To the two hundred guests, our friends and family, the wedding looked like any other. Well, perhaps a little nicer than most. I came from money, and the venue was our family home in Vermont on the five thousand acres of forested hills. The June weather had cooperated and the backyard was beautifully done. The bridesmaids were in emerald, full-length dresses, the groomsmen in morning coats. The backyard's old gazebo had been rebuilt and repainted. It was quite lovely.

Appearances could be deceiving.

Britt exited the pool house as I stood under the gazebo with Father Truman. She was dressed in a full-length ivory white dress. Two younger cousins carried her train. She looked radiant with her dark hair coiled under the veil. Everyone gasped. She was stunning as she walked down the aisle.

I appreciated her walk for another reason. Only she could walk so elegantly with an 8 inch dildo inserted firmly in her ass.

At our wedding, appearances were very deceiving.

We had dispensed with the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding. In fact it had been just the two of us that morning, she utterly naked, and I dressed in black leather. We had gotten up early to begin our preparations.

We started with bathing Britt in the huge master suite tub. I also used a straight razor to shave her pussy and anus. Afterwards, I gave her three enemas, one milk, one coffee, and finally one warm soapy water.

"Bend over," I ordered. Britt did so quickly, placing her hands on the edge of the tub. I lubed her anus only a bit - she had been practicing for months to be able to handle my size in her ass - and inserted the large black dildo, only slightly smaller than my cock, into her butt. She sighed as the full length entered. I pushed the base firmly between her cheeks.

"Keep it there, slut," I ordered.

She groaned, but complied.

I took the chastity device from the counter and placed the metal belt around her waist. Then I pulled the thinner metal band between her legs. Now the dildo would not be able to exit her ass. Her bowels were clean and she had not eaten since the day before. I locked the chastity belt in place and ordered her to stand.

"Good girl," I said. Her smile beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you, sir. Can't you just touch me... there before."

I smiled back, and then smacked her firmly on the ass. She yelped.

"No."

She had been in chastity for a month, unable to masturbate or have sex. I of course came daily in her mouth.

I then fetched her wedding lingerie, traditional white stockings, garter, and panty. They looked rather conservative on her, but the point was to cover the chastity device from the view of her bridesmaids who would arrive within the hour to do her hair and finish her dressing. A white bra covered her 36DD breasts, including the double pierced nipples. None of her bridesmaids knew that she was my total subservient slave.

So no one knew as my slave and bride Britt walked down the aisle that she was locked in chastity and titillated by a huge dong filling her bowels. No one but I knew. Nor did anyone think twice of the lace collar at her throat, other than as a nice touch to the wedding dress. But we both knew what it symbolized between us. The word "slave" was sewn into the inside of the collar by her own hand. She was very artsy-crafty and this wedding was as much her idea as mine, save one final point.

She met my eyes as she walked toward me, and I knew her thoughts. I saw her love, her utter devotion, and ultimately her submission to me as her husband and master.

The ceremony that Father Truman presided over was no different than any other. However, as the guests dispersed to the big tents for the reception, my new bride and I walked to the old guest house, which we were using to "prepare for the reception" and change clothes.

Britt entered the front room and immediately knelt before.

"Master," she said, looking up at me.

I removed the wedding dress. I then removed her lacey bra and panties. The garter belt and stockings remained.

"Now for the real ceremony," I said.

"Yes, Master."

I took the key to the chastity belt from my pocket and removed the metal device.

"Keep that cock in your ass, bitch," I said.

"Yes, Master," she gasped.

"Do you, Britt Elaine Villiers nee Smith, swear to be the slave of Anthony Calvin Villiers?"

"I do, Master."

I reached toward the shelf to grab the piercing gun.

"Do you swear to do all that he asks, no matter how degrading, humiliating, or dehumanizing?"

"I do, Master."

I reached down and grabbed the fold of skin above her clit.

"Do you swear to worship his body and mind."

"I do, Master."

I grabbed the clit between by fingers. She was wet with arousal and the clit was thick. I pulled it forward until she gasped.

"Do you swear to put all his desires before your own?"

"I do, Master," she said, her voice going small.

I pointed the tip of the piercing gun beneath her clit and fired it.

She gasped.

I threaded the stud through her flesh and followed it with a ring, with the same engraving that our two wedding bands had.

"I accept your servitude and name you my slave for the duration of your entire life," I said.

She smiled, a single tear falling down her cheek.

I kissed it away, and then held my bloody fingers to her mouth. She licked the blood and lady cum from my fingers.

"Thank you, Master."

We cleaned ourselves up. I replaced the chastity belt around her waist. I removed her veil so that her long black hair could fall down her back. I also replaced her bra with a new one.

This bra was not quite as formal as the wedding brassiere, so we'd be able to dance at the reception. Britt loved to boogie. This bra was specially made by me and contained a layer of tacks on the inside of each cup.

She gasped when I snapped it in back.

"Good girl," I said.

Then I hugged her, and she gasped again.

It was my hope that she would remember her utterly depraved servitude to me every time a family member or friend hugged her for the rest of the day.

We removed the bustle from the dress and redressed, joining the reception in the back yard.

The reception was a whirlwind, to be honest. I did glance over at her often, and saw her hugging many people. Once her eyes caught mine, and I saw the adoring suffering she was going through for me. I mouthed to her across the room, "Good girl." I was full of pride, love, and lust for my slave. But I knew the finale of our day would be later, when the guests had left.

Finally the guests had departed and night had descended on the estate. Our parents were exhausted and retired to their rooms. We had said our goodbyes, as we had told them we would be leaving for the airport early. We however were quite awake in anticipation of the final rituals of our day.

Once I was certain the parents were asleep, I motioned my slave-wife up. She followed me to the guest cottage again.

