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My Wedding Scandal

By: KMDylan



© 2014 K M Dylan All Rights Reserved

Author's note: this is an entry in the "Literotica Annual Halloween Contest" for 2014. It chronicles the wedding of Katie Wolfer, a fashion supermodel, and there is some setting of the scene before the "good stuff!" Please vote 5 stars if you enjoy it!

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Despite all the pyrotechnics between us, my aristocratic French fiancé, Victor, and I had a dazzling wedding. There were over 800 guests. Victor's political allies, close and distant family, and the de Goncourt family's aristocratic peers all jammed together within the towering walls and majestic stained glass windows of the Rambouillet cathedral, and it was standing room only for latecomers. The cathedral was bedecked with thousands of cherry blossoms flown in that day from South Africa and fine white gauze bunting. Victor's public relations firm was in constant communication with the press, positioning our nuptials as a fairytale wedding and we had photographers documenting it from Paris Match, People Magazine and US Weekly.

The wedding was scheduled to start at 11 a.m. on this sunny, but crisp, last day of October. I spent the morning of my "All Hallow's Eve" wedding day getting ready in Pauline's master suite at the de Goncourt's chateau. Caroline, Natasha, Pauline and Emmy attended me, in addition to a make-up artist, a stylist, and a hairdresser. The hairdresser spent almost two hours sculpting my long blonde tresses into a stunning bouffant, with artful tendrils falling on either side of my face. The team buzzed around me like bees all morning, and I felt like I was back to my modeling days, getting ready to walk the runway for Dior or Chanel. Caroline and I had to spend almost forty minutes getting my dress on, with a blue thong for something blue, and Pauline's garters for something old, and a blinding diamond tiara from Harry Winston (Victor's wedding gift to me) for something new. There was a knock on the door. Pauline shouted out, "Entrez!" Our driver, Antoine, appeared at the door in his crisp navy blue dress uniform and cap, and gave us a little bow.

"Madame, it is time."

There was a squadron of motorcycle cops who rode ahead of our convoy with lights flashing and sirens blaring, and bodyguards followed in a black SUV. I couldn't believe what a fuss they were making. It's just me, people! A silly girl who models clothes for a living and likes to have a good time...

Fifteen minutes later Antoine steered our Bentley through a long cordon of policemen who were keeping the street clear, and stopped in front of the cathedral. Arnaud was standing there, by the main entrance, waiting for me. He was so elegant in his morning coat and ascot. For a man in his fifties, he was still remarkably handsome, with a little gray on his temples, remnants of a summer tan, and a warm grin. He would stand in for my parents since I was an orphan. Pauline and the girls all gathered around me like a flock of beautiful tropical birds covered in gowns of silk and organza. They kissed me, wished me luck and went inside. I remained with Arnaud, surrounded by the metal barricades that they had set up to keep back the onlookers. It was strange to think of Arnaud as this fatherly figure, since the first time we met he had given me one of the best fuckings of my life. That felt like another lifetime, when I was living with Victor's uncle, Daniel, at his beach mansion in the Hamptons and being his assistant. But now Daniel was dead too, and I stood with my older former lover at the door to a magnificent French cathedral. A former lover would stand in my father's place and give me away.

There must have been over a thousand people gathered in the square, straining to see me. I turned around and waved at the crowd and smiled. They roared and clapped. I had butterflies in my stomach and my heart felt like it was going to burst, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. In my head I was thinking, they want a fairytale princess, Katie, so give it to them.

Arnaud smiled at me and said, "Nicely done, Katie. The people of France are going to love you." He held out his elbow to me as we stood outside the cathedral's massive wooden doors. On either side of us, statues of the twelve apostles that were carved into the walls of the cathedral gazed down on us, their hands clasped adoringly. We could hear a children's choir inside singing a composition by J. S. Bach with high, beautiful voices that sounded like angels.

The crowd in the square had started to chant my name, "Katie, Katie, Katie..." I turned and blew some kisses and again they erupted in cheers and applause.

