Chapter 5 - Wedding Preparations
The Reverend Martin Galbraith had not changed very much in
the fifteen years since Sunday School,
except his hair was thinner now and showed thin streaks of grey in his dark
hair. He still had that friendly, happy look on his face which had made him
popular among the people, of all faiths, of our small town. Tall and with an
air of ‘goodness’ about him he exuded all of the good characteristics of a man
who understood most of humanity's weaknesses and forgave all – he was a very
nice man.
Smiling at us he beckoned us to follow him down the long dark
wood lined corridor to his office at the end. Passing the kitchen I glanced in
and was met with a warm smile from Suzanne who was having a quiet and very
friendly moment with Ramone. ‘So it's true' I thought as she turned back to her
lover – back in the friendly moment.
 |
| ‘So it's true,’ |
Three chairs had been arranged in front of Martin's desk and
a pot of hot coffee and cups had been placed on a tray nearby on a small table.
Like the corridor, the office was all polished dark wood that smelled of lavender
wax and old books. It was the lair of the clerical intellectual – a man with a
fierce analytical brain - a thinker. And I liked him immediately.
Coffee was poured, sipped, appreciated and then set aside
before the conversation began. I sensed that this was a deliberate move on
Martin’s part, and I appreciated this ploy probably been used many times
before, in order to relax the interviewee before the difficult questions began.
“Haven't seen much of you recently Mary,” Martin said to me,
and then turning to my fiancée, “or you Mark.”
“It’s been a few years Reverend,” I replied – sufficiently
chastened by this mild mannered cleric, who then turned to my Lover.
“And now to business,” he said as he put his fingertips
together as if in silent prayer, “so perhaps you would like to start please Gregg.”
Gregg paused before responding. “It was all unforeseen Martin.
You may recall that I told you that Terri and her husband had left and taken
the baby to Toronto ..”
Martin nodded, which confirmed to me that he knew more about
Gregg than I had thought; but there was more to come.
“I thought that I was facing a lonely time ahead, and I was
prepared for that to be my future,” Gregg continued, “and then Mary came into
my life. Along with her fiancée Mark.”
“So you have a three cornered relationship?” Martin asked, to
establish the facts of our relationship.
“Exactly!” Gregg confirmed. “And now Mary and Mark wish to
marry.”
“I see!” Martin said - his fingers still together in spiritual
contemplation. “ And what about you Mark. Do you still wish to marry Mary, even
though she is now in a relationship with Gregg and will be after she is your
Wife?”
“Of course!”
Martin was visibly taken aback by the strength of Mark's
reply, and it showed in his next question.
“And you are content to live the life of a ....” he stopped.
“A cuckold you mean?”
Again, Martin was surprised at Mark's positivity – as I was;
but Gregg just had that content smile on his face that he gets when he knows
that he has given me a good time in bed. He clearly had a better knowledge of
human aberrations than I.
“You know what it means to be ..... a cuckold?”
“Reverend,” Mark replied after a moment's hesitation, “I have
loved Mary since We were children and she has only ever been the one for me. I
have always known and accepted that she likes the attentions of other men, but now
she has a good man as her permanent Lover and I am comfortable with that.”
“Good heavens,” Martin exclaimed. “And you still love her?”
Mark nodded his head emphatically and then, turning to me,
Martin asked, “And you Mary. I remember you and Mark at Sunday School years ago
and I always thought you were a strong-willed young lady who knew what she
wanted. I don't think I was wrong in that respect, or was I?”
At that moment I was unsure if I had just been praised or
insulted, nevertheless I knew what my answer was going to be.
“If being strong-willed means knowing what I want,” I replied,
“then guilty as charged. But I have been lucky enough to fall in love with two
men - who love me in return.”
“And are you willing to be the centre of this polyamorous
relationship?” Martin asked me.
“Gregg and Mark are two different men completely, and I love
them both equally for who they are,” was my answer.
And then, because I could sense a reluctance by the Reverend
to accept the honesty of my explanation, I decided to go in for the kill. “Just
as Susannah probably does.”
The office became very silent for a second as all eyes turned
to me - Mark's in horror, Gregg's in amazement, and Martin's in amused but gentle
forgiveness, which made me immediately regret making personal.
“I wasn't doubting you Mary, and you are right to raise the
matter of my own marriage arrangements,” was Martin’s response. “But before I
can continue with any wedding arrangements I have to be certain that all three
of you are serious about your future lives.”
I shouldn't have, but I bridled again at his insinuation that
we were ‘not serious’.
