Wedding Night Right

This is a small vignette based on an event that was briefly referred to in "An Office Encounter".

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Why did he pass out on our wedding night? Jane thought, as she closed the door on the hotel porter and Rachel, her bridesmaid. They had both just helped her deposit her sleeping husband on the couch in their bridal suite. It had been such a wonderful evening, filled with friends and family.

Dancing with Rupert, the man she would spend the rest of her life with, had started an itch between her legs that she was hoping he would spend all night scratching, in the way only he knew how. And then about half an hour ago, he said he was feeling tired. While they were saying goodnight to Rebecca - her sister and maid of honour - he had fallen down and passed out. The remaining guests were a little embarrassed that the groom had drunk himself into a stupor and "On his wedding night - what an idiot!!" she overheard a couple of them disapprove.

They had quickly brought him up to the room with a beautiful view over St James Park. As she was leaving, Rachel looked knowingly at her and said "Have a great evening". Jane didn't know what to make of that, or was she just imagining it? How would she enjoy herself with a comatose husband?

With a little irritation, she went into the bathroom and was admiring her gorgeous curves, encased in the glamourous lace-lined but simple wedding dress. She plumped up her breasts, thinking to herself what Rupert was missing, when she heard the room door open. "Is that you Rach" she shouted, thinking her old school friend had returned.

When there was no response, she walked back out into the room. Rather than her friend, three imposing men were walking towards her.

"Oh no, you again. Why are you here?" she asked, as she backed up towards the king bed.

The only distinguished-looking one of the lot responded "Evening, love. I see poor old Rupert has passed out. What a pity. I'm sure you were looking forward to a night of passion with your beloved. I am so sorry he'll not be up for it." He chuckled to himself with this last comment.

"But all is not lost. You see, there is an old Medieval custom called 'Droit du seigneur' or the 'lord's right'. It refers to the lord of the manor having the first right to any serf's new bride on the night of their wedding. Horrible for the serf, but pretty amazing for the lord, don't you think?"

She was too stunned to say anything, but he continued undeterred. "As your company managers, and pretty much your 'lords and masters', we only think it is appropriate to invoke this right for ourselves." With this Roger Jenkins, her company MD, moved quickly, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an embrace, encircling his arm tightly around her waist.

Roger instructed "Don't make a sound. We wouldn't want to take this little party down the hall to your little sister's room, would we now? I recall her name is Rebecca, isn't it?" The statement felt like a punch in the stomach. Knowing this was no idle threat, Jane looked at him with huge frightened eyes. "No, you can't. She's..."

He pulled down the strapless top of her beautiful wedding dress exposing her half-cup bra, which proudly presented her gorgeous globes and nipples. Only her husband was supposed to see them on this night, and that was the reason she chose such erotic and revealing underwear. "Gosh, Jane. Can't we? You know we can do whatever we want."

He casually grabbed a tit and squeezed painfully, moving on to pinch the nipple. "You really are a hot little number and wearing such sexy lingerie. I can't wait to unwrap the rest." He leered.

With a gasp she implored, "Please sir, don't do this. It's my wedding night"

Ignoring her, he indicated the large overweight man with a ruddy face to his right, who was lasciviously devouring every inch of her body with his eyes. "You obviously know Gerald Fox, head of Operational Planning". He headed up her division and was her ultimate boss. He was also the catalyst to the worst week of her life, after she had unknowingly filed a sexual harassment charge against him for grabbing her bottom. After going to HR to submit the complaint a month ago, she had been whisked away on an urgent business trip. Not to India as everyone was told, but to the company's 'staff education facility', which she discovered was little more than a torture and rape camp for employees who were 'non-cooperative'.

"And Rex Slade, head of security" he said, turning to the third man. She felt like a gazelle under the gaze of a lion about to pounce. But she knew she could not run, even without the threat to her sister. The cold ruthless look in the American's eyes reminded her of the utter terror that she had felt during that week, where he personally oversaw her 'education'.

