The Wedding

The terrace was sheltered but warm, early spring light scattered between new blooms, the air heavy with the scent of blossom. She slid the hem of her dress higher, stretching her legs and allowing the warmth of the sun to reach her thighs, her head tilting in to the deep cushion of the lounger. She had bought the dress for this wedding, her friend’s daughter, a lavish event and one which she had initially resisted attending.

Unusually her husband was working away, and the overnight cost of staying in this country house - ‘The Castle’ - was more than she had wanted to spend. Certainly more than she’d spend on herself. Her husband, Alex, had surprised her with the booking. ‘Castles are always an adventure’, he’d proclaimed, laughing at her annoyance, ”…and everyone needs an adventure, now and again.” She’d agreed reluctantly, quietly cursing his generosity.

Still, in this moment, lounging in the spring sun, on a private terrace, Abi thanked herself for accepting the invitation. A moment’s quiet before moving inside for the ceremony, an hour away now, but only a short walk to the function room. Her eyes closed, and she slid the hem of her sundress higher, revelling in the warmth spreading across her legs.

It might have been seconds, but Abi was awakened to the sense of his presence: she blinked into the light, fearful, then relieved at his embarrassed cough. ‘Apologies. I was looking for the… the gardens…’ He was backlit and difficult to make out and she jumped visibly, her hands rushing to smooth her dress. Had he been watching her? He was already making excuses to leave and she felt a need to cover their embarrassment.

Their conversation was warm, he was apologetic and funny. He was tall, over six-foot, younger than her, and dressed for the wedding. She couldn’t avoid noticing how appealing he was, those wide shoulders, strong arms, his suit was fitted and he looked at ease with himself. He was confident, and Abi realised it excited her. He complimented her on her choice of dress and she giggled inwardly, the dress she had slid to the join of her thighs, the dress that was barely covering her lingerie as she snoozed in the late morning sunshine, had he been watching her for long?

He offered to accompany her. He was on his own, a distant relative of her friend, enjoying a weekend away after a difficult divorce. Abi was flattered but felt the need to make an excuse, she needed to fix her makeup, grab her bag, he offered to sit with her for the ceremony if she wanted, and she nodded in ascent, she’d meet him in the function room.

Walking in, Abi was relieved to have a companion, he was watching for her, and she smiled, waving to her friend on the front row before taking a seat next to him. She realised she hadn’t asked his name, nor he hers, yet here she was, her elbow grazing his, feeling his warmth alongside her and enjoying his smile as he turned his attention towards her.

“I’m Lawrence,” He anticipated her question.

‘Abi’ she replied.

‘Short for?’

‘Abigail… but I only ever use the shortened version’.

He laughed, open, friendly. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Abi… sorry I woke you earlier.’

She laughed ‘I have been woken in worse ways’.

There it was, a confession. She was embarrassed, blushing, it sounded like she was flirting, unintentionally, but he read it too, and held her gaze before she looked away. Abi was at the end of the bench and felt him move closer, confining her space. His leg against hers now. She was flushed, her stomach knotted, anxiety, excitement… perhaps.

‘Lawrence, I meant that you were polite, and put me at ease, I didn’t mean it to sound…’ She stammered making it worse, her cheeks flushing.

‘I didn’t mean it to sound as though…’ She had no idea what she had meant it to sound like, and paused, but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

‘That’s a shame’, he whispered, directly, leaning in to her ear. ‘I enjoyed being there when you woke.’

Then, quieter, imperceptible, had she heard correctly… ‘…and I’d very much enjoy putting you to bed.’

She was jolted, her back pressed hard against the wooden bench, had she heard that, was it in her mind? He was looking forward now, he couldn’t have, surely. She looked at him intently, his strong cheekbones, stubble. He was definitely handsome, with dark green eyes, skin a deep brown, lines engraved around his eyes by an easy smile.

Abi relaxed, she’d misheard. She was flattered and increasingly drawn to this man, this man who had watched her sleep. She imagined him watching her, felt his gaze across her thighs as she looked at his eyes, she was daydreaming and ought to stop. Her husband was away and she had enjoyed this attention too much, imagined something, something unsaid.

