Blue Planet (sci fi, D/s, wife) Chapter One
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She stared into the mirror, feeling the fluttering in her stomach like the
tickling of frantic dragonfly wings. It was the dream she had waited for, at
long last coming true. She was a bride, minutes away from hearing the solemn
tones of the Wedding March and walking down the aisle of the old stone church
before all her friends and family… from repeating the vows, from feeling the
ring slipped onto her finger and the intoning of the final words that would
bind her and Robert together for the rest of their lives. It was her day and
she stood, her eyes locked on the vision of herself in the full length mirror
against the wall of the small side room of the church and the glow that
filled her features, feeling that strange, once in a lifetime mix of utter,
erupting electricity and deep, inner peace. Images flitted through
her mind, of that day, back at college, when she’d first met him, their first
date, their first kiss, the first time he had looked into her eyes and told
he loved her, echoing the leaping joy in her own heart as she gazed back at
him. And the gush of feelings that welled over her the first time they held
each other close and perfectly in the dark silence, fully clothed as they lay
on his bed in his cubby hole dormitory room, and whispered and giggled.
They’d known even then, without ever having to say a word, that they would
save themselves for each other to enjoy on this night that, after five,
frantic, wonderful, exciting years had finally arrived. It was strange,
she thought to herself with a sly grin, that she had managed to last so long
without falling prey to that rush of jittering need that had seemed to have
claimed all her friends long before. Not that she had anything against carnal
enjoyment. She didn’t. All her dearest friends would whisper of their own
frantic, midnight tussles with various boys, joking about the size of their
organs or their clumsiness or boasting of the deep, profound pleasure they
had enjoyed in the pure lust of the act. And she always joined in their
laughter, the oohing and ahhing and thought not one bit the worse of them.
But such things were simply not for her. She had always known, since she was
first rushing through the anxiety of her young body beginning to bud into
that of a woman that she would save herself for the one man she would love
for the rest of her life. And that thought had always pleased her and perhaps
made her feel just a little bit special. Naturally she had felt the
tingling, that deep, urgent flutter inside her sex now and then. But she
merely enjoyed the small charge of extra alertness it seemed to cause in her
and never took it any further. Once, years before, she had indulged in
touching herself, exploring the warm, moist folds of her sex with a delicate
brushing touch of fingertips. But she had let the feelings swell within her,
like a balloon pumping larger and larger, and then relaxed, drifting on the
tingling as it slowly faded rather than tipping herself over into the
explosion of clenching muscles and deep, rippling sensations of release. She
wanted her first leap from that high cliff of excitement into the pool of
carnal pleasure to come over her when her beloved Robert was buried deep
inside her. And that would happen this very night. That thought caused her
sex to flutter faintly and she clutched the muscles that surrounded it,
savoring not only the faint shudder of pleasure that rippled through her but
also the realization that she was quite wet inside. But this time she would
not dismiss the arousal, let it flow and fall away on its own, unfulfilled.
This time she would fix on it and tickle her mind with the thought that in a
very few hours her gift would be opened and filled, her body would bear the
weight of her husband and her most vulnerable and delicate center would be
deeply pierced by him. A slow, wicked smile spread over her lips as
she let her eyes trail down the figure in the mirror. The white, flowing
dress gripped her form in all the right places, accentuating the curve of her
hips, the slim, firm waist and the high roundness of her breasts. She had
seen other young women’s bodies and she knew hers would be a visual delight
to any man who was lucky enough to encounter it. And under the soft folds of
the satin wedding dress she had decked it in a parade of lacy delights with
which to torment poor Robert to his fullest fury and make him ravenous for
her. Tonight she would be, at last, conquered, and she wanted it to be a
destruction of her innocence so complete that when she finally fell into
exhausted sleep it would be as a fully blossomed woman, no longer wondering,
no longer teasing, no longer trapped outside the mystery of her own potential
pleasure. Tonight, she thought to herself as she gazed into the piercing
green eyes of the tall, lithe, raven haired beauty in the mirror, your
beloved will fuck you until you scream. And she giggled at the tingling
shudder that flashed through her body on the thought. Behind her the door
to the small anteroom opened and there stood her best friend, Donna, who had
been more than a sister to her since they first shared a room in their mutual
initial isolation from the comforts and familiar graces of home that freshman
year at college. In the mirror she could see Donna catch her gaze, and the
naughty, almost sneering grin that played over her lips as she admired her
friend, pausing to lean against the doorframe. "Well" Donna purred, her
deep, sensuous voice lilting with hidden meaning "don’t stand still too long
in one place, honey. You’ll leave a puddle."
