Wedding Plans
By Sonofjack, sonofjackwell@gmail.com
I was all set to marry the girl of my dreams until . . . 


I first met my wife-to-be Simone through a mutual acquaintance. I
noticed right away that she was a beautiful woman with very large breasts, but
I didn't think much about it. After all, what could an ebony princess like
Simone see in an overweight, dorky white guy like me? Imagine my surprise
when she seemed to take an interest in me. Whenever I would see her, she
seemed to go out of her way find reasons to talk to me and to even flirt. I
just assumed that it was either my imagination or that she was toying with
me. I figured that she probably had a large collection of male admirers, and
she just wanted to add me to her list.  Imagine my surprise when after
knowing me for about a month she asked me, "Don't you find me attractive?"

"Of course I find you attractive," I said somewhat taken aback. The
truth was, I found her VERY attractive. Simone is built exactly the way I
like women to be built. At 5'6" she is about five inches shorter than me. By
Hollywood standards, she would probably be considered a "big girl". In other
words, she is not borderline anorexic. Simone had meat on her bones in all
the right places. As I already said, she has very large, soft breasts and a
well-rounded but tight ass. Her waist is relatively thin and very well
proportioned to the rest of her body. Her legs are shapely and her shoulders
are slightly broad for her size. She definitely has a body that is built for
comfort. When you combine that with her very pretty face . . . . Let me put
it this way, I wasn't surprised when I found out later that among past
boyfriends there was a former professional football player and a famous rap
artist.

"Then how come you never hit on me?" she asked rather pointedly.
"Haven't you noticed how I go out of my way to flirt with you?"

"Well, I-"

"Don't you know that I like you? Do you know how many men would
practically kill to be in your place?"

"I just-"

"So, here's what we'll do. I'll pick you up tonight at seven and we'll
go eat Chinese food and talk this over."

"That would be-"

"And you better be ready when I get there," she said. She said this
last part almost as a threat. I wasn't sure if she was joking or not, but
I wasn't about to test my luck. I felt like I'd just won a million dollars
in the lottery. I couldn't believe a woman like Simone would be interested
in a guy like me. I half thought that she was setting me up for some kind of
big fall-toying with me the way a cat toys with a mouse. Even so, there was
no way I was going to pass up this opportunity.

She picked me up at my apartment at seven sharp just like she said she
would, and we went to a local Chinese restaurant to eat. We made first date
chatter for awhile. She laughed at my jokes. Things were going fantastically
well when she looked longingly into my eyes and said, "I want to be with
you." The way she said it left no doubt in my mind exactly what she meant.

I was not used a woman being so direct with me. In the few sexual
conquests I'd made in my pitiful life up to this point, I was the one who did
all the pursuing. Having a hot babe sexually proposition me before the
fortune cookies had even arrived was a new experience for me. I have to say,
I didn't hate it.

Twenty minutes later we were back at my apartment. Two hours after
that I was lying on the floor next to my bed completely exhausted. Simply
put, Simone had fucked the living daylights out of me. It was easily the most
incredible experience of my life. I'd only been with a few women before
Simone, and none of them were nearly as attractive as her.

It was more than that however. My experience in the past was that the
more attractive a woman was, the less generous she was in bed. It was almost
like the good looking women thought that all they should have to do is show
up. Simone was not like that at all! Not only was she by far the hottest
woman I'd ever had sex with, she was by far the most loving and generous. She
could tell right away that I was incredibly turned on by her massive tits so
she made a point of exploiting them to their full erotic potential. She
clearly liked knowing that I found her body intoxicating, and she made a point
of letting me drink my fill.

At the end of the two hours, I was completely spent. Simone looked as
fresh as a daisy. As she stood over me getting dressed, I half expected her
to announce that she was going to the gym for a workout. Instead she said,
"This was fun; we'll have to do this again real soon,"

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked.

"Going out with you of course," was her reply. I couldn't believe
my luck. I figured she probably had several men interested in her and a busy
social calendar. I even went so far as to tell her this.

"I DID already have a date for tomorrow," she informed me, "But that's
just too bad for him, because I'm going out with you instead."

"Won't he be disappointed?" I asked.