Lawrence brushed her thigh with his hand, above the knee, tracing her hemline.

It was casual, almost routine, as if there were an intimacy between them, rather than them being strangers. He leaned in, voice quiet but clearly audible.

‘I hope we can enjoy the ceremony, and this evening I’d like to be the one to show you more of what the Castle offers’.

‘Lawrence, I think you’ve misunderstood’. Her voice alternated in pitch, this was too far, he knew it. She must stop it.

He removed his hand, grazing hers in the process, then taking her fingers in his.

‘Of course… please allow me to move, I won’t bother you any further Abi’.

Abi felt his fingers slipping and to her own surprise her grip tightened. The wedding march started in earnest and she found herself holding his hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, as she felt that shiver, internal, the rhythm of her heart intersecting with the music as the young bride swept past them.

Turning towards her and close to her ear, his breath on her neck, she heard him clearly now.

‘Don’t you find weddings erotic… knowing this beautiful bride is to end her day making love to her new husband..’

She felt dizzy, trying to make sense of these words, her own actions, the heat of the man next to her, thrilling, delicious and wrong.

‘He has no need to seduce her, she is his, she wants him…’ Lawrence continued, his head tilted against hers now, his cologne overpowering her perfume by his proximity.

‘Do you remember that excitement? Dressing for a new lover, desire overpowering any other consideration, the adventure of it…’. There was a purpose to his words, and she could anticipate where he was going.

‘I enjoyed watching you, and you should know… I wanted you.. then… and now.’ There it was. His words were undeniable and unmistakable.

Abi was watching the wedding, it was movements, perfunctory words, wasted on her now. His words roared in her ears, blocking everything else out.

He let go of her hand and his attention was directed towards the wedding.

Abi struggled, it was easy to say no, she had to say no, and yet his directness had touched something in her. He was handsome, relaxed, and confident. He had watched her, and wanted her, and the thought was exciting. What had he seen, her thighs, her black satin knickers, how high had she raised her sundress? Her mind returned to the scene, each time he looked at her now, it was with intent.

She pressed her thighs together tightly. For a moment she imagined saying yes. Who would know? She could be discreet, weddings were, yes, they were erotic, the promise of sex, could she really allow herself this indulgence, an evening without her husband, a sexual adventure with this confident stranger? His touch shattered her thought, he was pressing his key into her palm, the hard plastic warmed by his hand.

‘Enjoy your meal Abi… we’re unlikely to be sitting together.’

It was as if nothing had happened, yet she was left grasping his room key.

“Lawrence, I….’

‘Come to my room at 10, I’ll ask nothing further.. and no one will ever know. You have my word’. It was matter of fact, as if there were no choice to be made, and she realised her choice might already be made.

The Wedding Night

The wedding was pleasant but performative, and on her table John and Michelle were too keen to impress, with their frequent mentions of new cars and holidays in exotic but seemingly tedious places. A middle aged couple seeking identity through what they could buy, rather than the experiences they might have, or the adventures they might explore.

Abi made her excuses early, retiring to her room and running a bath at 8pm. There she found a note, delivered by reception, from Alex, her husband, from Lawrence?

It had one word on it ‘Fever’. It had to be Lawrence.

A promise, a safeword? The latter excited her. He had already pressed those buttons, her enjoyment of his seduction and her own submission. She would succumb, be his for the night, he expected it, and she in turn would submit. She folded the note into her purse.

At 9.55pm Abi stepped into the lift. He was right, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt such excitement, dressing to seduce and to be seduced. She was shaking, barely able to stand still. Knowing she was on her way to this stranger’s room, the man she only knew as Lawrence.

The man she imagined taking off her dress, looking at her in her lingerie. The man who had already gazed at her legs, her naked thighs, who had expressed his desire for her.

In the lift she imagined submitting to him, fully. Lawrence pushing her to her knees, taking him in her mouth, wilfully, gratefully, enjoying his hardness, imagining his moans as she ministered to him with her tongue.

She was wet as she slid the key card into the suite door and stepped inside.

