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)
Make a proper start, a voice in my head said, the words somehow making their way through the haze of agony. Rick had decided to give us a new beginning, the beginning he clearly thought he should have made on our wedding night, or the next morning, when I had lied about how sore my pussy was.
A new storm of sobs burst from my throat at that thought… about how I had lied to my husband so many times. The terrible burning heat in my whole bare backside, the stripes of fire Rick laid across it, seemed to declare with each lash how defiant and bratty a bride I had been, how careless with my husband’s needs and feelings.
The observer, to my distress, seemed to have gone away. Something about the fiery pain of the whipping had brought me fully into my body again—though at the worst possible time. My bottom hurt so much.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Please, sir… Ricky… I’m sorry.”
The belt flashed down, over and over. I screamed, wondering with a hot blush whether the neighbors could hear—then realizing that if they could, they would certainly approve of a wronged older husband disciplining his young bride.
I started to struggle. My arms lay out in front of me, my hands almost to the sturdy slats of the beautiful hardwood headboard. I tried to push up onto my elbows and my knees. I tried to roll to the side, desperate for some respite from the belt’s horrible, steady attention to my butt-cheeks and upper thighs.
Rick kept whipping me. He landed a hard lash on the side of my thigh. I screamed with the agony of it.
He stopped for a moment.
“Get back in position,” he growled. “Reach out and take hold of the headboard. You’re getting extra for trying to get away.”
That terrible news made me struggle even harder for a moment. I managed to push against the pillows and writhe from under his left hand. I curled myself up into a sitting position and looked up at Rick, hoping I might see any sign of mercy.
He stood over me, the belt wrapped around his right hand, its doubled length resting on the palm of his left. He had no mercy in his eyes.
“What did you almost say, a little while ago?” he asked sternly. “Get back over the pillows, and tell me what kind of girl you really are, and I’ll finish your whipping quickly. Then we can get to what we both really need.”
I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as I gazed into my gorgeous, wise husband’s face. My bottom and my upper thighs blazed like Rick had made me sit on a fire. I couldn’t bear it anymore.
He’ll make you, said the observer, and I realized she had come back, and I could step out of myself that way again. He’s begun as he means to go on. He’ll always make you obey, you bratty little slut.
My limbs began to move. I sobbed from deep in my chest as I followed my husband’s instruction. I got back over the pillows. I reached for the headboard. The smooth wood of the slats felt almost comforting in my grip. I wondered if Rocky Falls headboards were designed for wives to hold onto while they learned their old-fashioned lessons.
Rick’s left hand came back down on my back. The belt returned, too, but not with a lash. Instead, my husband rubbed it in a gentle circle low down on my bottom.
Oh, no.
“What are you, Dee?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s time to be honest with your husband.”
I shook my head. The belt rose. I gave a whimper of fear as a shudder passed through my whole body.
“No, please…” I whined, but my husband’s justice came down hard, right where he had rubbed just a moment before.
I cried out at the renewal of the terrible fire there. I felt certain Rick would whip me again, just as quickly and steadily as he had delivered each horrid lash at the start of my punishment.
Instead, I felt his fingers, and a little of the cool metal of the silver buckle. I felt the tips of his middle fingers press in that same dismayingly complicated spot.
“Oh, no,” I breathed. “Please, sir.”
“Spread your legs, Mandy,” he commanded.
A flash of ambivalence gripped my mind, a circuit of doubt seeming to travel among all the different girls inside me, but the raging, ambiguous fire in my bottom, my thighs, between my thighs, rocketing through my whole body, overcame all hesitation in a split second. I gave a mewling little whimper as I felt my legs obey my lord and master’s order. My knees slid apart, and my face got hot as I imagined what Rick could see, with my backside obediently raised and poised over the pillows.