Chapter 13
Chris
I watched Valerie absorb my harsh words. I could see the conflict in her face, the way her blush came and went in bewitching alternation, shame and need mingling in a blend she couldn’t untangle.
“You can let go of your knees now,” I said quietly.
She released them immediately, a gasp of relief escaping her lips as her legs dropped to the bed. Her thighs had to be screaming after holding that position for so long.
“Put your hands above your head,” I commanded.
I watched confusion flicker across her face, followed quickly by fear.
Her blue eyes widened as she processed what this position meant—clearly trying to figure out what I would do next.
She hesitated for just a moment, and I felt my cock pulse harder at the sight of that fear mixing with her obvious arousal.
Slowly, trembling, she raised her arms and placed her hands on the bed above her head.
I climbed onto the bed, moving to straddle her midriff. My cock jutted out above her, thick and rigid, and I saw her eyes fix on it with a mixture of terror and fascination.
“Your breasts are adorable,” I said, reaching down to cup them through the sheer fabric of her nightgown. “They’re little, but they’re still perfect for what I need right now.”
I pulled the neck of the nightgown down, exposing her small, pale peaches. Her nipples were hard little peaks, betraying her arousal despite her fear.
“Take your breasts in your hands,” I instructed. “Push them together around my cock.”
“Chris—” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Sir—”
“Do it.”
Her hands moved from above her head, coming to cup her breasts. She pushed them together hesitantly, creating a soft channel between them.
“Tighter,” I said, positioning my cock between them. “Make them feel good for my cock.”
She pressed harder, and I began to move. The sensation was exquisite—the soft warmth of her flesh, the way her hands trembled as she held herself for me, the sight of my cock sliding between those pretty little breasts.
“Good girl,” I murmured, my movements becoming faster. “That’s exactly what I need.”
After a few minutes of this heaven, I moved forward slightly, bringing my cock to her lips.
“Open,” I commanded.
Valerie obeyed, with an adorable little whimper, and I pushed inside her mouth, feeling like a conqueror, just the way the New Modesty brochure for new husbands had told me I would.
Don’t hesitate, it had advised. Trust your dominant instincts and you’ll see in her eyes the surrender nature intended her to yield up to her conqueror.
The warmth, the wetness, the way her tongue moved against me—it felt incredible. I fucked her face with measured thrusts, watching her eyes water, listening to the wet sounds she made as she struggled to accommodate me.
She had already learned a good deal about how to serve a penis properly. Her moving tongue brought low growls of pleasure from my chest, and I realized I was already coming very close to an orgasm.
I’d thought carefully about this moment during our trail ride this afternoon. About how I wanted to introduce Valerie to deeper aspects of submission, new ways her body could serve mine. And I’d made sure to shower thoroughly when we got back to the cabin, scrubbing myself clean in preparation.
I pulled out of her mouth and moved forward on my knees, positioning myself over her face.
“You’re going to lick my anus,” I said quietly.
The reaction was immediate. Her eyes went huge with shock and horror.
“What? No! Chris, I can’t—that’s disgusting, I could never—”
I reached back between her spread legs, my hand slipping inside those tiny lace panties. My fingers found her pussy, slick and swollen with need.
“You’re so wet,” I murmured, beginning to stroke her clit in slow circles. “Your body knows what it wants, doesn’t it, naughty girl?”
A moan escaped her throat despite herself. Her hips lifted slightly, seeking more pressure from my fingers.
I worked her expertly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her breathing became ragged, her whole body tensing with approaching orgasm.
Then I stopped. I pulled my hand away completely.
“No!” The word was torn from her throat. “Please, sir… I… I was so close—”
“I know,” I said calmly. “And if you want to come, you’ll do what I told you to do. Put your tongue in my anus.”
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “Please don’t make me, it’s too much—”
“Then you won’t come.” I kept my voice matter-of-fact. “It’s your choice, Valerie. Obey your husband and get your reward, or refuse and stay frustrated all night.”
* * *
Valerie
One of the voices in my head said, You don’t have a choice.
But, said another, Chris just gave you a very specific choice, didn’t he?
I lay there beneath him, my body trembling with need and fear and shame, and I knew what I had to do. The choice wasn’t really a choice at all. My body demanded release so desperately that I would have done almost anything to get it.
A sob tore from my throat as I whispered, “I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do it what?” he asked, his eyes narrowing so that my tummy and my belly clenched at the same time.
“Oh, God…” I whispered. “Sir… I’ll… I’ll do it, sir.”
Chris shifted his position a bit, moving forward until his ass cheeks were positioned directly over my face.
I could see everything now—the muscular curves of his cheeks, the dark valley between them, and at the center, the small puckered opening he wanted me to kiss, to lick, to please with my tongue.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to gather my courage. Then I remembered what he’d said about looking at him, about not being allowed to hide. My eyes opened again.
To my surprise, there was no smell. Or rather, there was only the clean scent of soap. He had showered thoroughly, I realized with a strange rush of gratitude. Even in this degrading act, Chris had shown me a small kindness by making sure I wouldn’t be subjected to anything really foul.
The realization made something crack in my chest. I lifted my head and extended my tongue, pressing it against his anus.
