by Nikki Sex
Alright, I’m exaggerating. But I grew up with a miserly father, so I know the value of money.
The wedding cake was pretty. Three tiers with some sort of flavorless icing. Big frigging deal. That cost about what most people would spend on a week’s rent. I suggested that we should have just organized a few trays from Krispy Kreme. Of course, I never really expected Emily to agree with that. They would have tasted better though.
What’s the point of a big formal wedding? Marriage I get. Marriage means Emily belongs to me and I belong to Emily.
A big wedding is too stressful for the bride. It just feels like having a party with a lot of people, most of whom you hardly know (but can’t offend by not inviting) and relatives you try hard to avoid the rest of the time. Plus you can’t really relax and enjoy yourself because you’re in the spotlight.
Women come and try to outdo each other’s outfits, fashions, wealth and even boyfriends. While their men shuffle around awkwardly, hoping that the wedding doesn’t give their girlfriend any ideas about demanding a wedding of her own.
Jai was there of course, as were John and Kelly. André Chevalier came and approved our union. It meant a lot to me that he finally considers me worthy of Emily. Well, maybe almost or approaching worthy. Our Basement club friends were happy to share in our special day, although they would’ve much rather gone to a slave collaring.
We’ll have a ceremonial collaring later. My beautiful wife is uncomfortable at the thought of being put on display. It may take a while to teach her to embrace a public scene. I want her to enjoy it. I want to show her off however, so it will happen in time. I’ll want my slave naked when she formally accepts my collar.
As usual for that crowd, there was an interesting undercurrent at that table, a sexually charged energy. Hell, it might’ve been my own energy. I was dying to really claim my beautiful bride.
Reese, Emily’s older brother, was my Best Man. He enjoyed the whole thing, but I suspect that was because he was stoned off his head. I’m going to have words with him because that boy is smoking way too much pot. I had a nervous moment at one point, when I was sure that Reese would burst out laughing during the ceremony.
I’m just glad that he didn’t lose our rings.
Marrying Emily was the best part of it. Marriage to the one you love makes everything worthwhile.
I did find it entertaining to have a mysterious brother who looks just like me there. Seeing people’s reactions to this surprise was fun. Naturally, nobody knew where he’d come from. Since I’d never talked about him, many assumed there must have been some particularly juicy gossip concerning our estrangement.
My half-brother Colton is such a friendly guy that nobody was impolite enough to ask him about it. Still, I expect to hear some creative rumors starting when we get back. Just more fun and games.
Colton sat next to my mother. You wouldn’t believe it but those two got on like long lost friends. He showed mom a picture of his mother and guess what? They did have a drug-assisted ménage together with Gordon Child! No wonder Colton and I were born days apart.
This little tidbit made Colton’s day. Hell, not just his day. More like his week, his year and his lifetime. Colton looked as though he was going to explode from the joy of it.
Finally, after a lifetime of snobby condescension from his controlling bitch of a mother, he had an out. His prim and high-society prissy mom wasn’t always so perfect. Could there ever be a more life-changing shift in power?
Colton took a picture on his phone of him and my mother and sent a text to her saying, ‘This is Paul Jarman’s mom. She says she knows you. Do you remember her?’
Colton figures that he can draw this out for a long time. His mother will be stuck wondering, ‘Does my son know about my ménage with his father? Or doesn’t he?’
Nothing like a bit of personal blackmail to keep a family together – and a bit of leverage, to keep them in line.
Just before our wedding, Emily and I finally flew out to meet Gordon Child. Colton’s manners and temperament must’ve come from Gordon because he’s the nicest guy. He explained that he had AIDS, another surprise. I don’t know why he told us. It wouldn’t make any difference to me or Emily.
It’s good to know that my biological dad doesn’t have some hereditary ailment that might bite me in the ass in the future. It’s seriously messed up that such a great guy is going to die. I wish I’d known him much, much longer.
We’re booked to visit again next week. Emily and I both want to take advantage of the time that we have left.
