This story was inspired by BDSM illustrator Eric Stanton's work.
He has some famous illustrations on dominant brides.
I appreciate all feedback, hope you enjoy!
***
"This was an awesome wedding!" I said, as I opened the door to our hotel suite.
As Alicia walked in, she took off her cream white high heels and dropped them carelessly on the floor. I picked up her shoes and put them neatly next to the door. They looked cute, like taken from a fairy tale.
"Best wedding ever!" she sighed and dropped on the bed. "We deserve a fucking medal!"
Her body seemed to get lost in the sea of her white wedding dress that flowed around her. The veil draped around her head gave her the aura of a halo. And she looked like an angel. Gorgeous, like a super model.
Although I was incredibly tired, I just stood there and admired her.
She was beautiful.
"And we are not done yet! You are in for a big surprise!" she said. "You know, what will happen next is absolutely going to blow your mind, trust me!"
That sounded almost too good to be true. She must have planned something for our wedding night. Well, I would certainly go along with it. One of the things I really loved about her was her unpredictability. There were times I had no clue what she was doing.
I had married a true femme fatale.
The best decision of my life.
I just stood there and watched her as she lay on the bed with her eyes closed, her chest rising and lowering like the tide as she took deep breaths to recover from our party.
It had been a very long day.
"Take off my stockings!" she said with a low voice, without looking at me. Impatiently she wiggled her foot for emphasis.
"Sure, just a second." I took off the jacket of my tuxedo and the bow tie and put both on a coat hanger.
"Now! And bring me a glass of champagne!"
"Right away."
I was amused about her impatience. She was most certainly tired as well, and we were married now. No more need for pleasantries. We had been polite to our guests all day long. Now, in the privacy of our hotel room, there was no need for any type of etiquette any longer.
'I will enjoy being married to this woman,' I thought, as I slipped out of my shoes and went to open the bottle of champagne. I poured us two glasses and handed her one. To my surprise she took both glasses and put one on the nightstand.
"Oh, okay," I said, but she ignored my hinted criticism.
She sipped from her glass and sighed again.
"I needed that!" she said to herself. "This night is not over yet."
"I like that! What do you have in mind?" I smirked.
But as if she hadn't heard me, she just stated firmly:
"And now down, and get my stockings off!" her voice sounding more forceful now.
I didn't mind. I had always liked her independent spirit and her determination to get what she wanted. We had played games like that, and I had always been happy to please her.
"Of course!" I said. "Right away, madam!" It was meant as a joke, but she didn't play along.
I got down on my knees before her and reached for her foot below the sea of her white satin wedding dress. I caressed her foot, felt the nylon thigh highs and caressed her foot, followed my way up the curve of her calf, then her knee and finally I reached her thigh, felt the warmth of her skin and traced the lace at the top of her stockings.
Finally, I peeled the nylon thigh highs from her legs.
"Are your feet sore?"
"You bet..."
I took her left foot and slowly and carefully massaged it. Her foot was a little sweaty, but I didn't mind. Neither did I mind the warm musky smell coming from the inside of her dress. She had been in that dress all day and danced in it quite wildly.
"Now the other!"
I took her other foot and placed it in my groin. I wanted her to feel my excitement as I pressed her big toe against my hard cock under my pants. She kept her foot there, and even pressed her toe against the tip of my cock in a casual rhythm that was clearly meant to excite me. But when I was about to open my pants to get rid of the fabric obstructing our touch, she withdrew her foot.
"You are such a tease!" I said.
"You don't know nothing", she whispered.
It sounded incredibly erotic.
I continued to massage her foot and then lifted it up, lowered my head and planted a soft kiss on it.
"Go on!" she said, and I didn't more encouragement. I slowly licked over the top of her foot and then carefully took her pinky toe in my mouth and slid my tongue over it.
She sighed: "Keep it up!"
And so I caressed every single one of her toes one after the other.
"Didn't know that you have a foot fetish!"
I didn't really, and I didn't care for her foot in my mouth too much. Especially not now that she was putting more pressure on it and forced it into my mouth with the same rhythm she had applied to my cock just a moment ago.
"The two of us will get along well if you keep this up!" she said. "It'll be easier than I thought!"
I didn't know what she meant by that, but it didn't matter at that moment. I was happy pleasing her. After all she was my wife now and I had sworn something along the lines of caring for her for the rest of my life. And since this vow was supposed to be mutual, I was hoping for her to return any favor I was doing her. So I continued.
"And now the sole!"
"What?"
"I want you to kiss the sole of my foot! That's your job now that you're my husband!"
"Hm... okay."