My Cuckold Wedding Ch. 06

Honeymoon? Consummation? I hadn't given such matters any thought.

So what do I want at my wedding? And do I want to honeymoon with Mark, our now fully subservient cuckold whose sole desire was to serve me and Master, and who seems to relish the humiliation of being the lesser man.

I looked over at my fiancée, in his newly bought lingerie, staring back at me in his 'puppy-dog' way and decided to ask him a question that would determine my plans for the wedding, the honeymoon, and our life afterwards. I knew that he had masochist tendencies, but had to be sure.

"Mark Dear," I said, as I reached out to cup his chin with my hand and draw his head towards me, "I humiliate you almost every day now, and everybody in this town knows I am cuckolding you. So be honest with me, do you like it?"

His lips quivered in emotion as he took in the importance of my question and knew what was coming next.

"No Mistress," he replied.

"Oh?" It wasn't the reply I had been expecting.

"No Mistress, I love it. All of it!"

I heard the sigh of relief from Gregg as I leaned forward to kiss Mark on the forehead, and said, "Then we shall make it the best day of your life my sweet cuckold."

"Thank you Mistress."

"I want Gregg to give me away."

"Yes Mistress!"

"But when I stand beside you at the altar, I want you to know that less than ten minutes before Gregg and I will have had a 'quickie'."

"A quickie Mistress?"

Mark knew exactly what a quickie was so I continued with my humiliation assault, "So when I walk up the aisle to marry you, you will know that I come to you from his bed with our Master's seed is inside me."

"Or maybe not so quick," Gregg interjected with a wicked grin on his face.

"I understand!" Mark said. "As is your right Master."

My fiancée was clearly becoming fully committed to his role in my life and I was now fully certain that he was enjoying his subservience. 'Just how far can I go with this degradation of his manliness?' I asked myself. The future years together would prove to me just how far Mark would go to prove his commitment to our way of life -- his devotion never wavered.

"I have told you that I will not vow to be faithful to you Mark, but your vows will contain that undertaking. How do you feel about that?"

"No more than a cuckold should expect Mistress," was his response. But I needed a more positive answer than that.

"Yes, but do YOU accept it cuckold?"

"Yes Mistress!"

"Are you are prepared to acknowledge and sign the polyamorous agreement?"

"Do you mean the Cuckold's Contract Mistress?"

"The very same!"

His answer came without hesitation; he had clearly thought this aspect of our wedding through. "Happily, Mistress," he confirmed in an overly cheerful manner; and I was suddenly suspicious.

'Is he playing games?' I immediately thought to myself. 'And is he mocking Gregg and me?'

"Why?" The tone in my voice reflected my scepticism.

Gregg looked up startled and Mark's face took on a shade that was the colour of strawberry.

"Mistress?"

"Why 'Happily'? Have you got an agenda? Are you being genuine Mark - because if you are not...."

Mark looked trapped and alarmed. "You ask me this now Mistress. I am committed to our new life. I swear! Please do not doubt me."

I took one look at his stricken expression and realised that I had gone too far. But I needed to be certain, so I pushed my fiancée a little further. "Yours will be a life of total subjugation to Gregg and me. Completely submissive to us and our needs.."

"Like a slave Mistress?"

"A sexual slave to us both," I replied. "A normal man outside of the house - emasculated at home. How does that sound?"

"I want it Mistress. I want all of it!" He sounded desperate; it was if someone had just pulled a rug away from under his feet. "You have known this since we were kids together Mary... Please don't take my dream away. I'll do anything to prove it."

I was satisfied. His response had been genuine but I pushed the discussion on. "I want Gregg to consummate our marriage, and we should honeymoon as a trio. What do you think?"

"You're asking your slave Mistress?"

"I'm asking my future husband - cuckold."

"Consummation by your Lover is only to be expected by a cuckold, Mistress," Mark said after just a second's consideration, "but are you sure you want me on your honeymoon?"

"Our honeymoon, Mark," I said to correct him.

"I thought we could go to Cancun for a week," said Gregg to us both, "the three of us in a hotel suite. My treat. A few days in the sun. Stuffing ourselves with enchilada, guacamole, and tacos. Do you like Mariachi bands Mark?"

Mark looked interested at this proposal and replied, "I have been to Mexico before Master. Liked the weather! Liked the food! The music - not so much."

