My Wedding Day
It should have been the happiest day of my life. My wedding. 18 years old, and
yes, a virgin. As I stood before the mirror, smoothing the lace over my 34C
breasts, I shuddered with excitement. In just a few short hours I would be Mrs.
Michael Parrish. Oh, how I had waited for this day!
Michael and I had met at a Boston gallery exhibit-he the successful movie
producer, me the fledgling reviewer. He was nothing like what I had expected.
He was kind, charming, courteous. Flirtatious, but a gentleman. We began
dating, and, while he made no secret of the fact that he wanted me, he never
pushed, never pressured. He said he could wait, and he did.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, Michael holding my hand, reciting the
vows, then whispering in my ear, "I want you." Delicious tingles up my legs,
inside of me.
The reception was endless-the consummate gentlemen, Michael greeted, hosted,
mingled. But his eyes were always on me, adoring, hungry.
Then, finally, the honeymoon "suite"-a secluded cabin in the cool hills of
western Maine. The room full of flowers, champagne, a sensuous silk neglige
spread on the four poster bed. Michael smiled as my eyes widened at the array
of video equipment. "Don't be embarrassed," he murmured in my ear, "I want to
hold this moment forever, I want to see your face again and again as I take you
this first time, make you mine." I warmed to his words, thought maybe I'd like
that, too. I asked him to help me remove my wedding gown, but he shook his head
no. He wanted to slowly undress me, take hours, tease me, pleasure me. He
gently lifted me, lay me on the bed. And then he reached into the bedstand and
removed padded restraints. I looked at him in total love, complete trust as he
gently bound my hands, tying my arms above my head and to each of the bed posts.
He kissed me gently, then used his ascot to blindfold me. He leaned in close,
"I'm going to make you feel like you've never felt before." Then he rose, moved
away. I could hear him fiddling with the cameras. "I'll be right back, " I
heard the door open, "I left something really wonderful in the car."
He was gone for so long. I began to worry, tested my bonds. I was well
secured, no hope for escape. "He's teasing me," I thought, "He's standing
outside the door right now, waiting for me to cry out." I resolved I would
not-I would prove my love, my trust, by remaining silent, waiting patiently.
Mens voices. What on earth? Why would anyone else be here? Perhaps the
ranger, or a neighbor. Michael would get rid of them.
Finally, the door opened. The sound of feet-MANY feet. Oh, how embarrassing!
Probably friends come to give us a final bash. Approaching the bed, but no one
spoke. "Michael?" I called his name, becoming frightened at the silence, at
the sound of breathing. Someone kneeling beside me on the bed. I felt
relief-Michael. "Michael, untie me please-who is here?"
A hand in my hair, suddenly, hatefully jerking my head to the side, fingers
forcing my mouth open, a ball gag jammed cruelly between my jaws. I struggled,
confused, terrified. What was happening? Dear God, who was this, where was
Michael? Boisterous laughter at my struggles-how many? Eight, nine? The sour
smell of sweat and alcohol. For the first time I realized that I would be raped
if Michael didn't return, didn't intervene. My virginity, saved for him, would
be torn from me by the cocks of perfect strangers.
A hand on my breasts, squeezing, groping. Another pushing my gown up. I began
to thrash wildly, kick out blindly. And I connected-heard an "Oof!" as my foot
caught one of them in the chest. And then my legs were grabbed, pulled apart
painfully by at least two of them. "You fucking whore," one of them gasped-the
one I'd kicked, no doubt, "I'm going to make you bleed for that." My legs being
pulled up, back, and tied to the sides of the bed, pulled back so sharply that I
was practically on my knees, but still on my back. Spread so wide I was almost
stretched to splits. And then the hands, roughly yanking my dress up, toying
with the tops of my stockings before yanking aside my panties, painfully parting
my virgin lips. More hands, sharply tearing the bodice of my wedding gown,
exposing my breasts within the white lace bra. Calloused hands snapping the bra
straps, plunging into the cups to pinch, pull. I wailed against the ball gag,
my back arching, thrashing from side to side, breasts bouncing as I struggled to
escape their cruel touch.
The hand between my legs was rubbing harshly against my clit, pausing to pinch
it, squeeze it. "What are you doing?" One of them laughed sharply.
"Trying to get her wet." was the reply.
"Don't worry about it-she'll be slick with blood and cum soon enough."
And then a finger pushing into my dry, tight hole. Scraping, seeking my hymen.
My hips began bucking wildly, trying to dislodge this agonizing invader.
And then the cock. I had never felt a cock against me before, but I knew.
