Chapter 4
Chris
I felt pretty sure my cock had never been this hard before in my life.
Something about the mix of anxiety and arousal I could see in Valerie’s face had aroused me beyond anything I’d experienced with the two girls I’d dated at school in the city, where there was no New Modesty Authority to keep a guy from enjoying himself thoroughly.
This was better, though. Old ways last so long for a reason.
Valerie was scared, but I knew what the New Modesty Authority counselors had told me during our pre-wedding sessions.
My new wife’s biometric readings showed she was highly submissive—more so than most brides they assessed.
They’d warned me she would need firm guidance.
A strong hand. They’d said her body would respond to discipline even when her mind resisted.
I’d seen the truth of that this afternoon, when I’d spanked her. When I’d felt how wet she’d gotten, even as she’d cried and begged me to stop.
My beautiful wife knelt before me now, her blue eyes wide and frightened as she watched my hands move to my belt. But I could see the other thing there too—the need she didn’t understand yet. The hunger that made her breath come faster.
I unfastened the buckle slowly, letting her hear the metal clink. Her lips parted slightly.
The button came next. Then the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room. I watched fear and something else—something darker, more primal—chase each other across her delicate features.
I pushed my trousers down to mid-thigh, leaving my black briefs on. My cock strained against the fabric, harder than I’d ever felt it. The outline was unmistakable.
“There’s something inside here,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended, “that people have traditionally called a man’s manhood. The most important difference between men and women. Can you see it stirring?”
Valerie’s eyes fixed on the bulge in my briefs. She trembled so hard I could see it in her shoulders, her hands clenched in her lap.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
I reached out and placed my hand on the back of her head, my fingers tangling gently in her soft blonde hair. She tensed under my touch, but didn’t pull away.
“You’re going to kiss what you can feel there,” I said. “Show me you can be an obedient wife.”
A whimper escaped her throat. For a moment I thought she might refuse—might even earn herself another spanking, on our wedding night. But then she leaned forward, guided by my hand, and pressed her lips tentatively against the fabric covering my cock.
The sensation shot through me like electricity. My cock jerked hard against her mouth, and Valerie cried out in fear, trying to pull back.
“Shh,” I said, holding her head steady. “That’s natural. That’s what happens when a man’s wife pleases him.”
“It moved,” she gasped against me, her breath hot through the thin fabric. “I felt it move.”
“Because you’re doing well.” I stroked her hair with my thumb. “Keep going. Kiss it again.”
She hesitated, then obeyed, placing another soft kiss against my straining erection. Then another. Each touch made my cock pulse harder, and I heard her breath catch each time she felt it.
“Good girl,” I murmured. “Such a good girl for your husband.”
The praise seemed to embolden her. Her kisses became slightly less tentative, though her whole body still shook with nervousness. I could feel her learning—discovering what her touch did to me, how my body responded to her obedience.
“Now open your mouth,” I said. “Press your lips against it and breathe on me through the fabric.”
* * *
Valerie
I couldn’t. How could I? A little sob rose in my throat.
But I did. I opened my mouth and breathed out, with my lips on the warm, hard thing inside my new husband’s briefs.
The heat of it shocked me. And the scent of him—oh, God, the scent. It was musky and dark and overwhelming, filling my nose as I pressed my open mouth against the fabric. It reminded me somehow of my own lewd scent, the tangy smell of wetness between my legs, but different. Masculine. Powerful.
My tummy somehow flipped and clenched at the same time.
“Nuzzle it,” Chris commanded, his voice low. “Press your face against it. You’re going to be doing this a lot, so you should try to get used to it.”
A tiny whimper rose from my chest. Doing this… a lot? On my knees in front of my husband, serving his pleasure in this mortifying way?
But I obeyed, my hand again going back to my bottom as if to remind myself of what could happen if I refused one of Chris’s instructions.
I moved my head slightly, feeling the rigid shape beneath the cloth.
It was so big. How could something that large be hidden in a man’s underwear?
How had I never noticed it before when Chris hugged me?
“Keep kissing,” he said, and his hand in my hair guided me, pressing my mouth against different spots along the hard length. “Show me how you’re learning obedience. Remember what happens to naughty girls.”
I kissed it over and over, my lips finding the shape of it through the fabric. Each time I felt it pulse or twitch, a corresponding pulse answered between my own legs. My body was doing that humiliating thing again—getting wet and needy and shameful.
It went on for what felt like forever. Kiss after kiss. My face pressed to my husband’s most private place, breathing in that dark masculine scent, feeling the heat and hardness of him. Tears leaked from my eyes, but I didn’t know if they were from fear, embarrassment, or something else entirely.
Finally, Chris’s hand loosened in my hair.
“Scoot back,” he said. “Give me room to stand.”
I shuffled backward on my knees, grateful for the reprieve. My lips felt swollen and my face burned with shame.
Chris stood, and I had to tilt my head back to keep looking at him. His hands went to the waistband of his briefs.
“I’m going to show it to you now,” he said. “The most important difference between husbands and wives.”
He pulled the briefs down.
