Carol wakes up the day after her wedding, tied up and in her wedding dress in a motel room with three complete strangers. With her new husband nowhere to be found, and unable to move while tied and bound, she reluctantly gives them a ...
Carol wakes up the day after her wedding, tied up and in her wedding dress in a motel room with three complete strangers. With her new husband nowhere to be found, and unable to move while tied and bound, she reluctantly gives them a night of wedding bliss that no one will soon forget!
This story is intended for mature audiences only, and features scenes of light BDSM of a woman in her wedding dress, reluctant sex with complete strangers, reluctant oral, reluctant anal, and is approximately 5000 words in length.
“Wake up, Carol.”
The voice cut through the darkness. With groggy, fog-laden slowness, Carol blinked herself awake. Faint, anemic light stabbed at her vision as she opened her eyes. It wasn’t strong, but to her, it shone like a thousand suns. She groaned and tried to rub her aching eyes, but something bit into her arm. Ropes? she thought groggily. Details came snapping together all at once, crystalline clarity cutting through the hazy feeling that permeated her mind. Her heart started to beat a rapid staccato as she realized she had no idea where she was - or who she was with. Worse, she couldn’t move more than a slight wiggle.
The last thing she remembered was the blissful last moments of her wedding day. Carried across the threshold to their hotel room - a very nice and luxurious place that had cost her now-husband, Trent, quite a bit. An evening of champagne, hot tubbing and passionate lovemaking. She’d passed out, nestled in his arms.
And awoken here.
The voice that had awoken her - so low and aggressive - was entirely unfamiliar. Rough bonds cut into her wrists where they were pinned behind her back. In the low light that filled the room - a dilapidated motel room, it looked like - Carol was surprised to see she was wearing her wedding dress once more. She was laying on her side, face pressed to a threadbare comforter. A shape loomed at the edge of the faint light, shifting as she struggled to wake. No, Carol realized with a start. More than one. Three? Oh, Lord, she thought.
JB Richards has lived in the Seattle area for over 25 years, drawing on the Pacific Northwest for many inspirations in life. He is an erotic story writer, and enjoys reading and writing to the exclusion of all other hobbies, and can usually be found curled up with a book.