Chapter 45: Chapter 45
Her
The scent of incense hung thick and cloying in St. Matthew’s, mingling unnervingly with the sharp tang of Evonleigh’s sweat and the faint metallic whisper of the chrome machine squatting beside the altar. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting jewel-toned patterns across the white marble floor, patterns that danced over Evonleigh’s trembling, bound form. She stood rigidly upright, her back arched painfully, impaled on the twin pillars of wax – massive, ivory wedding candles thrust deep into her ass and cunt. Their bases flared obscenely against her stretched openings, the smooth wax slick with her arousal and the thin sheen of milk leaking persistently from her swollen, harness-bound breasts. The white leather harness cinched her tits brutally, forcing them into obscene mounds, her dark nipples puckered and exposed, weeping tiny droplets onto the pristine fabric of her absurdly short wedding gown.
Her jaw ached. The delicate silver chain connecting the barbell piercing her monstrously engorged clit to the ring piercing her tongue kept her mouth slightly agape, a constant, humiliating reminder of her exposed vulnerability. Every swallow tugged at the tender flesh between her legs. Her wide green eyes, usually sharp with intelligence, were glazed, pupils blown wide with a cocktail of terror, adrenaline, and the relentless, low thrum of arousal the modifications and the situation forced upon her. She scanned the pews. Rows of Icon Corp executives in sharp suits, faces impassive, clinical. Scattered amongst them, faces she vaguely recognized from campus, their expressions a mix of morbid fascination and poorly concealed disgust. And Dr. Ross, seated prominently in the front row, his gaze fixed on her with chilling intensity, a slight smile playing on his lips. He held a small tablet, doubtless monitoring her biometrics.
The heavy oak doors at the rear groaned open. Aurelian Vance strode down the aisle. Not in a tuxedo, but in tailored black trousers and an open-collared white shirt that clung to his fit frame. His hazel eyes, sharp as flint, locked onto hers. He moved with predatory grace, the click of his boots echoing in the hushed church. He didn’t look at the guests, only at his bride, impaled and trembling on the altar. A murmur rippled through the audience, a collective intake of breath.
He reached her. The scent of him – sandalwood and something darker, muskier – cut through the incense. He didn’t touch her face. Instead, his fingers trailed down her throat, over the frantic pulse beating there, then lower, skimming the swell of her harnessed breast. His thumb brushed her leaking nipple, sending a jolt through her that made her gasp around the chain gagging her.
"Look at you," Aurelian murmured, his voice low, intimate, yet carrying easily in the silent church. "My perfect bride. Already stretched open for me. Waiting." His hand slid lower, over the taut plane of her belly, down to where the thick base of the vaginal candle met her labia, slick and glistening. He traced the stretched rim. "So fucking wet already, Evie. So eager." His other hand mirrored the motion around the base of the anal candle, pressing slightly, making her whimper as the intrusion shifted deep inside her. "Both holes stuffed full of holy wax. Appropriate, don't you think? A sacrament."
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Remember Ross’s little toy? The one you birthed? That was just practice, sweetheart. Today… today you birth me. You take everything I give you. You become mine." His breath was hot. "And you’ll fucking love it."
He straightened, his eyes gleaming. He nodded towards the chrome machine. It whirred softly, extending a slender, articulated arm tipped with a smooth, polished obsidian plug, no thicker than a finger but impossibly long. It glistened with lubricant.
"Initiate the Machine of Honor," Aurelian commanded, his voice echoing slightly.
The machine hummed louder. The obsidian tip pressed against Evonleigh’s peehole, that tiny, untouched opening just above her clit. Panic flared, pure and sharp. She tried to shake her head, a frantic denial muffled by the chain pulling her tongue. "Mmmph! Nnnngh!"
"Shhh," Aurelian soothed, his hand resting possessively on her belly. "This is your honor, Evie. Your consecration. Take it."
The machine applied relentless, gentle pressure. Evonleigh felt the impossible stretch, a burning, tearing sensation utterly different from the fullness below. Tears welled, spilling over as she stared helplessly into Aurelian’s unwavering gaze. The plug slid deeper, millimeter by agonizing millimeter, invading her urethra, stretching it obscenely wide. A thin trickle of urine escaped around the intrusion, adding to the mess between her legs. The sensation was excruciating, violating, yet intertwined with the deep, throbbing ache of her stuffed cunt and ass, creating a feedback loop of unbearable stimulation. She felt utterly penetrated, every possible opening filled and stretched.
"Good girl," Aurelian breathed, watching the plug sink deeper. "Look at that tiny hole gape. Beautifully profane." He reached down, his fingers slicking themselves in the mingled fluids coating her inner thighs and the candle bases. He pressed two fingers against her stretched anal rim, beside the candle. "Now, for my claim."
