The Ceremony

Although it wasn’t my first vixen rodeo, my heart still pounded with anticipation and nerves. As always when we played, the kids were at their grandparents’ for the night, leaving my husband Michael and I with the excitement of adult time.

I was 33, a devoted mother of two, a loyal wife and a professional lady, but for our latest exciting stag/vixen adventure, I had transformed myself into something else entirely, a handmaid from the dystopian world of The Handmaid’s Tale.

The role play had been brewing in our fantasies for months, ever since we’d binge-watched the TV series. The dark theme ignited a spark in our private life, and now with Jeff entering the fold, our latest well-endowed bull, the fantasy was about to become real in our home.

Stood 5’6” in front of the bedroom mirror, checking the costume over for the last time, my reflection showed a woman who embodied innocence and allure. I couldn’t help but giggle. I was far from innocent, but I have encountered lots of men who find me alluring.

As the large, white bonnet on my head framed my face like a halo of submission, my long, brown hair cascaded down my back in soft waves from underneath. My blue eyes were wide with excitement, holding a new depth of emotion. I wore little makeup, blusher and red lipstick.

The modified, crimson-red dress hugged my curves perfectly as the square neckline plunged enough to accentuate my full, 36E breasts, their weight straining the fabric. Long sleeves covered my arms modestly, while the fitted bodice flared into a pleated skirt that reached my ankles, concealing yet hinting at the shapely thighs beneath.

Smiling at my reflection, looking as I did, knowing I also wasn’t wearing any underwear, I tried to imagine how it would all play out, how my husband and Jeff were going to react when they saw me. I felt deliciously exposed beneath the modest façade, excited to role play.

Michael had been buzzing all day. He’d set the scene inside the bedroom with dim lighting from our bedside lamps, while I showered and meticulously removed every dark curl from my mound, leaving it smooth and sensitive, ready for whatever touches awaited.

My husband was 35, my rock, tall and slender with dark hair and kind eyes that always made me feel safe. For this experience, he was playing the role of the Commander’s wife but as himself, complicit in the ceremony fantasy.

We’d vetted Jeff together for this one. He was 48, divorced, single, a former military man with a muscular frame that spoke of real strength rather than gym-sculpted vanity. He was ruggedly handsome and well-endowed, as his photos had revealed in our sexy chats.

He had short, brown hair, a strong jaw, and hazel-green eyes that promised dominance without cruelty. Once he’d researched the dystopian story, he understood the role play, the boundaries, and the excitement of it all. No strings attached, just one night to partake and fulfil our shared fantasy.

Delighted with the costume, I paced the bedroom, feeling the comfort of my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet as the dress swished softly with each step. I could feel other things too, like my body responding. My nipples were taut and sensitive against the dress, and a moist warmth swirled between my thighs.

The thought of Jeff’s eyes on me, his hands, his everything, sent tingles running wild up and down my spine. This wasn’t just sex. It was immersion, a game of power and surrender that made my pulse race and my libido sky-rocket.

I picked up my phone from the dresser and sent a text to my husband, letting him know the handmaid was ready to fulfil her duty. He texted back with five telling emojis, no words. 🍆🍑💦💦❤️.

I gulped hard and my heart started pounding instantly. “This is it, Sara,” I whispered. I put my phone down and quickly positioned myself in the centre of the room, hands clasped in front of me, head slightly bowed in the classic handmaid pose, waiting to serve.

Butterflies wreaked havoc inside my stomach, just like they did the first time I was shared with another man. Excitement mingled with flickers of apprehension. What if feels too real? What if the arousal overwhelms me? But that’s what made it so erotically thrilling.

I heard footsteps on the stairs then quiet voices on the landing, approaching the bedroom. My heart felt like it was going to explode. Then came a soft knock on the door, followed by it opening. I kept my eyes downcast, as per the role, but I could feel their eyes burning into me.

Once they were inside the bedroom, the door closed firmly behind them, an eerie silence descended, laced with tremendous anticipation. It was a type of calm before the storm I’d never felt before, like I was sat on the highest point of a rollercoaster waiting for that drop.

“I’m impressed, Michael,” Jeff spoke, his deep voice low and commanding. “You’ve delivered me a fine handmaid. Look at her, dressed so modestly, yet those curves can’t be denied.” He circled me once, his presence making me shiver with arousal. “She has the nerves of a blessed virgin and the body of a sinful seductress, perfectly ripe for breeding.”

Complimentary, crude, dominant, just as we’d discussed, his words sent a bolt of electricity right through me as I bit my lip to suppress a giggle, staying in character. Jeff reached out, his large hand grazing my arm through the sleeve, then trailing up to tilt my chin upward. Our eyes met, his dark and intense, mine wide with feigned reluctance but real desire.