The suite was large and he sat in a lounge chair opposite her, tie and jacket discarded now, white shirt tight against his toned body, sleeves rolled up.

‘Turn around… unzip your dress. I want to see you’. There was no formality, he was in command.

Abi was fearful, and felt herself step back towards the door, she should flee, she couldn’t go through with this, this wasn’t her, surely?

A respectable woman taking off her dress in a stranger’s suite, revealing her black knickers, her matching bra, her legs freshly shaved as she bathed that evening, her pussy similarly bare, provocative, ready for his enjoyment. Her desire to feel his gaze, so deeply felt that she was consumed by it. Knowing she desired to be consumed by him, to feel him take her, penetrate her, fuck her. Was this who she was now?

Abi unzipped the dress slowly and he moved to her quickly, sensing her anxiety, her fight or flight impulse that he couldn’t indulge. Not if he was to do with her what he wanted. To take this blonde, this married woman, to realise her desire for submission to sex with a stranger, the excitement she would feel giving herself to a new lover.

Lawrence turned her, pressing her body against the full length mirror, grasping her hair in his right hand as his left squeezed her breast. Abi could feel him against her, his suit trousers failing to mask the large bulge against her hip.

In front of Abi, reflected in the mirror, a woman in black lingerie melted against her protagonist, grinding her hips backwards, seeking contact, her lips open, eyes darkened by mascara, sluttish, needful, could it possibly be her? His lips were against her neck, soft, then gently nipping, pinching her ear, telling her what he wanted and documenting her need….

‘Chose a safe word’ Lawrence whispered, ‘…you can use it anytime, everything will stop.’

Abi was spun again… ‘fever’ it came to her lips, a last possibility she failed to utter.

She was lifted onto the huge bed, her knickers slid down her legs and Lawrence was above her, strong, dominant and controlling. Her arms lifted upwards, the scratch of velcro, the snap of those long ties as her wrists were bound, tied to the headboard. Abi realised now this would be different, and she felt herself fall into the feeling, becoming lost in it. She was innocent of any choice, no longer a willing adulterer. Her ankles similarly bound, she was completely vulnerable, at his mercy, his toy, just where she desired to be.

Abi watched as he took off his clothes, his body was hard, muscular and purposeful. The anticipation of him kept her moving, she turned against her bindings, knowing his likely enjoyment at her helplessness. He was moving slowly now, ‘I imagine your husband is a little more gentle with you’. Abi squirmed, he was touching on her desire, to abandon herself, to be used by him. ‘Perhaps, he doesn’t know how much you need this… but I knew it, as soon as you took my hand’.

Abi was raising her hips, unconsciously signalling her desire for him, and she moaned as he stepped away from the last of his clothing. He was bigger than she had imagined and she enjoyed the visual contrast between his slim thighs and his large cock, her knees rolled outward, core muscles contracting, bindings pulling lightly at her ankles. There was no pretence, she could feel the wetness at her centre, pooling at the junction of her thighs, she wanted to feel him, longing now for that moment when she would take him inside her.

Lawrence climbed on to the bed, holding himself above her, before resting his weight between her knees. She groaned at the delicious feeling of him against her, the long shaft sliding up and over her clitoris, pressuring the head of his penis alternately threatening to penetrate, then sliding upwards, spreading her labia, bringing soft cries as she gasped her ascent to his advance.

‘Lawrence…’, she uttered the words softly, ‘please fuck me’. She revelled in the moment, so unlike her, an actress in a play of power and desire.

Lawrence lifted himself, taking more weight. His arms were strong and defined, and she tilted her head towards him, tongue licking his shoulder, teeth nipping his bicep. He was smiling, the only pressure now where they touched, his cock continuing to brush her pubic mound, teasing, sliding relentlessly back and forth, each stroke sending spasms through her pussy as his shaft slid across her clit.

‘Aah… too much too soon, you need to learn some patience, learn to be a good girl for me’.

Lawrence leaned down kissing her lips, parting them, her tongue instantly responding to his kiss. Her desire was urgent and powerful, mouth open wide, lips tasting him, his beard coarser than her husband’s, stubble pricking her chin as his lips trailed downwards, throat wet from kisses.