The young brides eyes flared for a moment before she pinched her face in mock
disapproval at her friend, now giggling at her own wicked wit and then
blushed and giggled along with her. "Is it that obvious" she said
quietly, pulling her eyes away from where Donna was now approaching her and
fixing on the image of her own face once more. "Honey" Donna said,
stepping up behind her and gently reaching up to lay a soft, warm hand on her
arm "I’ll bet you could cum right now if the right man just says ‘boo’ to
you." The bride quickly dropped her eyes and the blush deepened, her
face standing in a growing crimson above the snowy white of the dress, but
her giggle tightened with a deeper glee. It was so good, she thought, to
finally be ready to know all those secrets, she thought to herself. Suddenly
Donna stepped to the side and playfully swatted her friend on the curve of
her buttock, causing her to jolt and gasp, the unexpected sensation sending a
deep rocketing rush of electric fire through her that ending in tingling toes
and quivering hair at her forehead under the edge of the white, lacy veil.
"Now come on" Donna said "let’s get you hitched." Then Donna turned
and moved to the door where she stopped and looked back, waiting. With a
final wistful glance at herself, the final time she would look upon herself
and see a virgin, the bride turned, drew in a deep breath, reached down to
gather up the billowing folds of the dress before her and glided toward the
door.
Robert thought he would choke to death and clutched his hands even
firmer together before his crotch, arms stiff and beginning to get sore,
fighting the urge to reach up and run a finger under the stiff, tight collar
of the tuxedo shirt. More than anything he was afraid it would withdraw
dripping with sweat borne of nerves and uncertainty. Not about Debbie. Never
about Debbie. From that first day his only questions about her had been how
soon could they be bound together and how long would they live to enjoy that
union. There had never been anyone else for him and never would be. They both
had known that from the moment their eyes had first locked and they’d seen
the reflection of their own souls deep inside one another. They were born to
be together. And because of that deep, unbreakable understanding, there
had never been any need on his part to push for that groping, snuffling,
momentary rush of sweaty physical enjoyment all his friends seemed to think
about constantly. They would, he had known, have their entire lives to savor
the closeness of each others flesh, to learn what pleased and comforted,
soothed and fulfilled. So whenever the guys would play their childish little
game of boasting about which of the females known to them all each had
bedded, Robert simply nodded and smirked and shared a silent, knowing look.
Sometimes they’d kidded him, egging him to reveal some of his own conquests,
but he never would, merely stating with bland disinterest that a gentleman
didn’t discuss such things. The fact that he literally had no conquests to
reveal was something only he knew. In fact, he realized as he slowly turned
his head to look back at the row upon row of guests in the pews, he never
even had any campaigns to speak of. Oh, he’d touched girls in the fumbling
days of high school, and once had even slid his hand between the shyly parted
thighs of a young, slim, pretty blond and discovered to his wonder the hot,
moist folds of her. He’d been fascinated and amazed that his delicate touches
over the folds and ridges of her opening could cause her to shudder so
violently, and when his fingertip had brushed over the tiny, hard nub of what
he’d later discovered was her clitoris, her whimpering moan of limp surrender
was an amazement to him. But for himself, he’d never had his organ inside a
woman. In truth, he’d had no such desire since the day he’d met Debbie, and
very little of what his jocular friends called the "wooden mallet
heebie-jeebies". Not that he didn’t occasionally find himself erect and
sensitive to the slightest pressure or brushing touch. But the very few times
he’d indulged in stroking himself always seemed to him to be a mindless and
embarrassing activity. Yes, he considered, it felt good, but he knew, deep
down, that feeling himself inside of Debbie’s secret, warm, moist folds and
gazing into her eyes, sharing with her the silent mutual knowledge that their
bodies were now truly one would be the final, ultimate expression of his
love, and that made a fluttering wrist and an idle fantasy seem empty in
comparison. He had carefully planned and taken two full weeks off from
his position as a rising young Junior Executive at the company in order to
devote his full attention to his new bride and discovering together what such
intimacy and love were all about. He turned his head the other way and
noticed that Josh, his college roommate for the last two years, was smirking
at him, his own tuxedo bulging at the shoulders of his muscular frame.
