such an overwhelming feeling, such a powerful notion, that it transcended even the blossoming rawness in my bottom and the ache from the crop. Peter was possessing me completely and unconditionally, taking from me his pleasure amidst the throes of my own, and for that I came yet again.

* * *

Afterward Peter remained atop me for the longest time, not moving, just lying heavily against my back as he slowly softened inside me. He kissed me gently all over, on my neck, my shoulders, my back, again and again even as he roamed gently with his hands. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Words would have been completely nnecessary, anticlimactic even. The only sounds were of our heavy breathing and the soft sounds of the kisses he continued to plant upon my soft, flushed skin.

I ached all over, inside and out. Mostly inside at the moment, for the raw burning sensation the crop had left had now dulled to an aching throb, and now as Peter softened within me I began to feel more the after effects of the sodomy. It was a deep, somewhat raw sensation, not quite painful but decidedly unpleasant. I felt used... but in a good way. I even felt wet a little, the lingering result left behind by Peter's passion. And for all of this I tingled warmly all over from my orgasm. Four, I reminded myself, smiling around my gag. Peter had coaxed me to four. And he hadn't needed to coax me very hard.

As I lay there with my eyes dreamily closed Peter moved gently atop me, straightening up. He put his hands gently on my bottom, at which I winced, and ever so slowly withdrew himself from my aching bottom hole. As he vacated me I groaned around my gag. How empty and violated I felt, how thoroughly used. Behind me Peter crouched down and without a word unbound my ankles. I couldn't help but smile around my gag and stretch my legs. God, how exquisite it felt to be able to move again after so long. Just moving this little bit reminded me how sore my bottom was from the cropping. Still saying nothing, Peter rose and untied the bottom lace on my corset, releasing my cuffed wrists. He didn't uncuff me, though. Instead he moved around the table until he was at my head, and there he gently removed my blindfold. Against the sudden flush of light after so long I shut my eyes tightly. He put his hand gently on my head, stroking my hair slowly, brushing aside a few stray tresses that had fallen across my face. As I lay there unmoving he unbuckled the gag and slipped it from my mouth. And then ever so gently he kissed me.