The church bells were still ringing in Elena's ears when the door of the honeymoon suite clicked shut behind them. Twenty-seven years old, in a wedding dress she had chosen to hide everything.

Everything. Her secret. The body no one on earth but her mother had ever fully seen.

Damion — thirty-three, her husband, her dom, her papacito — set down their bags and crossed the room in four slow strides. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, warm and heavy.

— Look at me, — he said, low and sure, the voice that made her knees go watery.

She turned.

— Papacito, — she whispered.

— My wife.

His big hands framed her face.

— You're shaking.

— Scared of tonight,

she admitted.

— Papacito — there's something I never told you. Something about my body. I was born... different.

— Different how, mamacita?

— I was born intersex. I have — I have both. Female parts, and... and male parts too. Small. It's small, but it's there, and it gets hard, papacito, it works, and I didn't know how to tell you, and I was so afraid you'd—

He stopped her with a finger against her lips. Then he went to his knees — right there on the honeymoon-suite carpet, her brand-new husband knelt in his tuxedo and pressed his forehead to her belly through the layers of her dress, and wrapped his arms around her hips.

— Listen to me, mamacita, — he said, his voice rough.

— You are my wife. And tonight I am going to learn every inch of this body — every inch God gave you — and I am going to worship it and claim it and ruin you on it, because it is mine. Every part of you is mine.

She sobbed once, and her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

— Yes, papacito.

— Yes, what?

— Yes, domdaddy, — she breathed.

— I'm yours. All of me is yours.

He rose, his eyes darker, hungrier.

— Then let's get this dress off my wife, and let me see what I've been waiting two years to see.

Her hands shook too badly for the buttons, so he did it — standing behind her, unfastening each tiny pearl button down her spine with patient, maddening slowness. The dress pooled at her feet in a whisper of ivory silk. She stood before him in a white lace garter belt, white stockings, white silk panties.

Damion circled her slowly, his gaze traveling down her body like a brand. She tried to cover herself, and he caught both her wrists in one big hand.

— No. Don't you hide from me. Not ever again.

He pinned her wrists behind her back and traced the curve of her hip, the lace edge of her panties.

— God, you're beautiful.

His hand slid over the front of her panties, and even through the silk he could feel it — the soft fullness of her outer lips, and above them, nestled where her clit would be on any other woman, a distinct small firmness, already swelling under his touch. His breath caught.

— Oh, mamacita, — he murmured.

— Oh, my gorgeous girl.

He sank to his knees and pressed his mouth to the silk over her secret, hot breath soaking through the fabric. She cried out.

— Let me see my wife, — he said, and drew her panties slowly down her legs.

She stood trembling, wrists pinned behind her back, exposed completely for the first time in her life. Between her thighs: her soft dark curls, her pink pussy already glistening — and above it, her cock. Small, feminine, delicate, rising half-hard from the curls, the soft head flushed and wet at the tip.

Damion stared, and what she saw on his face was awe.

— Both worlds, — he breathed.

— My wife has both worlds.

He leaned in and licked her — one long, slow stroke from her dripping entrance up over her pussy to the base of her little cock — and she cried out, her knees buckling.

He caught her, laid her back on the bed, and settled between her thighs.

— Now I worship my wife, — he said.

— Every inch. Don't you dare hide.

His mouth went to her pussy first — hot, thorough, worshipful. His tongue licked her in broad strokes, lapping up her wetness, then circled her entrance and pushed inside, fucking her with his tongue, tasting how sweet and slick she was. She moaned, her hands fisting in the sheets. Then his mouth moved up to her little cock — and he took the whole small shaft between his lips, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around the flushed head.

— Papacito! — Elena screamed, her back arching.

Nobody had ever touched it like that — like it was precious, like it was his. He sucked her little cock with slow, devoted pulls, his tongue flicking the underside, while two of his thick fingers slid into her dripping pussy, curling against her front wall.

— That's it, mamacita, — he growled against her shaft, the vibration tearing through her.

— Come for your husband. Give me everything.

She came with a wail — her pussy clenching around his fingers, her little cock pulsing and spurting her spend across her own belly, her whole body shuddering. He kept sucking her through it, his fingers stroking her inner walls, drinking down every shudder.

— Beautiful, — he breathed, licking his lips, his chin glistening with her wetness.

— My wife comes so pretty.

He stayed between her thighs, his mouth returning to her pussy — licking her slowly now, savoring, his tongue tracing every fold, dipping into her entrance to taste how deep her wetness went. She whimpered, oversensitive, her hips twitching — and he held her hips down firmly, his big hands pinning her to the bed.

— Stay still, mamacita. Your husband isn't done worshipping.

His tongue found her clit again — soft, worshipful licks, then firmer, then sucking the bud between his lips and pulsing his tongue against it. She moaned, her back arching, her little cock stirring hard against her belly again. He wrapped his hand around her little shaft and stroked it slowly while his mouth worked her clit — the double worship overwhelming, her cries going breathy and high.