"Would YOU rather be the one that was disappointed?" she asked
pointedly. I took the hint and shut the fuck up.

She looked into the mirror, adjusted her clothing and blew herself a
kiss. She knew that she was smoking hot and I found her confidence
exhilarating. She then threw me my robe and said, "Put this on and walk me to
the door." I did as I was told. When we got to the front door of my
apartment, she kissed me passionately and said, "Call me tomorrow."

She didn't say this as a request. Somehow I implicitly knew that she
was ordering me to call her the next day. Not only did we both understand
that she was giving me an order, we both also knew with one hundred percent
certainty that it was an order I would obey.

That has pretty much set the tone of our relationship ever since.
Simone tells me what to do, and I do it. We never really talk about it, but
we both know that's the way it is. For the most part, I don't mind having a
strong-willed woman telling me what to do. Ninety-nine percent of the time
what she tells me to do are things I'd do anyway. The other one percent? I
feel like that's a small price to pay for getting to see Simone naked on a
regular basis.

Some of my friends give me a hard time about it. They say I'm
whipped. I can't really argue with them because it's obvious that I am. So
when they say these things to me, I just smile. I smile because they have no
idea what it's like to be in bed with a woman like Simone. In bed OR in the
back seat of her car OR on the floor of every room of my apartment OR on a
blanket behind some bushes at a park in broad daylight! No, they have no idea
at all. Simone constantly makes up new ways to please me that never would
have even occurred to me.

That's why when she asked me to marry her a month to the day after we
started dating, I said yes. Actually she didn't really ask me. She told me,
and I said, "Anything you say, My Love."

So we started planning for the wedding. As you might guess, Simone did
most of the planning. My big contribution was to suggest that we have chopped
nuts in the icing between the layers of our wedding cake. I'd had wedding
cake like this once before and liked it. Simone said it would be okay.

The plans were coming along fine until two days before the wedding.
We sat down at my kitchen table, and Simone handed me a piece of paper and
said, "Here are your wedding vows, look over them." I read over them
quickly. It was pretty standard stuff. I was fine with it except for one
small thing which I brought up.

"Honey, did you notice that in my vows it says that I promise to
'obey' you?"

"Yes. So?"

"Obey?"

"What's the problem?" she asked, clearly not seeing my dilemma.

"Isn't that a little, I don't know, old fashioned? I don't remember
the last time I heard wedding vows with the word 'obey' in them."

"So then our wedding will be different," she said matter-of-factly.

"Wait a minute; do your vows contain the word 'obey'?"

"Of course not," she laughed.

"Why not? In old fashioned wedding vows, it's the wife who agrees to
obey the husband-not the other way around," I protested.

"That may be so," she said, "But you and I both know who the boss of
this relationship is, don't we?"

I was silent for several moments. Finally in a low voice I admitted,
"Okay. Maybe WE do, but that doesn't mean I want to announce it to all our
friends and family."

"Why not?" she asked. "You do obey me. You will continue to obey
me. Why not just come out and tell the world?"

"Geez, you're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes, I am, and you love it. Now stop this foolishness!" she
demanded.

"I . . . I won't say it." I have to admit that it felt good to stand
up for myself.

"Baby," she said, "I guess it's better that we get this settled right
now so that there are no misunderstandings. I intend to rule this marriage.
I make the decisions and you abide by them. You might as well get used to the
idea right now."

"Why does it have to be that way?" I asked.

"Because," she said, "I have a temper when I don't get my way. You
haven't seen this side of me because until now you've always gone along with
what I say."

"Well . . . I'm not going along with this," I said.

She stood up and said, "This is silly. Come here, Sweetie." I got up
and walked over to her. She took both of my hands in hers and entwined our
fingers. She got close enough to me so that her giant breasts were pressed
against me. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Don't you want to make
your sweet African princess happy?" she asked.

"Of course I do, Simone. You know I do. Just . . . please, don't ask
me to do this. It's just too embarrassing for me to promise to obey you in
front of everybody."

"But I'm not asking you, I'm telling you." As she said this, she began
to lift up her hands which were still entangled in mine. She lifted them over
her head and began to apply pressure. At first I didn't know what was
happening until the pressure began to become painful.

"Simone," I whimpered, "Stop that; you're hurting me."