It was during this week that she began to understand the unconstrained power of the company, as well as the distain and sense of entitlement that its senior male executives had for their junior female staff. Every morning she was subjected to horrendous torture, but specifically designed not to leave any permanent marks. She recalled the horror of the electric bed, where the pain seemed to start from her bones and seize every muscle in her body, almost driving her insane until the all-too-brief moments of respite. But more terrifying was the waterboarding that tapped into her childhood fear of drowning, invoking a primordial terror that she did not even think was possible. In her prior sheltered life, she had heard this was what they did to terrorists to get information. But why her? What had she done? She didn't know anything. Surely, she didn't deserve this.

But they never asked her anything. During each short break they reinforced the message that she had brought this on herself by complaining and that good employees obeyed unconditionally. Afternoons were filled with lessons about what obeying meant. She hated even thinking about the sexual activities she had been introduced to and had to perfect with her mouth, hands, breasts and vagina. They had specifically ensured she got aroused before any sex, so her body began to moisten in self-defence whenever anyone started abusing her. She also knew that the lessons she learned about how to walk, dance and speak, how to dress and make herself up, all had only one objective, to make her a sexual object that men would want to fuck. They told her that her husband would appreciate her new skills.

She was subdued after only the first day and was completely broken by the end of the week. She would obey any instruction to avoid anything like that again. They told her at the end of the week that her company psychometric profile indicated a deep insecurity and desire to be accepted, and that made her particularly submissive. They explained that deep down she wanted the attention and the humiliation, and that was why she was aroused when they played with her. This was all actually her fault. She deserved and actually needed it. Going forward they expected her to obey her managers. And in her state of deep despair and disorientation, she began to wonder if this was all actually true.

The threat was reinforced with a video of Rex talking to her little sister in a café somewhere. She was told that Rebecca could easily be brought in for education, if she did not cooperate or if she even thought about telling anyone what happened. While being shown another video of Rex visiting her mother's home, she was told that her mother could simply be made to disappear. So when she was released, she did not tell anyone, not even her fiancé. She was also told not to change anything in her life, so she returned to work as if she had been to India and completed the planning of her wedding.

The lie kept eating at her, but she did not have the courage to disobey. They had done nothing to her in the past three weeks. She had actually begun to think that the 'training' week was only punishment for the harassment complaint. She had even woken up this morning believing that this was the start of the rest of her magnificent new life. She now realised she had been so wrong and that she could do nothing to stop what was happening, not even to shout out for help.

All of these thoughts had flooded through her mind in a split second when Roger brought her attention back to the present, with a twist of her nipple and a command to "Get on your knees slut. I do love a blowjob from a bride in her wedding gown. Get to work."

The familiar way he said it made her briefly wonder if he had done this to other unfortunate brides. He assisted her by grabbing her hair into a bunch behind her head and forcing her to her knees, glaring down at her expectantly. Too terrified to do anything but obey, she unbuckled his trousers and pulled down the zip. As she pulled his trousers down to his ankles, his already hard penis slapped up into her chin. Stepping forward he thrust his cock into her mouth, which she hurriedly opened in anticipation.

Thinking he wanted her to suck, she began to hollow her cheeks and rub her tongue along the underside as she had been taught. He however had other plans and thrust straight to the entrance to her throat. Even with her week of deepthroat training, his dry cockhead stuck there, because she didn't have enough saliva to ease it into her throat. Gagging, she swallowed desperately as he ruthlessly carried on pushing, until it popped into her throat. She was not prepared for the pain of his dry rough penis rubbing down her oesophagus, and so she groaned in discomfort.

Roger looked pitilessly down at the struggling women at his knees. He also felt the roughness of the thrust down her throat, but the vibration of her groan made up for it. Damn it felt good, so he did not let her up for thirty seconds. She looked up at him desperately and began to tap his thighs as her eyes rolled back. He let her up for a moment in which she took a ragged breath. She then swallowed frantically, to cope with the invader as he remorselessly thrust it down her throat again.

