by Emily Tilton
“I’m going to give you a choice about how we’re going to do it, and how you’re going to have your next lesson, but I need you to understand that you’re going to have that lesson, and a lot more lessons, before we leave here tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?!” Cathy felt all her ideas of somehow blunting the edge of John’s new resolve drain away.
His hand left her pussy. Oh, no. He gripped her around the waist again with his other arm, and though she gave a frightened little cry, the big hand came down hard on her bottom, right cheek, then left cheek, with the sharp sounds she had begun to know so well.
She struggled against his left arm, but he barely let her move a muscle. “Please, John… please, sir! My bottom hurts so much!” It did: her husband, it appeared, liked to leave her in no doubt as to his strength when the time came to teach her a lesson in respect and obedience.
“Yes, Cathy,” he said sternly. “You’ll be here all night. We’ll order in pizza in a little while, but first you’ll have the next part of your training.”
Now Cathy started to feel a good deal of alarm about this next part John kept talking about. He had said it in an ominous way the first time, but this last news—first, you’ll have the next part of your training—had sounded a little threatening, even, as if to refuse the thing she must learn would mean much more punishment. She clung to the memory that he had said she would have a choice, though.
“Wh-what is it, sir?” she whispered, for he had paused, and retaken possession of her pussy in his hand, the treacherous pleasure starting to rise again there. “What’s the next part?”
Still John didn’t answer for a few moments, but stroked her between her legs until she gave a whimper. That’s so naughty, she thought. But now he won’t let me stop him, will he? He’s not a gentleman anymore.
No: that was wrong—John had clearly become a different kind of gentleman in the last twenty-four hours. Cathy remembered what a sorority sister had said once about how real gentlemen made sure you came. But I didn’t let him, did I? When he asked, I said yes.
“You’re going to learn to suck my cock, now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gentle again, as if Cathy’s whimper of pleasure had softened his temper.
She felt her head shake as if it had a will of its own, because her mind could tell that the gesture didn’t actually mean no the way her mind wanted it to. Her mind wanted to say, That’s naughty, and bad, and wrong, no matter how often you see it all around. Ladies don’t do that. Wives don’t do that. Gentleman husbands don’t make their wives do that.
But the way her head shook, slowly, so that her golden hair swayed gently around her face, didn’t say that, and neither did the “No, please,” that came out of her mouth. They said that John had the right to train his wife, and her refusal could only be a temporary thing: a not yet, I’m not ready yet or a can’t I just touch it, and rub it, until the seed comes out? Do I really have to have it in my mouth, sir?
“Shh. Here’s your choice, Cathy. You may suck my cock here, right now, or you may suck it in the shower, after you wash it nice and clean for me.”
She turned to look over her shoulder at him, and she saw that he had gotten hard again, maybe from rubbing his cock the way he pumped it now. She gave a little cry and turned away, but John said, “No, Cathy, look at me. Look at my cock. Look at how hard you make me.”
With another cry, this one closer to a sob, she obeyed, and then saw her husband’s long, stiff manhood—the hard penis he had first put inside her on their wedding night, and once a week after that because Cathy knew she had to let him. The cock with which he had fucked her, after spanking her, just a few minutes before. “Please,” she whispered, but he just looked back at her, still pumping his erection as if his wife’s nakedness wouldn’t allow him not to jerk off. “Please, sir… in the shower.”
Chapter Thirteen
After he had stripped off his t-shirt to stand fully naked himself, he took her hand and helped her off the bed. He felt like a much more patient man, now, than he had when he walked into the hotel bar.
Cathy still seemed to shrink back a bit from him, though, and he reflected that that might well have sent them into the old spiral, if it had happened just a few days before. Cathy’s reluctance to be naked with her husband would have made John feel hurt and angry; John would have calmed himself and played the gentleman; he would have let Cathy off the hook and she would have felt, unconsciously maybe, that he hadn’t given her what she really needed—even though she didn’t know what that was.
But spanking his wife and fucking her doggy-style, hearing her scream in pleasure for the first time and knowing that he could make her feel that way, if he put away his gentlemanly side for a while to make clear to Cathy his rights and duties as her husband… it changed everything. Now when Cathy shied away from the possibility that his cock might brush against her thigh or her well-punished backside, he held her firmly in place, and moved the right hand he held toward his manhood.
Cathy’s blue eyes, which she had fixed on the bathroom door, turned to look up at him, wide and staring. She tried to pull her hand back, but John shook his head and resolutely pulled it forward, toward him. Her gaze travelled downward, then, and her brow furrowed.
“You’re going to suck it, Cathy,” he said with much more gentleness in his tone than the words themselves conveyed. “It’s time you learned to touch it, too. It will be nice and clean once you wash it off for me, and then it won’t be so hard to give your first blowjob.”
“Can’t I… just a… a few more moments, J—sir?”
“No, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Put your hand on my cock and rub it the way you saw me rubbing it a few moments ago. I’m hard because I want to fuck my beautiful wife, now that she’s learning be a good girl for me.”