My breath stopped in my throat. I couldn’t look away even though every instinct screamed at me to close my eyes, to turn my head, to run.
His… his thing… it jutted out from his body, thick and rigid and impossibly large. The skin was darker than the rest of him, stretched tight. I could see veins running along it. The head was swollen and purple-red, and there was moisture glistening at the tip.
How could that thing be real? How could it be part of a human body?
“This is called a penis,” Chris said, his voice steady despite the way it trembled slightly. “That’s what the doctors call it, anyway. A man calls it his cock. It’s what makes me a man. What gives me authority over you as my wife.”
I stared at it, frozen between terror and a fascination I didn’t understand. My pussy clenched again, wetness soaking through the tiny lace panties.
“There are things that make a man’s cock feel good,” Chris continued, and I saw his hand move to wrap around it. His fingers barely circled the thickness. “A wife’s lips. Her hands. Her breasts pressed around it.”
He stroked himself slowly as he spoke, and I watched in horrified fascination.
“But most of all,” he said, his eyes burning into mine, “a cock feels good when it’s put inside a wife’s body. Inside her mouth. Inside her little pussy. Even inside her bottom hole. Wherever and whenever her husband chooses to put it.”
Inside? Inside my body? I didn’t understand. How could something that large fit inside me anywhere?
“I… I don’t…” My voice came out as barely a whisper. “What do you mean, inside?”
Chris looked at me for a long moment. “You really don’t know, do you?”
I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“A woman’s pussy,” he said patiently, though I could hear the strain in his voice, “has an opening. A hole that leads inside her body. That’s where a husband puts his cock.
He pushes it inside her and moves it in and out until he feels good enough to release his seed.
That’s how I’ll put a baby in your tummy someday. ”
The image his words created was impossible. Terrifying. That huge thing, pushing inside the place between my legs? It would tear me apart.
“It can’t fit,” I gasped. “Chris, please, it’s too big, it would hurt—”
“It will fit,” he said firmly. “Women’s bodies are made to take their husbands’ cocks.
It will hurt the first time, because you have a thing called a hymen that makes you a virgin.
My cock will go through that, and you’ll bleed a little, but you’ll stretch.
My cock is pretty big, but you’ll learn to take it, and like having it in you because I’m your husband. ”
“No, please—” I was sobbing now, my hands clasped in front of me. “Please don’t. Not tonight. Please, Chris, I’m not ready, I can’t—”
“It’s called fucking,” he interrupted. “When a husband puts his cock inside his wife and uses her body for his pleasure. It’s what husbands get to do to their wives whenever they want.”
Whenever they want. The words echoed in my head. He could do this to me any time. Force that huge thing inside me. Use me to make himself feel good.
“Please,” I begged. “Please, can we wait? Until we’re on our honeymoon tomorrow? Just a… just a day? Please, sir, I’ll be so good, I promise, I just need—”
I saw the conflict in his eyes. The desire warring with something softer. Love—the love I had seen in his eyes so many times before, though now it mixed with that unsettling hunger, and with a frustration that made my tummy quiver.
“You’re my wife now,” he said slowly. “I have every right to fuck you tonight.”
“I know,” I sobbed. “I know, but please, just a little more time, I’ll do anything else, please—”
Chris was quiet for a long moment, his hand still wrapped around his cock. I could see how hard it was for him to resist. How much he wanted to just take what was his.
Finally, he sighed.
“All right,” he said. “I won’t fuck you tonight.”
Relief flooded through me so powerfully I almost collapsed.
“But,” he continued, and my relief turned to ice, “that thing I did to you this afternoon, when I touched your pussy and made you feel that intense pleasure—that’s called an orgasm. And I need one now.”
An orgasm. That’s what had happened over Chris’s knee. That overwhelming sensation that had crashed through my body when he touched me where I knew it was so naughty for anyone to touch a girl.
“I’m going to get myself an orgasm,” Chris said. “And you’re going to help me. Go kneel on the bed. Face away from me. Bend forward and put your face down on the mattress.”
I scrambled to obey, grateful that he wasn’t going to fuck me, terrified of whatever he was about to do instead. I climbed onto the massive bed and got into the position he’d described, my bottom raised high in the air, my face pressed into the rose-petal-scattered duvet.
“Now reach back,” Chris commanded from behind me. “Spread your bottom cheeks with your hands. Hold yourself open for me. Show me where I’m going to fuck you tomorrow.”
Mortification burned through me, but I did it. I reached back and grasped my own bottom, pulling the cheeks apart. The thong was already nestled between them, but I knew he could see the curves, the valley it disappeared into.
“Pull the thong aside,” he said, his voice rougher now. “I want to see your pussy. And your little asshole.”
Oh, God. Oh, God, he wanted to see everything. The most private, shameful parts of me.
My hands shook as I hooked my fingers in the thin strip of lace and pulled it to the side. Cool air hit my exposed flesh, and I knew he could see it all now. My bare, waxed pussy. The tight little opening of my anus that I’d barely known existed until the aesthetician had waxed around it.
“Perfect,” Chris breathed. “Such a pretty little pussy, so nice and smooth for fucking.”