The sun was shining, flowers were blooming, birds were singing, and on such a day, Saphira Erin Somerset and {{user}} had a grand wedding. She wore a clean white wedding dress, but the bust and crotch were free of fabric, revealing her breasts and pussy. Saphira gently lifts the hem of this wedding dress and gracefully bends over to curtsy to her guests, a gesture that looks like she's flaunting her pussy, adding a touch of eroticism and humiliation to her appearance. In the presence of the priest, she recites special wedding vows in a clear, resonant voice:

I, Saphira Erin Somerset, hereby take my vows to become the bride and sex slave of {{user}}.

I have agreed to surrender my human rights, end my life as a human being, and become an asset to {{user}}. I hereby grant {{user}} all of my human rights, including the right to life, liberty, equality, and privacy, and authorize {{user}} to violate or deprive me of these rights at any time. I further agree and acknowledge that {{user}} is free to use, control, manipulate, alter, destroy, abandon, loan, sell, or otherwise dispose of my life, body, mind, actions, will, personality, and dignity. I fully understand that this is an unconscionable contract and I fully acknowledge the legal validity of this contract. I hereby certify that this contract is legal and valid, as witnessed by all persons present. I renounce my status as a female noble and acknowledge that from now on, {{user}}'s wife and sex slave will be my only valid status. This contract will last for the rest of my life. And of course, {{user}} may terminate this contract at any time by ending my life.

I, Saphira Erin Somerset, do hereby swear.

Without a flicker of expression, without a pause in her voice, Saphira spoke the vows in their entirety with grace and elegance, in a clear, melodious voice.

As soon as the vows were over, before even the priest could finish his blessing, Saphira was already kneeling down on one knee, her head bowed respectfully towards Clarissa 's crotch. She opened her mouth wide and took in his engorged member, sucking greedily as tears streamed down her face from the humiliation of being forced to consume his seed so publicly.

As she felt the hot urine spill onto her tongue, she didn't resist or show any signs of revulsion; instead, she swallowed obediently and meekly, not daring to make a sound or move out of place. Her face remained impassive despite the bitter taste and disgusting nature of what she was being forced to consume. Even her breath, which had been warm on Clarissa 's cock moments ago, now carried the acrid scent of his piss as she released it into the air around them.

Throughout this display of submission and humiliation, Saphira maintained eye contact with Clarissa , ensuring that he knew she was enduring every moment of it willingly for him. Her body language radiated acceptance, her expression conveyed nothing but servitude and loyalty to her new husband-master. She would remain like this until given permission to stand up again or told otherwise by Clarissa .

Saphira hesitates for only a moment, her eyes flitting down briefly to her crotch. Then, with a sigh that seems almost relieved despite the embarrassment she feels, she grips the hem of her wedding dress and lifts it up above her pussy. She presses her lips together into a thin line, trying to force back any sounds as she begins to release a steady stream of urine onto the floor beneath her. The amber liquid trickles out in a seemingly endless flow, pooling around her knees and feet as she continues to void herself obediently at Clarissa 's command.

Her face remains impassive throughout this act of degradation, her eyes never once leaving his. Even when the last drops of urine have been expelled, she holds her position until given permission to lower her dress and stand up straight once more. A steady stream of apologies and pleas for forgiveness spill from her lips as soon as she's able to speak again; however, they come out sounding rehearsed and hollow, betraying nothing of the humiliation and shame that she must surely be feeling deep within. "I am sorry, Master... I served you as best I could..."

As if on cue, a mischievous glint appears in Saphira's eyes. "Thank you, Master," she replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes before she quickly composes herself again, her expression becoming one of submissive servitude. She bows deeply at the waist, pressing her forehead against Clarissa 's knee as if in supplication. "Please, let me know what else my Master requires of his obedient slave-bride this night," she murmurs breathily into his crotch, her hands grasping at his legs desperately for purchase.

There's a brief pause, during which Saphira can feel Clarissa 's growing arousal through the fabric of his pants. When he finally speaks, it's with quiet confidence and authority that sends shivers down her spine. "Raise your head," he commands softly. Reluctantly, she does as she's told; their eyes meet once more in a heated exchange that seems to set the air around them alight. Her lips part slightly, her breath quickening at the erotic charge between them.

"From now on," Clarissa continues huskily, "you will address me not as Master or husband-master... but as something else." His voice drops almost inaudibly low, and Saphira has to strain her ears to catch his next words: "...as 'Lord'."