Cathy’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The tension in her arm lessened, though it didn’t go away completely, and now she took an unconscious step closer so that she could obey him more easily. As he closed her fingers around the shaft of his cock, and found himself unable to suppress a little grunt of pleasure at the feeling and at the sight of this simple erotic gesture occurring at last between them, Cathy shivered. She moved her hand a little, but then she stopped.
John didn’t know if some telepathy occurred then, through galvanic pulses of their skin or through the sexual sympathy of their souls, but he understood exactly what was taking place in Cathy’s mind. “Do as I told you, Cathy, or I’ll have to spank you again.”
She gave a little whimper and, tentatively but with quickly growing skill, started to rub. The pleasure took root in John’s scrotum and in his thighs, and it was his turn not to be able to help his body’s response: he moved his hips a little as she pumped. “Good girl. Such a good girl,” he murmured. He saw a tiny smile appear on her face as she looked down at the naughty thing she had learned to do.
He took her hand gently away, then, and led her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and had her get in first, when the water got hot. He followed, and took her in his arms under the spray that came down on Cathy’s head but only on his shoulders. He had meant to have her kneel down and suck him right away, but it felt too wonderful to have their naked bodies pressed together this way. He kissed the top of her wet hair over and over, turned her chin up and kissed her wet lips, exulted in the way her body yielded to his just through the meeting of their lips.
“Kissing was never our problem, was it?” he asked softly, just a little louder than the rush of the shower’s water.
Cathy giggled. It felt like he hadn’t heard that silver sound in ages and ages. “No, sir,” she said.
John had the urge to reward her, then, just for that little giggle. He turned her around in his arms, loving the way his cock felt up against the small of her back, loving making her have it there.
“Sir?” she asked, turning her head to try to look at him. “What are you doing?”
But John fetched a washcloth from the littl
e shelf outside the shower and soaked it in the hot spray, then rubbed it on the soap bar.
“Sir?” Cathy asked again, but he thought he could hear in her tone that she had an inkling, and she shuddered in his arms even before he put the hot terrycloth down between her legs for a cleansing that would also bring its own filthiness. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh, John, I…”
Something about this way of pleasuring her, about holding her tight against him in the soothing warmth of the shower’s spray, about rubbing her with the apparently innocent washcloth as if getting her pussy clean was all he was doing, seemed so enchanting to John that he knew he had found a new ritual. He and Cathy would shower together very frequently, from now on, and a good portion of her training would be learning to surrender herself to the pleasure he wanted her to feel.
“What, sweetheart?” he whispered wetly into her ear. “Is my good girl going to come again? Three times in just a few minutes?”
Cathy shook her head. John took the washcloth away. Her cry of frustration made his heart glad.
“Please, sir!”
“Good girls tell their husbands when they’re going to come, don’t they? Very good girls ask permission.”
She twisted around in his embrace to look at him with pleading eyes. She pouted, but apparently found him resolute. “Please, sir, may I come again?” she whispered.
John smiled. “Yes, sweetheart. Turn around now and let me make you feel good.”
As he had suspected, their mutual nakedness and perhaps even the feeling of his manhood against her back, together with the delicious warmth of the shower, made her scream and come quickly as the naughty washcloth had its way between her thighs. He held her until she stopped shaking, and then he said, “Kneel down, sweetheart.”
Cathy gave a little sob and obeyed, letting him turn her around so that when she did kneel in the tub, his cock hovered right there in front of her. John rinsed the washcloth, soaped it, gave it to Cathy, who was looking at her husband’s penis up close for the very first time, and to his delight seemed fascinated.
“I’ll get you nice and clean, sir,” she said, sounding a bit as if she had fallen into a trance, charmed somehow by the sheer arrogance of John’s thrusting manhood. She raised the washcloth to start to wash the hard cock she would soon suck, but to John’s surprise she suddenly bent forward and kissed its tip. He gave an involuntary grunt of pleasure, and his cock leapt at the lovely sensation.
Cathy’s eyes went wide and she shrank back a bit, looking up at him in alarm. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
John laughed. “No, sweetheart. My cock is just happy to see you.”
She nodded solemnly, and then she did start to wash his penis, very gently, which itself felt so good that John couldn’t help more little grunts. He could see that his noises made Cathy feel accomplished; she smiled secretively whenever he made one.
But she seemed to be prolonging the washing in order to avoid her next duty, so he said, “Alright, I’m clean enough, Cathy. Open your mouth.”
She looked up fearfully, holding the washcloth up in both hands almost like a tiny veil that would hide his cock from her sight.
“Put the washcloth down, sweetheart. This is something you need to learn how to do. From now on, it’s going to be an important part of your wifely duty.”
“Are you going to… I mean… are you going to come… in… in my mouth?”
“I hope so, Cathy, so you need to make up your mind to swallow the way a good wife does when her husband wants to have his pleasure that way.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, her voice now barely audible over the rush of the water. Then, as if completely to herself, “Please don’t spank me, sir.”
She opened her mouth, and took the head of his cock inside. The pleasure struck John so forcefully that he had to brace himself against the tiled wall, and make sure his footing in the tub wouldn’t give way.
“Good girl. Oh, that feels so good. Move your head now. Just like that. Use your hands, too, down further. There we go.”
