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Nerves before a wedding are normal, right? Everyone gets nervous. This isn’t my first marriage; I’ve been down the aisle before, so why am I sweating? Why are vultures swooping and swirling in my stomach? Why does the “Wedding March” sound like a death knell? It’s because I’ve made a discovery about the man I love, the man I plan to marry today. Now, I’m afraid I’ve ruined it all.

See, I snoop. I can’t help it, never could. So what if it was his laptop, I needed to check my email, see if there were any messages from my Lit friends. I keep telling myself that he wanted me to find it, wanted me to see the history of websites he’d been visiting. I had no idea. Men in panties. Men taking a strap-on cock in the ass. Bright red lipstick underneath the faintest 5 o’clock shadow on the upper lip, wrapped around a dildo. Very hairy male asses with stripes and red cheeks from canes and paddles. Digging deeper, I found my best pair of La Perla panties buried underneath profit and loss sheets in his briefcase, with evidence of not just my pussy, but his semen, too. My recent shortage of wearable underthings makes a lot more sense now. I made a decision there and then. I would not, could not, enter into another marriage unless everything was up front and on the line between us. So, I took action.

I went shopping. Mind you, it was online shopping, but still, shopping all the same. When my spree was over I had amassed a mountain of toys and bits of froth and lace all in his size. There was a buttery yellow camisole, shimmery thongs in the color of the deepest sea, sheer thigh high nylons, strap-ons, and dildos and cock rings. Oh, my. I looked at the lot of things on the bed and made a plan and a note.

See, I wasn’t the only one hiding things. I’ve been writing stories for an erotic website for a long time. Karma, or the cosmos, or what have you, laughed at me, holding its sides, rolling on the floor laughing at me, pissing itself laughing at me because in the history of sites I had seen while snooping were my own stories! I didn’t check to see if he had bookmarked them; damn, I wish now I had. Hmmmm, I wonder if he’s sent me feedback? He looked at the Fetish category, at Toys and Masturbation, and my favorite, BDSM.

So, since I write, because that’s what I mecidiyeköy escort do, I wrote. I wrote a long letter to him, explaining who I was. I told him I’m still the same girl he loves and proposed to, just so much more. I explained what I was, an author who writes erotica. I explained how I was; a little embarrassed and a lot aroused to find out the man I love has many of the same kinks as me, as well as an explanation of how I found him out. I wrapped up the note in some nice stationary and tucked it into an envelope, and added a list of instructions. It’s that list of instructions that gives me pause. What if I’m wrong? Please, don’t let me be wrong.

I told him, in that list of instructions, that on the morning of the wedding, the doorbell would ring. He should answer the door, tip the delivery boy, and take the box upstairs to his bedroom well before time to leave his house for the chapel and follow the list of instructions. Here’s the list of instructions:

Darling, I hate so much that we’ve hidden these parts of ourselves from each other. I don’t know why, except that I was afraid you’d find out that I wasn’t what I’ve pretended to be and you wouldn’t love me. Nothing you could do or say could change the way I feel about you. I’m taking a huge leap of faith here, and I think that if you’ll leap with me, we can have the happy ever after we both want so badly. Please read and follow these instructions:

Once we’re married, you may address me as Mistress or My Darling in private. No other form of address will be tolerated. Open the box and inside you’ll find a silver vibrating egg. There is no remote control in the box. I’ll have it. Drop the egg inside a condom and tie a knot in the end. Use a little of the enclosed lube to slide the egg and condom inside your ass, and use a little adhesive tape or something to stick it to your butt cheek. Don’t want it getting lost, do we?

Next, open the stockings and roll them up your legs, one by one. Take some pictures along the way. I want to see my little slut getting all dolled up for our wedding. I’m sorry I can’t be there in person to see to your preparations, but I’m sure you’ll follow my instructions to the letter. There will be strict punishment if you don’t.