"If you wanna run" Josh muttered from the corner of his mouth "I’ll hold ‘em
off for ya." Robert returned the smile, more for the sake of Josh’s
friendship than in approval of the lame jest. The only running he wanted to
do at this moment was forward, in time, to the instant when the puffy faced,
elderly, darkly robed man who stood in front of the alter before him, waiting
just as Robert now was, would say those words, pronouncing Robert and Debbie
man and wife, because that was when he knew his real life would finally, at
long last, begin. "You sure you wanna go through with this?" Josh
muttered, his tone teasingly cautious. Robert shrugged shyly and tossed his
friend an embarrassed grin. Josh rolled his eyes in mock exaggeration, as if
giving up on a lost cause before letting his own smile spread over his face.
"Well" Josh sighed quietly, as if under his breath "at least you’ll be able
to get it any time you want." Robert looked at him, his face falling to
a mask of open, innocent confusion. "Get what" he said, his tone curious
and awed at once. Josh snorted, stifling a laugh and turned, leaning in and
bumping Roberts arm with his own in a fumbling gesture of affection. Robert
nudged him back and then, as if suddenly noticing they’d been caught in some
light mischief, both young men struggled to appear solemn once more.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, Robert could see the old reverend
notice something at the back of the church, his arms suddenly bending in an
involuntary gesture of expectation. And then the organ struck the first,
heavy chords of the processional. A general rustle of satin and silk and
solemn occasion clothing swelled throughout the church as the gathered
witnesses turned to look toward the back of the large, high ceilinged room.
Then the organ struck into the Wedding March and Robert slowly turned to
see his mate, the partner of his soul, gliding slowly down the aisle on the
arm of the tall, white-haired man who had given her life and now was about to
give her over to his keeping, forever. Hurry, Robert thought suddenly.
Hurry or I’ll go mad.
They remembered the following hours in fragmentary fits and starts,
some moments rushing by as if in ghostly images and shadows, others hanging,
crystal clear in all their minute detail, as if frozen for what seemed
eternities of heartbeats. The droning of the old pastor, the recital of the
vows, the rings exchanged and received and finally the lifting of the veil
and the touch of lips. And then it was done and, together, they were moving,
arm in arm, down the way she had approached and out from among the gathered
witnesses to the bright shock of sunlight outside the church. And then came
the reception line, and the endless photographs, the shaking hands and small
talk, all the while neither one stepping so much as arms reach from the
other, their hands clasped, occasionally squeezing, sending urgent
reassurances of adoration through their palms to one another. And then
the reception, the open hall like a gymnasium, packed with tables and noise
and speeches and food and friends and toasts and yet more ceremonies and
traditions to struggle through. And not once throughout the day from the
moment their lips had touched, sealing their union at the alter, had they
spoken the word love, for it would have been unnecessary and redundant, like
looking at the Empire State Building and saying that it was big. For them
love was a given and always had been and forever would be. And then, at
last, it was time. Debbie slipped her hand under the table and placed it
lightly on Roberts thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. He turned and saw the
knowing smile, the raised eyebrows and understood instantly. Rising they each
turned to say their good byes to Donna and Josh, each in their own way and
each received the little lascivious, knowing leer. Each grinned shyly and
blushed, then moved slowly around the table, bending to plant a kiss on a
cheek or shake a hand, slowly working their way toward the aisle between the
tables that led to the large, double doors. By the time they could finally
break away to move, hand in hand, toward their escape, there was general
applause and some drunken cheers following their exit. They were laughing by
the time they left the hall. The ride to the hotel was a tense, nervous
silence in the back of the limo, both fully aware of what now lay ahead of
them. Roberts palms pressed into the seat on either side of him, arms tense,
eyes locked at the glimmering lights of the city that flashed by the speeding
vehicle. Debbie took many deep, slow breaths and forced a casualness into her
expression that she did not feel as she scanned the passing scenery. At last
the limo turned into the drive of the hotel and pulled to a stop under the
large awning. The doorman stepped briskly up to open the door and Robert,
legs weak and trembling slightly, climbed out of the back seat, turning to
extend a hand for Debbie who managed to slide across the seat and rise with
smooth grace, despite the rustling folds of the billowing, white dress.