He carried on like this for another few minutes, while the retching, bile and saliva that he was mining from her mouth and stomach began to make the slide easier, at least for him. For Jane the initial dry thrusts had rubbed the soft tissue of her throat raw, so each additional thrust was agony. It felt like he was trying to stab her to oblivion, but she also knew that they would never let her faint. They wanted her awake and active for the rest of the night, so she just endured.

She had not noticed the other two men dropping their pants and walking over to stand on either side of her, each with a very hard erect cock aimed towards her ears. Through her daze, she heard Rex instruct "Grab our cocks and wank us, bitch."

That voice took her back to the week of training and she instinctively responded. She had to feel her way, because Roger did not give her a moment respite and turning her head was impossible with a dick down her throat. She heard groans from either side, and then Gerald ask "Roger, give us a turn, mate".

For the first time in over ten minutes, he took is cock out of her mouth and passed her head across to Gerald, commanding "Ok love, we're going to play musical cocks. It works like this. You bob your head ten times with the cock going down into your throat, while vigorously rubbing the other two cocks that do not have the pleasure. On completion of the ten bobs, you move quickly to the next cock and repeat. The music stops when you get one of us to cum down your throat, but you better carry on servicing the other two when that happens. And then you continue until the last cock spurts. Clear?"

She tried to nod miserably, but Gerald had already thrust his member down her throat. She went round and round for another agonising fifteen minutes, one after the other. She tried desperately to get them to cum, but the rest they had after ten bobs prevented her from really getting enough rhythm. By the time Gerald grunted and held her head flat to his hips with his fat stomach pressed and bulging against her forehead, she was exhausted and faint with lack of oxygen. He grunted with each spurt of cum that flowed straight down into her stomach. While coping with the deluge, she had stopped masturbating the other two, so Rex slapped her on the back of her head. "Hey bitch, you don't get to stop just because he's coming."

As Gerald pulled out, she tried to maintain her stroking, even while coughing and spluttering saliva and semen onto her tits and dress. Rex grabbed her head without giving her a second respite he jammed her head down onto his cock. The game resumed with Rex and Roger passing her between them, and every time she looked up at them it was clear this was a competition about who would last longer. She was just not sure she would last long enough for the game to finish.

Eventually, Rex lost because his arousal got the better of him and he began to jackhammer into her throat like he was drilling for gold. His cock erupted, but unlike Gerald, he started cumming in her mouth until it was full and then completed his fourth spurt with a thrust down her throat. This was clearly a premeditated move, because he laughed as the cum had nowhere to go other then up and out of her nose. The viciousness of this action drove a sense of desolation into her heart, just as the cock speared all the way down her throat.

The burning sensation now reached from her gullet all the way up into her nasal passages. She tried to sniff the cum back into her mouth, but only a portion of it came out, because it was so thick. Roger sat back onto the bed and pulled her face towards him, saying "Seeing as I won, I expect you to give me the best sluttiest deepthroat fuck you can, while gently rubbing my balls. You will also look me in the eyes the entire time, until I'm ready. And then you'll ask me nicely to cum all over your pretty newlywed face."

Totally defeated, with tearing eyes and running nose, she began to do as he instructed. It took another agonising ten minutes, during which she struggled to breathe through her clogged nose after every stroke down to the root. Then when she felt his balls begin to tense, she raised her mouth off his cock and keeping her eye contact, asked in a submissive croaking voice "Please will you come on my pretty newlywed face, Sir."

He grabbed the back of her hair and started jerking his cock until it spewed its salty acrid cum over her eyes, nose and forehead. He told her to lick his cock clean as he looked down at her cum painted face. She diligently did this while continuing to look up at him through the cum-induced burning of her eyes.

"Go and clean yourself up whore, you look awful. But don't take off the dress yet. You have ten minutes while we have a glass of that Moet ét Chandon that the hotel thoughtfully left for us." He then stood and walked over to the dresser, without paying her another thought. "Gentlemen, who wants a glass to recover our energy for the next session of our little party?"

The three men popped the Champaign and poured themselves glasses, while looking at the twinkling lights outside of the window. The world seemed so peaceful out there, in contrast to the violence that had been perpetrated on the young woman in that room.