“Reverend,” I said in the voice I reserve for ‘time wasters’
at work, “I can assure you we are very, very serious about our new lives
together. We are not children!”
Mark's face was even more fixed in horror. Gregg's
countenance had changed from amazement to suppressed amusement. And Martin's was
one of patience – gentle but firm.
“I think that I should ask my Wife and her Boyfriend to come
in and talk to you about our life,” Martin said as he stood up and made his way
to the door. “Her name is Suzanne by the way. Not Susannah!”
“I told you Mary was different,” Gregg said to Martin as he went
through the door. The response was a conspiratorial grin between the pair of
them. And I felt sorry again.
“Mary!” Mark whispered so that his voice couldn't carry down
the corridor, “You can't talk to a reverend like that.”
“Why not?” was my response, “I thought he was trying to back
out.”
Mark was about to respond, but Gregg beat him to it. “Mary!
Martin is only exercising his pastoral responsibilities,” he said, as he
reached out to hold my hand. “His duty of care, if you will.”
“My husband was not trying to back out,” said the pretty middle
aged Woman who came through the door, closely followed by the handsome dark man
who had been with her as we had entered. Sitting before me she looked directly
into my eyes and continued, “But he
needs me to make sure that you know how to handle the wants, needs, and
emotions of two different males.”
Suzanne was not a stuffy (albeit nice) churchman with a
supposed ‘duty of care’, but a sensuous married Woman with a Lover who sat
beside her – close beside her – looking to help her husband in his work.
“Can I ask you some personal questions Mary?”
I glanced over to Gregg, who nodded imperceptibly.
“Sure!”
“Gregg here,” she said, looking towards my Lover, “is the man
who's bed you share?”
“Yes!”
“And Mark is the man you wish to marry? And he wishes to
marry you?”
“Yes!”
“And once you are married to Mark, you will continue to be
Gregg's Mistress. Is that correct?”
I nodded – wondering where this line of questioning was
going.
Suzanne looked away and reached for Ramone’s hand and squeezed
in a gesture of understanding. “Mary,”
she said, “once you are married and Gregg is still your Lover, which of them do
you think will feel the most insecure.”
“Neither of them,” I replied without thinking, “I love them
both.”
“Really?” Suzanne exclaimed. “So we have Mark here, ready and
willing to be your willing cuckold so that he can devote his life to you. Spending
his life with you sharing all the day to day happiness, frustrations, triumphs,
and tragedies of your life. And Gregg who takes you to bed regularly and gives
you all the physical loving that a young and vibrant Woman like you has every
right to expect, but then goes home; or wishes you goodnight when you return to
Mark. So who is the most insecure?”
I was confused, and said so.
“Okay then! For the sake of argument, who of the two – Master
or cuckold – would be the easiest to replace?” Suzanne said.
What she had said was a revelation and I sat open mouthed at
the thought of what she was telling me.
“And the boys here know exactly what I am saying. Don't you
Gregg? Don't you Mark?”
Both nodded in agreement. Mark looked calmer now, but Gregg’s
smile was now frozen on his bearded handsome face. Because Suzanne had just voiced
an inescapable fact in that quiet little room., but she wasn't finished with
her theory.
“Because big handsome Lovers are not difficult to find, are
they Mary? But a timid little hubby who wears the cuckold’s cage of celibacy is
a much rarer creature who is to be treasured, nurtured, and gently schooled in his
devotional duties.”
“I guess that is probably true,” I replied as I looked at
Mark in a new light, “But willing married Mistresses are not that difficult to
find for (I glanced meaningfully over at Gregg and made an air quote) ‘big
handsome Lovers’. Are they Suzanne?”
Suzanne smiled in recognition of my counter-argument and
then, while stroking the back of Ramone’s head, asked the question that changed
everything. “So how are you going to keep both men happy Mary?”
“I shall marry Mark and give him what he wants.”
“And that is?”
“Mark wants to be totally submissive to Gregg and me –
emotionally, physically, and sexually ..” I said to Suzanne, and then turning
to Mark I continued, “... isn't that right Mark.”
Mark's face coloured in embarrassment, but he met her eye as
he responded with a whispered, “Yes Mistress!”
Suzanne looked at Mark enquiringly for a moment to convince
herself that his response was an honest answer and, having decided that it was,
turned to me again. She smiled mischievously as she asked the next question.
“And how are you going to keep Gregg in your bed Mary?”
I heard Gregg chuckle at this cheeky request for my future
plans, but I thought I knew what I was going to say. However even I surprised
myself with what I told Suzanne that afternoon; Mark too was given something to
think about.