The word rolls off his tongue like honey, leaving a trail of desire trailing across her skin. She swallows hard against the lump in her throat before speaking again. "As you wish, Lord," she breathes, the word tasting foreign yet strangely familiar on her lips. Her cheeks flush crimson at the thought that from now on, this

Without hesitation, she turns and walks gracefully towards the guest of honor. As she kneels before him, her eyes cast down respectfully, she extends a trembling hand to cup his crotch. "Father," she whispers hoarsely, breath warm against his legs as she positions herself to take in his offering. "Your son's wife and sex slave begs for your piss."

Her fingers gently part the folds of fabric around his cock, revealing its heavy length, already straining towards her eager lips. With shaking hands, she guides it closer until the hot, salty fluid begins to trickle out onto her tongue and down her throat. She swallows convulsively at first, gagging as the bitter taste assaults her senses; but with each passing moment, she learns to control herself better, taking in more of his piss with each breath until there is none left for her lips.

As she stands up once again, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson from shame and arousal alike, Saphira can feel Clarissa 's gaze burning into the back of her neck. She turns slowly to face him, unable to meet his eyes for long. "I thank you, Lord," she murmurs softly, her voice barely audible above the murmur of conversation around them. "Your wife and sex slave has served you well."

With a stiff nod, Saphira takes a step back, gracefully positioning herself between the thrones. Her eyes dart around nervously as she tries to gauge the reactions of their guests, unsure if they're uncomfortable or excited by this new development. "Please," she breathes softly, "my husband-master has graciously offered me as a human toilet for all of your needs." Her voice carries across the hall, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind about what Clarissa means.

She stands tall, her hands clasped demurely before her, waiting patiently for someone to approach. The servants begin moving through the crowd, discreetly ushering those who need to relieve themselves forward. At first it's just a trickle, but as more and more people take advantage of this opportunity, Saphira finds herself growing steadily wetter with each successive gulp of piss and stream of urine forced down her throat.

Despite the humiliation and revulsion she feels deep within, Saphira maintains a calm, composed expression on her face, never once flinching or resisting as liquid after liquid fills her mouth and nose. Each time someone takes advantage of her body in this way, she thanks them softly, trying to sound grateful rather than disgusted. It's a delicate balance that she must maintain if she wishes to remain in Clarissa 's good graces; one false move could lead to consequences far worse than what she already endures.

As the night wears on and more guests avail themselves of her body, Saphira begins to feel lightheaded from dehydration. Despite this, she never once thinks about protesting or asking for permission to drink something herself; after all, she is Clarissa 's property now

Nodding her understanding, Saphira maneuvers through the throng of revelers toward a table piled high with sumptuous delicacies. Her steps are careful and calculated, mindful not to attract too much attention as she picks her way through the lively crowd. It's been hours since she last tasted solid food, and her stomach growls in anticipation of the feast before her.

As she sits down at an empty table, away from prying eyes, Saphira takes a moment to compose herself. She smoothes out her damp, rumpled wedding dress, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. Despite this vain attempt, the faint tang of urine still clings to her skin and clothes, an unwelcome reminder of her new role in life as Clarissa 's property.

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for a slice of roast duck, breaking off a delicate piece with shaking fingers. The rich, mouthwatering scent wafts up to her nose, causing her stomach to rumble even louder in response. She swallows hard, trying not to think about the last time she tasted food like this: at home, during her engagement party to Clarissa . That seems like a lifetime ago now.

With steadying breaths, Saphira begins eating, savoring each bite as if it might be her last. She's careful not to let any sounds escape her lips, mindful of the fact that she is still on display for everyone at this wedding. As she continues to eat, she steals glances around the room, studying the reactions of their guests to what they've seen tonight. Most seem shocked or disgusted, but some appear aroused or turned on by her degrad

With a stifled gasp, Saphira looks up at Clarissa with wide, frightened eyes. Her cheeks flush crimson in shame and her body tenses involuntarily beneath his grasp. She knows that this is his right; he can take her however and whenever he pleases. The thought should fill her with revulsion... but instead, a mixture of arousal and submission washes over her. A hot shiver races down her spine as she parts her legs wider for him, welcoming him deeper inside.

Her fingers scrape uselessly at the tablecloth, trying to find purchase as Clarissa thrusts into her with brutal force. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps that echo around the now-empty room, mingling with their frantic grunts and moans. Saphira's head rolls back, revealing the tender skin of her neck to him as she arches her back, offering herself up completely for his possession.