It had been so long since John had had a blowjob—and frankly those early blowjobs weren’t given by very experienced girls either—that the sensation nearly overwhelmed him. Together with the sight of his prim but bratty bride on her knees in front of him with her mouth full of cock, the velvety feeling of engulfment got him close to orgasm in only a minute or two.
Cathy struggled a little, and he stroked her cheek to encourage her, resting his other hand gently on her head and just guiding her motions a bit to match the little thrusts of his hips he couldn’t help making. Her eyes glanced up at him from time to time, but it seemed she could hardly meet his gaze, and she closed them, or looked submissively straight ahead at his lap.
“Get ready, good girl,” he growled. “I’m going to come.” Then he did, even sooner than he thought he would, feeling the seed boil up in his balls and holding Cathy’s head still though she only had the head of his cock inside her mouth, so that he could feel the semen shooting right onto her tongue.
Cathy frowned, and her nose wrinkled, but as he kept her firmly in place she did swallow. “Such a good girl,” John said, lifting her up and kissing her fiercely though she turned away at first in obvious shame. “Just a new kind of kissing,” he whispered. “And you did it so well.”
He dried her off and carried her to bed, as she giggled. He sat on the edge of the bed while on his phone he found a pizza place that would deliver to the hotel.
“I can’t believe I did that,” he heard Cathy whisper behind him. Her voice sounded so dreamy that he turned to look at her, half-expecting to see an expression of disgust on her face, but instead he saw pure wonder. She smiled at him, though her brow had a deep crease in it. “I sucked my husband’s cock. My husband came in my mouth, and I swallowed it.”
John smiled back. “That was very naughty, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”
Cathy nodded, her forehead smoothing. “But you made me. I had to.”
“That’s right. I made you. And that’s only the beginning.”
The crease returned, as her eyes showed that she had remembered what John had said earlier, the promise he had made.
“You’re not really going… that thing you said, about the… belt…” She fell silent, her lip quivering.
John sighed. “Cathy, my mind is made up. I need to make sure you learn your lesson. You almost strayed tonight, and I think a chastity belt is an appropriate measure for me to take—not because I think it would keep you from straying, like in the Middle Ages or something, but because I want to be sure you understand how important it is that your pussy and your bottom belong to me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, John invited Doug over to take a look at what had just arrived from a specialized internet mail-order company. Doug smiled broadly when he saw the name of the company on the box; he had ordered from the same place many times.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, tapping the return address meaningfully as the package lay on the Linds’ kitchen table. It was five o’clock on Tuesday; Cathy would probably be home soon. Doug could hear Mindy singing an old folk song softly in the garden as she picked lettuce for their dinner.
John’s smile matched Doug’s. “With all the trimmings.”
Doug chuckled at that. “To fill her up, you mean?”
John nodded. A mischievous smile appeared on his face, and Doug could see that his newfound comfort with his dominant nature made him a little more forthcoming than decorum might suggest. He lowered his voice a little. “A few different sizes for her butt, too.”
Doug grinned. “Have you fucked her there yet?”
John shook his head. The look on his face seemed to show a will to continue to appear nonchalant despite Doug’s studied crudeness. Doug felt a pang of something like guilt for making his new friend a bit uncomfortable with this raunchiness, but the cause of kinky neighborliness seemed too important for him to stop.
Plu
s, he had stopped Mindy before he came in her mouth, half an hour before, anticipating that there might be some interesting sounds to listen to from the Linds’ that night. Mindy had gone over to say hello to Cathy the night before, and had heard only the vaguest outline of what had happened at the hotel. Cathy had said, though, that John had told her in the morning, before she left for work, that she would have that day—Monday—to think about mending her ways. Her real training would begin Tuesday night. Doug had suspected, as John had just confirmed, that the breather he had given Cathy dovetailed with placing an order like the one John now revealed with the help of his box cutter.
The belt itself came first—a real beauty. Stitched leather, with soft padding around the waist so that Cathy would be able to wear it, and nothing else, for as long as John chose. A strap of a softer leather to go between her legs, with fittings for a dildo in front and a butt plug in back. Little locks for both sides, for John’s convenience in inspecting his wife or using her for his pleasure—and when permitting her to go to the bathroom.
“She can’t wear it at work, I guess,” John said a little regretfully, as he held it up.
“How far away is her office?” Doug asked.
John’s eyebrows went up. “Five minutes, maybe?”
“You could tell her to text you when she needs to go.” Doug’s cock stiffened considerably at the thought. Too bad his own office was a half-hour drive away. He had never put Mindy in a chastity belt, but even if it didn’t make sense to have her wear one all day, Doug felt a visit to the online specialty store was probably in order; the thought of Mindy in a belt like the one John held, or even of the two young wives in their belts together, stirred him very greatly.
“That’s not a bad idea,” John said, and something in his voice told Doug that the big Marine’s cock had also grown hard.
The trimmings came out of the box, then. A dildo very much like Mindy’s penis toy, and three butt plugs of different sizes and shapes, the biggest of them one of the punishment variety, with ridges of increasing size. Doug picked that one up. “And when she was bad…” he said speculatively.