“In the same way that Mark is submissive to me, then Gregg is
totally my Master. I belong to him in every way a Woman can belong to a man. My
body is his to use whenever, wherever, and however he wants me. I am not only
his Personal Assistant in my professional capacity, but I am his Pleasure
Mistress in every other way; and if he wishes to put a little version of
himself to grow inside me then, that too will be welcome – doubly so!”
Suzanne gasped, Mark gave out a muffled scream, Gregg raised
an eyebrow and then smiled.
“Well that's pretty clear then,” Suzanne commented after a
few moments silence in the room, “but one more question.” I readied myself for
another interrogation, but I was wrong.
“For Mark,” she said turning to my fiancée whose face had now
drained of blood at the intensity of her gaze.
“Tell me little cuckold. How far have you taken your preparations?”
Mark coughed, crossed one foot over the other, squirmed in
his seat and then, in an almost inaudible voice, replied, “I have a little
cage.”
Suzanne’s laughter rippled like water through the room,
bringing an aura of lightness into that brown wooden walled austere cleric’s office.
“And do you like wearing it on your ‘little guy’?” she asked.
"I'm getting used to it," was his direct response.
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| “I'm getting used to it.” |
“And have you attended your future Wife's happy moments with
her Master?”
“I have Mistress.”
Suzanne nodded approval, and then asked, “And did you
participate?”
“Yes Mistress!”
“Naked?”
“Me Mistress? Yes Mistress!”
Suzanne looked suitably pleased, and exclaimed, “Excellent!”
And then asked my fiancée one more question. “And have you femmed up Mark?”
“Mistress?”
“You know what I am saying cuckold,” Suzanne said with a
stern look that fooled no one. “And have you worn panties? Stockings maybe, or a
little journey down the full black lingerie road maybe. Has that tickled your
senses while your future Wife invites her Lover to join her between her open
thighs? Or little black panties to cover your little cage?”
 |
| "... to cover your little cage?” |
Mark now knew what she meant by being ‘femmed up’ and as the implication
of what she had asked grew, his face became the colour of a ripe tomato. But
eventually he plucked up enough courage to speak. “I wore a pair of Mary's
......”
“Stop right there cuckold,” Suzanne exclaimed loudly – startling
Gregg and I. “You will address her as Mistress at all times.”
“Yes Suza..... I mean Mistress,” he stuttered, then shook his
head and said quietly to himself, “So many Mistresses.”
“A pair of what cuckold?”
“White panties Mistress. See-through.”
“And did you like wearing them?”
Mark sat open mouthed at this question, his eyes frantically looking
around at Gregg and I before replying, “Yes Mistress!”
There was no reticence in his answer. It was as if in that
brief moment of admission to feeling pleasure of feminising Mark had crossed a
boundary; he had ‘come out' and the relief on his face was unmistakable to all
of us in that room. And I felt happy for him because there could no longer be
any confliction between his perceived and actual manliness – he was now a sissy
cuckold, and happy to be so.
The meeting ended with Martin returning to the room and
Suzanne telling him to – “Give these kids what they want Martin, and get them
married.” The date for our wedding was set for four weeks later.
That night, Gregg and I went to bed with Mark in attendance. We
were uplifted with optimism about our futures, especially when Martin had
agreed to the minor re-wording of my (not Mark's) wedding vows and had arranged
for Gregg and I to have a small private ceremony in the Registry after the main
church event. Mark had also agreed to sign a pledge to recognise Gregg's right
to be my marital mate. “We call it the polyamorous contract,” he had said, “but
you will not find it in any Canon Law.”
He looked at our confused faces, so continued, “You may have
heard that the modern church has recognised gay marriages,” we nodded because
it had been in the papers just that very morning, “however the clergy have
agreed that the public are not ready for three person marriages yet, but have
agreed to a slight bending of the rules if the local priest deems it to be a
stable relationship.”
“And is our three person relationship stable?” asked Gregg.
“Suzanne and I think it is, and that you will soon enjoy a
happy and successful Cuckold Marriage like ours,” replied the Reverend who had
just watched his own Wife disappear upstairs with Ramone, after the interview
had finished.
It was with that meeting in mind when I remarked to Gregg, “I
think Mark has had his horizons broadened, ”as our cuckold knelt before me and
rolled my stockings down my legs.
My Lover looked down at my fiancée and took in the naked Mark,
with hold-ups on his legs, and panties covering his tiny caged penis and replied,
“He knows exactly where he's going, and he has just started. Haven't you Mark.”