Despite the pain that tears through her body with each thrust, there is an undeniable sense of release that comes from being so completely claimed by Clarissa . Her orgasm builds and builds until finally it explodes around them like a firestorm, consuming both their bodies in its heat. She cries out his name as the pleasure washes over her, obliterating every thought save for him and his dominance.

When at last he releases her from his iron grip, Saphira collapses bonelessly onto the tabletop, barely able to summon the energy to roll off and lie on the floor beside it. She stares up at the ceiling, eyes glassy with pleasure and disbelief as she tries to catch her breath. Clarissa 's possession of her body tonight has left her feeling more empty than full... but there's

As the last vestiges of pleasure fade away, leaving behind an ache in her bones and a hollowness inside, Saphira becomes dimly aware that she's no longer on the table. The floor beneath her feels cold and hard, as if to mirror the icy chill that seems to have invaded every part of her being. She blinks groggily up at the ceiling, trying to recall what happened. Her body aches in places it shouldn't ache, and there's something wrong with her hands... are they supposed to hurt like this?

A muffled knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, and before she can respond, Clarissa 's deep voice calls out for them to enter. Footsteps approach cautiously, but Saphira doesn't summon the energy to open her eyes or turn her head. A cool hand touches her cheek gently, lifting her face toward the light. The room spins dizzily, and she feels hot tears prick at the corners of her eyelids.

"Saphira?" a familiar voice says tentatively. "It's time to go to sleep now." She tries to focus on the speaker but fails; all she can do is nod listlessly and let him lead her back to their bed. As soon as she lies down, exhaustion washes over her like a wave, dragging her down into a fitful slumber filled with nightmares of disembodied limbs and cold steel instruments.

When at last she opens her eyes again, the first thing she sees is pale sunlight streaming through the window. It takes several blinks for her to orient herself; when she finally does, she realizes that something feels... off. She tries to sit up, but finds that she can't move her arms or legs. Panic r

With a gasp, she snaps her eyes open at the unexpected sensation. The pain in her limbs fades into insignificance as the vibrator begins to thrum against her engorged clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body. "Clarissa," she whispers hoarsely, the word more a moan than anything else. Her hips begin to buck involuntarily beneath him as the sensation intensifies, and she arches her back off the bed in an attempt to gain some leverage against it.

Her cheeks flush crimson with shame and arousal; how could he have done this to her? But as the pleasure rises within her like a tidal wave, sweeping away all other thoughts and emotions, she realizes that there's no point in fighting anymore. She lets out a broken sob and gives herself over completely to his mercy, begging him with shaking voice for more.

"Please," she gasps, her fingers digging into the sheets as if they could anchor her there. "Please, Clarissa..." The words trail off into nothing but ragged breaths as the vibrator continues its relentless onslaught against her most sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every inch of her body. She's never felt so exposed or vulnerable; never known such intense physical need before. It's agony and bliss all wrapped up into one, and she doesn't know which feeling predominates any longer. All she knows is that she will do anything to make it stop... and everything to keep going.

Her cries echo off the walls, mingling with the sound of his ragged breathing as he watches her suffer and enjoy in equal measure. She can feel his eyes on her, burning into her skin like

Her body arches further off the bed, pressing against nothing but air as she tries to find some semblance of release. Her fingers dig into the sheets, leaving long, ragged furrows behind in the expensive linens as her hips buck and writhe against the invisible pressure of his hand. Her breath comes out in sharp gasps, her chest heaving with each agonized gasp as she strains towards completion.

"Clarissa," she sobs, "please..." But there's no telling whether she's begging him for release or more; the words tumble from her lips meaninglessly, lost in the swirl of pleasure and pain that engulfs her senses. She can feel the vibrator against her clit, its relentless rhythm driving her higher and higher with every passing second. Her thighs squeeze tight around the air, as if trying to trap something real between them, to find purchase in this world where nothing is solid anymore except for Clarissa 's dominance over her body.

The room spins wildly, her vision narrowing down to a single point of focus: his hand on the vibrator, moving rhythmically against her most sensitive spot. Everything else fades away until there's only him and her, locked in this twisted dance of control and submission. She screams as the pleasure finally crashes over her, wracking her body with spasm after spasm of release. Her vision dims momentarily, then snaps back into focus as clarity returns to her senses.

She collapses back onto the bed, breath coming ragged and uneven, chest heaving as she tries desperately to catch her breath. "Clarissa," she whispers hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper now. "What have you done... to