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 finished tucking up the skirt. I did it slowly and deliberately, so I could be sure Mandy was thinking about how she had ended up here over her husband’s knee yet again—and so that I could get my eyes’ fill of her gorgeous ass, bearing the bruises she had earned for lying and disobedience the previous day.
Then, slowly and at first very gently, as she struggled in vain against my restraining left arm and the right leg I had clamped down across the backs of her knees, I put my hand on my wife’s squirming backside. I put my middle two fingers on the pleasantly bumpy texture of the lace that ran down between the very lowest, tenderest part of her sweet little cheeks. I spread the rest of my hand out so that I could hold almost her whole bottom within my grasp, and I squeezed softly.
The feeling of silken skin against delicate fabric, of having this wonderful, important part of Mandy within my possessive grasp, of literally taking my beloved bride in hand that way, sent a jolt of arousal through my system. My hardness swelled along my thigh as she moved over my thigh, trying desperately to escape her punishment.
The thought of the taboo pleasure I had decided on made me hard as a rock. I would stretch my wife’s tiniest hole on my cock tonight. The rosy little button that lay just beneath my fingertips, hiding shyly under the lacy thong and enclosed between her taut bottom-cheeks, would soon have my rigid manhood inside it—and Mandy would learn to love having me there.
The complex task of training my wife’s bottom would be shameful and uncomfortable for Mandy, especially at first. It was, however, utterly necessary, and in the end it would enrich our love and our marriage so greatly that I had not the slightest doubt about my intentions.
The thought that I had intended to train her so much more slowly than I had ended up doing—making her give me a blowjob last night and fucking her ass tonight, without the comfort of my hardness in her pussy at all today—gave me a moment’s pause, then. I remembered what Scott had said on the golf course, though, when I had, after some hesitation even with his helpful prompting, told him what I meant to do.
“Maybe it’s not true for everyone,” he had told me, as we drove up the eighteenth fairway, “but every husband I’ve met in Rocky Falls at least will tell you the same thing. A young wife needs to have her husband in her backside on a regular basis, to make sure she knows her place. It definitely keeps April humble to know I’ll have her there when I choose. You’ve got the right idea, Rick—as your sponsor, I say go ahead and train that sweet bratty wife of yours just like you’re planning to.”
Mandy whimpered under the pressure of my hand on her delectable ass. I could hear her urge to submit fully in that adorable noise, and maybe for the first time I trusted my dominant instinct fully: she needed this, as harsh as it might seem. Punishment anal tonight, and tender lovemaking in the morning.
“Please, sir,” she whimpered. “Please don’t spank me.”
I smiled. I moved my hand, and she gave a sob of anxiety that I could tell from the very tension in her muscles also held a huge helping of submissive need. But instead of raising my hand to bring it down with a smack, I ran two fingers under the strip of lace that claimed her bottom, right up at its top, where it spread into the embroidered triangle that joined the frilly waistband. The sensation of unwrapping a present, of being about to possess and enjoy a new toy, intoxicated my dominant imagination. I started to tug the gusset of Mandy’s panties out of the way, so I could play with my gift, with the property I had asserted my rights to the night before.
“Spanking?” I asked softly. “Who said anything about spanking?”
Mandy
I felt my whole body jerk as if with an electric shock.
“Don’t…” I whined. I could hear the brattiness in my voice. For the first time, I could really hear it, as if I were the observer and the brat and the good girl and the independent young woman all at the same time—as if I could choose which one I wanted to be.
I hadn’t really worried, even when I called it all crazy to myself, that my mind had anything really wrong with it, like multiple personalities or anything like that. To feel like I had gained control over the different voices, though—maybe just for a moment, right then, but maybe also more and more as Rick and I truly found each other through the craziness—it took my breath away.