He knelt back, levering his body away from her, taking her in his gaze, surveying this bound, twisting and moaning creature he had created. The formerly dutiful wife bound to his bed, her legs wide, pleading to be fucked. She was elemental, beautiful and he wanted to ravage her.

Abi watched him, watch her. Had it ever been any other way? She was his prey, something to be consumed, devoured, she felt delirious, uninhibited, freed by her bindings, felt his absence, that ache to feel him against her. She found herself moaning, quietly mewling… ‘please Lawrence’ she pleaded.

Lawrence slid gently downwards, legs bracing against the foot of the bed, arms propped between her knees, his head lowering towards her centre.

Her legs shook as she pushed her hips forward, his tongue caressing her, sweeping upwards spreading her, tasting her warmth and wetness. Louder now, her moaning filled the room, he was skilled and passionate, tongue alternately penetrating, parting her labia, then flicking her clitoris, before his mouth soothed her, covering her pussy. Abi was being eaten, consumed, her pussy flooded his mouth and he devoured her.

She struggled against her cuffs, wanting desperately to press his head against her, smother him between her thighs, grind herself against that tongue. Then the pressure of his fingers inside her, the pleasure of penetration, the need to have something inside, to be filled… by him.

Then absence again, his mouth lifting away, his fingers withdrawn, her need unsatisfied, hips rolling, searching for contact…

‘Close your eyes’. It was clear and assertive, she obeyed instantly.

Lawrence held her ankle, thumbs pressing into her calf before he tore open the velcro fasten on the binding she wore, repeating the same with her other ankle, both legs free now. She kept her eyes closed and the pattern was repeated, her wrists freed from the constraints. She was frightened, but no longer wanting to flee, her only fear now, that this might end.

‘Open your eyes and come to me’. Another command, his voice was deep and rich, and it made Abi tremble.

Lawrence was standing at the end of the bed, and as she opened her eyes she knew instinctively her task. Crawling across the bed and kneeling before him, she reached for his manhood. Her chance to serve, to tease. He was hard, his cock thick, heavy in her hands, the skin velvety, the head wet with his excitement. Abi took him into her mouth hungrily, she was determined to reward him, to taste him, to feed his power over her.

She looked upwards towards him, feigning innocence, as his gaze fixed on her mouth, taking in those soft red lips encompassing his hardness. She wanted to be his, to make him need her, and she caressed the tip of his cock with her tongue, sliding it around slowly, spiralling her tongue along his shaft, saliva coating him. She was revelling in this moment, this strange twist in the power exchange of their encounter.

His eyes were dark now, unforgiving, and Lawrence held her head, gently rocking, fucking her pretty mouth. She had surprised him, and now he would regain control, make her feel him in so many new ways. Her gaze took in the moment, he was in control now and she would be his, a new lover, skilful, younger, he would satisfy the need she had felt since that moment she grasped his hand.

Lawrence lifted her head away and motioned her to her feet, his kiss gentle and erotic, stroking her shoulders. ‘I want you to kneel for me’ the request was matter-of-fact, hushed.

‘I am going to take you from behind, deeply. I want you to feel all of me’. His voice was soothing, calm, it anticipated her lack of resistance.

Abi couldn’t recall being given such explicit instructions before, and it thrilled her. She turned, climbing on to the bed, kneeling, tilting her hips backwards, arching her back, cat like, turning her head and pressing it against the pillows. She felt feline, feminine, alive in the moment.

The first slap shocked her, at odds as it was with the softness in his voice. The second stung and she felt the warmth spread across her bottom. Anticipating a third slap, a spanking, she wriggled, both yielding but anxious, she remained on her knees before him.

Lawrence’s hands gripped her hips, and she arched her back, feeling the pressure against her pussy. She had delighted in his size as she sucked him, enjoying his weight and the lewdness of licking the long shaft of his penis, the visual impact of her tongue against him, her lips sucking on the girth of this new cock, turned her on in ways she hadn’t previously experienced.

