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)
Absurdly, the brat inside me chose this moment to make her decision about when I should next defy my loving husband.
The day after tomorrow. He’s not going to whip me that hard, now, is he? Maybe even tomorrow, if this is what happens when I brat?
Rick broke the kiss, drawing his head back but still holding me in his huge hands, one on my back and one between my legs. I had closed my eyes again at some point, and I felt again that I mustn’t open them because of the degrading thing I would see, and yet I had to because the wicked voyeur in me needed to see the naughty girl get her just reward.
I opened my eyes. Rick had his own gaze fixed downward. A sob of need burst from my chest as I understood: he was looking at my pussy. My dominant husband, in the bright overhead lights of this gorgeous master bedroom, had his eyes fixed on his young bride’s barely tried pussy.
Then my whole body bucked, because Rick had replaced the pressure of his eyes with the probing caress of his fingers, and he had urged the tips of the middle two through the sparse blonde curls there and inside me. Firmly, so firmly… so arrogantly and possessively, taking me with that dominant, if faint, substitute for the hard penis I couldn’t help picturing in my wanton mind’s eye.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered. “Ricky… sir… I’m going to…”
I never had. I had felt certain I couldn’t. It hadn’t even seemed like a possibility, when Rick and I had cuddled in his bed, even when I had enjoyed his touch on my breasts and between my thighs. Now the feeling that something wonderful inside me had expanded so far that it must burst, and I needed it to burst, left even the innocent good girl inside in no doubt as to what was about to happen.
But… again the good girl and the brat had joined forces. The good girl didn’t want to come for the first time without permission, and the brat didn’t want to give the husband who had spanked me—who intended to whip me—the satisfaction. I fought the expansion, the release. I struggled against Rick’s hands, for all the world as if the climax that loomed so close would be a bad thing, rather than the extreme pleasure the observing part of me could see it would give.
And, truly, a thrill of fear went through me at the sheer amount of ecstasy my husband’s claiming fingers had brought down there, where I had felt so certain I didn’t want him at all except when I had no choice but to fulfill my conjugal duties. I felt like the pleasure might rip me apart, if I let Rick move his fingers that way inside my aching vagina.
But he growled a command then, and my body obeyed it, looking into his eyes and seeing my lord and master look straight back, piercing the terribly overcomplicated depths of my heart and soul.
“Come for me, you little brat,” Rick ordered, holding me in place and curling his fingertips up inside me to press at the spot that I hadn’t even known might be there.
I came. Somehow I knew that the way I climaxed was the kind of thing you heard naughty girls call coming hard. It definitely felt very hard, despite how incredibly good it felt. The soreness in my backside… the way it made me feel so very submissive and under Rick’s control… the echo of his hungry growl and the promise it carried of what he would do to me next… above all the sheer presence of his hand between my legs and the arrogant thrusting of his fingers inside my pussy… it seemed hard even to have it all in my head without losing control of my body completely, without fainting dead away.
I cried out, over and over, because it went on and on. Somewhere, vaguely, the observer commented that far from being unable to climax, Rick seemed to be proving that I could come over and over—as long as my husband decided I should, anyway.
You little brat. I felt the heat come into my cheeks as the waves of pleasure seemed to ebb and flow without any end in sight. Rick’s fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit… they had taken hold of me… he had taken a little brat in hand, so literally that I felt completely helpless to resist him. My rebellion had flown away under his training, his discipline—despite the defiant voice in my head whispering through this storm of pleasure, I’ll brat again tomorrow… or maybe the day after.
Not just a little brat, though, the observer said, making my heart beat even more wildly. It’s much, much worse than that, isn’t it?