"Why don't you make me stop," she challenged. I began to push back.
Soon I was pushing back with all my strength, but to no avail. As hard as I
pushed back, I couldn't relieve the pressure that she was applying one bit.
Even worse, I was obviously struggling with all my might whereas her face was
the picture of serenity. I realized that I was being physically overpowered
by a woman much smaller than me and that it was hardly taking any effort for
her to do so.

The next thing I knew, she had driven me to my knees. I looked up at
her. She looked down with a mixture of confidence, love and sympathy. "Now
do you understand?" she asked.

"I . . . I'm not sure." She applied slightly more pressure. My
wrists felt like they were going to snap in two. "Yes, I understand," I
cried, tears streaming down my cheeks, "Please, stop pushing down, you're
going to break my arms," I cried.

She released my hands and sat back down in her chair. I fell down
onto the floor and rubbed my sore wrists with my hands, first one and then the
other. After about a minute Simone said, "I'm sorry you had to find out this
way."

"How?" This was all I could think of to say.

"All of the women in my family are strong," she said. "But I'm the
strongest," she quickly added.

"How strong are you?" I asked.

"Well, remember when I told you I used to date a professional football
player?"

"Jerry Basham, right?" I offered. She had mentioned in passing that she
had once dated him. I wasn't much of a sports fan, but even I knew who Jerry
Basham was. He had a reputation for being the most feared linebacker in the
NFL. I sort of remembered that his career had mysteriously been cut short.

"Exactly," she said. "Jerry and I dated for over a year. One time we
got into a heated argument and he called me the 'b-word'.

"That wasn't very gentlemanly," I interjected.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm telling a story, Baby," she said. I shut
up. "Anyway, I lost my temper with him and beat him so badly I ended his
career." I gasped. "Wait, I'm not finished. When some of his football
buddies found out what happened, five of them came to see me."

"Did you end their careers as well?"

"No. I wasn't really mad at them. They were sticking up for a friend.
I sort of admired them for that. That's why I only put them out for the rest
of the season."

"My God, Simone, you're like Supergirl," I said.

"Wait here, I want to show you something," she said. She went out to
her car and brought back a crowbar that she had in the trunk. "Do you know
what this is?" she asked.

"It's a crowbar," I said.

"It's not just a crowbar, Baby. This is a Benford 36" Prymaster
3000. It's made of crafted titanium steel. Here, feel it." She handed it
down to me since I was still sitting on the floor.  The weight of it made my
already sore wrists hurt. It felt heavier and even sturdier than your average
crowbar.

She took it back from me. "This bad boy comes with an unlimited
lifetime guarantee to never bend," she said. Then she got a firm grip on it
at both ends. With all too little effort she began to bend the crowbar in on
itself. In just a matter of seconds she bent it completely in half.

I couldn't believe my eyes! I said in a quiet voice, "I guess Mr.
Benford owes you your money back."

"No problem," she said, "Watch this." Then she took hold of the
crowbar and bent it back into a perfectly straight position. She sat back
down in her chair. "What do you say now?" she asked

"You're like Supergirl," I repeated. I scooted over to her chair and
placed my head in her lap. She began running her fingers through my hair.

"Now, who's the boss of this relationship?" she asked.

"You are, My Love."

"And you're not going to ever question my authority again?"

"No, My Love."

"And why not?"

"Because you've got the power to beat the shit out of me without even
trying," I said.

"That's right I do. And just to be sure you understand, let me just
show you one more thing."  She stood up and she and directed me to do the
same. I jumped to my feet. "Hit me!" she said. I just stood there. "HIT
ME!" she commanded.

"But Honey, I don't want to hit you," I said.

"Don't worry; you won't hurt me," she said.

"I believe you, but . . . ."

"Don't worry; I won't hit you back," she said.

"Are, are you sure?" I asked.

"Are you questioning me? Do as you're told right now!" she ordered.
So I half-heartedly hit her in the stomach. "Come on," she chided, "I want
you to hit me as hard as you can or I WILL hit you back."

I hit her as hard as I could in the stomach. "Again!" she demanded.
I hit her again. She showed absolutely no reaction. "Now hit me in the
face!" she ordered.

