Chapter 12
Valerie
Chris stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes traveled over me slowly, taking in every detail of the revealing nightgown, the way the fabric clung to my curves.
“Kneel,” he said quietly. “Right here.”
I sank to my knees on the plush carpet, my heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. The position made me feel even more vulnerable, looking up at him while he stood over me fully clothed.
“I’ve been thinking,” Chris said, his voice calm and measured, “about how to handle your training. About what methods will be most effective with you.”
My breath caught. Training. That word again. He was talking about training me, his wife, like… like an animal. Like a pet to be housebroken.
“Corporal punishment will definitely be part of your life from now on,” he continued, and I felt my bottom clench at the words, remembering the switch. “You respond well to being spanked and whipped. I can tell that your body understands that language.”
I wanted to protest, to deny it, but the evidence was right there between my legs. Even now, even terrified, I could feel the dampness in my embarrassingly skimpy panties.
“But I don’t think a whipping is the right response to what happened today,” Chris said. “You got aroused on that horse. Your body responded to the stimulation in a way you couldn’t control, and then you felt ashamed. That’s not something I should punish with pain, despite the lie.”
Hope flickered in my chest. He wasn’t going to whip me? Relief flooded through me so powerfully I almost sobbed.
“Instead,” he said, his eyes boring into mine, “I think what you need tonight is a different kind of training. One that addresses the root of the problem.”
The hope died as quickly as it had bloomed. Something in his tone made my stomach drop.
“Go into the bedroom,” Chris commanded. “Lie on your back on the bed.”
I scrambled to my feet on trembling legs and walked into the bedroom. The king-size bed seemed impossibly large, its covers like a field of snow on which I would lie small and helpless. I climbed onto it and lay down, my whole body shaking.
Chris appeared in the doorway. “Now pull your knees up. Hold them high and wide. Show me everything.”
My mind went blank. I blinked at him, not understanding at first—or maybe understanding too well and refusing to accept it.
“What?” The word came out as barely a whisper.
“You heard me, Valerie. Pull your knees up to your chest. Hold them there with your hands. Spread them wide so I can see how your pussy and your bottom look in those sexy panties.”
Oh, God. Oh, God, he wanted me to… to display myself. To hold myself open for his inspection like the most shameless, wanton bad girl I could imagine.
“Please,” I whimpered, my hands clutching at the quilt beneath me. “Please don’t make me do that. I’ll… I’ll let you whip me instead. Please, sir, just whip me, I can take it—”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” Chris said, his voice hard. “And if I need to whip you as well, I will. But you’re still going to show me your body exactly as I choose to see it.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Chris, please—”
“Now, Valerie.”
My hands moved without my permission, reaching down to grasp behind my knees. I pulled them up slowly, my face burning with humiliation. Higher. Higher. Until my knees were nearly touching my chest.
“Wider,” Chris commanded.
A sob tore from my throat as I spread my knees apart.
I could feel everything—the cool air against my most private places, the way the tiny panties did nothing to cover me in this position.
I knew exactly what he could see. My bare bottom.
The thong pulled tight between my cheeks.
The gusset of my panties stretched over my pussy, the fabric probably damp and transparent from my arousal.
“That’s it,” Chris murmured, and I heard him moving closer. “That’s what an obedient wife does when her husband wants to look at the place where he’s going to put his cock.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at him. Unable to see his face as he gazed at me like this.
“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me while I inspect you.”
Another sob, but I obeyed. My eyes opened and found his. He stood at the foot of the bed, his attention fixed on my exposed body.
“Do you understand why I’m making you do this?” Chris asked, his voice quieter now but no less firm.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
“Because you need to learn that your body belongs to me,” he said. “Every part of it. Your mouth, your pussy, your bottom—all of it is mine to use and look at whenever I choose. And you’re going to learn to display yourself for me without resistance, no matter how embarrassing it feels to you.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “Please, I can’t—”
“You’re obeying right now, so obviously you can, naughty girl.” He moved closer, standing right beside the bed now. “This position—holding yourself open like this—is how you’re going to ask for permission from now on.”
My mind reeled. “What?”
“When you want to touch yourself,” Chris explained, his hand reaching out to trail along my inner thigh, making me gasp. “When you need to come. You’ll get into this position and ask me properly. Show me what you want. Beg me to let you have it.”
The image his words created was too much. Me, lying like this, holding myself open and begging for permission to touch my own body. It was obscene. Degrading.
And my pussy clenched hard at the thought.
“I can see that you understand,” Chris said, and I knew he’d seen my body’s response. “Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Your brain may fight it, but you’ll learn to accept what your husband gives you.”
His fingers moved higher, brushing against the damp fabric of my panties. I whimpered, my grip on my knees faltering.
“Keep holding,” he commanded. “Don’t let go.”
I tightened my grip, my arms already aching from the strain of holding my legs in this position. Chris’s fingers traced the edge of my panties, so close to where I was most sensitive but not quite touching.
“Today on that horse,” he said conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather instead of my arousal, “your body responded to stimulation. That’s natural. Normal, even.”
His finger slipped under the edge of my panties, touching bare skin. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“But you lied to me about it,” he continued, his finger moving slowly, teasingly. “And that’s what needs to be addressed. Not the arousal itself, but the dishonesty.”