Chris grunted above me, with evident pleasure. “Good girl. Now keep licking while you touch yourself.”
My hand moved between my legs without conscious thought, slipping inside the damp lace of my panties. The moment my fingers found my clit, pleasure shot through me like lightning.
I licked at him desperately, then. My tongue moved over that wicked, forbidden place while my fingers worked frantically between my legs. The combination of shame and need and Chris’s growls of pleasure above me pushed me toward the edge with terrifying speed.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Lick that asshole like the dirty girl you are.”
The condescending, degrading words should have horrified me. Instead, they sent me over the edge.
The orgasm crashed through me like a torrent.
I cried out against Chris’s body, my tongue still pressed to his anus, my nose in the wrinkled skin of his scrotum, my fingers moving desperately on my clit as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me.
My whole body convulsed. My legs quaked as my free hand clutched at the sheets.
“I’m going to come,” Chris warned, his voice tight with arousal. “I’m going to come all over your pretty face.”
He moved quickly back, positioning himself above me. His hand worked his cock with rapid strokes, and I watched through tear-blurred eyes as his hungry expression changed as his masculine pleasure washed over it.
Then hot, thick streams of his seed splashed across my face. My cheeks, my nose, my lips—everywhere. I felt it coating my skin, dripping down toward my hair, and the humiliation of it made my still-spasming pussy clench harder.
When he finished, Chris stayed there, looking down into my face. The wolfish look in his eyes gradually faded. I felt my own eyes go wide as his expression softened and a little smile—an unmistakably loving, affectionate smile—appeared on his lips.
He climbed off me and stood beside the bed. I lay there motionless, covered in his cum, my hand still between my legs, my whole body trembling with aftershocks.
“You may go wash up, good girl,” he said quietly. “You pleased me.”
I scrambled off the bed on shaking legs and fled to the bathroom.
In the mirror, I looked like exactly what he’d called me—a dirty girl, and somehow also a good girl at the same time.
My face was streaked with his seed, my hair disheveled, my eyes wild.
The peach nightgown was twisted around my body, one breast still exposed.
I cleaned myself with shaking hands, washing my face over and over until every trace of him was gone.
But I couldn’t wash away what had happened.
Couldn’t erase the memory of my tongue on his anus, of the way I’d come while doing it, of how desperately I’d sought my own pleasure even while performing such a degrading act.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Chris was waiting in bed. He’d pulled back the covers on my side and patted the mattress beside him.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
I climbed in hesitantly, and his arms came around me immediately. He pulled me close against his chest, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles on my back.
“You did so well,” he murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”
The tenderness in his voice made tears spring to my eyes. After everything he’d just made me do, he was holding me like I was precious. Like I was loved.
We lay in silence for several minutes, his hands moving soothingly over my body. My breathing gradually slowed, my racing heart beginning to calm.
“Do you want to come again?” Chris asked softly.
The question sent a jolt through me. My first instinct was to say no—to pretend I wasn’t still aroused, that my body hadn’t already started responding to his touch again.
But I remembered the punishment for lying. Remembered the switch cutting across my bottom on the trail. And I remembered his words about honesty, about learning to tell him the truth even when it embarrassed me.
“I…” I swallowed hard. “I want to say no. I want to lie and tell you I’m satisfied. But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”
Chris’s hand stilled on my back. “Yes, it would be.”
“The truth is…” My face burned with shame. “The truth is I do want to come again. My body is already… already responding to you touching me. And I’m so ashamed of that. Of being so needy and wanton.”
“Good girl,” Chris murmured, and I heard the smile in his voice. “Such a good, honest girl for telling me the truth even though it embarrassed you.”
His hand slid down my body, slipping inside my panties. His fingers found my clit and began moving in slow, expert circles.
I moaned, my hips pushing forward to meet his touch. The arousal that had never fully faded roared back to life, made even more intense by the praise he’d given me for my honesty.
“Ride my hand,” Chris commanded softly. “Take what you need like a good little slut.”
I did, even as a whimper came from my lips at the terrible word. My hips moved against his fingers, seeking the pressure and friction my body craved. It didn’t take long. Within a minute I was gasping, my hands clenching into tight fists in front of me as another orgasm built inside me.
“That’s it,” he urged. “Come for me again. Show me how much your body needs fucking.”
The orgasm rolled through me, gentler than the last but no less intense. I cried out against Chris’s chest, my whole body shuddering as pleasure pulsed through me.
When it ended, I lay limp and exhausted in his arms. His hand withdrew from my panties and came up to stroke my hair again.
I closed my eyes, feeling myself drifting toward unconsciousness. But as sleep pulled me under, one final thought surfaced in my mind with devastating clarity.
I wanted him to fuck me. Not tomorrow, not on some distant wedding night I could keep postponing. Now. I wanted to feel his cock pushing inside me, filling me, claiming me completely.
To my horror, it felt like a truth I’d been running from since the moment I knelt before him in our hotel room.
But I could never tell him. Could never admit that my body craved the very thing I’d been begging him not to do. The shame of it was too much to bear.
So I let sleep take me, holding that secret deep inside where Chris would never find it.