I Do

The wedding was quite an elaborate affair for Samantha. Her husband was a wealthy businessman who had left no stone unturned to give her the dream wedding she had always been hoping and dreaming about since she had been a little girl. Her parents were proud, her friends were excited, her cousins were giggling upon the seats as they waited for the bride to appear.

The most excited of them all was of course the groom. Waiting upon the altar, in his expensive suit, a powerful, athletic figure of a man. His handsome face, chiselled features and slightly tanned complexion had left the girls swooning with jealousy over how lucky Samantha was. It was the happiest day of her life. Jason had courted her for over a year, until he had mustered up the confidence to propose, only for her to reject him over and over again. Until two years later, she finally said yes. She had been too afraid of her past, but the longer she spent time with Jason, the more she realized that he was a man who could accept her in entirety. With all of her baggage.

The music started as the bride appeared, in the arms of her father with an expression of radiance that could put the sun itself to shame. She was wearing quite a scandalous wedding dress. The sleeveless dress accentuated her deep cleavage, hugging her every curve until her mid thighs, where it flared onto a sheer skirt that dragged through the carpet, veiling her long legs, yet not hiding them at all. The pure white, opaque floral patterns on the dress were all the modesty that the dress afforded her. Rest of the dress was quite sheer against her milky white complexion. The floral patterns started from her mid thighs, like a short skirt, tapering towards her crotch, just past her pussy, leaving everything else open for everyone's viewing pleasure. Making it clear that she wasn't wearing panties and that she was quite clean shaven from the sight of her pubic area entirely visible. The other half of the pattern started from below her large breasts, flaring to cover both globes, curling elaborately just around her nipples with the rest of her breasts entirely bare underneath the sheer cloth, making the men squint with the hopes of catching a glimpse of her nipples. The dress cupped her large breasts, lifting them up, as if offering them on a platter as they supported her. Except for that, almost all of her mid riff was visible, along with her belly button, right down to her pubic bone, just barely shy of her pussy. There was a bold tattoo of an elaborately crafted 'M', that stood out upon pure white skin, through the transparent dress, something she refused to hide no matter the insistence of everybody around her. Even her father, who led her towards the altar, couldn't help but sneak glances towards her body, hoping for that perfect angle that would give him a good glimpse of the privates of his daughter. Her jet-black hair, her dark brown eyes and her ruby red lips provided a stark contrast to her complexion, accentuating her features all the more. The dress was entirely backless from behind, dropping towards her ass-crack, showing a hint of cleavage from her plump ass-cheeks, the rest hidden around the floral pattern that curved to wrap behind her, the sides of her thighs still left bare through the see-through veil.

She beamed with elation as she walked with her father, absorbing the happiness that was bubbling inside of her with every step, feeling the eyes of her guests, encouraging her towards this holy matrimony. Excited to start this new chapter in life.

Everything was right in her life, that was until she met his eyes. The dark, brooding, confident, cocky, arrogant, self-assured eyes of a monster. Her world snapped into focus at that very moment though. Her breath caught upon her slender throat, her eyes glazed over and her steps faltered. Those eyes weren't of someone who loved her. It was of someone who owned her, irrespective of any vows or laws she would be protected under.

"Is something the matter dear?" Horus asked, the slender, aging man, looked over at the person his daughter was intently staring at as she walked, his own face scrunching into pale fear. "Don't care about anyone else baby. This is your special day. The only person you need to focus on, is your husband to be." He whispered to Samantha, who walked in a daze. Her eyes, constantly shifting towards Him. Horus tried to indulge her in small talk, trying to shift her focus from Him. Why did He need to attend the wedding? Why was He even here? He was supposed to be out for work in Japan or something!

He was not particularly tall. An average height, perhaps even shorter than Samantha with her heels. His ebony skin glistened with slight sweat. The stubble of his harsh face was peppered with the whites of his age that only increased his rugged handsomeness. He had a beer belly that stretched against the well-tailored suit, and his eyes were focused down. As if in deep prayer, unbeknownst of the world around him, uncaring of the wedding going on. As if the first glimpse of his eyes as she walked in, was all she was privileged for.

The minister smiled at her, she just nodded stoically. Jason, her husband to be, smiled at her, as she stood beside him and she had to give him back a slight, nervous smile. But she glanced back at Him and He was still not looking. Now that she was getting married, was she not pretty enough for Him anymore? Had she finally been discarded after being so thoroughly used over the years? It left an intense void of emptiness inside of her to even consider such an answer.

The wedding vows commenced and Samantha barely knew what she was saying as she accepted the terms of her marriage. One by one. Until the big one came.

"Do you, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband?", the old minister asked, turning towards Samantha, who looked wide eyed back, like a deer caught in headlights.

"I..I.." she tried talking, her voice coming out in croaks. Of course, she can't. How can she? How can she accept another man, when she already belonged to someone else? It wasn't her right to give anyone, this body! He owned her. A full minute went by, with her gasping for a reply, as the audience strained to hear her acceptance. Sitting, fidgeting, waiting in silence with only her stumbling words to fill the silence of the altar.

