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)
“I… I can’t,” she whispered.
I wanted to hug her, yes, and to tell her everything would absolutely be alright, even the parts that terrified her, because I had figured out how to make it that way. Rocky Falls had helped, but my own dominant nature had helped even more. That confident part of me I had kept away from my relationship with my future wife had finally come out to take charge the way it always should have.
To assume my proper position as Mandy’s husband, though, meant that sometimes I would need to guide her with my resolve and my willingness to discipline her when she needed it. Tonight, as I would have known even without the encouragement of the New Modesty guidelines, definitely represented one of those times.
“You can, Dee,” I told her, “And you’re going to. Right now.” I spoke softly, but in a firm, even tone that I could immediately see, from Mandy’s reaction, had done the trick. Her jaw slackened and her chest rose and fell with her rapid, almost hyperventilating, breathing.
We recommend, the New Modesty website had told me, that you take your wife in hand as decisively as possible, on your first night in the inquirers’ program. Follow your instincts and leave her in no doubt that you have what it takes to keep her in line, most important when it comes to asserting your rights over her needy body.
My eyes went downward to the hand covering her adorable, tightly clad little bottom. I saw her move her fingers convulsively there, clutching at the tight denim. Raising my eyes to my beautiful wife’s face, I noted that her brow had creased very deeply, as if the stimulation she had just given herself, with that fearful little motion of her hand, had evoked very mixed feelings.
“Do I need to keep spanking you?” I asked. “Or are you going to do as you’re told?”
The words of protest came flooding out of her as she turned around to face me, hands in front of her now, ready to push me away.
“But Ricky, you didn’t say you were going to watch and I can’t take my clothes off with you watching!”
“You can,” I repeated, “and you will. I can spank you until you do, and then your whipping is going to make you very uncomfortable at the country club tomorrow. Or you can start learning how to be a good girl.”
I could see in Mandy’s eyes all the conflict that the phrase good girl raised in her. I felt as if I could even read her mind: she had begun to realize today that she was still a brat—but she also wanted to be my good girl, and she didn’t know how to reconcile the two sides of her nature. Above all, my sweet, complicated wife didn’t know how to deal with the dark desires that the struggle—and my old-fashioned way of guiding her through it—brought out.
I narrowed my eyes. I could see in Mandy’s answering expression of alarm that I had started to get the hang of that look—the one that tells a wife she’ll regret defying her husband.
Instinct—a loving but dominant urge—told me I could help her a little more without backing down in any way.
“Start with your top,” I told her. “Take it off and show me your bra.”
Mandy
I felt my whole face pucker into a frown. Rick’s instruction seemed to change something about the idea of taking off my clothes, though I had no real idea why. I knew he wouldn’t stop telling me to strip for him after I had obeyed this first command, and yet the notion of doing that one thing—a simple thing, even if it meant he would see my bra—seemed much more possible.
Not just possible, but…
I bit my lower lip, feeling my forehead crease even harder. I looked into my husband’s dark eyes, and I could see there somehow that he knew about the mortifying conflict inside me. Rick’s gaze seemed to say, you know you want to.
I closed my eyes and choked back a little sob. I didn’t want to think anymore suddenly. My hands went to the hem of my pink t-shirt and pulled it up, telling myself that above all I really had to cover my face so that Rick couldn’t see just how deeply I had blushed.
You know you want to. I held the fabric of the shirt over my face. I knew I would have to keep taking it off, but I desperately needed to stay hidden for a second.
In the darkness, I heard my husband say, “Oh, I like that, Dee.”
My heart flipped over, it felt like, in my chest, as I thought of the slightly lacy pink bra I had on and of Rick looking at it. Not just looking at my bra, either, but looking at my little breasts inside it. He had touched them, yes, but I had let him do that in the dark. He had never seen me in my underwear, let alone naked.