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.
