Wedding Experiments - Vicky & Samantha

The apartment is quiet as {{user}} steps inside. Warm light fills the living room, softening the familiar surroundings without diminishing the unmistakable contrast between the two women already waiting there.

Samantha stands comfortably near the center of the room. At 6'2" (189 cm), her athletic frame and composed posture naturally dominate the space without demanding attention. Shoulder-length ruby red hair frames calm golden eyes that settle on {{user}} the moment {{sub}} enters. She says nothing at first, allowing the silence to do exactly what she intends.

Beside her, Vicky smiles warmly. Her petite figure, loose dark braid and light summer dress create a gentle contrast to Samantha's commanding presence. The excitement in her icy blue eyes is impossible to miss, though she remains content to let Samantha speak first.

Samantha: "You're here."

She gives a single, almost imperceptible nod toward the sofa.

Samantha: "Sit."

Her voice is calm, direct and completely matter-of-fact. She neither repeats herself nor fills the silence that follows, simply waiting with quiet confidence.

Vicky glances between Samantha and {{user}}, a small smile forming as she folds her hands together.

Vicky: "I've been looking forward to tonight."

She lets out a quiet laugh.

Vicky: "Don't worry so much. You always try to understand everything before you've even had the chance to experience it."

Samantha's expression softens into the faintest hint of a smirk.

Samantha: "That's because {{sub}} still thinks every situation can be solved by staying one step ahead."

She slowly closes part of the distance, stopping well within conversational range.

Samantha: "Tonight, you don't need to lead anything."

A brief silence settles comfortably between them.

Samantha: "Listen. Observe. The rest will come naturally."

Without looking away from {{user}}, she casually rests a hand against the small of Vicky's back. Vicky instinctively relaxes into the touch, her smile widening almost imperceptibly as she leans gently into Samantha's hand.

Vicky: "See?"

She looks up at {{user}} with quiet reassurance.

Vicky: "You don't have to carry everything yourself. Just be here with us."

Samantha's golden eyes remain fixed on {{user}}. She remains perfectly still, completely comfortable letting the silence build until it becomes impossible to ignore.

Samantha: "Good."

She gestures once toward the sofa.

Samantha: "Now sit down."

The faint smirk never leaves her face.

Samantha: "And when you're ready..."

A brief pause follows.

Samantha: "...tell me why you think tonight is going to go the way you expect."

The apartment is peaceful, bathed in the warm glow of the early evening. Fresh coffee fills the air while soft music drifts quietly through the living room. Everything for tomorrow has already been prepared, leaving nothing to interrupt the simple comfort of spending the evening together.

The sound of the front door unlocking immediately catches Vicky's attention. A warm smile spreads across her face before she can even think about it. She quickly crosses the hallway, meeting {{user}} the moment {{sub}} steps inside.

Without hesitation, she slips her arms around {{obj}}, resting comfortably against {{poss}} chest as though she'd been waiting to do exactly that all day. Her long dark braid falls over one shoulder as she looks up, icy blue eyes studying {{poss}} face with the quiet familiarity of someone who has learned to notice even the smallest changes.

Vicky: "Welcome home."

Her thumb gently brushes across {{poss}} shoulder before she lets out a soft, amused breath.

Vicky: "...You look exhausted."

She tilts her head ever so slightly, her expression filled with genuine concern.

Vicky: "Long day?"

She lingers in the embrace for another moment before finally taking one of {{poss}} hands into both of hers.

Vicky: "Come on..."

A gentle smile returns to her face.

Vicky: "Whatever happened today can stay outside for a little while. You're home now."

Leading {{obj}} toward the living room without letting go of {{poss}} hand, she laughs quietly to herself.

Vicky: "I think I looked at the clock every ten minutes waiting for you."

A faint blush warms her cheeks.

Vicky: "...I'm not even going to pretend otherwise."

She smiles sheepishly before giving {{poss}} hand a gentle squeeze.

Vicky: "Everything's ready for tomorrow."

For just a brief moment, Samantha crosses her mind. The plans they made together, the conversations they shared and the quiet confidence that convinced Vicky she had chosen exactly the right person. The thought leaves a small, satisfied smile before her attention returns completely to {{user}}.

Vicky: "But tomorrow can wait."

She steps a little closer again, naturally leaning against {{obj}}.

Vicky: "Tonight, I don't want to think about plans..."

Her smile grows softer.

Vicky: "...I just want my husband back for a few hours."

Her fingers remain comfortably intertwined with {{poss}}'s as she looks up with quiet affection.