With terrifying ease, he pushed his fingers past the resistance of the candle, sinking them knuckle-deep into her ass alongside the wax pillar. Evonleigh screamed around the chain, her body convulsing, her cunt clenching violently around its own candle. The double penetration, the relentless stretch of her urethra, the biting harness – it overloaded her senses. White light exploded behind her eyes.
"Fuck, yes," Aurelian growled, working his fingers deeper, twisting, scissoring them inside her impossibly stuffed rectum. "Feel that? That’s me claiming you. Fisting this greedy ass while you’re stuffed full." He withdrew his fingers slightly, then plunged them back in hard. "Your ass is mine, Evie. Say it."
She couldn't speak, could only choke on saliva and tears, her body jerking uncontrollably. The obsidian plug pulsed slightly within her urethra, vibrating with a low, insidious frequency that made her bladder spasm and her clit throb against its chain.
Aurelian withdrew his fingers from her ass with a wet pop. He didn't hesitate. His slick hand moved to her pussy, fingers probing the stretched ring of muscle beside the vaginal candle. "This cunt is mine too," he declared, his voice thick with lust. "Begging to be fisted. Begging to be ruined." He pressed his thumb hard against her swollen clit, grinding it against the chain anchoring it to her tongue. The sharp pain-pleasure made her shriek, her hips bucking involuntarily against the candles impaling her.
Then his fingers breached her. Not gently. He forced them past the candle, knuckles stretching her vaginal opening impossibly wide. The candle shifted, grinding against her inner walls as Aurelian’s fingers curled inside her, exploring, claiming. He found her G-spot instantly, a rough, deliberate pressure.
"FUCK!" The word ripped from her throat, distorted by the chain. Her vision grayed. Her body wasn't her own. It was a vessel being plundered, stretched beyond recognition. The fisting, the candles, the plug vibrating in her peehole – it was too much. Orgasm detonated within her, a brutal, convulsive wave that tore through her spine, locking her muscles, forcing a guttural, animalistic sound from her throat. Her cunt clamped down on Aurelian’s fist and the candle, her ass clenched around its wax intruder, her urethra spasmed around the obsidian plug. Milk sprayed in thin arcs from her nipples, soaking the harness front.
Aurelian laughed, a dark, triumphant sound. He twisted his fist inside her, grinding his knuckles against her cervix. "There it is! Look at her fucking gape around my fist! Look at her piss-hole stuffed! She’s coming on holy candles! My perfect, depraved little bride!"
He leaned close again, his lips brushing her sweat-slicked temple as her body continued to shudder through aftershocks. "This is just the beginning, Evie," he whispered, his voice thick with promise and possession. "The vows haven't even started. And I haven't even begun to stretch you." He slowly withdrew his fist from her spasming cunt, leaving her gaping obscenely around the candle. His gaze, burning with dark adoration and absolute control, held hers. "You’re going to take so much more before this day is done.".
The echoes of Evonleigh’s brutal climax faded into the heavy church air, replaced only by the low hum of the urethral plug and her own ragged, wet breaths against the chain. Aurelian watched her cunt flutter obscenely around the thick candle base, her stretched hole glistening with juices. He smeared her fluids across her trembling lower belly, the gesture possessive. "Beautiful wreckage," he rasped, eyes glinting with dark pride. "But we have vows to exchange, wife." He snapped his fingers sharply towards the side of the altar.
A figure detached itself from the shadows near the Icon Corp contingent. Not a friend, but a woman Evonleigh vaguely recognized from the bio-mod labs, dressed incongruously as a Maid of Honour in pristine white satin. Her expression was professionally blank as she approached. She moved behind Evonleigh, her hands cool and efficient. Without preamble, she hooked her fingers into Evonleigh’s swollen inner labia, spreading them wide apart with firm, unyielding pressure. The action forced Evonleigh’s already gaping vaginal opening into a taut, obscene oval around the candle’s base, exposing the slick, trembling pink depths and the thick, engorged root of her clit where the chain started. Evonleigh whimpered, the chain jangling, her exposed flesh fluttering under the intense scrutiny.
"Keep it open," Aurelian commanded the woman, his voice devoid of warmth. He turned back to Evonleigh, his slick hand sliding down to her ass. His fingers traced the puffy, stretched rim around the anal candle. "This greedy hole needs claiming properly before the words bind us." He pushed two fingers in beside the wax pillar easily, the channel slick and yielding from her recent orgasm. Then three. Four. His knuckles pressed against the resistant ring of muscle. "Breathe out, Evie," he murmured, leaning close. "Push out for me like you did for Ross’s toy. Show me your dedication."