— Papacito — I'm — I'm going to—

— Come for me, — he growled against her clit, the vibration tearing through her.

— Let your husband feel it.

She shattered — her pussy clenching on nothing, her little cock pulsing and spurting her spend across her belly in thick white ropes, her whole body trembling. He lapped it up — her spend, her wetness, all of her — groaning like she was the finest thing he'd ever tasted.

— Every drop is mine, — he said, licking her clean, his tongue gentle now, soothing her oversensitive flesh.

— Both worlds. All mine.

He kissed his way up her body — her belly, her breasts, sucking each nipple hard enough to make her gasp — and then her mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She moaned into the kiss, her hands roaming his broad shoulders, his chest.

— Now —

He stood, unbuttoned his tuxedo trousers, and freed his cock. Elena's breath caught. He was thick — thick as her wrist, long and heavy, the head flushed dark and leaking pre-come in a steady thread.

— On your knees, mamacita. Worship your husband.

She knelt on the carpet between his thighs and took his thick throbbing cockhead between her lips. He was huge — her lips stretched wide around his girth, her tongue flattening under his shaft, his musky taste flooding her mouth. She sucked him deep, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue working the thick vein underneath, her hand stroking what she couldn't fit. He groaned, his hand fisting in her hair, his hips starting to move.

— That's my good girl. Take your papacito's cock. All the way. Choke on it.

He pushed deeper, his thick shaft filling her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged sweetly, drooled, spit running down her chin, tears pricking her eyes — and he held her head firmly and fucked her mouth in slow, deep strokes, his heavy balls slapping her chin with every push. She moaned around him, the vibration making him shudder, her tongue swirling around his throbbing head. Her pussy throbbed, her little cock hardening again, leaking onto the carpet between her knees.

— Fuck, mamacita, — he groaned, his thighs tensing.

— Your mouth —

He pulled out at the last second, his cock pulsing in his fist, pre-come dripping from the head.

— Not yet. I save my come for my wife's pussy.

He pulled out with a wet pop.

— Up. On the bed. On your back. Legs open. Let your husband see his wedding gift.

She lay back and spread her legs wide, her garter belt and stockings still on, her pussy glistening, her little cock hard and weeping against her belly. He stood over her, his thick cock hard and leaking, and dragged the weeping head through her soaked folds, coating himself.

— Who does this pussy belong to, mamacita?

— You, papacito, — she breathed.

— It's yours.

— And this?

He wrapped his hand around her little cock, stroking it slowly, making her whimper.

— Yours too, papacito! All of me — both of me — yours!

— Good girl.

He positioned his thick throbbing cockhead at her entrance.

— Breathe, wife. Your husband's going to stretch you.

He pushed in. The thick head breached her and Elena screamed — he was so big, so impossibly thick, and her pussy stretched and stretched around his massive girth, her outer lips pulled taut and glistening as his thick throbbing head forced its way inside her inch by inch. Her inner walls clung and fluttered around every inch of him, the stretch burning sweet, her body opening for her husband's cock.

— That's it, — Damion groaned, his eyes locked on where they joined, watching her pussy stretch wide around his thick shaft.

— Look at you taking me, wife. Your tight little pussy stretching so wide for your papacito.

He bottomed out, his hips slamming against hers, his heavy balls slapping her ass. She was stuffed impossibly full, stretched around his thick girthy massive cock, her walls fluttering around his throbbing shaft, every pulse of him echoing deep inside her. He stayed buried for a long moment, letting her feel all of him — the fullness, the stretch, the heat — his thumb circling her little cock, keeping her on the edge.

— Take it, mamacita, — he growled.

— Take your papacito's cock. This tight little pussy was made for me to ruin.

He wrapped one hand around her little cock and stroked it in time with his thrusts — and she howled, the double sensation overwhelming.

— Fuck — so tight, — he groaned.

— Your little pussy is strangling my cock, mamacita.

He set a deep, driving rhythm — slow, powerful strokes that rocked the bed. Her pussy was soaked, squelching around his thick shaft, her juices running down to soak the sheets. His hand worked her little cock faster, his thumb circling the weeping head — and she shattered, screaming, her pussy clamping down on him, her spend spurting across her belly.

— Again, — he commanded.

— Come on my cock again, wife. Now.

She obeyed, sobbing — and he pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, hauled her up onto her hands and knees, and drove back into her from behind in one savage stroke. She screamed into the pillows. He gripped her hips and pounded her, his hand fisted in her hair, his other hand reaching under to stroke her little cock, which swung heavy beneath her.

— Who's your domdaddy?

he roared.

— You are! You're my domdaddy, papacito!

— And who owns every inch of you?

— You do! Both worlds — all of me — yours!

He fucked her harder, his balls slapping her clit, his thick shaft stretching her with every brutal stroke. Her pussy was soaked, squelching loudly around his cock, her juices running down her thighs and dripping onto the sheets. He reached under her trembling body and wrapped his hand around her little cock — stroking it fast, his thumb smearing her pre-come over the weeping head — while his other hand pinched her dangling nipple hard.