Hard, fleshy, hot, touching my belly, then trailing down, pushing up and down
against my clit. Unyielding, it felt so big! And then pushing mercilessly
against the opening to my virgin hole, grinding against me. I pulled my hips
back, tried to escape, but I was helpless against my bonds as this huge, ridged
monster tore into me, one centimeter at a time. My hips bucked wildly with the
pain, I howled with it behind the gag, breasts heaving, back arched in agony.
Deeper and deeper he drove, sinking this trunk of a cock into me until he was
buried to the hilt. Raucous laughter as my own involuntary bucking and
twitching drove him into me again and again. And then his dirty hands on my
hips, his cock slamming into me, rending my hymen, .shaking me with the mighty
force of his wild thrusts.
As he pumped hatefully, another set of hands grasped my head, removed the ball
gag. I drew breath to scream, but that cry was stifled by a giant cock crammed
between my lips, into my mouth. It was so big-I thought my jaws would break.
They were driven so far apart by it that I couldn't even bite. And then it
pushed to the back of my throat as I gagged, struggled for air. Persistently it
pressed, hands in my hair, forcing my head further and further down the shaft
until something gave, and it was down my throat. I couldn't breathe, I
couldn't scream-I couldn't even whimper. And suddenly I knew I would die. I
would suffocate with this giant cock down my throat, all the while being fucked
raw by the other. I felt myself drifting, beginning to lose consciousness, when
the man in my throat pulled out-not all the way, just enough to allow me to pull
in one ragged breath-then he slammed back into me, began fucking my face
furiously. I felt his balls smacking my chin, could smell his unwashed stink.
I swallowed back the vomit, knowing that, if I threw up, I would choke.
The stabbing thrusts from the man in my pussy hit a fevered pitch before he
yelled triumphantly and came inside me. I felt his load spurting into me, felt
his cock twitching as his cum filled me, hot and hateful. Within seconds, the
huge rod in my mouth began to jerk, spit even as the man slammed it into my
throat again and again. My mouth filled, I gagged, feared I would drown. He
forced my head down to his belly, his cum now spurting directly into my throat.
I felt it, steaming, rushing toward my belly. "You puke, you're dead, cunt."
I swallowed back the cum that had been rising in my throat. If I could just
stay alive until Michael came back. He would save me. He would undo this all.
The two who had finished with me, filled me, moved away, and two more moved in.
I began to beg, "Please, please stop, please no more!" They laughed, and I felt
this new cock pressing against my sore pussy, insistent, driving into me. Much
bigger-dear God, this one was so big! I screamed with it, but my cry was cut
short by another giant prick in my pink mouth. My lips closed around it, sweet
and soft forced around cruel and hard. Again I choked, struggled for air as my
face was fucked. And then a voice from across the room, "Hey, I have this
idea-you guys game?" They stopped, but didn't pull out of my mouth, my pussy.
I lay there, filled, as I listened with horror to the monster's plan. And then
he was working his way behind me, under me. I screamed around the cock filling
my mouth, bucked against the giant tool impaling me, pinning me down. I felt
this new one's cock squirming against my sweet ass-the ass Michael often patted,
praised. Felt it huge and stiff, probing my crack, then finding its target-my
puckering, tense rectum. And then he shouted gleefully, thrusting viciously
upward, tearing into me with no lube. I gagged, squeals muffled by the manhood
in my mouth, hips gyrating wildly, trying to escape this new torture. The cock
in my mouth thrust hard, forcing it's way deep in my throat, silencing me
completely. The cocks in me played off one another, first one tearing thrust
driving me down, then another forcing me up. The thin membrane between the two
strained, threatened to tear. And then another man, mounting, climbing onto my
belly. My breasts grabbed, squeezed together harshly around his tool. And he
began to fuck my tits. Laughing, cock sliding back and forth between them,
faster and faster as the other three cocks picked up the pace. And then another
belly load of cum, followed by the hot, sticky spurting, splashing my neck, my
face. More cum in my pussy, in my poor ass. I could feel it running slowly out
of me, mixing with my blood, staining my dress. My wedding day. This was my
wedding day.
I lost count. Some fucked me two, maybe even three times. I was stunned
finally, still. My body buffeted by the fuckings, slammed against my bonds.
Was it possible to be fucked to death? My tired mind thought maybe so. And
then they stopped. Abruptly, no word, no warning, just stopped. I became
hopeful, perhaps they were finally done with me? Dear God, please. And then
the door opening, the horrible words, "Hey, Mike, she was great-mind if I call
some friends?"
THE END