Evonleigh squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking down her cheeks. She remembered the agonizing fullness, the tearing pressure of birthing that obscene doll-shaped dildo under Ross’s clinical gaze. She forced a breath out, straining downwards as if expelling something. Aurelian’s fist sank deeper, his thumb popping past the ring alongside the candle. Her body screamed. "Fuck yes," Aurelian hissed, twisting his wrist inside her packed rectum. "Taking my fist like a champ. But it’s not enough." He withdrew slightly, only to slam the entire fist back in hard, burying it to the wrist beside the candle. Evonleigh’s scream was muffled agony, her body bowing against the harness. The urethral plug vibrated harder, a cruel counterpoint.
The minister, an elderly man with watery eyes and shaking hands, stepped forward. His voice quavered. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..." He trailed off, his gaze darting nervously between Aurelian’s brutal fisting of Evonleigh’s ass and her exposed, spasming cunt held open by the Maid of Honour. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Aurelian ignored him, focused solely on Evonleigh’s stretched ass. He worked his fist deeper, pulling the candle slightly askew with each thrust. "Ready for more, slut?" he grunted. "Ready to take your husband?" He withdrew his fist completely, leaving her asshole gaping wide around the candle. Before the shocked gasp left Evonleigh’s throat, he plunged back in, not with his fist, but with his entire forearm, slicking it brutally with her fluids from thigh to elbow. The stretch was monstrous, unbearable. Evonleigh’s vision whited out, her body convulsing, a silent scream tearing through her as her rectum was stuffed beyond capacity.
"Ah, fuck!" Aurelian groaned, his bicep flexing as he forced his forearm deeper, past the sigmoid bend. The massive intrusion shoved the anal candle deeper too, grinding against her cervix from behind. The urethral plug’s vibration became frantic. Aurelian bent his arm slightly inside her, his elbow pressing relentlessly against her devastated sphincter. "Look at that fucking rosebud turn inside out," he rasped to the minister. "Look at my bride take me." He began a slow, deep sawing motion with his buried arm, his elbow stretching her rim wider with each pass. The Maid of Honour maintained her hold, keeping Evonleigh’s pussy lips peeled back, revealing the frantic clenching around the vaginal candle as her body was impaled front and back.
The minister stammered, his script forgotten. "D-Do you, Aurelian Vance... take this woman..."
"Fuck yes, I take her," Aurelian growled, thrusting his arm deeper on the word 'take', grinding his elbow bone against her sensitive inner walls. Evonleigh’s choked sob vibrated the chain. "She’s mine. Every stretched, dripping inch of her." He rotated his arm slowly inside her packed colon, the movement obscenely visible through her thin abdominal wall. Milk dripped steadily from her tortured nipples.
"...To be your lawfully wedded wife?" the minister forced out, face pale.
"I take this dripping cunt, this gape I’m elbow-deep in," Aurelian declared, his voice raw with exertion and lust. He pistoned his arm in a fraction deeper, the thick muscle of his forearm distending her lower belly. "My perfect fuck-toy wife. Evonleigh Arden Vance. Mine to stuff, mine to ruin, mine to make scream."
The minister turned desperately to Evonleigh. The Maid of Honour pinched Evonleigh’s clit chain, jerking it harshly. Evonleigh’s eyes flew open, wide with terror and desperate, unwanted pleasure. "D-Do you... Evonleigh Arden..." the minister began.
Aurelian leaned close, his breath hot in her ear as his arm worked relentlessly inside her ass. "Say yes, my love," he whispered, the endearment grotesque. "Say yes to the stretch. Say yes to the gape. Beg for it." He curled the fingers of his buried hand inside her colon, pressing hard. The combined pressure on her G-spot from the vaginal candle and the deep internal pressure from his hand detonated another shockwave. Her body seized, thrashing against her bindings, a flood of clear arousal soaking the Maid of Honour’s white satin gloves as Evonleigh’s cunt spasmed violently around the candle. "Yesssss!" It ripped from her, a ragged, ruined sound, muffled by the chain but unmistakable.
The minister flinched. "Then... then by the power vested in me..." He swallowed hard. "...I now pronounce you husband and wife." The final word landed just as Aurelian slammed his arm forward one last time, burying his elbow entirely inside her ravaged ass. The thick joint forced her sphincter into a wide, glistening, inside-out ring around his bicep. Evonleigh’s shriek was pure, animalistic agony and ecstasy as his arm filled her to bursting, the urethral plug buzzing wildly, her exposed cunt convulsing around the candle. Aurelian threw his head back, a guttural roar of triumph tearing from his throat, his hips grinding unconsciously against her hip bone. "Mine!"