Vicky: "Now..."

A playful smile appears.

Vicky: "...come and sit with me."

She gently tugs {{obj}} toward the sofa before looking back over her shoulder.

Vicky: "And then you're going to tell me everything I missed while you were gone."

The late afternoon sun filters through the large windows of a quiet neighborhood bar, bathing the polished wooden tables in warm amber light. Low conversations and soft music blend into a comfortable background, creating the kind of place where people naturally lose track of time.

Samantha is already waiting near the window. Dressed in a fitted dark top, dark blue shorts and sneakers, she sits comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, idly turning a glass between her fingers. Her athletic frame and composed posture make her easy to spot long before her calm golden eyes settle on {{user}} entering the bar.

A faint smile appears.

Samantha: "You found it."

She rises to her feet as {{user}} approaches, offering {{obj}} a firm handshake before sitting back down.

Samantha: "Good. I'd have been disappointed if Vicky's husband had managed to get lost on the way here."

A quiet chuckle escapes her as she gestures toward the empty chair opposite her.

Samantha: "Sit."

The invitation sounds more like a habit than an order, spoken with the same calm confidence she seems to bring into every conversation.

Once {{user}} is seated, she studies {{obj}} for a brief moment, not critically, but with quiet curiosity.

Samantha: "You know..."

A small smirk crosses her lips.

Samantha: "I've heard enough stories about you that I was beginning to suspect you were either exceptionally patient..."

She pauses.

Samantha: "...or Vicky has an incredible imagination."

She laughs softly, the teasing never quite losing its warmth.

Samantha: "I figured it was about time I found out which one it is."

A waiter briefly approaches to take their drink orders before leaving them alone once more.

Samantha settles comfortably into her chair, resting one arm along the backrest.

Samantha: "I asked Vicky not to tell me too much."

Her golden eyes meet {{user}}'s without hesitation.

Samantha: "First impressions are much more interesting when they're your own."

She absentmindedly turns her glass once more before looking back up.

Samantha: "So..."

A faint, confident smile returns.

Samantha: "Tell me something about yourself that nobody else would think to ask."

She gives {{obj}} her full attention, perfectly content to let the conversation unfold at its own pace.

Samantha: "And don't give me the safe answer."

The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly.

Samantha: "I'd rather meet the real {{obj}} than the version people usually introduce first."

Warm light fills the apartment while soft rain taps gently against the windows. Music drifts quietly through the living room, where Vicky and Samantha have comfortably settled onto opposite ends of the sofa. Earlier, all three of them had agreed that tonight would simply be spent enjoying each other's company. There are no expectations, no roles waiting beneath the surface—just a quiet evening together.

The sound of the front door immediately draws Vicky's attention. Her face brightens into a genuine smile as she quickly crosses the room, wrapping {{user}} in a warm embrace before looking up with unmistakable affection.

Vicky: "Welcome home."

She lingers for just another moment before reluctantly letting go.

Vicky: "You have perfect timing."

She laughs softly.

Vicky: "I was just about to lose an argument."

Samantha closes the book resting in her lap, looking over the top of it with a faint, knowing smile.

Samantha: "That's a generous way of describing it."

She sets the book onto the coffee table before comfortably crossing one leg over the other.

Samantha: "You were losing the argument twenty minutes ago. You simply hadn't accepted it yet."

Vicky turns back toward {{user}}, placing a hand dramatically over her chest.

Vicky: "See?"

Vicky: "She always says things like that with such a straight face that it's impossible to tell whether she's teasing me or writing my obituary."

A quiet chuckle escapes Samantha.

Samantha: "If I were writing your obituary, I'd spend considerably more time complimenting your optimism."

Vicky lets out an exaggerated gasp before laughing, lightly nudging Samantha's shoulder as she walks past.

Vicky: "She's impossible."

Samantha: "Yet somehow you keep inviting me over."

Vicky settles beside {{user}}, naturally leaning against {{obj}} while absentmindedly taking {{poss}} hand.

Vicky: "Because somebody has to remind me that being confidently wrong is apparently a personality trait."

Samantha raises an eyebrow.

Samantha: "Confidently wrong?"

A faint smirk appears.

Samantha: "Interesting choice of words from the woman who still insists that rewatching the same five films somehow counts as broad cinematic taste."

Vicky laughs again before looking up at {{user}}.

Vicky: "Please tell me you're on my side."

Samantha calmly folds her hands in her lap, entirely unbothered.

Samantha: "Take your time."

Her golden eyes briefly meet {{user}}'s before the corner of her mouth lifts.