"What are you doing sir? Please..take your seat!" the minister instructed, in a kind yet stern voice, to someone behind her. Making Samantha whip her head back, to see as she expected to see. Only He would have had the audacity.

"Ma..Marcus!" Jason, exclaimed in a heaving breath. His face pale in fear, paralyzed with inaction, not knowing what to do. So excited was the young man in marrying the love of his life, that he hadn't noticed the guests sitting around. How could he have missed him? How could he have been so absent minded? Perhaps it was the sexy dress his wife was wearing that distracted him, so proud was he to have this beautiful creature be lawfully wedded to him.

Samantha stared with heaving breaths, her large breasts rising and falling through the dress, as there stood Marcus. Her Master. Her God. Her Everything. Beyond him, nothing else held priority.

"You hadn't invited me to the wedding.", His heavy, grating voice came out in barely a whisper. Yet the whole hall heard it loud and clear. The deafening silence forced to assimilate his every syllable.

"Sorry..sorry Sir!" Samantha apologized, her heart beating hard, trying to rip itself out of her chest. Her eyes watering with the immensity of her guilt. Her chest heaved with uncontrolled excitement. The world around her vanished, and the only person of matter, for whom she cared about, was her beloved Master. How could she have built the courage to ignore him? It was with the influence of her family and friends. But they were the devils who were misleading her. They wanted her to forget her religion, her...lord!

"Kneel." He commanded. And just like that, Samantha knew what he wanted. Samantha knew, what were his intentions. No matter how humiliating, how disastrous, she thought his expectations were. The fact remained that she knew what would make her Master the happiest at this particular moment. Nothing less would suffice. And she would be damned if she couldn't take care of her Master's desires.

The guests were gasping. Whispering. Some, even tried a voice of outcry. But all were silenced, when among the spectators, stood up the tall men who had silently mingled. Their strength belied upon their sufficiently filled out, tight fitting, grey suits. Their physique was intimidating enough to silence the entire hall of protestors, leaving them with no choice but to witness this stupendous sight. Ten of these men, powerful bodyguards of Marcus stood amidst the guests, imposing the crowd with their martial strength, without emotion, their eyes hidden behind dark sun glasses.

"Samantha? What the heck...", Horus tried asking, his voice caught in his throat, dried up to a husk, not believing the spectacle that his daughter participated in. Yet he hardly moved, too afraid to protest with actions, standing behind, looking nervously at the men and then back at his daughter.

Samantha knelt at the altar, without hesitation, right before Marcus. Her head, on level with his crotch, her hands holding onto his thick thighs. Uncaring of her pure white dress staining upon the church tiles. Uncaring of the eyes, uncaring of her family and friends watching them. The only thing that mattered was her Master.

And soon her face was nuzzled against his growing bulge as gasps escaped throughout the hall. She could feel his heavy balls juggling against his ball sack, from over his pants. Her beautiful face sensed the throb of his pulse through the pants. He must have been pent up for quite a few hours. To think he had had the need to control himself, just for her sake, was something she thoroughly resented. She swooned in pleasure at the feel of might in his appendage. Her face, rubbing slowly against his crotch, rolling his thickness against her cheek.

Her Master should never have felt the need. What would he have done, if she hadn't reached for him in time?

Taken another whore's hole? Masturbated?

Blasphemous!

With a long, strong whiff of his emanating musk, she hastily started unbuckling his pants. The humiliation, the degradation, making her desperate. She could feel the eyes of her relatives and friends. She could sense their judgement. Her pale neck was blushing hard with excitement as she finally fished out his growing cock with his hairy balls. The thick, dark meat, still enveloped in it's cosy foreskin, peeking out with it's bright pink head, drooling with pre-cum. In anticipation. His dick was growing, right in front of her eyes. The veins surfacing onto the entire length as it started hardening. His wrinkly balls, spooled across her slender palm. She was cradling him, with the love and care of a devout worshipper handling the treasure of a God. Her tender hands maneuvered his cock, all around, as she showered soft kisses upon the length of it, full of love. Her bright red lipstick, marking her servitude upon his black wrinkly skin.

His cock grew to it's full length, to the delight of Samantha. A pride washed over her at the unquestionable proof of his desire for her. Marcus stroked her head in appreciation, which only made her purr all the more. Her excited sounds filled the silent church. Her tongue collected his precum, tasting his piss slit as she suckled. His groan made her cum there and then as she made love to his tender cock head. The dress soaking in her juices. Her mouth went from the very tip, without haste, towards his roots, until her face pressed against his thick, unkempt pubic hair. Showering kisses, suckling on the edges of his meat, moistening it with her spit. Enjoying his scent, enjoying the feel of his wild hairs against her tender skin.

Marcus never shaved, and his thick forest was the favorite part of Samantha anyway. His cock pressed against the side of her face; she buried her nose into the very root of his pubic hair. Her nose practically shoveling through the thicket. Taking in his manly scent, in it's purest form. His sweat, pheromones, his desire, everything. She stayed there for a moment, savoring the moment. Realizing that after everything was said and done, past this moment, nothing would remain the same.

