The belt flashed down, over and over. I screamed, wondering with a hot blush whether the neighbors could hear—then realizing that if they could, they would certainly approve of a wronged older husband disciplining his young bride.
I started to struggle. My arms lay out in front of me, my hands almost to the sturdy slats of the beautiful hardwood headboard. I tried to push up onto my elbows and my knees. I tried to roll to the side, desperate for some respite from the belt’s horrible, steady attention to my butt-cheeks and upper thighs.
Rick kept whipping me. He landed a hard lash on the side of my thigh. I screamed with the agony of it.
He stopped for a moment.
“Get back in position,” he growled. “Reach out and take hold of the headboard. You’re getting extra for trying to get away.”
That terrible news made me struggle even harder for a moment. I managed to push against the pillows and writhe from under his left hand. I curled myself up into a sitting position and looked up at Rick, hoping I might see any sign of mercy.
He stood over me, the belt wrapped around his right hand, its doubled length resting on the palm of his left. He had no mercy in his eyes.
“What did you almost say, a little while ago?” he asked sternly. “Get back over the pillows, and tell me what kind of girl you really are, and I’ll finish your whipping quickly. Then we can get to what we both really need.”
I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as I gazed into my gorgeous, wise husband’s face. My bottom and my upper thighs blazed like Rick had made me sit on a fire. I couldn’t bear it anymore.
He’ll make you,said the observer, and I realized she had come back, and I could step out of myself that way again.He’s begun as he means to go on. He’ll always make you obey, you bratty little slut.
My limbs began to move. I sobbed from deep in my chest as I followed my husband’s instruction. I got back over the pillows. I reached for the headboard. The smooth wood of the slats felt almost comforting in my grip. I wondered if Rocky Falls headboards were designed for wives to hold onto while they learned their old-fashioned lessons.
Rick’s left hand came back down on my back. The belt returned, too, but not with a lash. Instead, my husband rubbed it in a gentle circle low down on my bottom.
Oh, no.
“What are you, Dee?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s time to be honest with your husband.”
I shook my head. The belt rose. I gave a whimper of fear as a shudder passed through my whole body.
“No, please…” I whined, but my husband’s justice came down hard, right where he had rubbed just a moment before.
I cried out at the renewal of the terrible fire there. I felt certain Rick would whip me again, just as quickly and steadily as he had delivered each horrid lash at the start of my punishment.
Instead, I felt his fingers, and a little of the cool metal of the silver buckle. I felt the tips of his middle fingers press in that same dismayingly complicated spot.
“Oh, no,” I breathed. “Please, sir.”
“Spread your legs, Mandy,” he commanded.
A flash of ambivalence gripped my mind, a circuit of doubt seeming to travel among all the different girls inside me, but the raging, ambiguous fire in my bottom, my thighs, between my thighs, rocketing through my whole body, overcame all hesitation in a split second. I gave a mewling little whimper as I felt my legs obey my lord and master’s order. My knees slid apart, and my face got hot as I imagined what Rick could see, with my backside obediently raised and poised over the pillows.
It didn’t matter, though, because the long fingers went deeper between my thighs and all thought seemed to fly away completely. The belt, and its menacing but also cool and almost soothing buckle, rested against the shameful valley of my bottom. Rick’s fingers reached all the way to the place where I needed them so badly and rubbed up and down very softly.
“I’m a slut,” I sobbed. “I’m a bratty little slut.”
The hand went away, and I cried out in fear, sure that Rick would start whipping me again. The observer said severely,it’s what you deserve, for all the naughtiness in your hot, wet cunt.I gasped as the terrible word echoed in my mind.
To my distress I found myself pushing up my bottom as much as I could in that humiliating position over the pillows. Despite myself I tried with a mortifying little movement of my hips to offer my already soundly whipped cheeks for discipline.
Youoffered your breasts for your lord and master’s inspection,said a voice inside me.It’s time you offered your bottom and your pussy, too… for inspection, for discipline, for… pleasure.
Hispleasure. Not yours.
Just as I thought that word… just as I realized that in my own mind I had just put my husband’s pleasure ahead of mine… I also realized that a nanosecond earlier I had heard the clink of Rick’s belt buckle off to the side. Not above me, or behind me, but… on the bed.
Then, while I was still trying to puzzle out what had happened and what would happen next, Rick’s huge hand returned, but without the belt.
Oh, no.