Now it was against her, its weight and thickness reminding her of her vulnerability, and she thrilled at the possibility of taking him all. There was something about this position, something that enshrined her submission, it was animalistic, this was not about making love, it was…. she reached for a word, something to capture her want.. it was breeding, it was her being bred by the strong dominant man behind her. It shocked her, the very thought, an image of herself before him on her knees, vulnerable, receptive, filled her vision as she closed her eyes.

The idea sent shivers through her, so base, so unequivocally coarse, she was submitting to being bred, to being mounted by this stranger. These words, new to her, cascaded now, turning her core to liquid, she could taste his sex, goosebumps on her skin, his fingers gripping her waist, one hand pulling her hair, head tilted back, his dominance total, overpowering.

She was lost now, and her submission was final, inviting…..

‘Do you want this…?’ The formalities of consent, otherwise unspoken, now vocalised.

‘Yes, god yes, breed me…’ she purred.

Lawrence groaned at her words, the interplay complete, she spoke to his desire, basic, elemental, empowering.

He looked down, pressing forward, the head of his cock spreading her.

He had anticipated this moment since the glimpse of those black knickers, the long legs, her sleeping, casually exposed to the sun and to his gaze. He had imagined then what he might do with this petite blonde, this older woman, a wife, mother even, his new adventure.

Abi was tight, wet, slick, her body making way for him, he in turn filling her, touching everywhere, at once.

She rocked her hips back, accepting him, felt his hardness stretch her, continue, inch by inch, she wanted all of it, biting down on the pillow, legs trembling. He was controlled, still, his penetration of her complete, allowing her to become used to his size, before slowly withdrawing. The absence an assault on Abi’s desire, her hips circling, urging rhythm. The pause was delicious and he held it, the head of his penis inside her.

Then all of him, hard, unrelenting, legs braced against the bed, pounding her.

The simplicity was stunning, he was inside her, over her, through her, she felt herself screaming, squeezing, trying to hold him inside, as he returned again and again, each thrust stronger, his tempo constant, building her orgasm.

It was overtaking her now and she gave way, tumbling downwards, each sinew stretched, eyes shuttering, pussy spasming around his cock, as he continued fucking her. Then the next, mere seconds away, thighs cramping, muscles flickering as she sought relief, a pause from unconfined pleasure. With nowhere to go, and only acceptance to find, she was glad of his strength, holding her in place, making her take him, his rhythm increasing, his own pleasure culminating, inevitable now.

‘I want to come inside you’. It was desperate, growled.

‘Yes, she cried.. do it, come for me. I want it.’

She arched, pushing backwards, needing him as deep as possible, feeling his explosion inside her, pulsing and warm, deliciously overflowing her. Collapsing now, knees sliding backwards, his weight upon her, she bit her lip gently.

His lust had evoked something in her, a deep feminine yearning, a fulfilment of her need, a need to be… words tumbled. What did she need… ‘to be dominated, to be fucked, to be bred..?’ That word again, she had wanted to satisfy this man and to be satisfied by him.

Exhausted, sated, sleep ready, she closed her eyes, his cock still inside her, his weight enveloping her body.

The Next Morning

Stretching awake, sighing, her body naked. She wondered if she could forgive herself. Lawrence had been clear, no-one would know, nothing had changed. She thought of her husband, his generosity, and his encouragement of her sexuality, his joy in her pleasure, the quiet tease that she might one day enjoy a ‘hallpass’, a brief adventure from their marriage.

Might she share this experience, she wanted him to know, to understand how it had been for her, to explain. She reached for her phone instinctively, there were messages, of course, she had been unfocussed, forgetful. Alex had wondered how she was spending the evening. Abi opened them.

‘You’re quiet. I imagine the wedding is fun, are you enjoying the Castle?’ Alex had solicited a dialogue, but without reply.

‘You used to say weddings were erotic ;-) I hope this lives up to your expectation.’ Again, nothing. Her attention elsewhere. ‘Weddings, erotic…’ she heard the echo, something else was happening here.

‘Okay enjoy your evening, however you spend it.’ Testy perhaps, was he upset at not receiving a reply?