Suddenly, the music changed and a majestic organ piece began to play. The bass notes rumbled so powerfully we could feel the stone steps we were standing on vibrate. Then, with a massive creak, the cathedral's massive iron-studded doors swung open, each one manned by two monks wearing brown cassocks and large hoods that hid their faces. A group of lovely flower girls dressed in white pinafores and with daisies woven into their hair. They were Victor's cousins' children, and preceded us down the aisle, scattering fistfuls of red and white rose petals from wicker baskets.

I put my hand in the crook of Arnaud's elbow and he gave me a sweet, warm look. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded and gave his arm a little squeeze to indicate how grateful I was for him being there.

Walking down the aisle was surreal. Everyone in the church was standing, straining forward, staring at me. I had thought that my experience walking fashion runways would have prepared me for this. I felt demure and almost girl-like in my long white gown, a wisp of a veil trailing from my hair.

We stopped a few feet from where Victor was waiting and he seemed genuinely happy and proud as he watched me approach him. The cardinal of Paris and his attending monks loomed up on the dais and he was quite imposing with his large, pointed hat and embroidered robes. The music stopped and I kissed Arnaud on both cheeks as I held his hands. I saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye. I was choked up too. I was grateful for this kind, elegant French man, who had stepped in for my family out of the kindness of his heart.

Victor held out his hand and I took it and climbed two steps to join him and the cardinal on the dais. The mass was held in Latin, so I didn't understand much of it, but it had a mysterious weight to it. During his sermon, which was in French, the cardinal said something that struck me. He said that marriage was an act of transformation. And it was true, after Victor threaded my finger with a ring, and then kissed me, I was no longer Katie Wolfer. I was Mrs. Katherine de Goncourt.

* * *

The party for our eight hundred plus guests was held at the chateau. An army of caterers, musicians, servers, photographers, car parkers, wedding coordinators, stylists, and God knows what else were on hand to make it all work seamlessly. A delicious five-course dinner featuring venison and trays of fresh shellfish as a starter appeared simultaneously in front of everyone in perfect choreography. There were several dance floors. The dessert, also a French tradition, was a colossal pyramid of profiteroles that must have been about eight feet high by six feet on each side. The wine choices consisted of spectacular vintages from the top winemakers in Bordeaux. I was guessing the wedding probably ran Pauline around two million or so.

Victor and I had our first dance to "It Had to Be You." He held me tight in his strong arms, and I felt swept away, literally, as we swirled around the dance floor, under the gaze of hundreds of guests.

Then I danced with Victor's father, Gilles, who was charming and urbane, and then with Arnaud, who was characteristically sweet and fatherly with me. "Are you happy?" he asked as he held me close and we swayed to an old Charles Aznavour song from the 70's. I squeezed his waist with my arm. "I think so. It's a bit dreamlike." He nodded, "Yes, who would have thought that Victor would choose you, an American girl? But you're a hit, Katie. The talk of Paris."

"That's a lot of pressure, Arnaud."

"I know. You're not in Kansas anymore, Katie."

Waiting for me for my next dance was the mayor of Bordeaux, Michel Leval. The man I had blown to help motivate him to be a key ally in Victor's campaign. He was a very sexual man and held me closer than was appropriate as we swayed around the dance floor. I could feel his semi-hard cock pressing against my lower belly through my wedding dress, and I yielded to it a little, letting him secretively press and rub against me, amidst the swirling, swaying couples. Michel had that Bill Clinton-type bad-boy charisma, and though it was completely inappropriate on my wedding night of all nights, I couldn't help being a little turned on by him, feeling a stirring in my loins. He clutched me a little tighter halfway in and whispered, "You look exceptionally beautiful in a wedding dress, Katie."

He had pressed himself against me and I could feel his heat and the thickening of his cock through our clothes. I remembered I had enjoyed having his cock in my mouth. He had a nice one. "Why thank you, Michel. I have to say you look very good in black tie."

He countered, "I am very impatient to get to the after party. One never knows what might happen at a masked ball. I find that the anonymity fosters some interesting behaviors."

"Michel, it's my wedding night, I don't think I will be doing anything too crazy. But you're right, things could get a little spicy for some."