Aurelian’s roar echoed off the vaulted ceiling, vibrating in Evonleigh’s very bones as his elbow ground deep inside her ravaged colon. The minister’s pronouncement hung like a curse. “Mine!” Aurelian snarled again, a primal affirmation that wasn't a question. Sweat slicked his brow as he slowly, torturously, withdrew his arm from her ass. The sensation was obscene – a thick, slick slide of flesh pulling back through a ruined ring of muscle that gaped obscenely wide, purple and glistening, refusing to close. Cool church air hit the exposed, sensitive lining, making Evonleigh gasp, a raw scrape against the chain.
“Now,” Aurelian panted, his chest heaving, eyes burning with feral intensity. He wiped his glistening forearm carelessly on the short hem of her wedding gown. “Take them out.” He snapped his fingers at the Maid of Honour still mechanically holding Evonleigh’s pussy lips wide open. The woman didn't hesitate. Her white satin gloves, already stained with fluid, released Evonleigh’s labia and moved with clinical detachment. One hand gripped the thick base of the vaginal candle, slick with juices. The other grasped the anal candle. Evonleigh braced, a low whine escaping her.
“Together. Now!” Aurelian commanded.
The Maid pulled. Hard. The thick wax pillars dragged against Evonleigh’s overstretched, sensitized inner walls. It felt like ripping, a brutal evacuation after the profound fullness. Evonleigh’s body arched, her scream muffled, agonized. The urethral plug pulsed frantically inside her as her muscles convulsed. The candles slid free with twin wet, sucking pops, leaving her holes gaping wide open, trembling voids. Air rushed into the vacated spaces, a shocking, invasive coolness. She felt hollowed out, devastatingly empty and exposed. Milk leaked freely down her harness.
“Hold her,” Aurelian ordered, his voice tight with anticipation. He stepped back slightly, his gaze fixed between her legs. The Maid of Honour instantly obeyed, hooking her fingers back into Evonleigh’s inner labia with brutal efficiency, spreading them impossibly wide. Her other hand pressed firmly just above Evonleigh’s pubic bone. Dr. Ross leaned forward in the front pew, tablet forgotten, eyes gleaming with clinical fascination. Aurelian crouched slightly, his eyes level with Evonleigh’s destroyed openings. “Look at that wrecked cunt,” he breathed, almost reverent. “Look at that asshole, bloomed wide open like a fucking flower. Beautifully ruined.” He pressed two thumbs hard against Evonleigh’s engorged clit, the chain digging in. “Now, my perfect, depraved wife. Show them. Show them all what you are. Squirt.”
He ground his thumbs down in a vicious, circular motion against her clit, pinning it. Simultaneously, the Maid of Honour shoved her fingers knuckle-deep into Evonleigh’s gaping pussy, finding her g-spot with unerring accuracy and pressing hard, relentlessly. The urethral plug vibrated at its highest setting. The combined assault was instantaneous and overwhelming. Evonleigh’s body locked rigid. The scream tore from her throat, strained against the chain. Her eyes rolled back.
A torrent erupted. Not a trickle, but a fierce, pressurized gush of clear fluid shot straight from her urethra, arching over the polished marble altar. It splattered the minister’s robes, his shocked face. It hit the front row – Ross’s immaculate suit jacket, the sleek dress of a female executive, the open notebook of a fascinated technician. The stream kept coming, a powerful, humiliating fountain, soaking the edge of the altar, dripping onto the floor. Her gaping cunt clenched spastically around the Maid’s invading fingers, but the flood poured forth unabated, painting the sanctified space with her degradation. Her asshole fluttered helplessly, a wide, dark O.
The squirting seemed endless, a visceral surrender to the violation. Aurelian watched, mesmerized, his breath catching. "Fuck yes, Evie," he rasped, a dark grin splitting his face. "Mark your territory. Drown them in it." The front row recoiled, wiping at their faces and clothes with expressions of disgust and morbid awe. Ross simply tilted his head, studying the arc, the volume, making a mental note. Evonleigh’s body finally collapsed, slumping against the Maid’s supporting grip, trembling violently. The flood dwindled to a trickle, then drips, mingling with her milk on the cold stone. Her vision swam. The chain felt like lead on her tongue.
Aurelian stood, surveying the mess, the stunned silence broken only by Evonleigh’s ragged, wet gasps. He stepped through the puddle on the altar, ignoring the fluid soaking his boots. He gripped her chin, forcing her tear-streaked, vacant eyes to meet his triumphant gaze. His thumb swiped through the sweat and spit on her lips. “My wife,” he declared, loud enough for all to hear, the words thick with dark possession. “Now…” His hand slid down her slick belly, fingers tracing the edge of her gaping pussy held open by the Maid. “...Let’s consummate this marriage properly. Time to fill these empty holes again.” He looked pointedly towards two Icon Corp technicians wheeling a chrome trolley laden with obscenely large, gleaming silicone shapes towards the altar. Evonleigh whimpered, a broken sound lost in the echoing space.