We laughed at his highly specific reply and continued to talk and laugh together like the three friends we had become. There was still that hierarchy of Master, Mistress, and cuckold in our relationships but we were now very comfortable in each other's company; so much so that Mark was happy to lay face up on the big comfortable bed to welcome my bare pussy down onto his face while Gregg eased his thick and heavy penis deep into me.

It was a delightful afternoon I spent looking down at Mark's pretty little cage which I could discern the gentle wobbling of his engorged penis in time to Gregg's hard thrusts into my welcoming vagina. In those moments the sensations of coitus caused so much pleasure and happiness within me, I knew that my fiancée's tongue would be working overtime on Gregg's heavy testicles and hot hard manhood, as well as my own clitoris and labia - and was not wrong. The moment that I could sense my Lover's imminent release of his seed into me, I could feel Mark's tongue increase in its speed and attention to both of our sensitive parts.

Gregg's ejaculation was loud, prolonged, and prolific; spurt after spurt erupted from his manly member deep into my vagina as I climaxed again and again from the sexual thrill of penetration and Mark's frenetic tongue.

I lay on Mark in that post coital state of collapse that all well-loved Women feel after her Lover's completion inside her. I could not see, but I was aware that my fiancée's tongue was sweeping up and down Gregg's long manhood just by the movement of his head against my thighs, which, I had brought together so as to trap him in what I considered to be his first 'cuckold's embrace'. After receiving due homage from our cuckold, Gregg moved away from behind me and, stretching out on the bed beside me, looked over at me still breathing heavily onto Mark's penis restraint.

"Finish the job Mary," Gregg said.

I didn't understand what he was saying immediately, but when he gestured for me to sit up I knew that he had Mark's wellbeing in mind; and the groan of pleasure from beneath me as my sticky labia settled down over his mouth told me that my little cuckold was having a really, perverted, depraved, albeit a very nice time as Gregg's seed oozed down his throat.

"Grind him!"

I now fully understood the sexual inclinations of my future husband and knew what to do, even before Gregg's suggestion. I was a young nubile woman with a flexible waist and rounded bottom that I immediately rotated, thus sweeping my labia, clitoris, and vaginal opening onto Mark's face. With each rotation more of my Lover's sticky seed was rubbed into our cuckold's face while at the same time I increased my pressure downwards.

After a minute or so of my humiliating use of my fiancée face as an instrument of pleasure and demeaning I thought it would be a good idea to check on Mark. "Are you okay down there Mark? Shall I continue?"

"Please don't stop Mistress," he replied -- his voice shaking with passion, "I'm loving this."

But Mark was not the only one 'loving this'. My clitoris was 'loving' the attentions of his tongue, while the end of his nose served as a soft, warm stimulant as I swept my pussy backwards and forwards across his face. After every two or three sweeps I would bring my groin down hard onto his face to remind him who was boss; not that he needed reminding because after a few minutes of my happy gyrations on my fiancée's face, Gregg raised himself and knelt astride Mark's thighs and started to kiss me again.

I looked down to make sure that Mark was okay and all I could see of my happy little cuckold was my Lover's thick member lying across his stocking tops and alongside his caged penis that was now leaking his own seminal fluid into his panties. And Mark could feel the presence of Gregg's manhood resting on his most sensitive and intimate part of his body.

I felt Mark's arms, that hitherto had remained trapped and unmoving, move against my legs as he eased his hands up towards his groin. I relaxed my grip on his arms immediately so he could explore the pleasurable sensations that remained out of his vision (my pussy being hard down on his face at the time). Instinctively his hands found Gregg's member, and with tenderness born of affection he caressed the long tube of flesh with what could only be described as a form of homage to the better man. And Gregg kissed me more deeply and harder because of it.

Sexual pleasure always causes a reaction, and Gregg is no different.

As we kissed and held each other while Mark continued his delightful attentions, I could feel the thickening and hardening roll of meat move and grow. Mark's gentle fondling was now full length stroking of his big pink rod as it stood vertical and ready for its penetration of me -- and I couldn't wait.

I shifted my position by sliding my body down so Mark's caged penis lie between my bottom cheeks and my head was supported by Mark's that was turned to one side -- I was lying face up on top of my fiancée with my legs open ready for Gregg's welcome entrance. And Gregg, as always, did not disappoint.

