His gaze was serious as he said all this, a hand running gently up and down my back in a soothing way. He was the epitome of calmness. My husband did not appear to be a man that riled easily.
“From now on, you will have your ass filled. It will either have a plug in it or you will be corked.”
His finger tapped at the seam of my bottom once. I jolted at his touch in such an unseemly place. My mouth fell open, appalled. I was to...what? “I...um, I don't understand.” I licked my lips.
“A married woman has her ass filled,” he repeated.
I released the bar and spun around. There was no way I was going to let him do...that to me. There was no valid reasoning behind his expectation. "They do no such thing," I countered.
Before I could utter another word, he arched one dark brow before turning my shoulders and placed my hands back on the bar. "In this town they do. More importantly than that, my wife does."
“Why?” I sputtered, fighting against his hand that held mine to the smooth wood.
My hips were pulled back by my husband's firm grip, then pushed me forward.
"Don't let go of the bar," he ordered, instead of answering my question.
I was bent over, my arms out in front of me, my bottom sticking straight out. My breasts swung heavily below me, like ripe fruit ready to be plucked. My nipples tightened painfully, unused to being exposed such as this. If a table had been beneath me, I would have been lying across it, my feet flat on the ground. I stood up out of mortification. "You agreed to no...no fucking!"
My lips clamped shut after I said that word. I'd never uttered it before in my life.
I heard the smack on my bottom before I felt it. I cried out in surprise. The sting wasn't terrible, but it prompted me to heed Mr. Bridger's next words. "You will learn to do as I ask, the first time, or there will be consequences. I'm being generous with your questions. In the future, you will not do so. Put your hands on the bar." His voice dropped even lower and from the look in his eye, I chose to do as he requested.
“I don't like this.” Panic set in at the position in which I was placed, at the very idea he proposed.
“You don't have to,” Mr. Bridger said, his voice brooking no nonsense. He reached and took the lid off a glass jar resting upon a shelf, dipped two fingers in and coated them in what appeared to be a salve or grease of some kind. With one hand, he pulled a cheek of my bottom to the side, exposing me in a way I'd never imagined. I squeaked at his overt action. He might be my husband, but he took liberties beyond my imagination. The shame was incredible. “Your pussy is so pretty sweetheart. And your ass, so tight.”
I shook my head, let go of the bar. "No, I can't do this!"
Mr. Bridger's one hand was quickly at my lower back, holding me down, as the other spanked my bottom, once, twice and then a third time before I put my hands back. "I can spank you until your bottom is red and too sore to sit on, then cork your ass, or you can just get corked. It's your decision."
He waited as I considered both of the miserable options. I grabbed hold of the bar again and dropped my head, not wanting to watch my humiliation in the mirror. I had never heard the word pussy before, but I knew from where he gazed to what he referred. I wasn't going to stand for this, but how could I stop him? Having sexual congress with my husband in darkness and beneath the sheets was one thing, but this was something—
I cried out as Mr. Bridger coated my back opening with the thick, cool grease. "This is not fucking," he told me. "Don't let go again or your lesson tonight will be even more uncomfortable than just spanking," he warned as he circled my forbidden hole. I bucked against his finger, but held tight. He slowly worked the grease around the area in circles.
“Shh,” he soothed. “You're doing so well. You're going to look so pretty with your fuck hole corked.”
At those words, I fought against Mr. Bridger's actions, wiggling my hips as much as I could. I did not think my fuck hole would look remotely good being corked. One hand held me firmly in place at the base of my spine. I could fight, but I would not win this battle.
“Your fuck hole is also your ass.” Mr. Bridger's finger continued to circle, slowly pushing in, then retreating, as he shared this vocabulary lesson. It didn't hurt exactly; I didn't feel anything other than complete exposure and obscene vulnerability. Did he have any idea how humiliating this was?
He stretched my opening, which had me clenching in opposition, but with his continued ministrations, his fingers breeched the untried opening. I groaned at the strangeness of it all. I felt stretched. And it burned.
“When it's not filled with a plug or a cork, then I'll use it to fuck. It's important that you're stretched to be ready for me at any time. I don't want to hurt you.” His voice was dominant, however his tone was soothing while his fingers worked deliberately upon me. Was this what my husband was really like? Calm and direct in his demands upon me, working me slowly yet in an efficient manner until I succumbed to his dominance?
One finger slid in past the muscles I squeezed tight in resistance, issuing a whimper from me. It felt so full and open. I clenched against his invasion. “I don't like this,” I breathed, my words coming out in little pants. I shook my head, trying to fight him, but afraid to let go. Mr. Bridger's foot tapped my ankle to spread me further apart.
“Like I said before, you don't have to like it. But you will know you belong to me, without doubt, being corked. It is a permanent reminder for you that your body is mine to do with as I wish, that I will always take care of you. Cherish you. Instead of a ring upon your finger, you will have something within.”
“Mr. Bridger, please! I don't need a reminder. I won't forget,” I cried as his second finger slid in.
“I love how you cal
l me that, but it's going to get pretty confusing since Cole, Sam and I are all Mr. Bridger. My name is Jake and I'd love to hear you say it.” His fingers moved clockwise, then switched direction, pushing within all the while spreading the ring of my...of my ass wider and wider.
“Jake,” I gasped as the burning intensified.
“Keep your legs just like that, sweetheart,” he said as his fingers slid free to palpable relief on my part, making me clench my bottom tightly shut. The slippery wetness he'd used to coat my opening as well as deep inside, felt cold. Soon enough, he was pushing something against me once again, bigger than his finger.