Part One -- A Kiss for the Bride
This story is totally fictive and obviously some fantasy is needed to set the story, etc. It is intended for enjoyment only and the author does not condone any actions in it. If you are easily offended by "language" and/or humiliating situations please do not read. However, any positive criticism is welcome, as are points as I have ideas for a series, if it finds readers' approval.
*
It should have been one of the happiest days in my life. It was certainly one of the most memorable. My wedding!
Let me explain, I am 27 and now married to a wonderful man called Andrew who is 32 and loving, caring, but so unadventurous in bed. Before the wedding he never tried to do anything more than kiss me and although I would not have minded at all going to bed with him, he never asked and I was reluctant to tell him about my needs as I was afraid he would think me a slut!
I work in London and in the office is an older man called Peter, who leers at me. I often catch him eying me up and down and undressing me with his eyes. Well I guess I am not unattractive as I am slim with long blonde hair which I usually keep up at the back. I can't work with it falling around my eyes and it seems practical to keep it up, but guess that also applies to the men who work around me, and I am not talking about their hair! I have blue eyes and am 36c. Andrew is aware of my breasts but his sexual drive is very low. He usually just mounts me and then enters me quickly, cums and rolls off, with little foreplay or indeed attention to my needs. Before I met Andrew I often spent time in adult chat rooms and got my kicks that way. Now., well I am ashamed to say I have slid down the slippery road and am a whore. Andrew must never know.
Peter is around 50 and I suppose I am addicted to him now. He is a bastard and and uses me for his pleasure, but somehow an inner animal instinct makes me want to and need to rut with him. He fulfils the nasty basic needs in me and not only does he work in the same firm in London, but we also travel down to the city in the same coach, so it was no surprise that we were thrown together.
It all started innocently enough with Peter and I sitting in the usual cramped seats in the coach, our legs sometimes touching. At the beginning I had no idea that I would become more or less addicted to him, craving his touch and attention, needing sex so much. After all at fifty he was no longer an Adonis, with a shaved head and a slightly bulging stomach from the beer he liked to drink, especially with his best friend Kevin, also about the same age and like Peter, married with a younger wife, but no children. Peter had fathered three already.
My fiancé and I had decided to live together as we had found and bought a lovely house, which was a wonderful bargain, otherwise we would have waited until later, but Andrew insisted on separate bedrooms until we were married. Good old-fashioned Andrew! I was disappointed, especially as it seemed this seemed so Victorian. Hell we were living in the 21st century now!!! I acquiesced, however, and satisfied my urges alone in my room or secretly at the computer. Gentleman as he was, he insisted n me having the master bedroom with its big double bed, whilst he had the guest room. Then that fateful evening when Peter came over, ostensibly to help me out on some work which I needed to complete for the boss by the end of the week. Andrew was away on business. I honestly did not dress to kill, as I was certainly not a slut, well at least then. Peter had other ideas though and he slipped some sort of drug into my drink as I was busy in the kitchen, getting something to eat. Well, it ended up with me being totally stoned out of my mind and unaware that I was about to end up by being blackmailed into being his bitch and whore! The bastard! He has me in his clutches now. I remember the leer on his face when he came round another evening and showed me the photos he had taken of me while I had lost my mind. The close ups of me with his cock in my mouth and even some of me being fucked. The bastard had made sure his face was not pictured and he had all the material he needed to make sure he could come round and enjoy my services as he called them. I was so scared of the photos landing up on the internet, in the office or worst of all in Andrew's hands. As my body craved sexual attention, I suppose I also somehow wanted it, although kept telling myself it was blackmail.
I had to tell Peter when Andrew was away. It started with him coming round to spend the evening with me, but soon developed into quickies in the staff toilets at work and even in the dirty toilets of a nasty pub he liked to go to. That is where I met Kev, his friend and it was not long before he had me satisfying his friend, too. It was not long before Peter started arranging meets with other men and at first I was disgusted and refused, but Peter even withdrew his services and I found I needed him so much I had to agree to his terms. So I became a whore!
Well, now I have to write about the biggest humiliation in my life, my wedding. Peter wants me to write him the story personally, so I will now just write what I wrote him.
I remember falling under your spell weeks before the big day and even just before Andrew proposed. I knew you were married and I gradually started the slide into prostitution and earning for you. Andrew didn't realise a thing. He is so kind and gentle and generous, but also very naïve and didn't see how you managed to ingratiate your way into his favours.
We both worked in London and Andrew, being a businessman, often away on meetings and trips, was the obvious victim for you. You took and take great pleasure in cuckolding him and I remember the time when I had to meet you in that disgusting pub which you love so much in London -- and you fucked me in the toilets. Hell they stink! We took the coach back to the town where we live and you escorted me home -- Andrew was back home early for once and we all sat around having a drink and chatting as if the best of friends. My fiancé at the time didn't notice the smell of sex or the fact that his so called friend's cum was dripping down my legs and had dried on my thighs! I wonder whether it is a blessing or a curse that he is sexually so naïve!
I was devastated when Andrew told me when preparing our wedding that he was going to ask you to be best man. I almost screamed -- how could he be so naïve. The best man was the man who fucked his fiancée regularly and pimped her out. Just the evening before I had had to hand over 750 to you and you sniggered and gave me back 10 saying to buy something to wear for the wedding, preferably condoms for my new husband!
I tried suggesting some other men who were Andrew's friends but he always kept coming back to telling me how impressed he was with Pete as he so often accompanied me back to my home -- and he was the perfect gentleman! Perfect gentleman! If only he knew!
The day of the wedding get nearer and it was a Wednesday when you phoned and told me to get the fuck to the pub -- that you dropped your bombshell. I was being fucked by you and your disgusting friend Kev in the stinking cubicle of the toilets I was on the pill at that time. You had just squirted your load into me and Kev took your place and thrust his cock into me when you told me Kev would be coming to the wedding too and you had got Andy to invite him. The way you said it was going to be a really memorable occasion started the alarm bells ringing loudly, but what could I do. Especially as neither your wife nor Kevin's could come.
You had that sexual hold over me, you had photos of me sucking your cock -- looking as if I was enjoying it that very first time, although I had been drugged, the photos of you fucking me. It just looked like I was a dirty cheating slut. I had no choice but to go along with everything you wanted.
The stag night was fun according to you and so was my hen party but all the time I had these worrying doubts and fears.
The day of the wedding arrived and you had arranged to pick me up and bring me to the church before the reception. Andrew was so taken in by your charm, totally unaware that the wedding of a lifetime that you had planned was a very different affair to the one he thought was going to take place.