Now, taksim escort slide the garter belt up and attach the straps to your stockings. The flower goes in front, in case you didn’t know (channeling a little Bull Durham, sorry.) Look at you, don’t you look pretty! Now put on the panties. Feel how soft and silky they are? Feel how nicely they slide across your cock? It’s my cock now, honey. Mine to do with as I like. Mine to tease, mine to torture, mine to suck, mine to slap, mine, mine, mine. Say it. Yours, yours, yours. That’s it.

See that pretty camisole? Put it on. Feel how cool it feels against your chest? Does it make your nipples hard? Now, just a dab of the Tiger Balm in the box on your nipples. Not so cool now, are they? You’re being very brave, and you’ll be rewarded.

Now, slip your socks on, and finish dressing in your tuxedo. I’ll see you at the church. I’ll know if you’ve followed my instructions.

So, those were my instructions. Here I sit, alone in my bedroom, dressed in my wedding dress and wondering if there’ll be a groom for me at the altar. I’ll let you know.

EPILOGUE

Today is my anniversary. I can hardly believe the way things have changed. One year ago I married the man I love. I can remember vividly the walk down the aisle. I went unescorted; no one was giving me away. I was offering myself, hoping he’d be doing the same. I had a tiny remote control tucked into my bouquet. Step after step, I edged closer to my husband. He was standing at the altar, so handsome, so pretty. His facial expression gave no clue as to whether or not he’d followed my instructions. As soon as we drew side by side, I had to find out. No sense in going further if he hadn’t. I moved the little switch on the remote I had hidden inside my bouquet. His eyes widened, as did his smile. I knew the little egg tucked neatly inside his ass was pinging away at his prostate. The blush on his face crept up his cheeks as he took my hand. We exchanged vows, we exchanged rings, and we exchanged bodies and souls. That day, he gave himself to me. He gave his cock to me. He gave his orgasms to me. I control them. It works for us. It may not work for every married couple, but it works for us.

The limo ride following the ceremony was most şişli escort interesting. I managed somehow to find the button to raise the privacy screen. Finally, we were alone for a while, albeit a short while. I glanced at his pants to see the erection tenting the front of his pants.

“I’ve got something for you,” I whispered. Pulling up my gown, I exposed the boxer shorts worn beneath. Inside was the strap-on harness I’d ordered, attached to the most realistic looking dildo I could find. “Taste me,” I ordered.

I could see him stammer and try to find words. Finally, a “Yes, Mistress” slid effortlessly from his lips.

He bent and took the head of the dildo in his mouth, sliding his lips down over the shaft. Tiny grunts and growls of need arose from his throat, but I used my fingers to raise his head by the chin.

“I didn’t tell you to suck it, slut, only taste it.”

“But, Mistress,” he stammered.

“No excuses,” I replied. I ordered him across my lap, and his ass met with 10 stinging slaps across his buttocks. I could feel him clench each time, and knew he was getting close to orgasm, as his hard cock nestled against my rubber one. I flicked on the little switch in my bouquet again, knowing it would likely push him over the edge. His body bucked, he groaned, and I knew spurt after spurt of semen was filling his panties.

“Mistress, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, ashamed. “I did want you to find my kinks. I’ll admit that I left the computer on just for that reason. I want to belong to you. I want to be a slut for you. I want to serve you. I found a Word document you had written, and I’ve never read anything as exciting in my life. Please, say you’re not angry.”

“I’m not angry,” I answered. “I’m sad that we waited this long to really know each other. We’ve wasted so much time.”

We were arriving at the reception hall and he looked at me, stricken. “Mistress, what will I do with all this?” He motioned to his pants, a little damp in the front from the orgasm he’d had.

I unzipped a little, reached my hand inside, took a swipe of semen from inside his panties and smeared it across his lips.

“Wear it,” I commanded. “You can lick it off with the cake frosting.”

The picture of us cutting the cake is my favorite one now. I still smile when I look at it, remembering his grin as I fed him a bite of wedding cake, and the blush he got when he licked his lips, the little vibe inside his ass buzzing as he swallowed. It may not be a happy ever after for most folks, but it works for us.

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