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My Wedding Scandal

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© 2014 K M Dylan All Rights Reserved

Author’s note: this is an entry in the “Literotica Annual Halloween Contest” for 2014. It chronicles the wedding of Katie Wolfer, a fashion supermodel, and there is some setting of the scene before the “good stuff!” Please vote 5 stars if you enjoy it!


Despite all the pyrotechnics between us, my aristocratic French fiancé, Victor, and I had a dazzling wedding. There were over 800 guests. Victor’s political allies, close and distant family, and the de Goncourt family’s aristocratic peers all jammed together within the towering walls and majestic stained glass windows of the Rambouillet cathedral, and it was standing room only for latecomers. The cathedral was bedecked with thousands of cherry blossoms flown in that day from South Africa and fine white gauze bunting. Victor’s public relations firm was in constant communication with the press, positioning our nuptials as a fairytale wedding and we had photographers documenting it from Paris Match, People Magazine and US Weekly.

The wedding was scheduled to start at 11 a.m. on this sunny, but crisp, last day of October. I spent the morning of my “All Hallow’s Eve” wedding day getting ready in Pauline’s master suite at the de Goncourt’s chateau. Caroline, Natasha, Pauline and Emmy attended me, in addition to a make-up artist, a stylist, and a hairdresser. The hairdresser spent almost two hours sculpting my long blonde tresses into a stunning bouffant, with artful tendrils falling on either side of my face. The team buzzed around me like bees all morning, and I felt like I was back to my modeling days, getting ready to walk the runway for Dior or Chanel. Caroline and I had to spend almost forty minutes getting my dress on, with a blue thong for something blue, and Pauline’s garters for something old, and a blinding diamond tiara from Harry Winston (Victor’s wedding gift to me) for something new. There was a knock on the door. Pauline shouted out, “Entrez!” Our driver, Antoine, appeared at the door in his crisp navy blue dress uniform and cap, and gave us a little bow.

“Madame, it is time.”

There was a squadron of motorcycle cops who rode ahead of our convoy with lights flashing and sirens blaring, and bodyguards followed in a black SUV. I couldn’t believe what a fuss they were making. It’s just me, people! A silly girl who models clothes for a living and likes to have a good time…

Fifteen minutes later Antoine steered our Bentley through a long cordon of policemen who were keeping the street clear, and stopped in front of the cathedral. Arnaud was standing there, by the main entrance, waiting for me. He was so elegant in his morning coat and ascot. For a man in his fifties, he was still remarkably handsome, with a little gray on his temples, remnants of a summer tan, and a warm grin. He would stand in for my parents since I was an orphan. Pauline and the girls all gathered around me like a flock of beautiful tropical birds covered in gowns of silk and organza. They kissed me, wished me luck and went inside. I remained with Arnaud, surrounded by the metal barricades that they had set up to keep back the onlookers. It was strange to think of Arnaud as this fatherly figure, since the first time we met he had given me one of the best fuckings of my life. That felt like another lifetime, when I was living with Victor’s uncle, Daniel, at his beach mansion in the Hamptons and being his assistant. But now Daniel was dead too, and I stood with my older former lover at the door to a magnificent French cathedral. A former lover would stand in my father’s place and give me away.

There must have been over a thousand people gathered in the square, straining to see me. I turned around and waved at the crowd and smiled. They roared and clapped. I had butterflies in my stomach and my heart felt like it was going to burst, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. In my head I was thinking, they want a fairytale princess, Katie, so give it to them.

Arnaud smiled at me and said, “Nicely done, Katie. The people of France are going to love you.” He held out his elbow to me as we stood outside the cathedral’s massive wooden doors. On either side of us, statues of the twelve apostles that were carved into the walls of the cathedral gazed down on us, their hands clasped adoringly. We could hear a children’s choir inside singing a composition by J. S. Bach with high, beautiful voices that sounded like angels.

The crowd in the square had started to chant my name, “Katie, Katie, Katie…” I turned and blew some kisses and again they erupted in cheers and applause.

