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 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, 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
