Chapter 5
Valerie
I heard movement behind me. A rustling kind of sound. His breathing got heavier.
“I’m going to do something called masturbation,” he said. “It’s when a man strokes his own cock to give himself an orgasm. Men are allowed to do it whenever they want. But wives—wives have to ask permission from their husbands before they touch their pussies.”
Ask permission? I couldn’t just… touch myself when I needed to?
“If a wife plays with her pussy without permission,” Chris continued, and I heard a soft noise, like skin sliding on skin, “she gets spanked, or paddled, or even whipped. Hard. On her bare bottom. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered into the duvet.
But even as I agreed, I felt that terrible need building between my legs again.
I wanted to touch myself so badly. Wanted to feel that lewd pleasure again.
The position I was in, bent over with my bottom raised and spread, was making it worse.
Everything felt so exposed, so sensitive, so terribly naughty.
Chris’s breathing grew huskier behind me. I could hear the sliding sound getting faster. I knew what he was doing—stroking his cock while he looked at my exposed pussy and anus.
The thought should have disgusted me. Should have made me want to die of shame.
Instead, my pussy clenched and a fresh wave of wetness leaked out. I couldn’t help it.
Without meaning to, I glanced up at the mirror on the wall beside the bed. In its reflection, I could see Chris standing behind me, his hand moving rapidly on his thick cock, his eyes fixed on my spread bottom.
The sight made my pussy clench again, harder this time.
“I can see that,” Chris said suddenly, his voice a low growl. “I can see your little pussy clenching. You’re getting aroused from this, aren’t you? From being displayed for me like this?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t admit it.
“You’re a very naughty girl, Valerie,” he growled. “Such a naughty little wife.”
His breathing grew louder. The wet sounds got faster, more urgent. I watched in the mirror as his face contorted, his hand flying over his cock.
Then he made a sound—a deep, guttural grunt—and I cried out in surprise and shame as I felt something hot and wet splash across my bottom. Again, and then again. Thick ropes of something warm coating my skin, dripping down between my spread cheeks.
His seed, I realized with shock. This was what he’d meant about releasing his seed. This warm, sticky substance now covering my bottom and thighs. The seed that would go inside me someday and make a baby.
Chris’s hand slowed on his cock, and his breathing gradually returned to normal. I stayed frozen in position, not knowing if I was allowed to move, feeling his seed cooling on my skin.
“Good girl,” he finally said, his voice rough. “That felt good, but it’s going to feel even better when I fuck that little virgin pussy tomorrow night. I’m going to fuck you nice and hard, the way a naughty girl needs it.”
Then, to my surprise, Chris’s voice softened.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “You did well, sweetheart. You were such a good girl for me.”
I heard him moving, and then his hands were on me—gentle now, helping me move my arms into a more comfortable position, smoothing the thong back into place over my soiled bottom.
He helped me turn over and sit up, and when I finally looked at his face, I saw tenderness there instead of that frightening hunger.
“Come here,” he said softly, and pulled me into his arms.
I clung to him, sobbing against his chest, and he just held me. Stroked my hair. Whispered that everything was okay, that I was safe, that he loved me.
After a long moment, he pulled back and started undoing the clasps of my bra.
“Chris—” I started to protest.
“Shh. We need to get you cleaned up.” His fingers were deft, unhooking the bra and sliding it off my shoulders. “Arms up.”
I struggled a little, my hands trying to cover my bare breasts, but he was patient and persistent. He removed the garter belt next, then rolled down my stockings one at a time. Finally, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties.
“No,” I whimpered, but he ignored me, sliding them down my legs.
I was completely naked now. Exposed. Vulnerable in a way I’d never been before.
But Chris just scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing at all. He carried me toward the bathroom, and I buried my face against his neck, too overwhelmed to resist anymore.
He set me down gently on the closed toilet lid. “Wait here.”
I watched as he stripped off his own remaining clothes—his shirt, his trousers and briefs that were still bunched around his thighs. His body was magnificent; the hard muscle and the too-obvious masculine power made me chew the inside of my cheek. And his cock…
I looked away quickly, my face heating.
Chris moved to the large bathtub and turned on the taps. Steam began to rise as hot water poured in. He added something that made bubbles form on the surface, filling the bathroom with a lavender scent.
While the tub filled, I kept stealing glances at him. At his cock specifically, though I tried not to. It looked different now—smaller, softer, hanging down instead of jutting out like it had been before.
“Why is it… different?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Chris looked down at himself, then back at me with a small smile. “My cock?”
I nodded, blushing furiously.
“Because I just had an orgasm,” he explained, coming to kneel in front of me. “After a man comes, his cock gets soft again. It needs time to recover. But don’t worry—it’ll get hard again soon enough. Especially with my beautiful naked wife right here.”
As if to prove his point, I saw it twitch slightly.
“It takes a little while,” he continued. “Maybe twenty minutes, maybe longer. It depends on how aroused I am. And you make me very aroused, Valerie.”
The tub was full now. Chris turned off the taps and held out his hand to me.