As he towered over me, 6’0” with broad shoulders, clothed in black trousers that hinted at powerful legs, and a grey shirt that clung to his muscular chest and arms, I felt a trickle of wetness deep between my legs. His eyes scanned from the bonnet to the hem like a predator.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “She’ll do very nicely, Michael. I’m going to enjoy inseminating this voluptuous beauty.”

My husband nodded, looking excited and a touch nervous in his finest white shirt and black trousers, playing his part flawlessly. “She’s obedient and fertile.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Jeff smirked, cupping my left breast through the dress, squeezing gently but firmly. I inhaled sharply as my nipple throbbed and protruded under his thumb. “These tits,” he growled. “Perfect for milking.” His other hand skimmed my hip, pulling the fabric taut against my body. “Turn around, handmaid. Let me see the rear.”

“Yes, Sir,” I obeyed shakily with arousal, pivoting slowly, feeling exposed even while fully clothed. His approval was a low, dirty chuckle as he grabbed my rounded buttocks through the dress. “Yes, she’ll do very nicely indeed. Smooth skin, no doubt soft as silk under there.” He leaned in, his breath hot on my neck. “Shaved clean for me, I hope? Nothing but a tight, bare cunt waiting.”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, quivering. I was under no illusions that Jeff was absolutely going to fuck my brains out.

His inspection was intoxicating. The way he objectified me, yet made me feel desired, built a storm of tension that had my body aching to be “bred” by him.

“Michael,” Jeff said, stepping back. “Put her on the bed for me and hold her wrists tight. It’s time for the ceremony.”

My husband took my hand and led me to our marital bed. Lying back on the crisp, white sheets, he positioned himself above me, kneeling to grasp my wrists above my head, his grip firm but loving. Our eyes met briefly, a silent reassurance amid the role play, as Jeff stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on me, his presence dominating.

“You will look at me and only me, handmaid,” he commanded. “Do not take your eyes off me until I’ve finished with you. Do I make myself clear?”

I locked gazes with him, my blue eyes meeting his dark ones. The intensity was immense, vulnerability mixing with excitement. “Yes, Sir. I understand fully.”

“For your sake, handmaid, I really hope so,” he said with a playful smirk.

Jeff undressed slowly, building the anticipation even more. It was already at fever pitch. He unbuttoned his shirt first, revealing his broad shoulders, thick, hairy chest, and strong arms. Then he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. My breath quickened, watching his every move. Just when I thought he was going to drop his trousers, he stopped and kicked off his shoes, smirking at me.

I sighed, unable to hide my arousal. The role play was more intense than I’d imagined, but I loved every second of it. Part of me wanted to look up at Michael and check he was still onboard, but I had to trust he would stop if it became too much for him. He’d watched me before, so deep down I knew he was loving it.

Without words, Jeff slid his trousers down, revealing black Calvin Klein boxer shorts that were stretched at the front by his impressive bulge. I sighed again then bit my lip, finding it so difficult to stay in character. He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband and pushed them down like a man who didn’t do shy.

“Oh,” I gasped quietly at his big cock.

It sprang free, eight veined inches of male thickness, already hard and curving upward with pre-cum glistening at the tip. My mouth went dry as arousal flooded me. He was magnificent, perfect for our fantasy. The strong, masculine sight of him naked while I remained clothed added to the power dynamic.

“Relax, handmaid,” he said, grinning as he stroked himself slowly. “You’re going to enjoy being filled and having your tight pussy stretched over and over.”

I nodded faintly, unable to look away even if I was allowed to. My body was on fire, clit throbbing, sticky wetness seeping between my legs. Jeff approached with his cock bobbing. He knelt on the bed, sliding his hands up my calves under the dress, pushing the fabric higher. Inch by inch, he exposed my legs, his touch rough yet teasing.

When he reached my thighs, he spread them wide, the cool air hitting my bare mound. I knew she was already swollen, ready to be penetrated, used and soiled. It was the best foreplay I’d ever experienced. Michael was suddenly breathing heavily above me. It was on.

“Oh my, this one truly is obedient, Michael,” Jeff murmured. “Freshly shaven, just like I instructed. Look at that pretty, pink slit, already wet for me.” His fingers traced my outer lips, parting them gently. I gasped, arching slightly, but Michael’s hold kept me in place.

“I’m glad you approve,” my husband said, his voice croaking with excitement.

“I more than approve, Michael. This handmaid has my cock aching to be inside her.” Jeff’s eyes never left mine as he taunted us on our own bed before tasting me with his tongue. “Mmmm.”

That first contact was electric, a warm, wet swipe along my folds that made me moan like I hadn’t been licked in years, which wasn’t the case at all. He then dove in and began to pleasure my clit, circling it with the right pressure before sliding a finger inside, then two, curling to hit that sensitive spot. The pleasure built rapidly. Waves of sensations crashed over me as I writhed against Michael’s grip, emitting desperate sighs.

