CHAPTER 7
Chris
I had plenty of time to think during our drive upstate. I felt like I needed it.
The car was quiet except for the hum of tires on asphalt and the occasional whoosh of passing vehicles. Valerie sat beside me in the passenger seat, her hands folded primly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the scenery rolling past her window. She looked small and fragile, her blonde hair catching the morning sunlight, her delicate profile tense with anxiety.
I didn’t want to push her too hard. Last night had felt… intense. More intense than I’d planned, honestly. Mrs. Chen, one of the New Modesty Authority counselors, had warned me that Valerie would need a firm hand, that her biometric readings showed she was highly submissive but also prone to resistance born of shame and fear. They’d told me to be patient but unyielding. To discipline her consistently but not cruelly.
Still, seeing her touch herself when I’d walked into her room yesterday—catching her with her hand down her panties,her face flushed with obvious arousal and even-more-obvious embarrassment at what she was doing—had stirred something primal in me. And then feeling how wet she got when I spanked her, when I touched her pussy and made her come over my knee… God, it had felt like almost too much.
I shifted in my seat, feeling my cock starting to swell at the memory. Tonight I would fuck her. Actually fuck her. Push my cock inside that tight little virgin pussy and make her mine completely. The thought made me even harder, my jeans growing uncomfortably tight.
I adjusted myself discreetly, trying to focus on the road. I needed to think about how to approach tonight. How to teach her about her duties in a way that would help her accept them rather than just terrify her.
Mrs. Chen had been clear: be very firm with her. Discipline her as often as necessary to ensure obedience. Don’t let her resistance or tears deter you from what needs to be done. Her body knows what it needs even if her mind resists.
I thought about my conversation with Mark last week, when I’d gone to his house for advice. Mark had been married to Valerie’s friend Megan for two years now, and he’d offered to share some wisdom about handling a New Modesty bride.
“You’re going to need to buy a paddle,” he’d told me over beers in his garage. “Trust me on this. Your hand works fine for the first few months, but eventually you’ll want something with more authority. Something she can see hanging on the wall and know what it means.”
He’d shown me the one he used on Megan—a solid wooden paddle with holes drilled through it to reduce air resistance.“Makes a hell of an impression,” he’d said with a grin. “Megan straightens right up when I take this off the hook.”
I’d nodded, filing the information away. I’d probably need to get one myself. Valerie was already proving to be willful despite her submissive nature. The bedroom stuff, with the lingerie—like putting on those little-girl panties with her sexy nightgown—that was one thing. Lying to me, though: that was another. I could see a paddle being necessary sooner rather than later.
I glanced over at Valerie again. She had started to worry her lower lip between her teeth, her hands clenched tighter in her lap now. The anxiety radiated off her in waves.
“Have you been to the mountains before?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle.
She startled slightly, as if she’d been deep in her own thoughts. “What? Oh. No. No, I haven’t.”
“My family used to come up to this area camping when I was a kid,” I said, steering us onto the exit that would take us into the foothills. “My dad loved it up here. We’d spend whole weekends hiking and fishing.”
“That sounds nice,” Valerie said softly, though her voice was still tight with tension.
“There’s a spring near the resort,” I continued, watching the road begin to climb. “It’s supposed to have healing properties. The local tribes considered it sacred.”
“Really?” She turned to look at me for the first time since we’d left the hotel, a flicker of genuine interest in her blue eyes.
“Yeah. There’s this legend about it.” I smiled, remembering my dad telling me the story around the campfire. “A Cree woman was captured by another tribe—enemies of her people.”
Valerie was listening closely, her posture softening slightly. I kept going.
“She prayed to the spirits of the spring for help. And according to the legend, they answered her. When her captors caught up to her at the water’s edge, she began to transform. Her arms became wings, her body became covered in feathers. Right before their eyes, she turned into a bird and flew away, back to her own people.”
I saw Valerie’s throat work as she swallowed. “She escaped,” she whispered.
The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I felt my jaw tighten.
Was that how she saw herself? Trapped? Captured?
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was my wife. We’d stood before God and our families and made vows. She’d agreed to this. She’d said yes when I proposed, yes when her father asked if she accepted me as her suitor, yes at the altar yesterday.
But I remembered the fear in her eyes last night. The way she’d begged me not to fuck her.Please, can we wait? Just a day?
I’d given her that day. But tonight there would be no more delays.
Tonight I would take what was mine.