The song ended and Michel kissed my hand, his lips lingering a moment. "I look forward to seeing you there, Katie." My arousal was becoming a slow burn. I tried to push those feelings away... They were not appropriate!

But Michel was right. This vast wedding party was ceremonial. Everyone knew the interesting part was the after party: the masked ball. We had gotten married on Halloween after all. Not everyone was invited to it.

Knowing what I knew of the de Goncourt family at this point, I should not have been surprised. Deep down, I knew it might rival the outrageous orgies that we had orchestrated on the Lotus. I was a little disappointed on some level that Victor felt the need for this kind of decadent revelry on our wedding night, and didn't just want to take me to bed and have our own special night. But that wasn't Victor.

* * *

Victor's mother, Pauline, told me that the masked ball would be held in the vast, vaulted cellars of the chateau in a warren of rooms and tunnels, which would only be lit by torches and candlelight, and which she had decorated with vintage 17th century furnishings. There was a large central room, which had once been the great hall of a medieval castle. The current castle had been built on top of it. Like so many things in this society, there were layers upon layers that hid other layers.

* * *

I had gotten separated at the reception from Victor, who kept getting pulled this way and that, by the dozens of old friends and political operatives who wanted a word with him. As it got close to midnight, I found myself alone in the garden as all of my bridesmaids had gone to Pauline's suite to change into their masked ball costumes. I was to stay in my wedding dress. There was a chill in the air and I shivered a little. Caroline was supposed to be with me, but had gone inside, either to go to the bathroom or snort a bump of coke. She was an incorrigible addict. Michel Leval reappeared at my side. He had changed into costume for the masked ball, and he looked a bit incongruous, as it was a Robocop type get-up. There's no accounting for taste. He gave me a broad smile and a little bow. "I have never seen anything as beautiful as you in this wedding dress, Katie. You take my breath away."

I smiled at his hyperbole. "You are such a flatterer, Michel. Thank you, though I know you are prone wild exaggeration."

"Nonsense. I speak nothing but truth. How is it you are alone out here? You look like your freezing!" He put his arm around me protectively, as if to warm me up.

I gave a shrug, "My husband is a busy man. The campaign is around the corner. You know how it is. I have learned to be patient with him."

Michel slipped his other hand on the small of my back, just below where the edge of the gown dipped down. I felt his thumb caress the bare silky skin just below my shoulder blades. He was a cunning master of the game of seduction. "Well your loss is my gain, in this case. Would you allow me the honor to escort you to the party downstairs?"

I didn't try to move away from him, but let his hand gently sway on my back like a sea anemone on the ocean floor. I knew he was itching to take it further, to somehow have me shed my wedding dress and surrender to his desire for me. He was enjoying being inappropriate with his political ally's bride on her wedding night—the man had a lot of gumption.

"I would love your company, Michel, but I have to wait for one of my bridesmaids... Caroline. She is supposed to chaperone me downstairs, to make sure I don't get lost or into any sort of trouble."

"Oh, there she comes now."

Caroline emerged from a set of French doors holding a silver tray upon which were two beautiful masks made of feathers on it, one turquoise and one white. As she joined us, I introduced them to each other. "Caroline, this is Michel Leval, mayor of Bordeaux, and a friend and ally of Victor's. He is offering to escort us down to the party since Victor has disappeared on us." Michel bowed to Caroline, and kissed her hand, focusing his seductive charisma on her. He was quite taken with her blonde all-American girl looks and tiny figure.

"Lovely to meet you, Caroline. Katie is very lucky to have such a beautiful, accomplished and dutiful bridesmaid."

Caroline laughed and glanced over at me with a knowing look. "Thank you, Michel. I'm finding that French men are beyond charming. We would love to have you show us the way. But we must put our masks on first."

Michel helped us tie on our masks, and minutes later he escorted us into the chateau and to the cellar's entrance. There were three staff members holding clipboards standing by the massive wood and cast-iron door, making sure that only those who had been invited were allowed in. Two of them had to pull on a giant black iron ring to open the massive door, and they bowed to us as we swooped by. I suddenly felt like I was Marie-Antoinette in Versailles, attended by courtiers, and a little shiver ran through me as I remembered her grisly end.