“That’s it, handmaid,” Jeff growled. “Show me how much you need this.”

After about five or six minutes of his tongue and fingers exploring between my spread legs while my husband held me down, I exploded in record time. The orgasm hit so hard, my body convulsed as cries of ecstasy escaped my lips. He finished with tender sucks and gentle thrusts until the intensity had subsided.

“Sweet as honey,” he said, licking his lips as he rose. “Now, it’s time for the main event. It’s time for me to fuck you, handmaid. Hold her tight, Michael. This one’s going to be a live wire,” he chuckled, positioning himself between my legs, his cock nudging at my opening.

“Yes, do it!” my husband spat, the stag inside him clearly breaking. “Fuck her.”

We all laughed. It was a shame we did, but it was impossible not to. I then cleared my throat and started again, or at least I tried to. I was dying to demand Jeff fuck me too, but I needed to feel like a handmaid while he did it. It was so hot.

With a firm push, he entered me slowly, inch by thick inch. “Oh God, yes!” I cried out, stretching around his bare length, the fullness exquisite. I could feel him throbbing against my inner walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight, handmaid,” he groaned. “But you’re taking me well.”

Once he was fully inside, his balls resting up against my buttocks, he grabbed the neckline of my dress and yanked it down, exposing my large, natural breasts. They spilled out, heavy and free, nipples erect, begging for attention. He cupped my flesh and swirled his thumbs around my teats as he began to move.

“Oh yes! Oh God, yes!” I panted as Michael tightened his grip on my wrists.

“You have lovely big tits, handmaid,” Jeff groaned. “You could feed a crèche.”

He leaned down and sucked a nipple hard, then the other, biting gently as he fucked me slowly with long, deep thrusts, building a rhythm. The sensation shot straight to my head, lighting my soul on fire. It didn’t take long before I was thrashing around in ecstasy again.

“Oh, that’s it, handmaid, clamp your tight cunt around me. She feels amazing, Michael. I look forward to when it’s my turn to let go… deep inside her… flooding her womb to give her a baby.”

“Fuck me, Sir!” I exclaimed.

“Look up, handmaid. Keep your eyes open and look up at Michael. Let him see the wanton lust in your pretty blue eyes as I fuck you like you’re mine. Do it now.”

Gasping and moaning, I tilted my head back to look up at my husband as he leaned forward to see past the rim of the hideous bonnet. We both smiled into each other’s eyes. His arousal evident in his strained expression as Jeff began to fuck me harder, making the bed creak as his hips repeatedly slammed into mine.

“Look at her as she takes every inch, Michael,” he commanded. “Look at her moaning on my thick cock as I claim her like the obedient handmaid she is.”

“She looks perfect.” My husband beamed down at me as my arousal started to peak again. It was beautiful.

“She does, doesn’t she? Look at her big tits bouncing,” Jeff grunted. “Fuck, I can feel her cervix. Mmm. Now, eyes back on me, handmaid. You’re mine until I’ve finished with you. Fuck, she’s tight.”

As my eyes left the man I loved more than anything in the world, to fix once again on the man now pounding me relentlessly, I suddenly became lost in it all. Jeff’s cock was simply amazing, stretching me my pussy as he smashed against my cervix, adding to the pleasure. He gripped my waist, fucking me so hard, my breasts bounced wildly.

“Oh fuck! Here it comes, handmaid!” he rasped. “Oh yes! I’m gonna fill you up!”

With a final, deep thrust, Jeff cried out, firing hot spurts of cum inside my pussy, flooding me as promised. The sensation triggered another orgasm in me, and my soft walls clenched around him one last time, in a way that felt like he belonged to me. Once he was spent, his role fulfilled, he pulled out, gasping for air

“Ceremony complete,” he chuckled, as my pussy leaked his sperm onto the bed.

“How are you feeling, Sara?” Michael asked, finally releasing his grip on my wrists.

“I feel… fucked,” I exhaled. We all laughed.

“Thank you both,” Jeff said, quickly getting dressed. “Thank you for trusting me to do this with you. And, Sara, wow,” he added before nodding at my husband. “You’re a lucky man, Michael.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, smiling at me.

“As agreed, I’ll see myself out.” Jeff thanked us again then left.

“You were awesome, Sara,” Michael complimented me as he got off the bed. “But now it’s my turn.” He smirked, now standing at the foot of the bed, not even bothering to undress. He simply unzipped his trousers and took out his cock. No match for Jeff, but still my favourite cock in the whole wide world.

He mounted me urgently, thrust his cock inside my dripping wet pussy, then fucked me exactly as he needed to. Like I always do after another man has been inside me, I held my stag lovingly while he reclaimed what was rightfully his. And there wasn’t a more fitting way to do it than in our bedroom, on our bed.