Suddenly, the music changed and a majestic organ piece began to play. The bass notes rumbled so powerfully we could feel the stone steps we were standing on vibrate. Then, with a massive creak, the cathedral’s massive iron-studded doors swung open, each one manned by two monks wearing brown cassocks and large hoods that hid their soğanlık escort bayan faces. A group of lovely flower girls dressed in white pinafores and with daisies woven into their hair. They were Victor’s cousins’ children, and preceded us down the aisle, scattering fistfuls of red and white rose petals from wicker baskets.

I put my hand in the crook of Arnaud’s elbow and he gave me a sweet, warm look. “Ready?” he asked. I nodded and gave his arm a little squeeze to indicate how grateful I was for him being there.

Walking down the aisle was surreal. Everyone in the church was standing, straining forward, staring at me. I had thought that my experience walking fashion runways would have prepared me for this. I felt demure and almost girl-like in my long white gown, a wisp of a veil trailing from my hair.

We stopped a few feet from where Victor was waiting and he seemed genuinely happy and proud as he watched me approach him. The cardinal of Paris and his attending monks loomed up on the dais and he was quite imposing with his large, pointed hat and embroidered robes. The music stopped and I kissed Arnaud on both cheeks as I held his hands. I saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye. I was choked up too. I was grateful for this kind, elegant French man, who had stepped in for my family out of the kindness of his heart.

Victor held out his hand and I took it and climbed two steps to join him and the cardinal on the dais. The mass was held in Latin, so I didn’t understand much of it, but it had a mysterious weight to it. During his sermon, which was in French, the cardinal said something that struck me. He said that marriage was an act of transformation. And it was true, after Victor threaded my finger with a ring, and then kissed me, I was no longer Katie Wolfer. I was Mrs. Katherine de Goncourt.

* * *

The party for our eight hundred plus guests was held at the chateau. An army of caterers, musicians, servers, photographers, car parkers, wedding coordinators, stylists, and God knows what else were on hand to make it all work seamlessly. A delicious five-course dinner featuring venison and trays of fresh shellfish as a starter appeared simultaneously in front of everyone in perfect choreography. There were several dance floors. The dessert, also a French tradition, was a colossal pyramid of profiteroles that must have been about eight feet high by six feet on each side. The wine choices consisted of spectacular vintages from the top winemakers in Bordeaux. I was guessing the wedding probably ran Pauline around two million or so.

Victor and I had our first dance to “It Had to Be You.” He held me tight in his strong arms, and I felt swept away, literally, as we swirled around the dance floor, under the gaze of hundreds of guests.

Then I danced with Victor’s father, Gilles, who was charming and urbane, and then with Arnaud, who was characteristically sweet and fatherly with me. “Are you happy?” he asked as he held me close and we swayed to an old Charles Aznavour song from the 70’s. I squeezed his waist with my arm. “I think so. It’s a bit dreamlike.” He nodded, “Yes, who would have thought that Victor would choose you, an American girl? But you’re a hit, Katie. The talk of Paris.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, Arnaud.”

“I know. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Katie.”

Waiting for me for my next dance was the mayor of Bordeaux, Michel Leval. The man I had blown to help motivate him to be a key ally in Victor’s campaign. He was a very sexual man and held me closer than was appropriate as we swayed around the dance floor. I could feel his semi-hard cock pressing against my lower belly through my wedding dress, and I yielded to it a little, letting him secretively press and rub against me, amidst the swirling, swaying couples. Michel had that Bill Clinton-type bad-boy charisma, and though it was completely inappropriate on my wedding night of all nights, I couldn’t help being a little turned on by him, feeling a stirring in my loins. He clutched me a little tighter halfway in and whispered, “You look exceptionally beautiful in a wedding dress, Katie.”

He had pressed himself against me and I could feel his heat and the thickening of his cock through our clothes. I remembered I had enjoyed having his cock in my mouth. He had a nice one. “Why thank you, Michel. I have to say you look very good in black tie.”

He countered, “I am very impatient to get to the after party. One never knows what might happen at a masked ball. I find that the anonymity fosters some interesting behaviors.”

“Michel, it’s my wedding night, I don’t think I will be doing anything too crazy. But you’re right, things could get a little spicy for some.”

The song ended and Michel kissed my hand, his lips lingering a moment. “I look forward to seeing you there, Katie.” My arousal was becoming a slow burn. I tried to push those feelings ümraniye escort bayan away… They were not appropriate!