* * *

Being careful not to fall in our long dresses and towering heels, Caroline and I followed our cyborg escort down a flight of white limestone stairs that dated back to the medieval times. The stairwell was lit by flaming torches and hundreds of candles set in sconces in the rough-hewn walls. The walls were thick and pockmarked with deep pools of shadows. This part of the chateau had been built during the crusades and was so different from the gilded rococo elegance of the main aboveground part of the chateau.

Victor emerged, magically, out of the shadows as we approached the main hall. "Hello, wife." He was wearing a mask, but there was no mistaking him from anyone else, with his commanding presence, square jaw and intense eyes. Michel and Caroline hung back as Victor took my hand and I responded,

"Hello, husband. How nice to see you again. Are you enjoying this little party? I believe it's someone's wedding reception?"

He smiled. "And I believe that someone is going to get spanked for being cheeky with her lord and master."

"Well, you know the effect a good spanking has on me, my lord and master."

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and took my hand to lead me to the center of the great medieval hall where a dance floor had been laid down. In the back of the room, I noticed there was a dais with an enormous canopied bed. I thought, is that my gigantic wedding bed? It was a bit surreal, like a prop from Alice in Wonderland.

There were around two hundred people gathered around the dance floor, all in sumptuous gowns and black tie, all wearing feathered masks. Pauline had said to me when informing me of the night's events, "Everyone's plumage will be beautiful on your wedding night."

A waiter brought us two flutes of champagne. He was a male model and I couldn't help glancing down at his half hard cock, and his perfectly edged six pack and pecks. The wait staff was serving the party naked and they were all beautiful models. The waiter's eyes twinkled as I said, "Thank you so much, please keep these coming." Victor elbowed, me. "There's plenty more, you don't need to flirt with the first boy who comes our way."

A DJ was playing sexy, hypnotic club music and there were quite a few couples with their arms laced around each other doing slow dances in the center of the room.

I was enthralled by the sumptuous, and sometimes exotic, costumes everyone was wearing. There were various themes, but a popular one was the Marie-Antoinette era with large hoop skirts and cleavage-enhancing corsets, and of course, towering wigs. I saw a small group of fairies in short translucent dresses, and recognized one. It was Emmy. She squealed with excitement when she saw me.

Emmy darted over to us and threw her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips. "Oh, Katie, you are the most beautiful woman here tonight. And Victor, how dreamy are you?" She kissed him next, and he put his arm around her, enjoying holding her waifish body close. She was a pretty pixie wearing little wings, and a white, crystal-encrusted mask. She wasn't wearing a bra and would have been arrested if she had walked down the street in that transparent gauze mini-dress. Strappy Gucci sandals encrusted with more crystals and five-inch heels completed her outfit.

Emmy whispered breathlessly in my ear, "This whole thing is blowing my mind, Katie! I have never seen anything so sexy! I need to take you into the back rooms, you would not believe what's going on there." She took my hand and pulled me towards one of the hallways. I looked back at Victor to see what he wanted to do.

He shrugged and started to follow us, saying, "Sure." Emmy turned to him, "I don't know if you will want to see this..." He smiled at her concern. "I'll be fine, Emmy." Caroline joined us and said, "I'll come too."

Emmy led our little group down a shadowy hallway lit by torches and candles set on sconces. We passed a handful of people walking the other way, mysterious in their beaked masks. The effect was eerie and magical. Emmy's hand was warm and soft in mine, and every few seconds, as we wound through the dark hallway, she would squeeze it. Moments later we arrived at a room that had been set up to look like a Sultan's harem—with shantung silk cushions covering the floor, and a few naked models who had been hired as servers standing around naked, holding trays with coupes of Champagne. One could tell they were not guests because they didn't wear masks.

