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"This is going to be fast," he said as he pulled out his cock and lined it up with my pussy. In one swift motion, he slid in deep, my constant arousal easing the way. My soreness was gone, only searing pleasure remained.
Gripping my hips tightly, he pummeled my channel until I was clawing at his back, wrapping my legs about his waist. I came quickly, my need so great. As I lay spent on the table, Jake continued to thrust, working me, using me for his own pleasure. He came with a loud groan and he slapped his hands down on the table to the sides of my head to take his weight. We were breathing hard, and my breasts were damp with sweat.
He pulled out and I felt his seed seep from me, down to my stretched ass, to the table below.
"Ah sweetheart, you please me so. Don't move. It's time to shave you."
I just laid there watching him, recovering from my orgasm as he put his cock back in his pants and went over to the wash basin to retrieve his shaving cup and straight razor and a wet cloth. Wiping me clean, he murmured, "Put your feet up on the edge of the table and don't move. I don't want to nick my pretty pussy." He winked as he tended to me. As he lathered soap over my mound and down my pussy, I fell asleep, sated, replete and for just a little while, at ease with being a wife.
Chapter Seven
Jake
The next two days I kept Catherine's training much the same. I inserted the smaller pill now at bedtime; it provided the level of arousal that kept her in a state where she often used the special chair on her own while I was out, yet retractable enough where she still found the ass training something to endure. I alternated between a deep plug and wide cork in her ass, letting her learn I would be variable in my choice. This was the time where I set no new demands on her, just fucked her pussy and let her settle in to her new role, adjusting. Accepting. Coming to the realization of what her days would now be like. But two days was all I could endure with her remaining in the house.
"We are going into town today. Supplies are needed so we will take the wagon," I told her over breakfast.
She glanced up at me, her eyes flared in surprise, then darted down to her bare breasts. "Town? Like this?"
"I have a scarf that will cover you appropriately," I replied.
She stood, paced across the room. "A scarf won't cover me." Her hand moved back and forth in front of her exposed flesh. "I'm huge like this."
Yes, she was so beautifully large, her breasts now quivering with each frantic breath. I smiled. I couldn't help it.
"Then you'd rather not wear the scarf? That is your choice."
"What? No!" Spinning to face me, fear brightened her eyes. "I need a real blouse, not like this one."
"I've seen you touching your nipples, sweetheart. You pull and tug on them when I'm not watching. Have you come by just working them?" I took a sip of my coffee.
She flushed hotly, all the way down to her tightening nipples. She had. She'd learned how to play with herself until she came. "You don't have to answer. Your face is like an open book. If you are covered, how will you be able to play with yourself like that? How will I be able to touch them when I desire?"
"You may do so, but not in town. I need a blouse that covers my breasts." She'd tilted up her chin at the ultimatum.
I stood, rising to my full height and I could tell by how her eyes widened, then dropped to the floor, she'd realized her error.
"Did I hear you correctly? Did I hear you tell me when and where I can touch your body?"
Her head lowered even further, her shoulders drooping.
"Did you just tell me what you needed?" I kept my voice low, which seemed to cause fear in Catherine more than shouting. I paused, letting my words sink in. "Very well. You may have a full blouse to go into town."
I took her hand and led her upstairs to our bedroom, spinning her around to undo the buttons of the blouse I'd just put on her. Tossing it on the bed, I went to the closet and picked the training blouse Grant had given me the other day.
I held up the crisp, white blouse and helped a very wary Catherine put her arms into the sleeves. Coming to stand in front of her, she looked quite relieved to see the more abundant amount of material to this garment. It had a high collar and small buttons halfway down the front. It was very similar to the blouse she'd worn on her arrival to town. Toward the bottom, it had the long strips of fabric that wrapped around the waist to button at the back, which I fastened easily. She wouldn't be able to remove the blouse without help. "There. Is that better?" I asked.
Her relief was evident, but she started to shift her shoulders. "Yes, but it's … it's awfully scratchy." She ran her hand over the soft cotton, then higher over her breasts.
"Yes, I've heard it's quite scratchy," I replied as I went to the shelf that held her corks and plugs. "Over to the bar, please. I want to change your cork."
Confusion knit her brow, but she did as told, her upper body wiggling. Once she was in position, I tossed her skirt up high on her back, covering her so that I could only see her from the waist down. I worked the cork from her ass carefully, as all the while Catherine held her breath. Once empty, she exhaled deeply.
"Since your breasts are covered, you will need a much larger cork to remember that you belong to me. People in town need to know that you have been claimed."
"You're going to show them my cork?" she asked, her voice all fear and worry. She panted as I used my lubricated fingers to circle and stretch her ring of muscle, wider and wider. This cork would be the widest I'd used on her yet, several steps up from the one I removed. Between the blouse that would torture her soft skin and tender nipples and the girth of this plug, she'd be one miserable woman today.
"I won't have to." I worked the large cork into her and she groaned, shifted her hips against the burn I knew she felt. I wasn't hurting her, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.
