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)
“Both elbows,” he said. “Are you ready to do that for me?”
Yes, said the rational voice.
“No,” I heard myself sob.
The thrill of fear and arousal that seemed to burst in my tummy and my pussy simultaneously when I realized I had just flat-out bratted made me feel faint. Rick snapped me out of that instantly with his huge right hand, unleashing a hail of spanks, right, left, center, up and down my thighs, that made me cry out over and over. My whole backside seemed to blaze under his correcting hand.
Suddenly, to my astonishment, I felt something inside my heart and my mind that I had never allowed myself to feel. The thing I had feared to feel—that night at his apartment when I had said Forget it… in the private room at the airport, over Rick’s knee… on my wedding night and then on our last night at the lodge—it just happened, without my being able to hold it back.
My husband… he’s… he’s…
Rick’s hand rose and fell, again and again. I sobbed, the tears of shame and discomfort running down onto the comforter. My muscles seemed to relax, to yield.
My husband is… is… is breaking me. No… he’s broken me. He’s broken me, to train me as his wife.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, completely unable to control my body’s reactions, “oh… sir… please… please… it hurts so much.”
Rick stopped the spanking again.
Readily, without his even repeating the command, I scrambled onto my elbows.
My husband’s left hand pressed down on my back. His right hand, the one that had already punished me so terribly, took hold of my bottom. I cried out in mingled discomfort and uncontrollable, wanton need.
“Present this,” he said, squeezing my burning cheeks. “Raise it and push it out, to show me you accept your punishment.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered, while at the same time the weak refusal emerged from my lips my hips had begun to obey Rick’s command.
I felt his fingers work their way under the waistband of my jeans and take firm hold there.
“Please, sir,” I whimpered. “Please… I’ll—”
I had meant to say that I would take off my clothes, as unthinkable as that compliance had seemed to me only a minute or two before. But Rick took my words entirely away; he held my backside in place and he spanked my denim-covered bottom at a much slower and steadier pace than before I had assumed the position he wanted, speaking all the while.
“Are… you… ready… to… get… undressed?” he asked, covering every inch of my bottom and upper thighs with the terrible spanks that made me cry out with each new application of his firm hand.
“Yes, sir,” I sobbed.
“Good girl,” my husband said softly, his hand returning to my bottom much more gently. He turned his fingers. Two of them followed the seam of my jeans downward, and forward.
“Oh… sir,” I breathed. “No… oh, please… don’t.”
But I didn’t mean it. How could I mean it?
And Rick didn’t pay any attention. He kept his caressing hand there, rubbing softly so that I thought I might go crazy with the need for more pressure, more friction.
He leaned over and spoke in my ear.
“I’ll touch you exactly as I like, Dee,” he murmured. His hand squeezed harder. I cried out in surprise and helpless arousal. My hips bucked hard against both his hands, my back arching deeply.
“Oh, God,” I said. Words flowed into my mind, words I could say that would change things forever.
Whip me.
Fuck me.
Rick took his hands away before I gave into those terrible words. He stepped back from the bed and spoke worse ones.
“Stand up and start taking off your clothes. I’m going to watch you.”
CHAPTER 16
Rick
Mandy looked back over her shoulder at me as she stood up. Something about the slightly wild look in her eyes made me think she didn’t even know that the rest of her expression told volumes about her real, wonderful personality—the one I felt certain I had started to help her get in touch with.
The brat. Mandy’s beautiful, tear-filled, perplexed blue eyes said, Make me.
I lowered my chin and gazed back at her steadily. My dominant blood sang in my veins, and my cock felt as hard as an iron bar along my thigh. I said nothing, feeling—as I had felt in the private room at the airport—that my alpha instincts, awakening at last, could guide me in communicating with my gorgeous, bratty bride beyond anything words could say.
The make me face vanished. Mandy’s eyes went even wider, and her lips parted. Best of all, she put her right hand back behind her, as if to defend her backside from a renewal of her punishment. The notion of outright refusal of my command to get undressed—the ghost of her forget its—seemed to have flown away. In its place came a distress that made me want to take her in my arms.