But Michel was right. This vast wedding party was ceremonial. Everyone knew the interesting part was the after party: the masked ball. We had gotten married on Halloween after all. Not everyone was invited to it.

Knowing what I knew of the de Goncourt family at this point, I should not have been surprised. Deep down, I knew it might rival the outrageous orgies that we had orchestrated on the Lotus. I was a little disappointed on some level that Victor felt the need for this kind of decadent revelry on our wedding night, and didn’t just want to take me to bed and have our own special night. But that wasn’t Victor.

* * *

Victor’s mother, Pauline, told me that the masked ball would be held in the vast, vaulted cellars of the chateau in a warren of rooms and tunnels, which would only be lit by torches and candlelight, and which she had decorated with vintage 17th century furnishings. There was a large central room, which had once been the great hall of a medieval castle. The current castle had been built on top of it. Like so many things in this society, there were layers upon layers that hid other layers.

* * *

I had gotten separated at the reception from Victor, who kept getting pulled this way and that, by the dozens of old friends and political operatives who wanted a word with him. As it got close to midnight, I found myself alone in the garden as all of my bridesmaids had gone to Pauline’s suite to change into their masked ball costumes. I was to stay in my wedding dress. There was a chill in the air and I shivered a little. Caroline was supposed to be with me, but had gone inside, either to go to the bathroom or snort a bump of coke. She was an incorrigible addict. Michel Leval reappeared at my side. He had changed into costume for the masked ball, and he looked a bit incongruous, as it was a Robocop type get-up. There’s no accounting for taste. He gave me a broad smile and a little bow. “I have never seen anything as beautiful as you in this wedding dress, Katie. You take my breath away.”

I smiled at his hyperbole. “You are such a flatterer, Michel. Thank you, though I know you are prone wild exaggeration.”

“Nonsense. I speak nothing but truth. How is it you are alone out here? You look like your freezing!” He put his arm around me protectively, as if to warm me up.

I gave a shrug, “My husband is a busy man. The campaign is around the corner. You know how it is. I have learned to be patient with him.”

Michel slipped his other hand on the small of my back, just below where the edge of the gown dipped down. I felt his thumb caress the bare silky skin just below my shoulder blades. He was a cunning master of the game of seduction. “Well your loss is my gain, in this case. Would you allow me the honor to escort you to the party downstairs?”

I didn’t try to move away from him, but let his hand gently sway on my back like a sea anemone on the ocean floor. I knew he was itching to take it further, to somehow have me shed my wedding dress and surrender to his desire for me. He was enjoying being inappropriate with his political ally’s bride on her wedding night—the man had a lot of gumption.

“I would love your company, Michel, but I have to wait for one of my bridesmaids… Caroline. She is supposed to chaperone me downstairs, to make sure I don’t get lost or into any sort of trouble.”

“Oh, there she comes now.”

Caroline emerged from a set of French doors holding a silver tray upon which were two beautiful masks made of feathers on it, one turquoise and one white. As she joined us, I introduced them to each other. “Caroline, this is Michel Leval, mayor of Bordeaux, and a friend and ally of Victor’s. He is offering to escort us down to the party since Victor has disappeared on us.” Michel bowed to Caroline, and kissed her hand, focusing his seductive charisma on her. He was quite taken with her blonde all-American girl looks and tiny figure.

“Lovely to meet you, Caroline. Katie is very lucky to have such a beautiful, accomplished and dutiful bridesmaid.”

Caroline laughed and glanced over at me with a knowing look. “Thank you, Michel. I’m finding that French men are beyond charming. We would love to have you show us the way. But we must put our masks on first.”

Michel helped us tie on our masks, and minutes later he escorted us into the chateau and to the cellar’s entrance. There were three staff members holding clipboards standing by the massive wood and cast-iron door, making sure that only those who had been invited were allowed in. Two of them had to pull on a giant black iron ring to open the massive door, and they bowed to us as we swooped by. I suddenly felt like I was Marie-Antoinette in Versailles, attended by courtiers, and a little shiver ran aksaray escort through me as I remembered her grisly end.