My newly discovered father has a ton of money. So much that there’s no point for anyone to fight about it. Enough said about that.
After our six hour plane trip, my sweet rabbit and I sit down on the couch together, with her on my lap. She’s wearing a sexy cotton sarong ‘a la Hawaii.’ A woolen coat kept her warm on the flight home. She drinks a hot chocolate and I have a beer.
I give her a squeeze and a kiss and say, “I’m so glad that you married me Mrs. Jarman.”
She hugs me back. “I’m glad I married you too, Mr. Jarman. My dear husband.”
Her eyes go dreamy and I wonder what she’s thinking. Is it luvvv? Unfortunately she clears that up fairly quickly. I sigh, because it wasn’t what I was hoping for.
“We had a wonderful wedding,” she says. “What did you like best about it?”
My initial and honest answer is that I didn’t enjoy it. It cost a ridiculous amount of money and was a sane man’s nightmare. Other than the ceremony, our wedding was six hours of torture at worst and particularly in our case, a humorous family satire at best.
“What did you like about it?” I ask.
Emily gushes and slides to the couch next to me so that she can meet my gaze while gesturing enthusiastically with her hands. Her happiness is what I liked best, I realize. Making Em happy is worth it.
“Our wedding was beautiful. Really beautiful,” she says. “I was a nervous wreck and I wasn’t sure how all of our parents would get along, but I think what I liked best was when the minister said, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’ All that clapping and people standing up and cheering. I saw my mom crying and it brought tears to my eyes to see her so happy. It was wonderful.”
“What about our first dance?”
“That was best, too. Honestly, Bo Bo. Once I got over my initial anxiety, I relaxed and had a really good time. “Ce qui sera sera: whatever will be will be, I decided. And it turned out to be the best wedding ever.”
Her eyes meet mine. “But what about you? What did you like best?”
I smile and pull her into my arms. “You coming down the aisle toward me,” I say. “You were so incredibly beautiful that you made me want to cry. I felt so grateful and so lucky to have you in my life.”
“Aw,” Em says and crushes her lips against mine. She pulls back suddenly. “That’s so sweet, Bo Bo.”
I grin. “And all through our wedding and throughout the reception afterwards, I couldn’t stop thinking about the things I wanted to do to you while on our honeymoon.”
“Oh?” she murmurs, slanting me a sexy, naughty look from under her dark lashes. “I don’t think we were able to do everything on our honeymoon, do you?”
This is true. For a start we didn’t have a soundproof playroom in Hawaii, like we do here in our own home. I feel her brushing her breasts up against me and become instantly hard.
“Emily,” I say in a low voice. “Are you teasing your husband?”
Her blue eyes dance with lust and mischief. I hold my breath for a moment while I try to decide exactly what I want to do with her. So many possibilities. Just as I’m about order her to put on her collar and cuffs, get on her knees and wait for me in our playroom – Em’s phone rings.
I frown as she stands up to get it from where she’s left it on the table. She answers with patient good humor. I would have turned the damn thing off. I hear one side of her conversation. It has something to do with her mother.
“Yes, yes. Really?” She gives a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Okay. No, I’m not sure when I can get there, we just got home. Okay. I’ll be there soon as I can. Okay, bye.”
“What the fuck is that?” I demand to know, standing up with instant annoyance.
Emily’s mother still hassles her for attention. We’re newlyweds, just back from our honeymoon and we were just about to fuck. Shit. My cock is hard and my entire body’s activated the launch sequence.
“I’ve got to go over to mom’s house.”
“No way! We just got home.”
My stubborn rabbit uses her most calm and reasonable tone of voice. “Paul, she had a fight with her boyfriend. It’s the first guy she’s been with since dad, so she’s understandably upset.”
“I don’t care,” I snap back at her. “I swear to God, your mom is a human sponge! She’d just suck the life right out of you if you give her the chance. The woman has to learn to figure it out on her own.”