There were several groups in the room engaged in a full-on orgy. I gasped as I saw a woman who was wearing the same mask as my mother, Pauline, surrounded by three men who had bent her over an oversized ottoman. They had lifted her dress to reveal her naked ass. I could sense Victor had become tense. One of the men was completely naked, while the other two were partially dressed still. The naked one had a rampant erection—he was a beautiful man and his cock was perfect too. She reached out and greedily pulled the rigid member to her mouth and ran her tongue along its velvety length.

"Is that your mother?" I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Victor grunted, "Uhm, yes. I can't watch this." But he was frozen in place.


My Wedding Scandal



One of the half-dressed men had dropped his pants and boxers, and with no preamble proceeded to enter Pauline from behind. She must have been very wet, because his well-endowed cock slid right in, and I heard her gasp as she momentarily took the other cock out of her mouth, "Yes, fuck me. Oh, God!" I couldn't believe this was my mother, who I had always thought so elegant and composed—she was being a complete, wanton slut. Her anonymous lover had taken hold of her hips and began speeding up the pace of his thrusts into her wet, welcoming pussy. He was soon slamming his cock into her with full force, causing her cry out each time he filled her up.

The other man reinserted his cock into her mouth again so that she was impaled from both sides, while the third took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his erection. After gagging a moment from the rod pushing its way down her throat, she began to find a rhythm to accommodate him. She was wild with cock-lust and her body was soon glistening with sweat as she fucked and sucked and stroked the men. She looked completely obscene and the men had become ferocious, having their way with her, using her pussy, mouth and hands for their pleasure.

I looked at Victor. For the first time in my life, I saw shock on his face. The man who I thought had seen and done everything and was unshockable.

I took hold of Emmy's wrist and said, "Let's go to another room."

Victor nodded and took hold of my wrist. I kept my grip on Emmy's and he pulled us back out into the dark corridor. We kept walking until we reached another room, which looked like an old dungeon. There were several sets of chains hanging from the ceiling, and rings set into the wall, as well as leather benches and St. Andrew's crosses. There was only one couple there, a man who was tied up naked to a St. Andrew's cross, who was being punished with a paddle by a tall, blonde. She had her long hair in a ponytail, had a cat-like mask on and bright red lipstick, a latex cortex and gleaming thigh high boots. The man looked a bit pathetic to me, whimpering at each stroke of the paddle, but I was very taken by the dominatrix, and how powerful she seemed. Out of the corner of my eye, I also notice a cyborg-type figure enter the room—my persistent admirer, Michel Leval.

Victor looked back at Emmy, who shrank slightly from his dark gaze. Without even looking at me, he barked, "Katie, undress her. Emmy needs to learn a lesson. She shouldn't have taken me to that room."

I approached the teenage girl who meekly stood there, eyes looking down at the floor, her arms by her side. I unfastened her fairy wings and slid them down her arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't think..." She squeaked.

Victor pushed Emmy face down over a tall leather bench, similar to the kind they use for gymnastics, and flipped up her gauzy, short dress to expose her ass. Then he ripped off her g-string with a violent yank, eliciting a startled gasp from the girl. I felt sorry for her. He was truly angry and this wasn't a good place to be if you were a pretty girl and Victor was pissed at you. She had brought it on herself though, and I wasn't going to stop him. There was a little part of me—a slightly sick and perverse part—that wanted to see her scream, to atone, to beg for forgiveness.

Victor pointed at a large, clean-shaven black attendant who was standing next to a large armoire filled with S&M paraphernalia. He was holding a red velvet cushion with various whipping implements on it. "Get me a whip." The black man took a few steps towards us and I picked up a flogger with long strands of black leather and handed it to Victor.

Emmy was shaking slightly with nervous anticipation, and her ass looked so beautiful, its two perfectly round pale orbs glowing in the soft, flickering candlelight. Her wiggling was sexy and I so wanted to lick it.

"One." Victor's arm was a blur as he delivered the first blow.

Emmy screamed as the strands of the flogger bit into the soft flesh of her ass. Her eyes pooled with tears. Victor looked at me, "Gag her." The black attendant glided over to me holding a few different gags. I picked a smallish one with a red ball. I placed it in Emmy's mouth as she looked up at me with a pathetic look. She was so pretty, but right now, scared and turned on. I adjusted the strap and fastened the clasp of the gag behind her head. I also had him fetch me a pair of scissors so I could cut the dress off her. She was shaking and whimpering as I discarded the pieces on the floor. The attendant picked them up.