Then her stomach turned. A final message, earlier that morning.

‘Ah no replies! Perhaps you enjoyed yourself too much, cocktails, champagne, company? Hope it was fun, and remember, what happens at the Castle stays at the Castle ;-), Love Alex. xx’.

An anxious rush, did he know, what was the reference to enjoyment, did he think she’d drank too much, partied too hard.

Abi smiled inwardly, she had definitely partied too hard. It made her giggle, she was stretching again, languid movements, relaxing a little. Alex couldn’t know, it was an ambiguous tease, his usual flirty style, maybe she’d tease him back, describe her encounter to him in bed, as a fantasy, an adventure.

In stretching she felt the ache of Lawrence’s advances, his assault on her body, which caused her so much pleasure. She had questions, but now was not the time.

She had been lustful, desiring something, unknown even to her. Perhaps her husband recognised it. Lawrence too, he had helped her act on it. They lit her desire, encouraged her need for adventure, novelty and desire for submission.

It crystallised, becoming clear now, she would no longer indulge regret, there would be no shame, she had enjoyed herself, taken pleasure with another person and given all of herself in return. Her night had been memorable, exciting, she’d found depths to her imagination and her sexuality that she would explore further.

Lawrence moved, beside her…. waking.

She reached for him.

He would be gone soon, it was inevitable, obvious. The questions and reflections could wait.

He stirred, and hardened as she stroked him.

She watched excitedly as the shaft of his penis grew in her hand, those pink nails and long fingers wrapped around this new cock, she felt her core contract, she was still wet from their night together, lubricated by his come.

That size again, his girth, it thrilled her, she was ready. Another story to tell her husband.

An actress in the script others had outlined, writing new lines herself.

A protagonist now, power moving once again.

‘Let’s say goodbye’ she whispered.

She levered her hips, climbing above him and sinking down, encompassing his hardness.

‘You’ll be difficult to forget’ he whispered, as she ground against him, head lolling forwards, hair against his chest.

His hands tilted her chin, stroking her face, his kiss gentle, acknowledging their connection, sensing her growing urgency and lifting his hips to meet her.

‘Maybe there will be another Castle…’ She rasped.

She was barely able to talk now, her senses focussed on the sensations building within, the slow rise and fall as she rolled her hips, savouring this last deliberate act of love making. She was at the edge of her orgasm, holding back, plateauing, waiting for the moment he would drive in to her, deep and hard, when she would relent to her desire, and tip in to the ecstasy of release…

‘I wish there were many… but there’s only one, and what happens at the Castle must stay at the Castle. Only you can share this adventure…’

A familiar echo of words, the refrain of invitation and adventure.

In that moment, she had clarity, understanding.

She fell forwards, body tensing, spasms of light dissolving like consciousness as wave after wave consumed her, lips parted, mouth open, screaming now… spiralling away from his body, chin to knees, legs curled, foetal like… her world fading towards the outline of the Castle, its walls stark against the curtains, amidst early morning light.

‘The castle… the castle…’ she repeated it over and over, like a fever taking hold, an incantation of possibility, she would one day return to the Castle.

Of course. ‘Fever’, the double kiss below, her husband’s handwriting… a spell he cast on her, an intimation of her adventure, a catalyst for her to experience new desires, experiences.

‘You’re like a fever…’. She said it loudly.

Lawrence smiled, stroking her hair now. ‘I took hold of you’ he offered, gently, that confidence again.

Her hair was wet, her body glistening from her efforts riding him, from her orgasm.

‘It’s the Castle’ he whispered, her further words muted by his kiss.

On the table her phone buzzed, a message. She reached for it hurriedly now, breaking the moment.

It was Alex.. ‘I hope you enjoyed your adventure, time to come home, the Castle will always be there for you, when you need it…’.

Abi turned back to Lawrence. ‘Will we meet again?’.

‘Only if you’re very naughty, and need to be punished…’ He was smiling and she saw that flicker, from humour to dominance then gone again, the depth in those green eyes, melting her.

Abi swung her legs off the bed. ’I think I need to be a good girl, for my husband… for a while.