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.
