“Keep going.”
I told him. Haltingly at first, each word dragged from me like a splinter being pulled from tender flesh. I told him about Kevin telling Stacy that it was important that her first bottom-fucking be a ceremonial occasion. About him telling her to undress. About her standing naked before her husband, her hands fighting the urge to cover herself. About Kevin instructing her to kneel on the bench, to bend over, to take the handles.
“And then?” Chris prompted when I fell silent.
“He told her to… to reach back.” My face was on fire. The quilt had slipped down to my waist and I didn’t even notice until I felt the cool air on my arms through my nightgown. “He told her to spread her… her bottom cheeks. To hold them open.”
“Did she do it?”
“She said she couldn’t. She begged him not to make her.” My voice was barely audible now, each word a confession pulled from someplace deep and raw. “But he told her it was part of her training. That a wife presents her bottom to her husband when he decides to use it.”
Chris’s arm tightened around me. I could feel the tension in his body—the coiled energy of his arousal, even the hardness pressing against his jeans where my hip rested on his thigh. But his voice remained steady.
“And did Stacy spread herself?”
“Yes, sir.” Thesirslipped out unbidden, pulled from me by the gravity of what I was confessing. “She did it slowly. Her hands were shaking. The camera… the camera showed…”
“Showed what?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Behind my lids, the image was as vivid as if the television were still on. “Everything. Her… her anus. It was so small. It looked impossible that anything could…”
My voice broke. I pressed my face against Chris’s chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my cheek.
“What did Kevin do next?” His hand stroked my hair, gentle and patient and relentless.
“He put some… you know, some slippery stuff… on his fingers,” I said into his shirt. “He touched her there. He told her to push out, to bear down. And then he… he put his finger inside her.”
“How did Stacy respond?”
“She shuddered. Her whole body shuddered. But she kept holding herself open, the way he’d told her to.”
“Good girl,” Chris murmured, and I didn’t know if he meant Stacy or me, but the words sent a pulse of warmth through my belly regardless. “What came after the finger?”
“The… the dildo.” The word felt illicit in my mouth, forbidden and thrilling at once. “The small one first. It was white, and slim.About as thick as a finger but longer. He coated it with lubricant and he… he pushed it inside her.”
“Inside her ass.”
“Yes, sir. Inside her… inside her ass.” I could feel my panties—the fresh pair I’d put on before bed—growing damp again. Just from talking about it. Just from saying the words out loud to my husband while his arm held me close and his erection pressed against my hip. “She cried out. But then he started to move it, in and out, slowly, and she… her sounds changed. They weren’t just pain anymore.”
“She started to like it.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Did that surprise you?”
I thought about it. Thought about the way Stacy’s hips had begun to rock, the way her protests had dissolved into breathless, keening sounds. “No,” I admitted, and the honesty of it shocked me. “No, it didn’t surprise me. Because I… because when Mrs. Chen talked about… about girls like me, and their relationship to their bottoms, I…”
My words trailed off. My face was so hot I thought my tears might evaporate on contact.
“You knew,” Chris said softly. “Some part of you already knew.”
I nodded against his chest, a tiny, defeated motion.
“Tell me about the bigger dildo.”
A shudder ran through me. “It was flesh-colored. The size of… it looked like…” I swallowed so hard it hurt. “It looked like a realpenis. Kevin said it was almost the size of his… of his cock. He said he wanted her to get used to the feeling.”
“Did he put it in her?”
