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“Mine,” he said in a deep, growly voice that was also very soft. “Remember?”
I opened my mouth and took a gasping little breath. I couldn’t help it: I pushed two of my fingertips inside my newly open bottom-hole.
“Yes, sir,” I sobbed, and then I pulled my hand out from under his and I started to take off my skirt as fast as I could, while Rick just kept holding my bottom that way, possessively, as if to remind me that, yes, indeed, he owned that and every part of me.
When I had the waistband of the skirt undone, Rick let go of my backside so that I could drop it to the floor and step out of it. He took my bottom in his hand again, though, with two fingers between my thighs, clearly asserting his rights over my pussy, as I struggled out of my top, as I dropped it, too, to the floor.
I stood in the lacy white lingerie in front of him then, and I watched his hungry eyes roam over my front: my little breasts with their budding nipples visible through the mesh of the bra cups, my smooth pussy revealed by the narrowness of the thong’s front and the translucency of the lace.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, and I had to look down at his clothed lap, blushing absurdly at this compliment just as much as I had blushed to have him declare his ownership of my anus.
He put his finger under my chin and raised my face up, so that we could look into each other’s eyes. He had the biggest, most loving smile on his face, and despite all the craziness—which I supposed would always seem to me both insane and utterly right—my heart melted as he tilted his head a little and started to kiss me.
With one hand on my bottom and the other on the back of my head, Rick kissed me for a very long time, tenderly at first, and then fiercely, with his lower hand working my pussy so hard I almost came, and then tenderly again. I whimpered into his mouth, wanting to beg for mercy and yet also wanting to serve him precisely as he had decided I should.
He broke the kiss. He said, “On the bed, over the pillows, just like last night.”
I felt my face crumple and a sob rose from my chest as he gently moved me out from between his knees so that he could rise and pile the pillows, just like last night. Yes, at least this first time, I understood, my husband’s hardness in my bottom represented a crucial form of discipline. I had been rude to an important person, and now I would learn my most difficult lesson yet. From now on, when I misbehaved, Rick would correct me this way when he saw fit, or he would spank me, or he would whip me. He would decide, just as he would decide when to enjoy my pussy and my mouth—and when I had earned the reward of the overwhelming, incredible pleasure he could bestow on my shamefully needy body.
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 feltit—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 littleohbecame 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, butstayingthere, 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 wordslittle bratseemed 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.
My body shook under Rick’s as I came, and that seemed to stir something in him. As I kept coming with those little bursts he meted out his final justice, thrusting hard and fast, growling in his throat as I cried out in mingled pain and pleasure. I felt his cock seem to get even harder, to my dismay, and then I felt it pulse inside me and I knew I had given my lord and master the pleasure that belonged to him.
His hips jerked against my bottom, and his orgasm seemed to go on and on. I bit my lip, still soothing myself with my fingers though my own ecstasy had receded.
“Oh, Dee,” he murmured, pulling his hardness from me at last, leaning down to kiss me tenderly on my shoulder, a kiss as intimate, it felt to me, as any on the lips. “Such a good girl.”
I would never have thought it would bring a smile to my lips, to be called a good girl for such a shameful act of service. As Rick took me in his arms, though, and cuddled me the way we had both always known I liked, without knowing why, back to front, his experienced, authoritative manliness against my young, feminine bottom, I couldn’tstopsmiling.
“I think we’re going to like it here,” he said softly, stroking my disheveled hair.
“Oh, yes,” I whispered. “So much.”
The End
