The Wedding Dress

I was so excited to see my friend Chris! It had been over a dozen years since we had seen each other, and while we exchanged flirtatious banter over email, this was a special meeting. I was in Chicago helping a sister plant with some start up issues and this was the perfect opportunity. My husband did not care for Chris - presumably because of the erotic nature of our conversations. You see, Chris was not only my friend, but my master, my only confidante, my partner in fetishist proclivities. I was his and would do anything to please him.

For the aforementioned reasons, I could not invite Chris to my wedding six years prior. I thought it would be special if I wore my wedding dress (down to the white lace thong and push up corset) when I met him so he could see it. I was trembling with excitement as I waited for the knock on the door. I had told him I had a surprise for him.

The knock came. I answered the door beaming and exclaimed, "Surprise!" His face went from smiling to scowling in a fraction of a second.

"This is my surprise, Katie?! What the fuck?!" Chris said through gritted teeth as he shoved me aside. "I was so looking forward to our evening and you show me this?" He shoved me again up against the wall with his face in mine. "I knew you were crazy, but this is beyond my limits."

He grabs me by the waist , flings me around, and throws me unceremoniously onto the bed. I am shaking, upset, and near tears when he slaps me across the face. Then the real tears came.

"This dress represents how you disobeyed me. You are MINE. You were not meant to be given away frivolously. I have tried to get past your disloyalty, but this brings all of that rage back," he continues as he is shaking my shoulders.

I am sitting on the side of the bed and he pushes my legs apart, lifts up the heavy dress and shoves his hand down my thong. "Did you even get fucked on your wedding night?" he asks as he shoves his fingers inside of me.

"Yes," I stammer. He has four fingers in me and it hurts even though I was wet in anticipation of meeting him, this was an all-out assault.

"Did he make you come? Did he fuck you like you wanted to be fucked?" He continued raping me with his hand.

"No," I whimper in response.

"I fucking hate him. I hate this dress. I hate you for wearing it." He unbuckles his belt and lowers his pants. He pulls me towards the edge of the bed so my ass is barely on it. He sticks his dick inside of me. "God I fucking hate you. Why did you make me do this?" He hammers me hard.

I begin to cry, "I am sorry, sir. Truly I am."

"Sorry is not going to cut it this time. What about all the times I forgave you when you would stop talking to me months/years at a time?! This time you are going to get what you deserve."

He pulls out of me and flips me over, keeping my dress hiked up high. He rips off my thong and it bruises me where the tension is applied. He enters me from behind. I do not struggle. I know I deserve this punishment - it was a long time coming. He unzips my dress and frees my breasts from the corset, squeezing and pinching them tightly. "You like this, bitch? You like being fucked like you deserve?" he says through his grunts.

"Yes, sir," I squeak out through my tears. He stops for a moment to pull my dress off me. I hear it tearing and pulling as he pulls it over my hips. He throws it to the floor.

"Now for the real tearing you deserve,' and shoves his cock into my ass without any lube or any preparation. My god, it hurts, It burned. I screamed. He didn't care. He was in his own mind, in his own world, taking what was rightfully his.

When he was about to cum, he pulled out and shot it all over my dress. He paused for a moment then used the dress to clean himself off, then used it to clean up my pussy and ass of all of the juices and blood.

He threw the dress to the floor. "That is what I think of your god damned dress."