Mark looked up and smiled in agreement, and then went back to
unrolling the flimsy material down my left leg. Mark was clearly enjoying his
journey.
We made love that night with Mark attending to our needs from
his position beside our bed. Silently he watched Gregg enter me to make
passionate and noisy love, and at our climax he had the good manners to refrain
from positioning his tongue on my labia until Gregg had rolled away and was
relaxing with his customary satisfied look on his handsome face. Similarly, he
waited patiently for Gregg's beckoning before lowering his mouth down onto the
large pink manhood so as to coax it back to hardness.
Three times Gregg took me in his big soft bed and pleasured
himself and I with the thrusts of his massive member deep inside my body- and three
times my fiancée did what a sissy cuckold should do by cleaning the semen from
my vagina and consuming the sticky salty must that had erupted from the man he
now openly referred to as ‘Master’. And twice, Mark resurrected the pole of my
happiness until sleep overcame us; but not to be outdone, Mark joined Gregg in
the shower that morning to drain him of his seed for the forthcoming day, as I
watched from outside the cubicle with a white towel on my wet hair. Our lives
were beginning to follow a pattern that would last us for a very long time.
 |
| ... as I watched from outside ... |
The following day Gregg, me, and Mark jumped into the
Maserati and drove around the lake to the new estate office of the new homes
that we being erected along the shore across from Gregg's apartment block. The
timber clad houses were colourful, well insulated, warm, and had all the modern
appliances that a newly married couple with a young family should need. And the
property that we chose, by the lakeside, was my dream home – that I looked
forward to being constructed - eventually. But that was for another day because
we had a wedding to plan. I was still becoming accustomed to Mark's submissiveness and I
have to admit to feeling uncomfortable with my new role of Mistress over her
cuckold. I was happy with being Gregg's obedient Mistress because it was one of
the great joys in my life to lie on my back and open my legs for him, but as my
fiancée's involvement in our lovemaking became more obedient, I was beginning
to realise that this way of life was the
one he had wanted for all of his life. And that realisation was
confirmed the night (after our meeting with Martin, Suzanne, and Ramone) that
Gregg unwrapped a brand-new small leather collar and asked Mark if he would
want it as a symbol of his cuckolding.
Mark said nothing in reply, but knelt on the floor before me
and said, “Please fasten it on me Mistress.”
I was no longer in any doubt. Mark was what he wanted to be
and, after fastening the buckle, I turned him to face me. His eyes were full of
love for me and happiness at his servitude; and that is why I kissed him on his
forehead and called him ‘My little cuckold’ – which pleased both him and Gregg.
Clearly, such a symbol of bondage, could not be worn in his
normal day to day life but from that day to this, he has worn his collar when
we are alone together. His penis restraint was subject to a slightly different
routine, in that it was a permanent fit while at home but for work he would
remove the cage and replace it with a small chain wrapped around the base of
his ‘little man’ and his tiny testicles. From that moment, this would be the
routine he would follow every day without fail because, in his own words, ‘With
this chain I will never forget I am a willing cuckold’.
It was Mark, a week after we had signed the agreement to buy
the house, who raised the matter of starting a family. I knew that it had been
on his mind, because of his reaction to my declaration that I would welcome
Gregg's impregnation.
“You do know, don't you Mary, that you don't need my
permission to start a family,” he said quietly in the SUV as we were returning
to our parents who, it must be said, had been remarkably patient with our sleeping
(or lack of) habits.
I was about to give my fiancée a flippant answer, but then
realised the implications of what he was asking me while at the same time
telling me just what he considered to be his position in our relationship. This
was a moment that needed some delicacy - but then again I was supposed to be
his Mistress (the dominant kind) – so my reply was less than empathetic.
“Don't worry cuckold,” I replied as I opened the vehicle
door, “I shall let you know when my tits start to swell.”
I regretted it immediately and looked back at Mark's face
that I had imagined to be stricken with humiliation, but he was smiling back at
me before replying, “Now you are getting the idea Mistress.”
Where does this total submission come from in a man? Is this
wish to be subjugated and to administer sexual intimacies to both sexes a personality
trait? Is it masochism? Was my fiancée mentally unstable? All these thoughts
swept in and out of my brain as I walked up the path the my Mother's house –
the house I would soon be leaving for good.
“So you are marrying Mark as well as being bedded by your big
beautiful Boss. Is that it?” Mom asked me when I told her about the wedding
plans.
I was surprised that my Mother knew about my unusual three
cornered love-life and said so.
