Nadya's Wedding: Chapter 1
You look stunning, sweetheart, shining in dazzling white. The satin folds spread out around you, touching the ground behind you, and your chest strains against the material due to the tightness of the lacing down your back. I'm so glad we opted for the close-fitting dress. You have the most beautiful curves and the envy has been apparent all day. But now everyone is silent and anxious for the next phase of the ceremony.
The room has been meticulously arranged per our instructions. The seats are grouped in circles but strategically offset to give everyone a clear view. The seating plan was a topic of debate, but determining who would get to witness the stunning agony of your face throughout the moment of orgasm was crucial. We considered who would find it more enticing to see you being fucked by me and who would be most excited by witnessing you in your most vulnerable state. We also inquired who should sit in the front row, where the experience would be raw and unadulterated. It should be intriguing to observe how long it takes for them to refrain from touching themselves or their neighbors. Everyone is aware of the rules, which forbid them from moving from their seats until the ceremony has ended, whenever we deem that moment. I predict a night filled with significant sexual tension for our guests.
We put a lot of thought into designing the stage for your comfort. It has been designed to resemble the end of the bed where I brutally fucked you a few months ago. However, we created it to allow you to kneel and then bend forward, resting on deeply padded, crimson velvet surfaces. We considered the possibility of utilizing shackles, but we agreed that you had the willpower to maintain this position. Moreover, I wanted your hands unrestrained so that you could openly welcome me and the range of motion of your thighs. The addition of a silk heart-shaped silhouette beneath your spread legs was our special touch, which will catch and stain with my semen as it leaks out of you and become a permanent memento of this vital day. It will also serve as a visual aphrodisiac for our audience.
And let's not forget the multiple cameras that will capture every moment of our passion for our ongoing delight and for the delight of those unfortunate enough to be excluded from this event but who will be watching on the enormous external screen. They will witness every exhalation as we thrust inside you, on the surround sound. Naturally, they would've all preferred to be with us, but they are fortunate enough to enjoy the sexual tension of everyone else in the room as they become more aroused. These ceremonies frequently turn into a frenzied orgy, and some are so inconsiderate as to have sex even before we start. Unofficial betting among onlookers suggests this will be the longest and most provocative fuck-fest of the year.
So, now it's time, my love. Removing my shirt is the customary cue. Then, I'll embrace your face with both hands, kissing you with all the compassion and eternity I possess. I want you to achieve transcendent bliss and tranquility, as well as complete submission.
Now, I'll take you by the hand and lead you to your designated spot. The sound of your train brushing the floor is audible to those outside, and you smile graciously at the camera and your guests before you. They are fading into the background, and all that matters is the connection between us.
I delicately elevate the end of your wedding gown train from the ground, folding it over and over again. Even though it's a tangled wreck by the time I reach your legs, the anticipation in the space intensifies. Pants are being surreptitiously adjusted for optimal cock comfort, and moist vaginas are being discreetly tended to. Someone swallows audibly. The subsequent fold will raise your dress over your derriere. Only you and I are privy to this knowledge, but the gossip suggested you wouldn't wear underwear. After all, it would have spoiled the sleek silhouette of the dress framing your waistline. Those closest to us could likely have deduced this if they paid close enough attention when you walked down the aisle.
I proceed to the next move. The mesmerizing white is overtaken by the luscious tan of the firmest butt in the nation. This time, everyone in the area lets out a gasp. For a long time, they've all desired to see you naked. Now, a small portion of your attractiveness comes to the forefront against the stark backdrop of your gown. Outside the camera is still striving for a close-up of your privates for the viewers, but they must wait patiently. You take a look around at the hundreds of eyes on you, yet you don't truly take in their presence. You yearn to have these individuals there to bear witness to the moment you officially give yourself to me, and share your exhilaration with them, by allowing them to observe.
Your derriere is a specimen of such beauty, and I know that I'm the luckiest man in the world every day merely by witnessing it as I have intercourse with you. Nonetheless, today is special, and I want to pay special tribute to the woman I cherish. I kneel behind you and gaze upward, the spot all men, and most ladies, would long to occupy. I let my palms rest upon your ankles before gradually moving them up along your supple skin until I'm softly caressing your uncovered bottom. I could remain there for hours, delicately teasing you, at times even permitting my fingers to linger in your crack, or even descending further to where your wetness is blossoming like a mist from between your legs.
Are you prepared, I wonder? I think so. I disconnect my belt, one notch after the other, from my jeans. You can't see it, but you can feel the response from the audience and I spot you tensing slightly. This bodes well. It's preferable that you're somewhat prepared.
You're familiar with this belt. It's the one featuring mixed blues, medium width, but obviously woven, so the pattern is determined. Additionally, it is slightly elasticated, which gives it an even harsher snap when it lands. It is presently unattached from the remaining loop and I wrap a few turns around my right palm to ensure the right length and prevent it from slipping.
You appear breathtaking, darling, shimmering in shimmering white. Your behind unveiled. Your body continuing to be still and slightly tense. I partially sit on the bench where you're standing and stroke your hair. I lean my lips to your ear and divulge the words we both crave to hear. "I adore you."
A cheer from outside. It may be they're all romantics. I suspect it's more for the anticipated spectacle to come. I withdraw once more and gaze one last time at your unexcelled beauty. I align myself and, with a force calibrated to amaze us all, crack the belt straight across both cheeks of your uncovered buttocks.
A suppressed cry from the audience - a woman climaxing - could have been drowned out by your shriek if it hadn't continued for a duration. Your nails have penetrated the velveteen and your rear end is quivering, yet you've mostly regained control. And I can't resist guiding a finger to your vagina to detect how wet you've become.