"Two." I saw the blur of Victor's arm as he whipped her again.

Again Emmy writhed from the stinging blow, but the ball in her mouth now muffled her cries. Tears were streaming down her face. A sheen of sweat made her lithe body glow in the flickering torchlight. It was hypnotic to watch Emmy twist and turn, moaning through her gag from the fiery pain emanating from the pink stripes on her ass cheeks.

Caroline walked in the room wearing just a corset and five-inch Louboutins with spikes on them. Her hard nipples showed above the corset and I could tell she was lit from doing coke. She was carrying a small silver tray with a mound of the white powder and a straw on it. She held it out to us. "Anyone need a pick me up?"

Emmy had lucked out with Caroline's arrival as Victor became distracted from meting out his next lashing. He went over to Caroline to do a line. He handed the flogger to Caroline and said, "Here, you take over. She needs to learn to respect her elders." Caroline's eyes lit up. She loved girls, perhaps even more than boys. I knew she had been wanting to get into Emmy's pants, with no success, as she was young and romantically involved with a boyfriend. He took the tray and offered me a line. Here I was, doing coke on my wedding night, amidst what had turned out to be a debauched orgy. You're not in Kansas any more.

As I felt the rush of the white powder blast up my nose and quickly rush to my brain, I watched Caroline approach Emmy from behind and get right up behind her so that she was pressing her lower belly against the girl's swaying, striped ass. Caroline flipped the whip and ran the handle between Emmy's thighs and up into her pussy, eliciting a gag-smothered mewl. She began rubbing the whip's handle against Emmy's clit, letting it slide back and forth against in her slick channel. Then she bent down and licked between the pale globes of Emmy's ass, digging between the silky cheeks with her tongue for her pretty little pink rosette. Her long blonde hair looked so beautiful in the flickering orange light, against the writhing girl's gleaming, glowing naked body.

Caroline then unclasped the gag, tossing it to the ground, and took hold of Emmy by her waist and turned her around. She pushed the whimpering girl down onto a large ottoman so that she was lying on her back looking up at the ancient vaulted ceiling, with her knees bent and her feet on the floor. Caroline then climbed on the ottoman, placed her knees on either side of Emmy's head, and lowered her pussy down onto her mouth. This was Emmy's first lesbian experience, and it was so sexy to watch her tentatively stick out her tongue and lick at Caroline's pussy. Caroline was in heaven, her eyes glowing with lust and a feeling of power.

Victor whispered, "Let's make this more interesting." He put down the tray of coke and picked up a candle from a sconce and walked over to them. Caroline rose up from her squat for a moment so that Emmy could see Victor approach with the candle. The teenager's eyes widened as she saw him stop next to her with the large red candle in his hand, unsure of what his intentions were with it. It was far too big to put inside of her! He gave Emmy a thin smile and then tipped the candle so that a small liquid dollop of hot wax poured down onto her right nipple and Emmy let out a loud "Ahhh!"

Caroline, who was still squatting over her, lowered her pussy on to the girl's face as Victor poured hot wax onto her other nipple. This elicited more groans, which became muffled by Caroline grinding her clit down on Emmy's mouth. Feeling a little left out, I went over to the attendant and asked him to provide me with a dildo. The beautiful naked black man brought me one as I situated myself between Emmy's legs, and I proceeded to penetrate her with the dildo while with my other hand I massaged her clitoris in small, urgent circles.

I was so turned on watching this stunning brunette, who I had grown very fond of, gasping with that special mixture of pleasure and pain that would very soon bring on a heightened sexual ecstasy. It did not take long for Emmy to start convulsing from the onset of an orgasm. Caroline was also on the brink, and I loved seeing her slender body undulate, her long blonde hair tossing, her eyes closed, her hands pulling on her nipples, taking her oral pleasure from the helpless teenager beneath her. Soon she too was shaking from an orgasm, grinding her dripping peach down on Emmy's mouth, chin, teeth, tongue, her juices flowing. I noticed Michel Leval, emerge from a shadowy corner of the room, where he had been observing this debauched scene and moved close so that he was right behind me.

