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“All of them, now,” Rick said. “Get ready.”
I gave a little cry of alarm, even before I felt all five of my husband’s fingers, in a little cone, pressing into my smallest hole.
“Good girl,” Rick murmured. “Such a good girl.”
My back arched hard against his arm, and my hips squirmed. I creased my forehead and gritted my teeth as a little whine escaped them. I floated out of myself, more the observer now than any other part of me.
You’re right where you need to be, Mandy Williams, I told the girl over her husband’s knee.
CHAPTER32
Mandy
Rick’s voice seemed to come from a long way away.
“We’re staying in Rocky Falls, Dee,” he said, his voice less gentle, more dominant. “You already know that, I’m guessing.”
“Yes, sir,” I moaned. Somehow it didn’t matter that from a logical perspective it was ridiculous that such an important moment, such a crucial acknowledgement from wife to husband, should occur with the husband’s fingers buried in the wife’s virgin anus.
Oh, no,that lewd part of me said.No… itdoesmatter, doesn’t it, you naughty girl. This is the way a bratty bride learns to obey her bridegroom.
He pressed those thick fingers into my bottom more firmly, training me to open. My cheeks squirmed as I tried in vain to close against him, to push the invading digits out. I sobbed over Rick’s knee in shame and discomfort, my hips, still covered in my hiked-up skirt, desperately riding his strong thigh in a fruitless search for escape.
“Shh, Dee,” he said, withdrawing his fingers a little, as if to give me a tiny respite—as if I had earned it through my obedience, an idea that sent more heat to my face. “Relax. You know you can do this. You know you can open your bottom when you have to.”
I bit my lip and let out a whining moan as my mind absorbed Rick’s meaning. The blush in my face blazed up again at the thought of how I knew, and what it meant: that it would hurt in that dark, mortifying way when my husband took my bottom’s virginity, but that his unnatural desire would do me no real harm—just as he would do me no harm when he whipped me for misbehavior.
That his enforcement of his marital right to use my bottom just as he used my pussy and my mouth represented only the most authoritative, dominant form of discipline he would impose on me, his properly submissive wife.
At first that terrible thought made me tense up further, so much that I felt myself actually pushing out Rick’s fingers.
“No, Dee,” he said, his voice stern. He pressed the cone deeper, opened me further despite the desperate, uncomfortable efforts of my violated anus.
I cried out, and rubbed my clit harder, abjectly grateful that Rick had permitted me to touch myself. The pain again became ambiguous pleasure, and I felt myself close to coming again. My hips jerked and I cried out, and suddenly I found myself pushing with those muscles in the most embarrassing way.
Rick’s fingers pressed inward, and I received them, feeling him stretch me further than I had imagined I could open.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed. “Oh… sir… oh…”
“Shh, good girl,” my husband murmured. “Don’t come, or I’ll have to whip you, too.”
That brought a keening, wailing cry through my nose, and I almost kept going, brattily, because his very threat had nearly pushed me over the edge into my climax.
But then Rick started to pull his fingers slowly out of my bottom, and I managed to slow my rhythm, on my clit and up and down my newly bare pussy, enough to pull up from the orgasmic cliff.
“You’re ready,” he said. “Stand up and take off everything but your lingerie. I want you in your pretty bra and panties for your first bottom fucking.”
He stood me up, facing him between his knees. I remembered how very hard a time I had stripping for him yesterday. That memory, of my first whipping, of my first real fucking, of my husband enjoying my mouth for the first time and coming there… for a split second I seemed to balance on the edge of some knife of decision, as I wondered whether I would simply obey Rick’s latest command.
I put my right hand behind me. My skirt had stayed tucked up, where he had put it to train me over his knee in that utterly degrading fashion. My lacy thong panties had stayed askew, where Rick had pulled them so that he could open my bottom and prepare me for his final claiming of his once-innocent bride.
I felt my fingers slip between my punished cheeks even as a new blush overspread my face at the thought of where I meant to touch myself. But the little hidden flower, the tiny, wrinkled button, felt so strange after what its strict new owner had done that I had to touch it.
As my fingers pressed gently and shyly where my husband’s had pressed so firmly, so lewdly, I felt my forehead crease. I heard a little sob in my throat. I had had my eyes closed, but now I opened them and I looked into Rick’s face, right in front of mine and on the same level though I stood and he was seated.
He narrowed his eyes just a little, as if he were trying to see the thoughts inside my head. I gave a little gasp as I felt his hand on my hip, moving around it, seeking out my own hand, learning what a naughty thing I was doing with my fingers in my bottom.
He put his big hand over my little one, over my whole bottom it felt like.