"May I serve you naked now, Master?" she asked.

I squeezed her breast and she winced.

"Yes. Undress."

She undressed for me, slowly, seductively. The dress fell to the floor. And then the menacing bra. Her exquisite tits were patterned with lines of red dots, some with drops of red blood atop them.

"I truly suffered for you today, Master," she said.

"I know. And I love you for it."

The stockings rolled down her legs. I motioned her forward, unhooked the garter belt, and then unlocked her belt. She let the metal device fall to the floor with a sigh.

I motioned her to turn around.

"Bend over."

Slowly I pulled the dildo from her ass. Twelve hours was by far her longest time with a dong inserted inside her.

She groaned as I withdrew the penis. Her anus spasmed open and closed. I would fuck her there before the day was done.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

She glanced above the fireplace where the final implement rested.

"Yes, Master," she said, a bit of lust in her eye.

This touch had been her idea, and I loved her for the depravity and masochism it required.

We stepped out into the night, me carrying the implement. She took my other hand and led me farther into the field to a small grove of trees. We were very far from the main house, and the light would not be seen nor the sounds - I hoped - heard.

The satchel I carried contained the other implements we'd need. I reached in now and withdrew a black leather collar, black leather cuffs for Britt's wrists and ankles, and a red ball gag. In the center of the clearing were two wooden stakes. Next to the stakes was a brazier.

First I collared her. She smiled as I pulled it tight.

"Too tight?"

"Never, Master," she said. Which was true. On more than one occasion I had carefully choked her into unconsciousness as she orgasmed uncontrollably.

Then I cuffed her wrists and ankles. Chains hung from the posts. I attached clips to her cuffs and she was forced spread-eagle between the poles, up on her toes, and completely unable to move.

She faced away from me and so could only listen as I started a fire in the brazier.

The air had cooled with the setting of the sun and I'm sure the heat was a pleasure on her backside. For the moment, at least. The fire was soon burning hot. I used an old-fashioned bellows to drive air into the flame, making the wood burn red. Into the brazier I poured a dozen lumps of coal. Using the bellows again, before long the coal was bright red and afire.

I walked around her with the implement Britt had spent a month crafting. She is an artist, a sculptor of clay, metal, and other materials. I held in my hand a brand, a long instrument of metal with a polished handle. At the end of it was a reversed and stylized letter V. When I had first proposed to her, asking her to be my slave-wife, she had added her own condition that I mark her permanently. She wanted it to be forever known that she was my property. She discarded the idea of a tattoo, though she was not opposed to them. She set her desires on a brand.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She smiled around the gag and nodded firmly.

I had no doubts, but I asked just to give her that one last chance.

I returned to the brazier and placed the tip into the coals. The bellows thundered as I drove the flames higher. She arched her back, feeling the heat so close.

I waited five minutes, though I was sure the brand was hot enough in one. I pulled it from the fire and held it in front of her.

"I now mark you permanently as my property."

I reached one arm around her torso from the rear so that she could not move, and then with no pause, I drove the end of the brand onto her right buttocks. She bucked and screamed into the gag. I held the brand there for three seconds and then removed it.

Britt sagged in her bondage. I set the brand aside and then removed her gag.

Her eyes were glazed and her breath was heavy.

"How was it?"

"Exactly as I wished, Master," she said. "How does it look?"

It was red, with curled skin around it, but the strike was clean.

"Excellent, slave. You are truly owned."

"Thank you, Master. Will you fuck me now? It has been so long."

"Only a month, slut," I said playfully. "But there is one more thing to do tonight."

Britt looked at me with surprise. Our wedding, from the clothing to the branding had been heavily scripted by the both of us. She had written my vows for me, both sets.

"What are you going to do, Master?" she asked shakily. The endorphins were still flowing through her.

"I love you dearly, slave," I said. "But you are a vain creature." It was a fault of hers. "No one can see the brand," I said. "But everyone will see your bald head."

Her eyes shot wide.

"No, Master! Please, no!"

"Yes, it must be so." We left early for Hawaii, so her parents wouldn't see it, but I would make everyone else saw it. And she'd be severally limited in her instagramming if she wanted to hide what I was about to do to her.

"Please no, Master," she said. Tears were streaming from her eyes. "Not my hair."

"Yes, I am going to shave your head," I said. "And you are going to ask me to do it."

I removed the electric clippers from the satchel. They vibrated as I pressed the switch.

"Please, no," Britt begged.

"Beg me now to shave your head, slave."

"Please, no."

"Are you my slave? Are you my marked slave, who I own in all ways? Are you my possession to do with as I please?"

She bowed her head. "Yes, Master."

"Then beg me to shave your head."

"Master... please... shave my head."

"Again."

"Master, please shave my head."

"Again."

"Master, please shave this fuck-pig's head bald!"

"Again."

"Master, please shave this dirty whore fuck-pig's head, because she is a vain creature and needs to learn her lesson."

She gasped as she wept.

"I will do this for you. Because you've asked."

I took the electric razor to her hair, and cut huge lockets from her head while she sobbed. I held the locket in front of her and she bawled like a baby.

Soon her head was a raggedy surface of hair tufts. I removed a can of shaving cream and a straight razor, finishing the job. Her scalp was white in the moonlight. I caressed her face.

"Now everyone will know," I whispered, "that you are my dirty, whore slave."

"Thank you, Master," she sobbed, her body shaking.

"And to be doubly sure, I've bought you a new bikini, a Brazilian tanga bikini, that will show your brand very well. I want you to wear that the whole time."

"Yes, Master," she said dutifully.

I unlashed her wrists and ankles. She was too weak to walk, so I carried her to the cottage and over the threshold. I gently fucked my bald, branded fuck-pig slave in her stretched ass, and she came like the whore she was.