Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“What did I tell you to do, Grace?” he asked, his voice low but very, very menacing. “Take them off. Now.”
CHAPTER 31
Cal
Lucky hardly described how fortunate I felt. Blessed did the job better, though I’ve never really been the kind of person who used that word too much. In any case, it didn’t seem totally appropriate, given that the blessing consisted of something so very… carnal.
Taking all of gorgeous, sweet, rebellious Grace Franklin’s virginities in a single night. To teach her submission and obedience. To train her for my bed and set her on the path of sexual service—and sexual fulfillment.
Hot. Dirty. Erotic. Wrong and yet oh so right. Shameful, but at the same time completely necessary—as well as absolutely irresistible. Watching Grace, as she turned her glowing-red face back toward the bed and started to raise her dress over her head, I knew that I had to do everything I had promised. The hardness of my cock gave me no choice.
And, thank God, Grace’s evident needs, for strict discipline and for submissive sex, seemed to give me even less. If I failed to show her exactly how dominant a suitor she had, and how thoroughly I would rule over her as her husband, I wouldn’t fulfill my most basic responsibility as man—let alone as a participant in the New Modesty program, tasked with caring for this wonderful handful of a girl in need of reformation.
I wanted her so badly that when she had the dress off and had let it drop onto the bed, and I saw her simple white bra for the first time, the straps across the bare skin of her back giving just the barest hint of restraint, my cock jumped against my thigh and my mouth started to water. I had the sudden urge to put the paddle down and just step forward, bend her over, unzip my fly, and go straight to the defloration.
She needed to feel thoroughly punished, though. And I needed to carry out that punishment, and show her she could rely on me to keep my word. I had to demonstrate beyond any doubt that when she questioned my authority her backside would pay the price: a higher price than she would choose to pay the next time she thought about answering back.
Grace had stopped moving. I tightened my grip around the handle of the wooden paddle, and I tapped it on my palm. I saw a shiver go through her at the soft but meaningful sound, and she put her little hands behind her to unhook the bra.
From the doorway, I had a wide enough angle that I could catch a thrilling sidelong view as her small but perfectly buoyant breasts swung free. I had to swallow down a mouthful of saliva as I thought of holding them, tasting them. Even of having my hard cock between them as I looked down at my sweet girl’s blushing face to witness her shame and excitement at learning to please me in a new way.
She dropped the bra on the bed, and kicked off her shoes. She had nothing on now but the training panties around her knees. I wondered for the thousandth time how such an unsexy pair of underwear could look so very hot on a girl like Grace.
She seemed to hesitate, and I tapped the paddle on my palm again. Her head turned, and she looked at me with frightened eyes. She had one arm across her breasts, now, and the other hand in front of her pussy, as if I hadn’t already seen everything a man wants to see.
“Get them off,” I told her, wondering what her sudden hesitation meant. “I told you. From now on, you’ll be naked for your punishments.”
Grace
Knowing that… knowing about how a wife, or a fiancée, must always take all her clothes off when her husband, or her fiancé, disciplines her… it made the paddle in Cal’s hand seem terrifying in a completely new way.
I already feared it on a purely physical level—how could I not? Even the way it sounded when he tapped it on his palm made my stomach lurch with each little noise… thwack… thwack… thwack. How could I bear to have him swing it hard against my bare butt-cheeks? How would I even be able to stand the shame and the terror of the sharp gunshot smack it would so obviously make with every swat?
But as I stared at him, suddenly failing to process his words—out of sheer terror, or out of some kind of attempt my brain was making simply to deny the reality of the humiliating, dreadful scene—the idea of pulling my training panties all the way off seemed impossible. Not because of the horrible pain I knew I had in store. Well, not only because of that.