It seemed Marcus had motioned one of his henchmen, because pretty soon, one of the hulking brutes came forward with a foldout chair for Marcus to sit upon. Right there upon the chapel. And sit he did. Grabbing her by her lustrous hair. The same hair that her beautician had taken hours to perfect in the parlor, flowing through his thick fingers as he grasped it as leverage, to press her face tighter against his crotch. Her knees crawled forward to adjust with the slight distance as Marcus sat down in comfort, Samantha, between his hairy thighs, now kissing the junction of his thigh and crotch. Exploring the very depths of his manhood, until she could take no more. Marcus' pants were pooled upon his feet, drawing the line Samantha had to reach over, to reach him. Leaning upon his crotch, with her face as leverage. From time to time, he would grab her hair, pulling her face harder against the length of his cock as he humped. Samantha only facilitated his movements with nuzzling harder against him.

Finally, she surfaced. Gasping for air as she panted, looking up with absolute adoration, silently asking for approval.

Marcus smiled down, stroking her face. "You had always been my favorite cunt." He told her affectionately and it only made her face glow with unimaginable bliss. Ofcourse he had other women, why wouldn't he. But it was a matter of pleasure for Samantha, that she was the only one he came back to.

"I would always be available to you Master. Anytime you want. Anywhere you want. No matter what I am doing. I will abandon everything in my service of you. I will..always belong to you. First and foremost." She declared, without breaking eye contact as she took both of his wrists by her slender fingers and bought it over her head. He always liked controlling the blowjobs of his whores. How could Samantha forget?

"Do I..do I even need to share myself with someone else?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"We have gone through this a million times Honey Cunt. The child you have inside shouldn't be a part of my world. He needs a father who would give him all the attention he needs. I know he would have the mother who would love him more than anything else in the world." Marcus told her as she beamed with happiness.

"I will!" she promised, letting go of his wrists, letting him know he can use her mouth the proper way he liked. She would be relaxing her throat to accommodate him.

And Marcus started. He wasn't gentle. He thrust his hips up, he pulled her head down, he properly fucked her mouth as if it was the loosest cunt in the world. The sound of her throat opening up, letting his cock slide, echoed. Her spit pooled over his balls, soaking his pubes, dribbling onto the seat.

"Ah! What a nice mouth you have. Never *urgh!* do this for anyone else. You understand?" Marcus said, in between grunts.

Samantha only groaned as she let her master fuck her throat, resting her hands on the sides of his thighs, stroking him. Not even daring to put a scratch as she felt the closeness. The possessiveness. The feeling of ownership.

It was time. Marcus had been agonizing. "Hmmph!" he grunted as he pulled her face tightly against his crotch, her nose taking in the scent of him through his pubes as he buried to the hilt. And started cumming. His cock throbbed as wave after wave of thick, virile cum sprouted from his piss slit, deep into her throat as he let go, sitting back to enjoy his long overdue orgasm.

Samantha had gobbled the first few spurts right down the throat. But as soon as Marcus had let her go, she had pulled up, holding his cock for a moment, between her lips. Filling her mouth and then, she pulled his cock entirely out of her and let the last remnants of his precious cum was all over her pretty, made up face.

Marking her. Baptizing her. Blessing her, for her marriage. Her lips, never left the underside of his cock. Constantly kissing him as it throbbed with every spurt, laid across her milky white face. A stark contrast of dark appendage, spanning her milky white. Strands of dark pubic hair, stuck to her cheeks.

It took a minute for Marcus to soften and drain off. A feeling of utter despair crossing Samantha's face at the prospect of finally letting her Master go. He would be no longer her master anymore. She would just be a free whore to him. Arriving at her doorsteps from time to time, unannounced as he rips her clothes and fucks her bareback, without warning. Taking her whenever he would be in the town and she would have the opportunity to serve him. Giving him her bed and all of her holes, for the duration of his stay. But he would leave. He would have other whores who would tend to him more devotedly. While she is left behind to raise their child. The life in her womb would be the last mark of her servitude to him.

With a dejected face she parted her veil from behind, to bring forth her beautiful hair. Wrapping it around his cock, cleaning him, drying him of their juices. When she was assured that his cock was squeaky clean, only then did she pull up his underwear, lovingly putting his cock into the waistband and then buckling up his pants.

"Don't go..please!" she begged, kissing his crotch and then laying her head upon his lap. Right above his folded cock.

"I do not have use of you anymore. Take good care of my son Martin." Marcus told her as he stood up, kicking her away casually, with his boots upon her pure white dress, right over her chest. Putting a boot print upon the floral patterns as he turned around to walk away.

Samantha was looking down. The remnants of their juices still upon the clean tiles and the chair. Her face still holding her depravity for everyone to see. Marcus walked away. Silently. Just like he had come. Nobody stopped him. Nobody even squeaked. His guards followed. Just like that, the hall was empty of her Master's presence.

With a deep breath she stood up, turned towards the minister and just stood there. Just like that. In her disheveled state. Ready to be married off. Her chest swelling with pride, her bountiful breasts and deep cleavage formed against the pure white dress, imprinted with the dirt of his boot. She had the blessing of the one person that mattered. It was not her father. It was her Daddy. Her Master.

"I do." She finally declared.