“Oh really?” she says with a snide bite to her voice. “And I suppose that if your father whistled, you wouldn’t go running to him?”
I’m almost speechless at this unexpected snarky comment, but I manage to say calmly, “My dad doesn’t run around crying and making his son feel guilty for not paying more attention to him. He doesn’t demand that I come over every time there’s a bump in the road. Not like some mothers do.”
Oh man, this really sets her off. I’m pretty sure that the reason it makes her so mad is because there’s some truth in it.
Em loudly slams her cup into the sink. “You’ve never liked my mother!” she screams.
Now she’s being unreasonable. “I’ve always liked your mom and you know it.”
Emily’s absolutely furious.
I’m absolutely furious.
We both virtually chest up to each other.
It’s pretty funny.
And seriously hot.
Whenever we have a passionate fight, it always ends with phenomenal sex. I make a show of looking at my watch. Then I give her my most ferocious Dom look and say sternly, “I’m going to give you exactly five seconds to start running. Five, four –.”
There’s triumph in her eyes as she screeches an incoherent swear word and takes off.
“– three, two, one!”
I think I’ve just been played.
You wouldn’t imagine that there’s too many places to run in our small home, but Emily is pretty sneaky and manages to give me a challenge.
My little rabbit can run but she can’t hide. She does manage to violently slam doors behind her and throw a number of things at me, or in my way.
“You’re going to be sorry,” I yell when I finally catch her, grabbing her dress. She turns and bends somehow and the damn thing slides right off of her.
I’m so stunned and ridiculously pleased about this unexpected occurrence that I let her slip away.
Squealing, Em runs off, wearing only panties.
I stand there holding her empty sarong while my pulse spikes to see all that gorgeous bouncing bare flesh.
Did you know that women don’t wear bras under their sarongs? I can assure you that this is something that I’m not likely to forget in the near future.
The chase is on again. Passion escalates. Emily throws a chair at me, a violent action that further ramps up my heart rate. We’re both breathing hard.
“You’re going to pay for that, you vicious little bitch.” Keeping to my role, I snarl this vague threat just as any wicked violator might do.
I eventually trap her in the basement. With a bed, chains, rope and lots of toys, this is a favorite place for us to play.
Emily holds me off with a broom, of all things. Panting, flushed, glistening with sweat and her hair disheveled, she grins wildly like a fiend from hell, while bouncing up and down in her excitement.
My eyes fix on what all of that jumping does to her breasts.
Em’s such an aggressive little warrior woman. You’d never know it to look at her.
We’ve played this game so many times before. This is our rape / rough sex scenario and every single time it’s different. Neither of us has tired of it so far. It’s a no-rule game. Emily can climax as much as she likes. I can climax as much as I’m able. We both play it however the mood takes us.
A somewhat ferocious skirmish ensues. During the struggle, Em manages to knock my ear with the broom while I fight to take it from her.
Releasing her, I back off. “Fucking ouch,” I call out and immediately put my hand to my ear.
Em laughs hysterically and does a mad victory dance. She’s grinning like a savage Amazon-woman, or maybe like one of the adolescent children around the bonfire in ‘Lord of the Flies.’
I narrow my eyes. “You’re going to be sorry,” I growl with menace. I hold up the short silk rope I managed to grab on the way through, shaking it threateningly at her. “You’ll beg me for mercy, slut, but you won’t get mercy from me.”
Her mouth drops with an audible gasp when she sees how deadly serious I am. Her eyes open wide in an instant of genuine fright. Of course, that only adds a delicious jolt of even more adrenaline to the proceedings.
Fear, pain, and uncertainty are wonderful spices to add to a sexual feast, but these are an acquired preference and not for the common palate. This kind of rough sex is for those with a taste for burning chili, hot sauce and cayenne perhaps; rather than the sweetness of vanilla or cinnamon.
Oh, I hunger for her. My little rabbit is more than a meal for me. I want to take her, use her and slake my animal urges on her body. My lust is an intense, single-focused craving.