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I was just so ashamed—”
“I know you were.” His voice softened slightly. “But you’re going to learn that there’s no shame in responding to your husband. In being aroused by my touch, my discipline, my control over you.”
His finger found my clit through the fabric and pressed gently. The sensation shot through me like lightning.
“You’re going to learn to be honest about what your body feels,” Chris said, circling that sensitive spot with maddening slowness. “Even when—especially when—it embarrasses you.”
I was panting now, my whole body trembling. The position left me completely vulnerable to his touch, unable to close my legs or pull away.
“And you’re going to learn to ask for what you need,” he continued. “To beg me properly when you want to come. To display yourself like this and plead for permission to touch yourself.”
“Please,” I whimpered, though I didn’t know what I was begging for anymore. For him to stop? To continue? To let me come?
“Not yet,” Chris said, pulling his hand away completely. “First you’re going to hold this position for ten minutes. Learn what it feels like to be completely exposed to your husband’s gaze. To have no privacy, no modesty, no way to hide.”
“Ten minutes?” The words came out as a wail. “I can’t—”
“You can.” He moved to sit in the armchair beside the bed, his eyes never leaving my exposed body. “And you will. Because this is what wives do. They submit to their husbands’ inspection. They learn to be displayed however their husbands choose.”
My arms were already shaking. The position was becoming painful, my muscles burning from the strain.
But worse than the physical discomfort was the mental anguish of being looked at like this.
Of knowing Chris could see everything—my barely covered pussy, my bottom spread open by the position, the evidence of my arousal darkening the fabric of my panties.
“Look at me,” Chris commanded when I tried to close my eyes again. “Keep your eyes on mine while I look at you.”
I obeyed, tears streaming down my face. His gaze was intense, possessive, hungry. He looked at me the way a man looks at something he owns completely.
Because that’s what I was now. His possession. His wife to train and use and display as he pleased.
A voice in my head said that I should be filled with horror. With rage. With the desire to fight back, to refuse, to run away like I’d tried to do on the trail.
Instead, my pussy clenched again. My body responded to his dominance with eagerness, growing wetter and needier with each passing moment.
“Good girl,” Chris murmured, his eyes traveling slowly over my exposed form. “Such a beautiful, obedient wife. Learning her place so well.”
His praise sent a shameful warmth through my chest even as my arms burned and tears continued to stream down my face. I didn’t understand how I could feel both things at once—the humiliation of being displayed like this and the desperate need for his approval.
The minutes crawled by. My arms shook harder and harder, the muscles screaming in protest. I wanted to let go, to drop my legs and curl into a protective ball. But I didn’t. I held myself open for him, my eyes locked on his, my body trembling with the effort and the arousal I couldn’t suppress.
Chris checked his watch. “Eight minutes.”
A whimper escaped my throat. Two more minutes. I could do two more minutes.
“You’re doing really well, Val,” he murmured. “I know how hard it is for you, and how new all these things are.”
My pussy throbbed at his words. The dampness in my panties had to be visible by now—a dark patch on the pale lace that proved exactly how much my body responded to his dominance.
“One more minute,” Chris said.
My arms were shaking so badly I didn’t know if I could hold on. Every muscle in my body screamed for relief. But I held the position, my knees pulled up and spread wide, my most intimate places on display for my husband’s inspection.
Then Chris stood. He moved to the foot of the bed, positioning himself directly between my raised knees.
“Stay right where you are,” he commanded as his hands went to his shirt.
Oh, God. He was going to undress. He was going to make me watch while he stripped, while I held myself open and vulnerable before him.
By now I should have been used to it, part of me thought, but something about having to look up at him between my spread knees made the thought of my husband’s revealing his naked body to me seem unbearably obscene.
His fingers worked the buttons slowly, deliberately. Each one revealed more of his muscular chest. When he shrugged the shirt off, I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped me. He looked so beautiful—so perfectly masculine and powerful.
His hands moved to his belt.
Terror and arousal warred inside me as I pictured what was coming.
I told myself that I had seen it before—more than once now.
But something inside me couldn’t seem to stop being the innocent bride.
The thought that the man who owned me was going to take everything off…
show me his rigid penis… while I lay here spread open like this…
it made my whole body seem to catch fire with burning shame.
He would brandish his huge, hard cock at me. Hold it in his hand, rub it to show me that men are allowed to pleasure themselves as they wish… and wives…
Wives get spanked. And whipped.
And fucked like naughty girls.
A sob wrenched itself from my chest, because after Chris had shown me his manhood, he would… he was going to—
“Please,” I whispered as his belt slid free. “Please don’t fuck me. Not tonight. Please, sir, I’m sorry I lied, I’ll never do it again, please—”
The button popped open. The zipper came down.
“Please,” I sobbed harder. “Please, I can’t, not like this, please—”
Chris pushed his jeans and briefs down together, stepping out of them. His cock jutted out from his body, thick and hard and terrifyingly large.
“I have no intention of fucking you tonight,” he said, his voice cold. “You lied to me, Valerie. You don’t deserve to have your husband’s cock inside that needy little pussy.”