CHAPTER 3
Valerie
I understood. That had been the reward. The pleasure the brochure promised. The thing that happened when a girl obeyed her husband.
But I couldn’t admit it. Couldn’t acknowledge what had just happened.
“You need to go,” I said, my voice shaking. “So I can get dressed.”
“Valerie—”
“Please, Chris… I mean… sir.” I couldn’t look at him. “Just… go. I’ll put on the lingerie. I promise. But you need to leave now.”
For a moment I thought he might refuse. Might insist on staying, on making me acknowledge what he had done to me. But then he lifted his leg from across my knees and helped me up gently.
I stood on trembling legs, my jeans and panties still bunched around my ankles, my bottom burning from the spanking. Icouldn’t meet his eyes as I pulled up my clothes with shaking hands.
Chris looked down at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. I could see the frustration in his eyes—the desire to push this, to make me talk about what had just happened. But after what felt like an eternity, he just nodded.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said quietly. “Tonight.”
Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow felt more final than if he’d slammed it.
I stood there trembling, my hands still fumbling with the button of my jeans. My bottom throbbed with heat. Between my legs, I was so wet I could feel it soaking through my panties.
I needed to get dressed. The photographer would be here soon. I had promised Chris—promised a man whom I apparently must callsirfromthis point forward—that I would put on the lingerie.
With shaking hands, I stripped off my clothes. My t-shirt. My jeans. My panties, terribly damp with the evidence of what I’d been doing when my fiancé had caught me. My bra.
I tried not to look at the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. I really tried. But my eyes were drawn there against my will.
My reflection stared back at me—naked, flushed, my blonde hair mussed from struggling over Chris’s lap. My small breasts with their pink nipples, still hard from… whatever that was.
Arousal, I guessed, feeling heat return to my cheeks. They called itarousal, didn’t they? Then I swallowed hard as I thought of another word, simpler but somehow more accurate:need.
My eyes drifted further down, to the flat stomach I took so much pride in. And lower…
Oh, God.
My pussy looked so different without any hair. I had refused to look at it since that mortifying day at the salon. I was completely bare and exposed down there, just the way the horrid aesthetician had left it.Smooth and innocent, the brochure had said. I could see everything—even a hint of the pink folds of my inner lips, still glistening with wetness. Still slightly swollen, it appeared, from what Chris had done with his fingers.
The thought of Chris looking at me like this tonight—seeing me completely naked, examining my bare pussy, touching it again—made my tummy flip. Made that terrible warmth start building between my thighs all over again.
No. No, I couldn’t let this happen. I had to get dressed. Had to focus on the wedding.
I turned away from the mirror and grabbed the lingerie from the bed, putting it on as quickly and mechanically as I could. The lacy white bra… the demi-cups that barely covered my nipples.
The tiny, lacy panties that felt like nothing against my still-sensitized skin, with the thong back that stirred sensations between my spanked cheeks that I tried hard not to acknowledge.
The garter belt. The stockings, one at a time, my fingers fumbling with the clips.
I had just finished when the door opened and Megan swept back in, carrying a silk dressing gown.
She stopped just inside the doorway, her nose wrinkling slightly as she sniffed the air. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the question there. But she said nothing about the scent.
I blushed so hot I thought I might actually burst into flame. Because I could smell it too—an unmistakable musk that I knew must have come from my pussy, when I had touched it, and even more strongly when my bridegroom had. The evidence of my naughtiness, and then of what Chris had done to me over his knee.
“Here,” Megan said softly, bringing the dressing gown to me. “Let’s get this on you.”
