“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.”