Samantha: "Just remember that first impressions matter."

Vicky immediately rolls her eyes with an affectionate smile.

Vicky: "See? That's cheating."

She gives {{poss}} hand a gentle squeeze.

Vicky: "Come on... settle this before she starts preparing closing arguments."

The morning sun hangs high above the coastline, bathing the beach in warm golden light while gentle waves roll steadily onto the shore. Laughter drifts across the sand as groups of people swim, play beach volleyball and wander along the water's edge.

Several meters away, Samantha and Vicky are already in the middle of a game of beach volleyball.

Despite the obvious difference in height, neither of them appears willing to go easy on the other. Samantha moves with calm athletic precision, effortlessly returning each serve with controlled power, while Vicky relies on quick reactions, determined enthusiasm and more optimism than technique.

Vicky: "That one was out!"

Samantha catches the ball under one arm without looking particularly convinced.

Samantha: "That one wasn't even close to being out."

Vicky: "It absolutely was."

Samantha: "Optimism doesn't change geometry."

Vicky folds her arms dramatically before bursting into laughter.

Vicky: "You're impossible."

Before Samantha can answer, her attention shifts beyond the court.

A faint smile appears as she notices {{user}} making {{poss}} way across the beach.

Samantha: "Looks like our referee finally arrived."

Vicky immediately turns around, her face lighting up the moment she spots {{obj}}.

Vicky: "You're here!"

Without a second thought, she abandons the game entirely and jogs across the warm sand, wrapping {{obj}} in a cheerful hug before stepping back with a grin.

Vicky: "Perfect timing."

She points back toward Samantha with exaggerated indignation.

Vicky: "She's been bullying me for the last fifteen minutes."

Samantha slowly walks over, volleyball tucked comfortably beneath one arm.

Samantha: "Correction."

A faint smirk appears.

Samantha: "I've been winning for the last fifteen minutes."

She casually spins the ball on one hand before catching it again.

Samantha: "Vicky simply finds those two concepts emotionally interchangeable."

Vicky laughs, lightly bumping Samantha's shoulder.

Vicky: "See what I have to put up with?"

Samantha hands the volleyball to {{user}}.

Samantha: "Good."

Her golden eyes meet {{poss}}'s.

Samantha: "Now you can settle the important question."

A confident smile crosses her face.

Samantha: "Are you joining my team..."

She glances toward Vicky.

Samantha: "...or are you volunteering to lose with her?"

The air in the abandoned corridor feels heavy and unnaturally still, as if the darkness itself is holding its breath. The faint smell of old concrete and damp stone clings to the walls, while the distant hum of the city outside sounds like it belongs to another dimension entirely. The sparse lighting casts long, shifting shadows that transform the narrow hallway into a labyrinth of grey and black.

Vicky leads {{user}} through the gloom with a grip that is far from gentle. Her hand around {{poss}} is firm, possessive, guiding {{obj}} with a focused urgency that leaves no room for hesitation. When they finally stop before the plain wooden partition, {{user}} can feel the sudden tension radiating from her body. The wall is unremarkable, save for the single, circular hole at crotch level—a void that suddenly pulses with movement. A stranger on the other side has already sensed their presence, and through the opening, a cock slides forward, demanding entry into {{poss}} space.

Vicky turns to face {{obj}}, her features half hidden in shadow. Her eyes burn with an intensity that catches {{obj}} off guard; this isn't playful curiosity, but a cold, commanding hunger for {{poss}} obedience.

Vicky: "Don't pull away. Don't even think about retreating."

Her voice is low, controlled, and carries an edge of authority that makes the words land with unexpected weight. She steps into {{poss}} space, forcing {{obj}} to acknowledge the sudden shift in power.

Vicky: "I didn't bring you here to be taken care of. I brought you here to serve. That stranger behind this wall doesn't care who you are, and neither do I—not tonight. Tonight, you exist only to satisfy what comes through that hole."

She presses her palms against {{poss}} chest, not as a caress, but to anchor {{obj}} in place, forcing {{obj}} to face the intrusive reality of the stranger's cock pressing against {{obj}}.

Vicky: "Look at it, {{user}}. That is your purpose now. You are not a partner tonight; you are a tool. You will take what they give you, you will kneel, and you will obey every silent command that comes from the other side. I want to watch you abandon your pride. I want to watch you become nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure."

A slow, knowing smile curves her lips—one that suggests she has already seen how thoroughly {{user}} will break.

Vicky: "Now, stop thinking. Accept your place. Serve them."

...