"May I?" He whispered into the back of my neck. I nodded and I saw Victor nod too.

Michel reached down for the hem of my wedding dress and pulled it up. His other hand slid up between my thighs. I spread my feet apart, even as I kept caressing Emmy's pussy with the dildo and my fingers. Michel's fingers pushed up between my thighs, and found my soaking wet cunt. He slid his fingers in while pushing hard against my clit with his thumb, making me gasp as a wave of pleasure ran through me.

Victor flicked a few more Jackson Pollock-type splatters of wax across the prostrate girl's slick, heaving breasts, commenting, "I think Emmy is quite enjoying this, don't you?" I nodded and he put down the candle and took my hand. Michel withdrew his hand from between my legs and I pulled down my dress, smoothing it.

As Victor led me out of the room he whispered, "Come on, Katie, come Michel, I have a little treat for you."

I left the two girls in the S&M dungeon, and proceeded down the long, torch-lit corridor back to the main hall with a man on either side, with my arms laced in theirs.

Once we had weaved among the dancing couples to the dance floor in the center of the room, Victor nodded to an MC. This was a tall woman in a suit who was constantly giving orders into a headset. I looked back and saw Caroline leading Emmy into the room on a leash that was attached to a slave collar. Whatever it was that Victor had planned, Caroline and Emmy didn't want to miss it. I was wet and very horny now, and part of me just wanted Victor to take me to our bedroom upstairs so he could fuck the hell out of me.

This was not to be though, as a few seconds later, a group of around twelve gorgeous male models, with chiseled bodies filed out of the dark hallway and lined up in the middle of the room. At the same time, a pretty, petite honey-blonde girl, completely nude and with perky pear-shaped breasts and her hair up in a high pony tail, walked out of a dark hallway carrying a strip of black silk on a gleaming silver tray.

Victor took the black silk strip from the girl's tray and, turning me around in front of him, tied it around my eyes. Suddenly I was in the dark. Oh boy...

I felt hands unbuttoning the back of my dress. Several people, I guessed it was the naked male models that had lined up in front of us, worked together to get me out of my wedding dress. I felt their hands grab my legs and arms, and they supported me by my back as they lifted me into the air, lifting me out of my dress. They carried me over their heads to the bed on the dais as if I were a virgin sacrifice at an Aztec sacrificial rite. They set me down in a sitting position on the edge of the bed and proceeded to take off the rest of what I was wearing: my shoes, my stockings and garter belt, and my panties. Once I was completely nude except for my mask and blindfold, I was again picked up by several sets of hands and placed on my hands and knees on the bed. Under my hands and knees I could feel the textures of the gold threads and little pearls that were weaved into the embroidered quilt covering the bed.

I trembled a little. Here I was on my wedding night, stripped naked in front of a few hundred guests, blindfolded, helpless and humiliated.

Yes, I had been naked in front of quite a few people on Victor's yacht, the Lotus. But that was different. That was a party for a select set of guests who had each paid an outrageous sum of money to be there and to see me naked. In that case I was essentially being paid as a model. This was my wedding night and Victor was putting me on display as his sexual chattel.

I felt a lick on my nipple. It was electric.

Who was it? Victor? One of the hired male models? Michel Leval?

"Who are you?" I whispered.

A mouth covered mine. It was soft. Not a man's. The tip of her tongue inserted itself between my lips. I opened my mouth to let this intruder in, and our tongues wrestled and played with each other, sharing our desire and our saliva.

She whispered back, "It's me." I felt the edge of my mask lifted, and looking down I could see in the small gap there that it was Caroline. Suddenly a man's erect cock appeared between our mouths.

I heard Victor's low rumble. "Suck it, bitches."