Until that night, Mark had not felt the power of Gregg's muscular build, the strength of his thrusting, or the stamina of an accomplished Lover. But by the time Gregg emptied himself into my ever receptive body, he knew.

He knew just why I was passionately in love with my gorgeous Lover and why he could never match up to Gregg's manliness. And it was yet another verification of his cuckolding that would sit alongside his penis cage, his feminization, the wearing of Gregg's ring on the same finger as his engagement ring, his slave collar, attending our mating, cleaning duties, fellating Master, and last but not least -- the forthcoming wedding that would establish his position in our marriage. And as Gregg's seed flowed out of me onto Mark's caged penis, testicles, and stockings he thanked me and told me that he loved me.

"I love you too," I replied, as Gregg lifted me up to slide back and sit on Mark's face again.

The weeks that followed were the happiest that, until then, I had ever known. Gregg and I continued our love affair by working hard in the morning at work and going back to his apartment in the afternoon. We travelled too -- a mid-week business meeting in Seattle and a delightful three days in Rome where the Italian passion seemed to rub off on my Lover. I shall always remember Gregg's intense ardour, matched by my own, on our visit to the Eternal City; he was rampant and slid his lovely big cock into me again and again -- taking me in every way shown in the Kama Sutra. 'Rampant Rome' is now seared into my mind as one of the most wonderful times of my life -- they tell me that the city is quite nice too.

At each return, Mark would be there waiting for us, ready to serve his Mistress and Master; eager to join us in our bedroom as little by little we cemented our loving three cornered bonding. Even then, I looked for the slightest hint of a lessening of enthusiasm for his submission, but I saw none; and when asked, Gregg found none either -- if anything, his devotion to us both showed an even greater zealousness in those lovely nights when he attended to Gregg's enjoyment of his fiancée. In this happy time, his tongue cleaned me, and the head of my Lover's member passed his lips and down his throat many times, and much did his tiny penis swell inside its little cage.

Mom was as good as her word, and had made all the arrangements for the wedding. Flowers for the church, the venue for the Reception, catering, transport, invitations, and even accommodation for guests etc.; and then there was the dress. It was a picture of white silk that shimmered in the light, while at the same time offering a discrete view of the upper cleavage of my breasts that my husband would only enjoy in a very limited way, but Gregg would whenever he wanted -- because they belonged to him.

The fitting of the dress was a purely female affair with me standing on a low stool while Mom and Jenny pulled the dress about, put pins into the material, pulled pins out again, told me to turn through 180 degrees with yet more pins clamped between their teeth. It was lovely that Jenny had returned back into my life, those wild parties at her parents house were still happy memories for me. Jenny had married the year before to her long-time Boyfriend, Eric, but was now enjoying a passionate relationship with a tall, beautiful, and, according to her, well-hung Ethiopian refugee. From our conversations it appeared that Mark and Eric had a lot in common, and that Gregg had been right all along; cuckolding of husbands was far more common in our town than would be admitted in polite society. Maybe it is everywhere?

The morning of the wedding was a bright sunny day and I had stayed at my Mother's house overnight. I had risen early and, before eating a good breakfast, had rung Gregg to make sure that the arrangement we had made was still on. "I shall collect from your Mother's at twelve sharp and bring you to my apartment," he said, "that will give us two hours to finish dressing you and get you to the church."

"And?" Was my response.

He laughed happily before he replied. "We give our friend what he wants."

"You are incorrigible!"

Gregg laughed again and rung off.

In the interests of decency, I had an old coat on over my white wedding lingerie as I climbed into Gregg's Maserati. With the dress wrapped in pink tissue paper on the very small rear seat of the vehicle, we drove from my Mother's house past the recently purchased new house where Mark and I would live together by the lakeside, and stopped outside my Lover's apartment.

"Nervous?" Gregg asked me, as I spread the lustrous white garment carefully on the bed.

I knew that there were many ways this important day in my and Mark's lives could 'go south' but I knew that Mark wanted this new life as much as I. Finally I understood what made my 'husband to be' tick and my answer was an honest response to the question billions of brides had been asked since the very first wedding -- ever.

"No! -You?"

"A little."

This was a surprise to me and I felt touched that the other man I loved so passionately should suddenly feel anxious; but I couldn't help having just a little fun at his expense.

