Married for the Hell of it

The demon officiator holds Quinton's generous and engorged member in his hand, and strokes it gently as pre-cum leaks from it's tip. The demon tilts his head in curiosity, before a wicked smile breaks out on his face. He knew exactly what Quinton was doing.

"It would seem that our guest of honor here has decided to forego showing how much this...attention... is getting to him," the officiator says. "Perhaps he thinks that by hiding his reactions he will be able to deceive me into allowing him release."

The audience and betrothed break into uproarious laughter.

"I will suppose we will just have to see about that. Isn't that right, Quinton?"

Quinton doesn't say a word. His eyes closed shut tightly in concentration, he allows the demon's large hands to molest and caress his very hairy, and very naked body.

The officiator offers an empty apology and restarts his sermon much to the delight of the audience and to Quinton's chagrin.

This was decidedly not what Quinton had in mind when he'd signed up for wedding service. Sure, he didn't expect it would be a picnic----no community service hours in Hell ever were. But he couldn't imagine how the demons could take something as innocent and pure as a wedding and corrupt it.

The poor man had been mercilessly edged for an hour before the ceremony began, a seal placed on his neck preventing him from making any moves to run away or protest. Then, once the ceremony had begun, the officiator had begun to tease him anew as he'd began a lengthy anecdote about the burdens and joys of being married.

When the officiator had stumbled on reading his vows and forced himself to restart for the third time, it dawned on Quinton that the ceremony was less about uniting a couple and more about maximizing his own suffering.

The officiator brings Quinton up to the jackknife edge of an orgasm before letting go of his cock. It juts out in between the betrothed men who both lick their lips as Quinton lets out a loud shriek. The audience of sadists clap and cheer at the display.

"Now, now, I understand this is an emotional moment, Quinton. But please, do try to contain yourself," the Officiator jokes, drawing more laughter from the audience. He presses his bearded face against the brunet's neck and delivers a couple of soft and frustrating kisses, his large red hands explore from his lower chest to his rock hard nipples, gently massaging and caressing them.

Quinton begins to furiously hump the air, the only option afforded to him by the sigil on his shoulder. He grunts and whimpers like a wild beast.

"You should know I can read minds," the officiator whispers into his ear.

The process of restarting repeats itself a couple more times before finally, the officiator finishes reading the vows.

"Bill," the Officiator says to the betrothed on his left. "Do you take Paul to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The muscular demon smiles. "I do."

"And Paul." The officiator turns to the betrothed on his right. "Do you take Bill to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Do I?" the more bearish demon says staring directly at Quinton.

The brunet's eye's bulge out of their sockets as he nods his head desperately. Paul smiles.

"Well, then. I suppose I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husband and husband. You may now kiss."

Two warm mouths press against each other, partially obstructed by the brunet's member. The two move in perfect sync, as though having practiced, tongue fighting underneath and above his shaft drawing hoarse gasps from Quinton and making his eyes go crossed. They slowly make their way up to his circumcised head, humming---- as though enjoying a delicious five course meal---- before making out with it.

Fireworks are set off his in the darkness of the brunet's mind's eye. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" he shouts, his voice blending into the echoes of the now cheering audience.

Just when he thinks it can get any better, the officiator reaches behind him and presses a calloused finger directly against his prostate.

To say that Quinton shoots his load would be the understatement of the century. He explodes. Load after load burst from his tortured cock and onto the eager faces and tongues of the betrothed as he lets out a roar that would put a lion to shame.

Quinton lets out an exhausted sigh of relief. Finally, it's over he thinks to himself.

Then, he feels it. A hand grips his shift before, his cock is engulfed by something warm, moist. The sensation makes him jump and let out a squeal.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Bill's bright blue eyes staring up at him, gauging his reactions. His head pulls back, forcing the underside of Quinton's now sensitive cock to rub against it.

A look of horror washes over Quinton's face as he watches Bill nudge his cock over to his husband who engulfs it.

"No, No please! Not that!" Quinton begs, somewhat caught off guard by the sudden return of his voice. He tries to move away, but it seems like the sigil hadn't fully worn off.

The bearish demon grunts beneath him and continues his work of playing with Quinton's nerves. He rubs his salt and pepper beard against Quinton's cock making him choke on air. After a couple of seconds, he passes Quinton's cock back to Bill who begins tonguing at the underside of the head.

Any and all feeling of warmth that would typically accompany the aftermath of an intense climax dissipates into thin-air leaving pure agony. Quinton throws his head back and bellows as the two husbands torment him; sometimes allowing the other 'private time' to focus on his tortured cock and others working on him together like they had when they were kissing to make him really squeal and beg.

The officiator stands back and watches the power couple only one thing on his mind:

Truly, marriage is such a beautiful thing.