“Come on. Let’s get you clean.”
He helped me stand and guided me toward the tub. He stepped in first, settling into the hot water with a sigh, then held out his hands to help me in.
I hesitated, acutely aware of my nakedness, of his eyes on my body.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “We’re married now. This is normal.”
I took his hands and stepped into the water.
It was almost too hot, but the heat felt good against my bottom as the lingering soreness from my spanking that afternoon seemed to merge with the pleasant warmth.
Chris positioned me so I sat in front of him, my back to his chest, between his spread legs.
I could feel his body against mine. His muscular thighs on either side of me. His chest against my back. And lower, I could feel his soft cock pressed against my bottom.
The intimacy of it made my breath catch.
“Kneel up for me,” Chris said. “I need to wash my cum off your bottom.”
Mortification flooded through me, but I obeyed, rising up on my knees. The water lapped at my thighs as Chris’s soapy hands moved over my bottom cheeks, cleansing away the evidence of what he’d done.
His touch was gentle, almost detached, but I felt that traitorous warmth building between my legs again. My pussy clenched, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound.
“Are you getting aroused?” Chris asked quietly.
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
His hands paused on my bottom. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“I know you’re lying, Valerie. I can tell. You’re a naughty girl, and you’ve already found out what happens to naughty girls in my house. The quickest way to find yourself over my knee is by lying to me.”
I felt my forehead crease hard. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I…” I started, but the thoughts in my head and the sensations of my body mixed together into a storm too blinding for me to find a second word.
“Please,” I tried, putting my hands behind me and turning my face over my shoulder to cast a fearful look at Chris. “Sir… I…”
“No,” he said, taking hold of my wrists and moving them back in front of me. “Never get in the way of me touching your body as I choose.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, as the storm inside me grew even wilder.
“But,” he said gently, “we’ll let it go for now. I know you’re scared.”
He guided me back down to sit, and I felt something different against my bottom. Something that wasn’t soft anymore.
His cock was getting hard again.
I stiffened, fear rushing through me, but Chris’s arms came around me, holding me gently.
“I promised I wouldn’t fuck you until you’re ready,” he murmured against my ear. “And I meant it. But I am going to teach you to enjoy taking cock. To crave it. To beg for it.”
“Chris—”
“Stand up and bend forward,” he said. “Hands on the edge of the tub.”
My heart hammered as I obeyed, rising on shaky legs and bracing my hands against the smooth porcelain. The position left me bent over, my bottom raised, water streaming down my body.
I heard Chris stand behind me. Felt his hands on my hips.
Then I felt his cock—hard again, thick and hot—pressing between my legs.
“No,” I whimpered. “You promised—”
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said. “I’m just going to rub against you. Show you what it will feel like.”
The swollen head of his cock found my pussy lips and began sliding up and down. The sensation was overwhelming—the heat and hardness of him, the way he parted my folds, the pressure against that sensitive spot.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed. “Oh, God, please—”
“Please what?” Chris’s voice was strained. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”
I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted. My body craved more while my mind screamed in shame and fear.
He kept rubbing, the head of his cock sliding through my wetness, bumping against something at the top that made me cry out.
“Touch yourself,” Chris commanded. “Reach down and rub your pussy while I do this.”
“I can’t,” I sobbed.
“Yes, you can. Do it now.”
“I don’t know how—”
“You knew how this afternoon when I caught you. You know exactly how. Reach down and touch your clit, Valerie. Masturbate while your husband rubs his cock against your pussy.”
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make my hand move. Couldn’t make myself do something so shameful, so naughty.
“Kneel,” Chris said, his voice harder now.
He pulled away from me, and I heard him stepping out of the tub. Water sloshed as I turned to kneel in the bath, my heart racing with dread.
Chris stood beside the tub, water streaming down his muscular body, his cock jutting out hard and thick.
“You disobeyed me,” he said. “Again. What happens to disobedient wives?”
“Please,” I whimpered. “Please, not again—”
But his hand was already coming down on my wet bottom. The spanking was worse on wet skin—sharper, stinging more intensely. I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the tub.
“This spanking doesn’t stop,” Chris said, his hand rising and falling in steady rhythm, “until you make yourself come. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, sir.”
“Then do it. Touch your pussy and make yourself orgasm while I spank you.”
With a sob of shame, I reached down between my legs. My fingers found that slick, swollen place, and I began to rub.
The combination was overwhelming—the sharp sting of his hand on my bottom, the pleasure building between my legs, the humiliation of what I was doing.
It only took seconds.
The orgasm crashed through me violently, making me cry out and collapse forward over the edge of the tub. My whole body shook as waves of pleasure rolled through me, more intense even than this afternoon because of the spanking, because of my own fingers, because of the shame.
When it ended, I was sobbing uncontrollably.
Chris’s arms came around me, trying to pull me into a hug, but I couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear his touch, his comfort, the gentleness that made everything worse somehow.
I scrambled out of the tub, water streaming from my body, and ran from the tub toward the door of the bathroom.