He Taketh

He loves weddings. Maybe it's the white dresses, maybe it's the anticipation of the wedding night or maybe it's the thrill of destroying something so pure and beautiful. No, it's just the fact that it's so easy to blend in. He loves to watch. That's all he's ever done. He loves it so much his subjects began curbing to his mind, fantasies and even his will. In the past years he has harnessed blunt suggestions and channeled them into skilled puppetry.

Today's wedding, he knows, will be quite a show. Even though he has only seen photographs of the bride he can sense her sexual energy. She is divine. She might've hypnotized him instead she was so beautiful. Well, a lesser man anyway. He turns with all the guests as the large doors open. Her long dark hair beautifully set up. Her ample breasts expanded within the taught strapless corset gown. Her heavy nervous breathing was about to grow. She begins her unescorted march down the aisle with a single step. And a tingle. She keeps going. The next step brings another tingle. Her temperature shoots up. Another step brings on yet another tingle. She blushes. He grins. There are many steps left to the chuppah. The sensation of each new tingle is amplified by the last. He can taste the first drop of juice to soil her lingerie. The awkward sensation calls for a moment's hesitation. But that feeling is soon replaced by the familiar warm glow from within her. She manages to maintain her pace while finding herself anticipating the next step. The sensations flow through every inch of her body. Her chest blushes. The corners of her mouth twitches. She allows them to form an impish smile. But the tingling is reaching her throat and she must hum. Her lips seal to try and prevent it, but to no use. Another step makes her gasp. A spell of the humming is released. The wedding music barely drowns it out.

Her panties are soaking wet, her legs are weak and sweat beads are rolling down her forehead and dripping off her nose. Only a few steps left. Almost a full moan later she's struggling with her breathing. The last step before she arrives makes her release a tiny squeal. Her husband to be looks worried but she can't even see him right now. She can feel his energy though. It's dizzying how bad she needs his touch right now. Her restraint is miraculous. The groom takes her hand. The surge of sexual energy from the single touch is too much for her lips to contain. The guttural moan that escapes her startles the guests but does not interrupt the ceremony. The next one would. As the couple enters beneath the cloth she begins to fear the worst. In her mid-step he focuses all harder on her. The moment her second foot is placed within the square all hell breaks loose. Every cell in her body vibrates with ecstasy. Her knees buckle; she falls backward screaming a most glorious orgasm. She reaches for her crotch but the gown is too thick, too vast to make a difference. Nothing else in the world matters now, only her fiery cunt. Her hands claw into the dress. Her body arches in a vain attempt to hump the invisible force to which her pussy has succumbed. As everyone in the wedding party scurry to aid the bride, the best man slips in the puddle of vaginal juices that flow uncontrollably from his would-be sister-in-law. Sounds of intimate female pleasure fill the hall, echoing a thousand times. Every moan has a different pitch, though each as loud. She can barely stop for air.

He increases his focus on her contorting visage. Suddenly the bride begins tearing at her chest in desperate need of more air. Seeing her urgency, the groom and bridesmaids help her by opening the latches on her corset. She rips open her lace bra herself and fills her lungs to scream twice as hard as before. Her perfectly round breasts bounce about wildly as she writhes and spasms on the cold hard floor. This is when the real fun begins. He grasps the fire burning within her and pours gasoline over it. A delicious panic comes across her face when her orgasm grows even stronger. He, by the way of her pussy, has crushing control over her. She grabs the groom by the necktie. She needs to see her lover's eyes. No use. She can't focus long enough between spasms to see anything. As the orgasm intensifies yet more with each moan a pressure builds up elsewhere in her body. Pleasure is mixed with pain. Pain brings fear. Moans become shrieks. Fright, bliss and anguish become one. Her body aches and rumbles from the inside. He takes his moment. His joy. His orgasm. One final massive arch is so powerful her torso lifts off the floor. She then falls silent. Everyone yells for her, they too with fear in their voices. Except for Him. He is in heaven, having tasted the life force of the nubile bride. Yet he is present enough to escape during the commotion. Content for only God knows how long.

She has nothing left to say. Her still body -- half naked -- lay on the floor amongst her loved ones, twitching slightly. A sick smile is burnt across her face. The autopsy will find that her genitals have been completely destroyed by chemical burns and that her heart has ripped at the seams.