— Come for me, wife,

he roared.

— Come on my cock. Both of you — come.

She shattered — screaming into the pillows, her pussy clamping down on his thick shaft in rhythmic spasms, her little cock erupting in his hand, her spend shooting across the sheets in thick white ropes — and he groaned deep in his chest and pulled out at the last second, fisting his thick throbbing cock, and erupted over her ass and back — jet after jet of hot come spurting across her skin, painting her, marking her. She felt every pulse, every hot splash, and moaned, grinding her come-covered ass back against him.

— Look at you, — he growled, smearing his come across her skin with his cockhead, pushing the head against her dripping pussy, teasing her entrance.

— My wife, covered in my come. Mine.

He pushed back into her in one smooth stroke and fucked her slowly, deeply, his come slicking the way, until they both came again — softer this time, wrecked and trembling, clinging to each other.

He stayed buried in her, grinding slowly. Then he pulled out, turned her over, and pushed two fingers into her, scooping his come back in.

— Keep it in, — he ordered.

— My seed stays in my wife.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

— Ride me, mamacita. Show your husband how his wife takes his cock.

Elena straddled his hips, her pussy hovering over his thick, glistening shaft — still hard, still throbbing, coated in her wetness and his come. She sank down onto him slowly, inch by inch, her pussy stretching wide around his massive girth, her walls fluttering around his thick shaft. She threw her head back and moaned, her breasts bouncing, her little cock hard and leaking against his belly.

— That's it, — Damion groaned, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her.

— Ride your papacito's cock like a good wife.

She rode him — slow, deep rolls of her hips at first, taking him to the hilt with every descent, her pussy squelching obscenely around his thick cock. Then faster, harder, bouncing on him, her cries growing louder. He reached up and pinched her nipples, rolling them hard between his fingers, and she howled.

— Who owns this pussy? — he growled, thrusting up into her.

— You do, papacito!

— And this?

He wrapped his hand around her little cock, stroking it fast, his thumb smearing her pre-come over the head.

— Yours! Both of me — all yours, papacito!

She came hard — her pussy clamping down on his thick shaft, her spend spurting across his chest — and he groaned and thrust up into her harder, his thick cock throbbing inside her, and erupted deep in her pussy, jet after jet of hot come filling her, overflowing around his shaft.

She collapsed onto his chest, trembling, his cock still buried deep inside her, pulsing softly. He held her, stroking her hair, his other hand cupping her ass possessively.

— My wife, — he murmured.

— My beautiful, perfect, both-worlds wife.

Later, in the shower, he took her against the tile — her back to his chest, his thick cock driving into her from behind, hot water streaming over them, his hand wrapped around her little cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. She came screaming, her spend washing down the drain, and he followed, groaning her name, filling her with another thick hot load.

He laid her back and settled between her thighs again, his mouth going to her pussy — licking her clean, lapping up their mixed wetness, his tongue fucking her gently — while his hand stroked her little cock back to hardness. She whimpered, oversensitive, and he soothed her, worshipping her with his mouth until she was trembling on the edge again.

— Please, papacito—

— Please what, mamacita?

— Please fuck me again — I need you inside me—

— Good girl.

He pushed back into her soaked pussy in one smooth stroke, groaning at how wet and open she was for him. He made love to her this time — deep, rolling thrusts, his forehead pressed to hers, her legs wrapped around his waist, her little cock trapped between their bellies, leaking with every grind.

— Come with me, — he whispered.

She did — together, clinging to each other, her pussy milking him, her spend smearing between them — and he groaned her name and erupted inside her again, his thick shaft pulsing another hot load deep in her pussy, filling her until it overflowed and ran down to soak the sheets beneath her.

Morning came golden through the curtains, and Elena woke to Damion's mouth on her breast — suckling her nipple slow and deep, his hand already between her legs, two thick fingers sliding into her come-filled pussy while his thumb circled her little cock.

— Good morning, wife, — he rumbled.

— Good morning, domdaddy, — she moaned, spreading for him.

He finger-fucked her deep and slow, his thumb working her little cock until she was panting — then he sucked her little cock into his mouth, gentle and worshipful, and she came with a soft cry, her pussy pulsing around his fingers.

He settled between her thighs and slid his morning-hard cock into her with one smooth, possessive thrust, stretching her open, filling her completely.

— My wife, — he groaned, beginning to move — slow, deep, claiming strokes, his thick cock dragging along her swollen walls.

— My beautiful, perfect wife. I'm going to spend today inside you.

— Yes, please, — she whispered, wrapping herself around him, her legs locked at his back, pulling him deeper.

— Stay inside me, domdaddy. Keep me. I'm yours.

He made love to her as the sun climbed — unhurried, devoted, his mouth on her breasts, sucking her nipples, his hand between them stroking her little cock in time with his thrusts — filthy-whispered promises in her ear — until they came together in a slow, shattering wave, her pussy milking him, her spend smearing between their bellies, his thick shaft pulsing his come deep inside her.

Both worlds. One love. His — forever and always.