I remain back and wait a short while. We all want to witness the hue deepen across your buttocks - that deepening ribbon of red delicately marked by the fabric of the belt. The viewers beyond have mostly fallen silent, waiting for the subsequent blow, which will soon occur.
I stroke your hair again in the same manner as when I anally penetrate you feverishly. I long to increase your appreciation of contrasting gentleness, so between each slap, I want you to comprehend the boundlessness of our passion. "I adore you, Nadia." I retreated once more and whip you hard again.
I trust that throughout the ten strikes you'll withstand and relish, the optimal vantage point is for those in front of you. Those in the background will discern the expanding redness of your skin. They'll notice how sensitive it becomes, so you can hardly endure the delicate contact between each strike. And they'll see the significant bulge in my pants that urgent wishes to be released. However, it's those in front who'll perceive into your spirit. They'll share your torment as you shriek on each effect and the distortions of your face as you strive to manage your breathing level. They'll, most likely starting from the third stroke I'll give next, witness the appearance of wetness in the corner of your eye and the formation of the first teardrop that commences a slow descent down your face. Nevertheless, they'll also see that intriguing combination of growing satisfaction and tranquility. You're free to request me to halt at any time if you prefer; however, you don't because you want to express surrender, and your vagina and the pulsations of your heart are signaling an ever-increasing satisfaction.
For the third strike, I lower my wrist marginally to have the belt hit the particularly sensitive skin above your thighs. Your wail hits a higher frequency that causes those directly in front of you to involuntarily recoil. The predicted dampness is manifesting itself in the corner of your eye and the first tear drops and begins its gradual journey down your face. [1]
I can sense your intense focus and see it in the firm grasp of your hands as you manage your body's response to the agony, gradually defeating it. I wait until you're calm before I pick up a butterfly wing fold from your dress and let it brush against your exposed, inflamed bottom. You gasp at the heightened sensation of such a delicate touch, and I recognize that if you were given permission, you would love to insert your fingers into your pussy in the way you typically display in photographs when we're apart.
A man in the front row gazing at you has reached the same level of attention. He's seen how I brushed the white fabric against you and is now deliberately grasping and stroking the prominent bulge in his chinos. The lady beside him has seen this and encourages him to apply pressure, causing me to wonder if they came together. It doesn't matter, though, since this is a place of free love. What's more likely is that they'll both orgasm before the day concludes.
I resume my position beside you and run my hands through your hair. I long more than anything to hold you, kiss you, and fuck you incessantly. But you have more punishment to endure first.
In addition to the freedom to undress, touch, kiss, lick, and have sex with anyone they chose, the audience watching from afar had another advantage. After my belt struck your exquisite behind for the fourth time, they were shown the full structure again in slow motion. The screen was split, with one half highlighting your face and the other featuring your knees to the back rim of your hair. They saw your skin dashing white following the first impact as the blood was forced away, and then rapidly regaining its color, transforming into a deep maroon from your previous strikes. They also observed how the single tear from the third strike was joined by a few more, and how long it seemed to take, despite being only a few seconds, for your scream to abate and be replaced by slower, steadier breaths.
Once you've regained control, you catch a glimpse of your special friend straight in front of you in the front row. We have known her for a long time, and her hypersensitivity and sensual nature are what inspired her to secure that unique position. At the occasion, she was dressed in an exquisite emerald gown with a stunning hat overflowing with green and white buds, making her seem like she was at the races. She's smiling at you, relishing your enjoyment. However, you can't help but notice where her foot has slid out from beneath her and how, like you, she's not wearing any underwear. You can't help but envisage your tongue between her legs and feel your own wetness rising again. She was well aware of your reaction.
My fingertips reconnect with your exposed backside. You're rigorously tensioned, causing each stroke to overlap with the previous ones. I'm hoping to create an even, uniform red hue across your ass by the time I finish, although my precision may cause a cluster of pain and pleasure at the centre. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and consider how lucky I am, as well as how much I adore you. This could be what's boosting the force of the sixth stroke, which lands right over the initial one.
Your shriek this time deafens the entire room and lingers even after you've regained your composure. Your body is in a state of involuntary convulsions. But, in this moment, you notice how hard your nipples have become. Now, you anticipate the time when my lips will suck on them and my fingers will squeeze them, even though it's still a long time until that happens. You accept closing your eyes and focusing on the intense arousal in your nipples as your body's spasms decrease.
It's no surprise that not everyone in this room has got stiff nipples. I bet most of them do. But there are cases where it's noticeable, like in the lady seated to your right in the third row. Her eyes appear unfocused and she seems to be gazing straight ahead, but she's quietly removed the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders. Without a bra, she couldn't have done differently. She has exquisite breasts, full and surprisingly pale, and the firmness of her dark nipples is quite visible against the paleness. She's breathing deeply and steadily. I can't quite tell if her hand is between her legs from where I'm standing.
I then shift my focus back to you, my beloved, the woman who features in both my dreams and reality. In the process, I notice another visible exposure up front, happening simultaneously. It's not the initiator of the action, but another woman seated behind. She's leaning forward and untying the buttons of the woman in front, who's gladly allowing it to happen. She's about to undo the last couple of buttons when I first spot it, and a few seconds later, she gently opens the front of her blouse to display the stunning nakedness underneath. The woman that's been revealed doesn't show any response, but she seems quite content to have both the air and multiple sets of eyes on her breasts.
"How are you doing, my love?" It's a rhetorical question, as there's no reply expected or even allowed. We're nearly halfway through this private demonstration of our love for each other. You're my everything, and the immense aching and pain you're feeling from your abused derriere will transform into a breathtaking array of sensations over the course of the upcoming hours.
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