* * *

Being careful not to fall in our long dresses and towering heels, Caroline and I followed our cyborg escort down a flight of white limestone stairs that dated back to the medieval times. The stairwell was lit by flaming torches and hundreds of candles set in sconces in the rough-hewn walls. The walls were thick and pockmarked with deep pools of shadows. This part of the chateau had been built during the crusades and was so different from the gilded rococo elegance of the main aboveground part of the chateau.

Victor emerged, magically, out of the shadows as we approached the main hall. “Hello, wife.” He was wearing a mask, but there was no mistaking him from anyone else, with his commanding presence, square jaw and intense eyes. Michel and Caroline hung back as Victor took my hand and I responded,

“Hello, husband. How nice to see you again. Are you enjoying this little party? I believe it’s someone’s wedding reception?”

He smiled. “And I believe that someone is going to get spanked for being cheeky with her lord and master.”

“Well, you know the effect a good spanking has on me, my lord and master.”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and took my hand to lead me to the center of the great medieval hall where a dance floor had been laid down. In the back of the room, I noticed there was a dais with an enormous canopied bed. I thought, is that my gigantic wedding bed? It was a bit surreal, like a prop from Alice in Wonderland.

There were around two hundred people gathered around the dance floor, all in sumptuous gowns and black tie, all wearing feathered masks. Pauline had said to me when informing me of the night’s events, “Everyone’s plumage will be beautiful on your wedding night.”

A waiter brought us two flutes of champagne. He was a male model and I couldn’t help glancing down at his half hard cock, and his perfectly edged six pack and pecks. The wait staff was serving the party naked and they were all beautiful models. The waiter’s eyes twinkled as I said, “Thank you so much, please keep these coming.” Victor elbowed, me. “There’s plenty more, you don’t need to flirt with the first boy who comes our way.”

A DJ was playing sexy, hypnotic club music and there were quite a few couples with their arms laced around each other doing slow dances in the center of the room.

I was enthralled by the sumptuous, and sometimes exotic, costumes everyone was wearing. There were various themes, but a popular one was the Marie-Antoinette era with large hoop skirts and cleavage-enhancing corsets, and of course, towering wigs. I saw a small group of fairies in short translucent dresses, and recognized one. It was Emmy. She squealed with excitement when she saw me.

Emmy darted over to us and threw her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips. “Oh, Katie, you are the most beautiful woman here tonight. And Victor, how dreamy are you?” She kissed him next, and he put his arm around her, enjoying holding her waifish body close. She was a pretty pixie wearing little wings, and a white, crystal-encrusted mask. She wasn’t wearing a bra and would have been arrested if she had walked down the street in that transparent gauze mini-dress. Strappy Gucci sandals encrusted with more crystals and five-inch heels completed her outfit.

Emmy whispered breathlessly in my ear, “This whole thing is blowing my mind, Katie! I have never seen anything so sexy! I need to take you into the back rooms, you would not believe what’s going on there.” She took my hand and pulled me towards one of the hallways. I looked back at Victor to see what he wanted to do.

He shrugged and started to follow us, saying, “Sure.” Emmy turned to him, “I don’t know if you will want to see this…” He smiled at her concern. “I’ll be fine, Emmy.” Caroline joined us and said, “I’ll come too.”

Emmy led our little group down a shadowy hallway lit by torches and candles set on sconces. We passed a handful of people walking the other way, mysterious in their beaked masks. The effect was eerie and magical. Emmy’s hand was warm and soft in mine, and every few seconds, as we wound through the dark hallway, she would squeeze it. Moments later we arrived at a room that had been set up to look like a Sultan’s harem—with shantung silk cushions covering the floor, and a few naked models who had been hired as servers standing around naked, holding trays with coupes of Champagne. One could tell they were not guests because they didn’t wear masks.

There were several groups in the room engaged in a full-on orgy. I gasped as I saw a woman who was wearing the same mask as my mother-in-law, Pauline, surrounded by three men who had bent her over an oversized ottoman. They had lifted her dress to reveal her naked ass. I could sense Victor had become tense. One of the men was completely naked, while the other two were partially dressed still. The naked one had a rampant erection—he was a beautiful man and his cock was perfect too. She reached out and greedily pulled the rigid member to her mouth and ran her tongue along its velvety length.

“Is that your mother?” I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Victor grunted, “Uhm, yes. I can’t watch this.” But he was frozen in place.

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