After a couple of minutes of relaxed conversation, Roger turned round. Jane had not moved, having collapsed after the final assault and was lying there sobbing inconsolably. She could not understand how Rupert had not woken up with all the noise. Was he not intimately in tune with her? Wouldn't he come to her rescue when she needed?

With a flash of anger, Roger strode across the room, lifted her by the hair and slapped her face front and back handed, so her head rocked from side to side. The handprints instantly stood out on her pale skin. She just sobbed more loudly, looking up at him and pleading in a pathetic hoarse voice. "Please leave me alone. Haven't you had enough? I did what you wanted. It hurts so much. This is my wedding night. Please, Sir"

"Shut up you stupid whore! I told you to go and clean yourself up. You had a chance to recover and get yourself presentable. That is now gone. We will just carry on, but I don't want to look at your messy face anymore." With that he pulled her up and shoved her face-first into the rose petals that housekeeping had carefully laid out on the bed in the shape of a heart, in anticipation of the bridal couple's expected romantic night. Feeling the soft petals that were a sign of love and tenderness rub against her cheeks, forced one last desperate appeal from the distraught woman, "P-please d-d- don't d-d-do anything m-more. It's n- n-not f-fair.

"I told you to be quite!!" Roger snarled as he lifted her lace trimmed dress up over her head and swatted her backside five times as hard as he could. The tiny thong exposed her glorious buttocks, which like her face turned a rosy pink. At that point she gave up and lay still, with the dress blacking out any sight of what was happening around her. All that could be heard by the three men were shuddering sobs emanating from beneath the ruffles.

"Gerald, you've had the most time to recover. You ready to give this whore the wedding night fucking she deserves?"

"Sure mate" said Gerald putting his glass down and slowly stroking his cock to hardness. The view that presented itself was just what a predator like him appreciated. I tight white thong over a plump pussy, between long legs wrapped in thigh-high white stockings and finished off with simple white three-inch heels. A noticeable highlight was the small blue and white lace garter at the top of her left leg. She had obviously not had a chance to throw it to the bachelors at the wedding, before her husband had collapsed. What a nice touch he thought. How considerate.

He licked his fleshy lips, anticipating the joy of being the first man to plunge into the bride on her wedding day. Oh how he loved the concept of 'Droit du seigneur' that his fellow company executives had so enthusiastically embraced.

And without any further hesitation he pulled her thong aside and plunged his member deep into her waiting cunt. "Damn this whore must really want it. She is soaking." He gloated. Jane had no idea how or why she was wet, but it was true. The residual arousal she felt from earlier on the dancefloor, compounded by the lessons in humiliation she had had at the 'training facility', had ensured that his thrust was lubricated and thus unimpeded.

"Ahhhh... Uhh... Ahhhh... Uhh... Ahhhh... Uhh." Was all that could be heard from under the wedding dress, as her sobs became sighs and grunts every time he pulled out and drove back into the depths of her vagina, bumping up against her cervix. Gerald turned to Rex, "I thought you taught these whores to milk a cock at your academy? This one is tight, but not helping much."

Rex picked up his belt from the trousers he had discarded earlier and whipped it down on her lower back. "Don't embarrass me, bitch. You know what we taught you to do with your cunt when anyone fucks you." He struck her a second time, which was followed by a muffled "Yes, Sir. Please don't hit me anymore."

He struck her a third time, at which Gerald sighed "Ahh. Much better, her cunt feels sooo good clamping on the out stroke." She had also started bucking slightly in time to his thrusts, as she had been taught. With this added stimulation, Gerald did not last long and shot deeply into her clasping hole. He held himself inside her for a few moments afterwards, basking in the tingling pleasure from his emptied balls and softening cock, still being squeezed by her vaginal walls.

The other two men had become hard, while watching their colleague fuck the little whore. Turning to Roger, Rex said "Let's unwrap our sweet little bridal gift and see what else she has to offer. We intentionally didn't break in her last virginity at the facility, preferring to take it tonight as a wedding gift. How thoughtful is that? You mind if I do the honours?"