Hand in hand they entered the lobby of the hotel. The concierge looked up
from behind his desk with a smile and raised an arm, snapping his fingers
with a sharp click. A bellhop was instantly moving to intersect the couple
and lead them to the elevator. The doors slid closed and they rose to the
topmost floor. Stepping from the elevator the bellhop gave a slight bob of
his head and gestured toward the door to the honeymoon suite, stepping to it
and sliding the key he held ready into the lock. The door opened and he
stepped back allowing Debbie to glide through, giving him a blushing
half-smile. The bellhop extended the key which Robert seemed to reach for as
if utterly distracted. Before even waiting for the offer of a tip the bellhop
nodded, turned briskly and was back in the elevator behind the doors already
sliding closed. Inside the large, plush room Robert turned and slowly
closed the door, hearing it latch with a sharp sound rich with a sense of
finality. As he turned he noticed their bags already sitting in the bottom of
the recess by the door that served as the coat closet, then stepped fully
into the room. He stopped short at what he saw. There was Debbie,
perched daintily on the foot of the bed, her hands folded in the billowing
fabric of the dress that collected in her lap. For the first time since he
had met her Robert had no idea what he should do next. He smiled sheepishly,
his hands feeling suddenly awkward as they dangled at his sides, twitching
slightly. A slow, knowing smile spread over Debbie’s lips and she rose,
her body seeming to drift up to her full, majestic height. They simply stood
there for a long moment, separated by the length of the room, staring at one
another, each savoring or enduring these final few moments of innocence.
Then, without a word, Debbie’s hand rose and her fingers touched the topmost
of the many, tiny pearl buttons at the collar of her dress, slowly, deftly
slipping it open, her eyes never leaving those of her husband. Robert
swallowed hard, unable to move as the full import of what he was witnessing
flooded his already jangled mind. With smooth grace Debbie’s fingers slowly,
patiently, worked their way down the front of the long, white gown, parting
button by button. The stiff folds of the bodice, at last released from their
rigid attention, began to part, revealing a shimmering glimpse of satin
beneath. At last her hands were slipping open the final buttons at the bottom
of the bodice and she was reaching up to peel the heavy garment from first
one shoulder, then the other. As if it were a living thing finding a
sudden joy at its release the wedding dress dropped from her, puddling gently
around her calves in a creamy heap of soft fabric and from this virginal
shell seemed to be released an erotic temptress hungry for a carnal conquest.
Her torso was held in a tight, white satin corset that seemed to cup and
lift her firm, ample breasts like a pair of eager, offering hands, the stays
like tiny, vertical ribs running from under the billowing cups along her
sides to the high cut of the fabric at her hips. From there thin lacy strands
slinked down her thighs, their silver clasping fingers firmly gripping the
lacy swirls of the white stocking tops, the smooth, creamy circlet of her
thighs peeking provocatively out of the opening. Even as the dress
seemed to plummet from her body, Debbie felt a rush of cool air flood over
her body and as if on instinct her sex clutched and quivered, squeezing the
gathering moisture down until she could feel it on the very lips. A moment
later she felt the moisture seep into the gathered satin that pulled tightly
up at her sex and begin to cool, causing her to shudder slightly. She could
actually feel her clit begin to throb with need and excitement and for the
first time she allowed herself to savor the rush of pleasure that rolled
slowly through her from that center of her womanhood. Fuck me, she heard
herself thinking, her eyes riveted on Roberts over the distance between them.
Fuck me until I’m weeping. Fuck me until I scream. Fuck me until I beg for
mercy. Fuck me until I cum, husband, and then fuck me even harder. Fuck me
until I die, she thought, letting each wicked thought fall quivering through
her stomach and splash against her engorged and throbbing clit. Robert
did not realize for a long moment that his lips had parted and hung slack and
open, so transfixed was he by the vision before him. He had seen pretty,
attractive, even lovely women before, some clad only in the skimpiest of
bikinis at beaches, but the realization that the goddess who stood across the
room from him in garments that carried no other message than pure, animal
hunger of lust was now his, perfect and forever his alone flooded through his
body and caused his muscles to tighten in a combination of arousal, confusion
and outright terror. Would he be worthy of her? Would he be able to please
her? Would she… he swallowed hard at the thought… would she cum? He knew how
important that was, that a man be able to make his wife cum, give her that
ultimate pleasure, and he so wanted to give that to her. Suddenly he jolted
slightly, as if a part of his drifting brain realized he was slipping into a
reverie and pulled him back to the moment. He smiled, his lips quivering
slightly, trying to form words in his mind he might say to express his utter
awe, his almost pure worship for her and the love they shared. But before he
could sort out the rush of feelings and pluck any coherent message from them,
he saw her raise one leg and step sideways, out of the folds of whipped cream
like cloth at her feet. Her face broke into a cool, almost devilish grin as
she slowly raised the other leg, a fold of the heaped dress caught on her
toes, and with a sudden flick of her knee flung it away, tumbling through the
air like a thick, fluffy cloud, to land in a sprawling puddle of fabric a few
feet away. And when her leg came down it rested now apart from the other,
planted firmly, with a touch of playful defiance. She raised her arms and
hooked her open hands on her hips, cocking her pelvis to one side.
