Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Not wanting him to see the furious, unrelenting crimson in my cheeks any longer, I scrambled onto the bed and over the pillows. I stretched out my hands like the night before, reaching for the slats of the headboard, but Rick said, “No, Dee. Put your hands back and spread those adorable little ass-cheeks for me.”
I bit my lip hard and whimpered. My breathing came in little puffs through my nose, and I could feel the air from them against the soft comforter that pillowed my right cheek. Face down, bottom up, already presented for humiliating discipline, but told to make my abasement much deeper still.
I heard Rick’s hands go to his belt buckle; I heard the jingle as he started to unfasten it. I gave a fearful little cry and I thrust my hands back and took hold of the little globes, feeling the slightly raised skin of the bruises he had made with that belt last night. I winced a little at the renewal of the deep, lingering soreness there. With a little whine I obeyed my husband’s mortifying command, feeling the gusset of my naughty panties under the fingers of my right hand, tugging it further aside, displaying every shameful thing to Rick’s unseen but surely lustful eyes.
“Good girl,” he said. “Such a pretty sight.”
He finished unbuckling his belt. I heard his jeans hit the floor, and then the rustling sounds of his clothes as he took them off. I held my poor punished bottom open, feeling the air moving against the parts that should stay covered—almost feeling the light on the parts that should stay dark and hidden.
The bed shifted under Rick’s weight. I heard a sound almost like polishing, and with a new blush I realized he must be putting more of his saliva on his cock to get himself ready for this most dominant act.
He put one hand on my back, and I felt the hairy insides of his knees on either side of my thighs, and then I felt it—the soft but firm knob of my husband’s huge, rigid manhood—push against the tiny hole.
“Oh…” I whispered. It felt so good at first—the good girl in me thought so, anyway, because it felt like I had learned to obey my husband at last.
The penis pressed harder, invading my most intimate place, my tiny, tender rose. My little oh became a whine of discomfort.
“That’s it, Dee,” Rick growled. “Let me in. Go ahead and use your right hand to play with yourself. Keep your cheeks spread with your left hand.”
A terrible thrill of arousal went through me at the resolve I could hear in his voice. He knew exactly what he wanted, precisely what pleasure he would enjoy, now. When I obeyed and thrust my hand between the pillow and my hip, and found my clit, I bucked under him with the need and ecstasy that seemed to glow in the whole of the region between my waist and my knees—all the places Rick had chosen as his private domain.
My movement pushed my bottom back, despite myself. My lord and master used that movement, and the relaxation caused by the pleasure from my fingers, to push in hard. I gave a wailing cry as I felt him stretch my anus on his thrusting cock, maybe not bigger than the cone of his fingers had been, but staying there, holding my bottom open, teaching me to provide my husband with the forceful masculine pleasure to which he had a lawful right.
I had started to moan and sob continuously, but I heard Rick give a grunt of dominant pleasure over my submissive sounds.
“Oh, that’s nice, Dee,” he murmured. “Your tight ass feels so good around my cock.”
Then he put his hands on my hips and started to fuck my newly deflowered asshole. I cried out with every thrust, each one driving deeper inside my bottom. I knew he meant to make his pleasure last until I had learned my lesson as he decided I should learn it. That terrible, degrading thought paradoxically brought my climax closer.
My bottom felt much, much too full, even before I felt the manly fur of his lap come up against my spread cheeks. As I ran my fingers down into my pussy to bring my juices up and lubricate my clit, though, I knew I would come despite—no, because of—the discomfort.
“Sir,” I moaned, tears of pain in my eyes. “Sir… oh, please…”
“You may come, you little brat,” Rick said.
Just the words little brat seemed to do it. As my husband drove his huge erection into my most shameful, most private place and held himself in there with my whipped bottom against his firm lap, I came in a way that felt very different from my climaxes of the night before. This one felt submissive, small and dark but still a consolation for accepting my husband’s authority.