“Like father- like son,” she said. “Mark’s Mother, Annette, has
had a few Boyfriends over the years. Have you ever wondered why Mark doesn't
have ginger hair like his Alexander, his Dad?”
I hadn't! It had never occurred to my why Mark was so
completely different to his Father. Although of similar build, Mark had a darker,
almost Latin, complexion whereas Alex was of Scottish red-haired stock.
“And Alex knew?” I asked.
“Of course?” Mom replied, as she pushed her dinner around her
plate absentmindedly. “And he used to arrange her dates for her.”
“What? Tell me more.”
“No! They're friends of mine Mary, and you know all you need
to know,” she replied and started to eat her dinner in silence.
Another time I would have wanted that conversation to continue, but I was tired and I had a wedding
to plan – with Gregg. But Mom had something else to say.
“That's the thing about kids Mary”, she said while smiling
back at me, “they think they invent everything that’s new. Nothing is Dear.
Nothing in this world anyway!”
“Yes Mom. Goodnight Mom!”
The following morning Mom had forgotten her little piece of Mark's
family history and her homespun philosophy and told me that she would take over
all of the preparations for my wedding to Mark. I was grateful for two reasons
– I didn't have the time (or the money) – it gave me more time to lie in my
Lover's bed.
I reflected on Mom's words as I ate my breakfast that
morning. It was an incredibly generous offer to pay and arrange for my wedding
to Mark. “It should have been your Father’s job,” she had said, but he was no
longer living with us so she had stepped in to help.
I felt guilty that I hadn't taken Mom into my confidence
about Gregg but she had clearly guessed what had been happening in my new job. Then
she stunned me with what she had said next.
“I assume that you have put ‘the cage’ on Mark,” she said as
she bit into a slice of toast.
I put my coffee down quickly before my shaking hand spilled
it all onto the table and Mom, of course, saw the shock on my face and laughed.
“Y.. Y.... YES....” I gulped.
“I told you Dear. Nothing's new. Those things have been around
for years – in one form or another.”
But she wasn't finished with me yet. I sat, with my coffee
still safe on the table, waiting for her inevitable question. “So who is
promising to do what at the Wedding?”
A simple question at last. “It will be a normal wedding except
that I shall not vow to obey and be faithful.”
“And Mark?”
“He will take the full vow. All of it.”
“And who will give you away Mary?” Mom asked.
“I have asked Gregg to stand beside me at the altar,” I
replied.
“Your Lover giving you to your new husband? That's
different!”
“Not really Mom, because Gregg will join us in the Registry
for another small ceremony between the three of us.”
“A cuckold’s contract?” Mom asked.
“My word! How did you guess?”
Mom looked smug at my surprised reaction as she replied, “Our
Reverend Martin Galbraith has officiated this kind of wedding before. He might
have told you that Mary.”
“He did!”
“And you know that he's a cuckold too?”
“I do,” I replied, “and he was very sympathetic to our situation.”
“So he should be, now that his Wife, Suzanne, is expecting another
of her Lover's children.”
Mom looked at me again, in that intense way she had when she
was sure of what she was saying. “You do know, don't you Mary,” she said slowly,
so every word sank into my brain, “that being a cuckold husband will not make
Mark less of a man. Because he will not in my eyes.”
Mom was as good as her word and, although I was saved the
time, worry, and expense of making the arrangements, she managed to keep me up
to date with her plans. All I had to do was please Gregg in his bed and be kind
and thoughtful to Mark while simultaneously humiliating him sufficiently to keep
his submissive masochist tendencies simmering. And with each humiliation he
grew happier by the day.
Two weeks after my talk with Mom, Gregg, Mark and I were
sitting in his kitchen once again on a Saturday morning after a particularly
long and exhausting night of loving. Gregg and I were comfortably naked under
our silk robes, while Mark looked sweet in a very nice cuckold’s ensemble, and
it was he who raised the question over consummation.
 |
| ... Mark looked sweet ... |
He had been quiet the night before and had attended to his
duties with commendable diligence. Even as I sat on the stool against the
breakfast bar the memory of his warm tongue on my labia happily scooping out Gregg's
seed onto his tongue to swallow in that act of total subservience was a happy
recollection of the pleasures of the body. “We know what is going to happen at
the wedding don't we?” he asked.
“Yes cuckold,” said Gregg kindly, despite the reference to
his status, “what's on your mind?”
“What about afterwards? You know.... the honeymoon..... and
con ........”
“Consummation?” said Gregg to help move the conversation on –
Mark nodded. “I think that is Mary's call.” And Mark nodded again.