"Well?" she said quietly, her voice cooing, teasing, tempting. Robert
swallowed hard once more and suddenly it struck him she was waiting for him
to do something. With a crooked grin and a slight puff of expelled breath his
arms jerked up tensely, his hands reaching for the lapels of his jacket. The
tie had been opened at the reception long before and now hung uselessly
around his neck, the top button of his shirt open, the collar slightly
splayed. He grabbed at the jacket and pulled, managing almost in tangling his
shoulders in the corners of it before it slipped free and slid down his arms,
bunching around his wrists. He shook his arm and only succeeded in turning
one sleeve inside out, the bulk of the jacket dripping down behind him like
unruly taffy. It took him a number of wild flaps and stretches to finally
yank one arm free from the now inverted jacket, grab it with the free hand
and virtually tear it off, flinging it away into the corner. Debbie was
laughing, he saw, amused as much by his fumbling as she was charmed by his
puppy-like innocence. Even before the jacket landed his hands were already at
his shirt front, fumbling with the small buttons, trying to slip them apart
and not succeeding well. He barely got two open before his hands seemed to
lose patience and plunged to his belt, slipping it open and undoing the
clasp, sliding the zipper down and raising a leg to slide the trousers off.
Only when they began to bunch at his ankles did he realize he was still
wearing his shoes. He almost toppled over as he muttered a curse and grabbed
at the shoe through the bunched fabric of his trousers. Debbie was giggling
openly now as he tore the heavy footwear free and raised his other leg to
remove it’s heavy leather case. With a few small hops he managed to yank it
loose and hurled the rumpled mess aside. Robert turned to where his bride
stood, his body tense, as if ready to leap at her, and she stifled her
giggles, struggling to compose herself. The look in his eyes, part amusement,
part hunger, quickly dissipated her laughter and in a few moments they were
standing, once again, still, eyes locked across the distance that separated
them. Then slowly, as if by silent, mutual agreement, they each stepped
forward, the distance between them closing, until they were standing nose to
nose, able now to hear the faint rasping of each others breath, feel it
lightly float and tickle over each others skin. Robert realized that he was
growing erect, beginning to ache and throb, his excitement fueled by the
faint scent of Debbie’s building arousal that came drifting up to him. She
could feel the lips of her sex now pulsing gently in time to the heavy beats
of her heart, her clit tingling. Robert reached up and lightly let his
fingertips brush against her cheek, savoring and admiring her. She closed her
eyes, drinking in this first tender touch in the wonderful, soon to be
fulfilled ballet of their joining. And then they stepped into each others
arms, their bodies sliding into place, a perfect fit, as if designed for no
other purpose but to mold together in a blissful, physical harmony. Robert
leaned his face toward her, his eyes slipping shut, as Debbie raised her own
lips toward his. When they touched the tingle that flooded them both was be
first of many tiny ecstasies facing them in the dark, private hours ahead.
As if in perfect concert of souls they both sighed, their breathes mingling
in the chasm of their slowly parting lips. Tongues extended and brushed. An
instant later, it happened. The energy bolt seemed to materialize no more
than a foot above their entwined bodies, striking down with the power of a
hundred densely packed lightning discharges, shooting through every cell of
the couple within a millisecond. Every synapse in both their brains
discharged at once under the onslaught, obliterating all thought, all
feeling, all vestige of two human souls. Their collected muscle tissue went
instantly rigid in an Electro-chemical frenzy as the energy pulse infused
every fiber down to the core of their bones. Had there been anyone in
the room to observe, they might have felt on the edge of their consciousness
a high, quick something like a buzz sear through the expanding, super-heated
air. They would not have been able to know that if slowed a thousand times
they might have heard an echoy, metallic voice saying - "Target lock… warp
initialized… engage wormhole… mark!" The unmeasurable blast of energy
flooded every cell of the couples now rigidly locked bodies and struck
against the thick, soft carpeting beneath their bare feet, then seemed to
swell, filling the room in blinding flashes of raw power. Within a fragment
of a second any viewing eye would have been burned to ash, instants before
the loud, sudden crack of the discharge rebounded off the walls. And
the light was gone, the sharp noise bouncing through the confines of the
room. All that was left to show Robert and Debbie had ever entered the room
were the still packed bags in the closet, the discarded garments in random
piles here and there, and a deep, scorched patch in the soft, cream colored
carpeting where they had been standing. Robert and Debbie were gone.
To be continued….
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