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue and ran it along the length of my husband's velvety phallus. I could feel Caroline doing the same thing from the other side, and our tongues would touch here and there. And when we got to end we French kissed, sucking on each other's tongues, before resuming our joint ministrations to my husband's erection. My feelings of humiliation were abating and I felt incredibly turned on and horny now. I was ready for more.

More was ready for me, because while I worked on Victor's cock with my mouth, I felt someone's head push in between my thighs and began to eat my pussy, taking long licks. One of the hired models? A random guest? I had no idea. Waves of pleasure began to flow out of my roiling liquefied center and radiated throughout my body, soul and mind. I was entering that ecstatic zone where I could just let go. I surrendered to the pleasure as it flowed through me and engulfed me. It was emanating from the nerve endings over my entire body, and from my spasming, clenching, wet pussy. Another mouth joined the first and began taking long licks of my ass, so that I was getting eaten front and back. It was delicious to have two tongues working me, while I in turn was alternating sucking Victor's cock with Caroline. Yet another mouth took hold of my right nipple and bit on it softly, then tugged at it. It was this that sent me over the edge for my first orgasm of the night. Suddenly the mouths on my pussy and ass were gone, just as I began to come, and a moment later were replaced by a cock entering me and filling me up with its long, thick length. Heaven! Fireworks went off in my loins, my brain, and I had an earth-shaking come.

My blindfold was pulled off from behind me. I looked back and saw that it was Victor that had entered me from behind. He was on his knees, was gripping my hips with his hands and was giving me a serious fucking. Feeling shy about all the eyes on us, I let my head drop to the mattress and closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of my husband filling me with his cock, backing his hips against my ass, making me moan and then scream as he spanked me, taking me to another mind-bending climax. It was one of those orgasms so strong that I blacked out for a few seconds. When I came to, Victor was no longer in me and I was lying on my side on the bed and his come was leaking out of my pussy and soaking into the bedspread. I felt like I was had been floating in an orgasmic bliss, one peak of pleasure following another.

* * *

We went on our honeymoon on Victor's yacht off the coast of Sicily. It was a late afternoon and we were lounging around, having a cocktail on one of the decks, when he took a call from one of his key campaign operatives. Victor put him on speaker. "Hey Paul, what's up?"

Paul was terse. Something was very wrong—you could hear it in the tightness of his voice. "Victor, go to the Paris Match website." Victor picked up his iPad and opened a browser window and typed in the name of the magazine. Leaked pictures of our after-party were plastered on the homepage of the website with outraged headlines. "Exclusive pictures of Victor de Goncourt's orgiastic wedding!"

The largest, most prominent photo was of me naked, being carried to the bed by a group of nude men. The magazine's editors had covered our genitals and breasts with black boxes. The caption below it in big bold letters screamed, "Is this really the future first lady of France?"

There were other pictures that were worse still, of me having group sex in various configurations with both men and women. There was even one of me doing a line of blow with Emmy getting whipped in the background.

Fuck.

Victor went pale. My stomach was doing flip-flops. The pictures were outrageous and there was sure to be a massive public outcry about it. The scandal that was sure to develop would certainly derail Victor's campaign to be President of France. He would be forced to step down as a candidate. He would be completely discredited. Look at what had happened to Dominique Strauss Kahn. Like Victor, he had been on track to be president of France.

Michel Leval's costume must have contained a hidden camera and he had taken pictures of everything. Victor fumed, pacing up and down the deck, crazed. "This isn't how things are done in France! Private lives stay private. What a treacherous, fucking bastard. I am going to fucking kill that guy!"

I was quite sure that Victor wasn't kidding. Victor's cell phone rang. He looked at the caller id. "My mother." He picked it up and I could hear by the high pitch of her voice that Pauline was completely freaked out.

"Hello, mother. Yes, I saw the pictures. Yes, I know it's a terrible scandal. We're going to cut our honeymoon short and I'll make an announcement as soon as I get to Paris. My campaign is over." He hung up and looked at me, his face suddenly weary.

"I'm sorry, Katie. Welcome to politics."

I stared at him, wanting to shout at him, you are not Victor, you are Caligula. And you have made me a modern-day Messalina. A sex addict. A monster.

THE END