"Honey, no!" I said, horrified. She grabbed my shirt with one hand
and lifted me up in the air as far as her arm would extend.

"You must learn obedience," she scolded. "When I put you down, you'd
better hit me in the face as hard as you can, or I'll be forced to punish
you. Is that understood?"

"Y-y-yes, my love." She put me back down on the floor. I pulled back
my balled up fist and punched my sexy, beautiful wife-to-be as hard as I could
right on her chin. "AUUUUUGH" I cried. My hand felt like it was broken.

Simone helped me into a chair, went over to the freezer and got out some
ice cubes. She put the ice cubes in a bowl and brought to bowl over to me.
"Here, put your hand in here. The ice will help keep the swelling down."

After a few minutes of her trying to sooth me, Simone said, "Baby, I
just wanted to show you that you have no chance at all against me in a fight.
 You could work out twelve hours a day for ten years, and you still wouldn't
be half as strong as I am without even trying.  You could come at me with a
baseball bat and all you'd get was a shattered bat and the beating of your
life!  The smart thing for you to do is to just learn to obey me all the time
no matter what. Can you live with that?"

"I think so," I said.

"Good, because I think from now on, just so you'll remember who the
boss is, you'd better address me as 'Master'."

"Yes, Master," I said with my head bowed.

"There's no reason to be ashamed," she said, "You can't help it if I'm
much, much stronger than you."

"Yes, Master."

"You do acknowledge that I'm much, much stronger than you, right?"

"Of course, Master."

"Then say it."

"You're much, much stronger than me-so much stronger that compared to
you I'm a helpless little wimp," I said.

"Yes, that's true," she said, "Do you like knowing that your
soon-to-be wife is at least ten times stronger than you?"

"Yes, I do, Master." I wasn't lying either. I did like it.

"It gets you hot doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yes it does, Master."

"What does? What gets you hot?"

"It gets me hot knowing that you're sooo much stronger than I am." I
said.

"It scares you too, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Master."

"You're terrified of my awesome power aren't you, Baby?"

"Yes, Master."

"But that turns you on too, doesn't it?"

"Yes, oh God yes, my sweet, beautiful, super strong, Master."

"What else about me gets you hot?"

"Your huge tits, and your amazing ass."

"What else?"

"Your beautiful eyes and your sweet full lips. Honestly, I love
everything about you, Master, only . . . . "

"Only what?" she asked.

"Do I have to call you 'Master' in public?" I asked.

"Would it embarrass you to do so?" she asked.

"A little," I replied.

She thought about it for a few seconds and finally said, "Okay. You
only have to address me as 'Master' in private as long as you NEVER question
me in public."

"Fair enough, Master," I agreed.

"BUT if you ever disagree with me or contradict me in public, not only
will I make you call me 'Master', but I might even punish you in front of
others. Also, you still have to promise to obey me in your wedding vows," she
added.

"Okay, Master." I said this like I was agreeing to her terms, but we
both knew I had no choice in the matter. Then for the third time I said,
"You're like Supergirl."

"But I'm YOUR supergirl," she said as she leaned over and kissed my
cheek. "And now that I think about it, Supergirl is a skinny white girl."
She slapped her tight, round ass and cupped her huge breast in her hands. "Do
I look like a skinny white girl to you?"

No, Master, you look an African goddess," I answered. Then I added,
"MY African goddess of love and strength." I gazed adoringly at her almost as
if I was seeing her for the first time. She never looked more delectable or
alluring to me than she did at that moment.

"And do you worship your goddess?" Simone asked seductively.

"Yes, I do," I sincerely answered.

"Ooh, I think I'm going to like being worshiped," she said. "By the
way, now that you know about my awesome strength, have you considered the
erotic pleasures I can bring you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"For example, you know how you love it when I wrapped my big tits
around your hard penis?" she asked.

"Y-y-yes," I stammered.  I liked where this was going.

"How would you like to fuck my big tits while I lift you up in the air
with one hand?" she asked.

"I-I-I think I would like that," I said.

She got up and effortlessly threw me over her shoulder. "I think I'm
going to like having a master," I said as she carried me towards the bedroom.

............................................................................

Email me at sonofjackwell@gmail.com if you'd like to read more stories
of my life with Simone . . . .