CHAPTER 20
Valerie
Chris finally pulled out of me, and I felt the loss immediately. My legs trembled as he helped me stand, then swept me into his arms. I buried my face against his chest, unable to meet his eyes as he carried me to our bedroom.
He cleaned me gently with a warm washcloth, his touch tender despite the roughness of what he had just done to me. I whimpered at the soreness he had left. To my mortification even that discomfort brought the flutter in my tummy that I had already come to associate with my helplessly wanton nature.
I almost asked Chris if he wanted to fuck me again, hard though his huge cock had been on my no-longer-virgin pussy. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that desire, though. I clung to him, instead, as he held me, stroking my hair, murmuring that I was a good girl, that he was proud of me.
I fell asleep in his arms, my body sore and fulfilled in ways I’d never imagined.
The next morning, Chris woke me with gentle kisses. My whole body ached—my bottom from the whipping, my pussy from being taken so thoroughly. But beneath the soreness, I felt something else. A strange contentment, like a puzzle piece had finally clicked into place.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his fingers tracing my cheek.
“Sore,” I admitted, my face warming. “But… okay.”
He smiled. “Good. I need to get to work, but I’ll be home for dinner.”
I made him breakfast—eggs and toast, nothing fancy—and kissed him goodbye at the door. After he left, I stood in our kitchen, looking around at our home. Our home. Where I was his wife. Where he’d finally claimed me completely.
The day passed in a pleasant blur. I cleaned, did laundry, planned dinner. Being a housewife felt natural, comforting even. I hummed as I worked, my mind drifting to thoughts of Chris coming home to me.
Then my phone buzzed with a text.
Leak at the property. Going to be late tonight. Don’t wait up. I’ll grab a burger for dinner. Love you.
My stomach sank with disappointment. I’d been looking forward to seeing him, to… well, to what might happen after dinner. But of course he had to work. That was part of being a supportive wife, wasn’t it?
I ate leftovers for dinner, alone. I cleaned up the kitchen, and found myself standing in the living room with nothing to do. The television stared at me from across the room.
I shouldn’t. I absolutely shouldn’t.
But I picked up the remote before I could stop myself. The interface loaded, and my breath caught when I saw the featured stream on the Her Secret Garden channel of New Modesty Blue.
Stacy’s First Bottom-Fucking.
The title sent a jolt through my entire body. My pussy clenched at the memory of watching Stacy the previous afternoon—when Chris had caught me. Heat flooded my face as I imagined what this video would show. Stacy’s husband positioning her, spreading her cheeks, pushing his cock into that forbidden place.
The place Chris had promised to claim, too: the most private place on my body.
My finger hovered over the play button. I could almost feel it already—his hands on my hips, the head of his cock pressing against my anus, the burn as he pushed inside. Would he use the bolster like Jacob had with Grace? Would he make me spread my cheeks the way he had yesterday, after he had paddled me?
A sob caught in my throat. I pressed the power button, watching the screen go dark.
No.I can’t. Not after what had happened last time. Chris had been so patient with me, so loving after taking my virginity. I couldn’t betray that trust again.
But the images wouldn’t leave my mind. As I moved through my evening routine, all I could think about was what would happenwhen Chris decided it was time. When he bent me over and claimed that last part of me.
Will it hurt?
Of course it would hurt. I had to push down another sob. I realized I had put my hand behind me, touching my bottom through my skirt as if to defend the little button between my cheeks—but also as if to remind myself how exciting it felt to have a hand there, even if it was my own and not my husband’s much firmer, more demanding one.
I kept my hand there for a moment. I moved it. I squeezed a little, as my forehead creased hard at the sensation.
Would I come from anal, like Grace had in that video?
The thought made my thighs clench together. I pulled my hand away, my cheeks flaring with heat.