I need to feed on her.
I have no thought of the broom or my ear anymore. I don’t care.
“No! No!” she wails when I ferociously throw myself upon her. “Get off of me, you bastard!”
Swinging wildly, Emily punches me with both fists, but I’m good with a rope. I know exactly how to fix that problem with her arms.
“You can’t say no to me, you little whore,” I growl. “You’re just going to just have to take it. Take what I give you. I’m going to do whatever I want.”
I throw her on the bed face down, she kicks, bites and tussles madly.
“Fucking asshole,” she manages to yell into the pillow as loudly as she can.
It’s a brutal struggle, but with a knee to her back, I hold her down. I suspect that my wife is part wildcat or maybe part demon. Who would think that such a sweet little girl had so much spunk in her?
I mentally smirk, remembering that the British definition of spunk is semen. I laugh. She’ll have a hell of a lot more spunk in her before I’m through.
“You watch your mouth, bitch,” I sneer, keeping the game going. “Or I’ll show you what a woman’s mouth is for.” I finally succeed in tying her hands behind her back.
“Pig!”
I’m panting hard and so is she. Every part of my being is concentrated on overpowering this luscious, sexy woman. I need to spread her legs, strip those panties off and take her. Mark her as mine and claim her. All of my will is bent toward burying myself inside of her.
I lie on top of Em, covering every inch of her body, pinning her down. She’s restrained by my weight. Undeterred she relentlessly squirms and struggles beneath me.
Sensation flows in waves through me from the way that her tight ass moves against me. My already stiff cock hardens further.
We’re both sweating, wrestling and breathing hard.
“You horny little whore,” I snarl, still acting the part of a rapist. “You want it, don’t you? Well I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to have bruises,” I grunt, rigid with raw and driving need. “I’m going to slam into you until you beg me to stop –” I pant in her ear – “but I’m not going to stop. I’m going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you some more...”
I curl my fingers around her neck and grip her throat firmly. “And when I’m finished with your
cunt, I’m going to take your ass and then that nasty little mouth of yours. Let’s see if you can scream and curse with my cock down your throat.”
“No! Oh no, please, mister,” she shouts a strident cry.
Then I bite her right in the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder. Emily screams and struggles even harder. I clamp down tight and don’t let go. It isn’t a painful bite, more a way of letting her know who’s in charge.
I stay right there holding her down and gripping her throat determinedly with my hand. My teeth fasten into her flesh until I feel her resistance ease.
Emily’s like a she-wolf when the male wolf has caught her; snappy, snarly, and bitey. Yet when I override her resistance, she surrenders completely.
The truth is that she really wants to get fucked. Just as much as I want to fuck her.
“That’s better,” I growl as I rip her panties off.
I stroke across her stomach, over her soft, silky mound and down between her legs. I snake my hand under her, to see how wet she is and to reward her for giving in.
Em moans when I touch her – her cunt drips with arousal. She’s hot and sweaty and she smells fantastic. Like an aroused male wolf, I want to rub myself all over her. I want to drown my whole body in her scent.
“That’s my good girl,” I say, in a low guttural voice. “I know what you want.” We both continue to breathe hard. “Slick, warm and ready for me, aren’t you?” I flick her clit.
“Oh, God,” she pants and she circles, pumping her hips and grinding against my hand.
I laugh at her wanton behavior, but her moans, sighs and tremors of pleasure are driving me to madness.
I’m not waiting a second longer.
I grab her hair and roughly jerk her head backwards so that I can see into her eyes. “Stay,” I command her. She gives an accepting nod.
I let her go and quickly unzip. My jeans don’t go any lower than my thighs I’m in such a hurry. With one vigorous thrust, I push inside.
We both groan loud and long as I bury my cock, balls deep inside of her slick swollen heat. That first moment of entry is always divine for me, it probably is for any man. My woman has submitted, my purpose is achieved.