"What? Are you telling me that my big strong Lover has got the jitters?" I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts, encased in a pretty white Basque, against his chest.

His lips were on my own almost immediately with a long and lingering kiss of gentleness and tenderness. With the coat I had been wearing in his car now hanging on a nearby hook I was in my thin and delicate underwear as his lips moved down to my neck to kiss me just below my left ear - one of my erogenous zones. Again, as always, I was putty in his hands as the top two hooks of the Basque were unclipped thus allowing my breasts to poke out like two eager little puppies from the top. And he wasted no time in fastening his mouth on my left nipple while kneading my right breast with his strong manly hands.

Already, I was a trembling wreck with all sense of time and modesty gone. I wanted Gregg's big hard rod inside me so I was barely conscious of falling back on his big bed alongside my wedding dress. He was still kissing my breasts as, with one hand, he roughly pulled the crotch of my panties aside to slide his finger along my slit. I knew it was me who unzipped his pants and released his hardening member but I couldn't remember doing so afterwards. But then my wish came true as he positioned himself between my legs and slid his beautiful big cock inside me -- right up to the hilt.

He played me like I was a Stradivarius. A master at his craft like the finest violinist he brought the very best out of me - with each stroke I gave myself further and further to his pleasure. My legs could not have been wider for him, my lips could not have been softer and yielding to his mastery, my breasts could not have bounced more enchantingly, and his big manhood that ploughed my Womanly tunnel could not have been more welcome inside me. I was very much his pretty young Mistress on that bed, and he was very much my Master; and we both knew the purpose of our loving that wonderful afternoon, while across the other side of town, as he made himself ready to become my husband, Mark did too.

Like the accomplished Lover he was, Gregg took us to a place just below the heights of final orgasm for us both, only to draw back from the ecstatic finish and then drive us both forward again to completion. Four, maybe five times (maybe more), he took us to the edge, only to retreat back to a comfortable rhythm that had me mewling, gasping, and groaning in sexual fervour. My mind had gone -- all I could see above me was Gregg's dear face - handsome but concentrated on making me the happiest bride in the whole of Canada.

Finally the moment approached to complete our physical and emotional bonding. It was clear that Gregg's sexual brinkmanship was nearing its end and the release of his seed into my body was imminent. Harder thrusting from his hips with increasing speed and length of the penetration of his cock into my enveloping vagina was driving me to an orgasm of fierceness that had me screaming for release in words that would make a dockworker blush.

"Come!..... Come!..... Come in me my Love," I shouted into his ear. "All of it! Fill me!"

And fill me he did. His lovely, long, and thick pole jumped and kicked inside me as a long drawn out groan emanated from deep within Gregg's chest. Each spasm of his manhood spurted stream after stream of semen into me causing me to pass out momentarily because of intense euphoric physical and emotional feelings. And then Gregg collapsed on top of me.

"My God, that was wonderful. You're wonderful!" He managed to say in my ear after he had caught his breath.

"I love you," I said in response.

We stayed locked together in that lovely post coital tranquillity that is always the reward for good and active sex, that is until I looked at the alarm clock by the bed.

Gregg rolled off me and I leaped from the bed to make my way to the dressing table to fix my hair, reapply my makeup, and put on a pair of more substantial panties than those Gregg had ripped to one side as he had entered me.

He was already dressed and looking smart by the time I had rebuilt my appearance and slid into my wedding dress that, miraculously, had escaped our thrashing and bumping on the bed.

I turned my back to Gregg, who then slid the zipper up and secured the little clasp. He turned me around, kissed me on the cheek, told me he loved me, and we made our way down the stairs of his apartment block to the waiting Rolls Royce. We sat together in silence and I was touched that Gregg was playing the part of the 'male benefactor' - he even asked me if I wanted to change my mind.

"No way!" I responded -- laughing, "I couldn't do that to my Mark."

We were fashionably late at the church, but only by two minutes. As Gregg and I walked up the aisle to where Mark stood waiting I saw my family, friends, and some of my closer work colleagues. Jenny was there, with Eric to one side of her, and her tall Ethiopian the other; even in that fleeting moment of view I could tell that my old friend was 'accompanied' by her husband, but by her body language it was obvious to all that she was 'with' her Black Lover in every way.