by Emily Tilton
Jim didn’t hesitate: he let go of her hands to take her hips back into his grasp and he bent her over his knee once again, as she cried out. His hand rose and fell ten more times, as Carly struggled feebly and cried out with the renewed pain.
“Sir… sir… I… I disobeyed! I’m sorry! Please!”
He stood her back up and took her hands again. Carly looked into his face, her eyes bright with new tears.
“That’s right,” he said gently. “Good girl. You disobeyed, and you touched your pussy without your husband’s permission. You may get into your new panties, now, while I watch.”
Chapter 7
The effect of the phrase good girl on Carly’s body took her completely by surprise. Her back arched and her hips jerked humiliatingly between Jim’s denim-covered thighs. A moment before she had thought that every bit of sexual need had been dispelled by his big hand on her burning backside, but now she tried to pull her hands out of his, suddenly desperate to put them in front of her bare pussy. A sudden fear had come to her mind that he might actually see the arousal he had just called up drip out from the slit that ached now for his hardness as it never had before.
Jim’s enormous carpenter’s hands held onto her little ones tightly, though, enfolding her fingers and her palms even more closely. His eyes didn’t leave her face.
Good girl. He called me good girl, even though I stole the panties. She felt a sob come up from her chest, and new tears, not from pain but from relief and joy, formed in her eyes. She hadn’t even realized until now what the whole stupid mess had been about.
Forgiveness.
That, and how the need for forgiveness had come about.
“I’m so sorry I wore these panties, Jim,” she blurted out.
He frowned, not understanding for a moment, but then his eyebrows rose with evident understanding. That ready grasp of Carly’s meaning—the sign that her husband, too, remembered what had happened on their wedding night, the hmm as he had felt the little-girl cotton covering his bride’s bottom—brought the heat back to her face, even as she bounced a little on her knees at a surge of need between her thighs.
“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he said softly. “We’re working it out, now.”
She had lowered her gaze to his hands, but the authority in Jim’s voice made her raise her eyes to his again. She didn’t know how she understood what that stern tone meant, but she did: tonight her husband would take his pleasure with her in the way he should have done on their wedding night. Carly swallowed hard.
“Do I really have to… you know… put on the panties?” she whispered.
Jim nodded. “Yes, Carly,” he said. “You have to. You have to learn your lesson.”
Carly nodded back, biting her lip and wrinkling her nose. Such a strange lesson, to have to put on sexy panties. But she would never have put them under her shirt, rather than just buying them, if she hadn’t felt terribly embarrassed about the conflicting feelings they had called up in her.
She wanted to be a bride whose husband unwrapped her pussy and her bottom like a present, then enjoyed his present as a bridegroom should. But it felt so… immodest… so wicked. She looked over at the panties, on top of the belt, still sitting there on their bed. A shiver went through her whole body, and then, much worse, a clench between her thighs made her cry out softly, and again try to pull her hands away.
This time Jim let her do it, perhaps thinking she meant to start taking off her clothes. When she instead put her hands in front of her pussy, he spoke sharply, though.
“Take those away, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll look at you as much as I want.”
He reached out and enforced his will, pulling her hands apart. The little bit of force he used made another thrill of desire shoot through Carly’s body, her nipples and her clit tingling, so that she could hardly keep from moaning.
“Okay,” she said, suddenly feeling the need to escape from the overwhelming quality of the need her husband had awakened in her. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get into the panties.”
He let her take her right hand from his left, so that she could reach for the panties, but when she tried to turn and to leave the encircling strength of his legs, he said, “No.”
Then he took the hem of her shirt and he started to raise it. Carly gave a little cry as she felt his hands against the soft skin of her tummy and her back, and for a moment she kept her arms down. He had never undressed her before—she had never been undressed by anyone before.
With a tiny noise of helpless submission, she complied with his wordless command, and raised her hands, the right one holding the wisp of lacy fabric that had changed everything. Jim got the shirt over her head and she heard it drop to the floor.
She had closed her eyes, and she kept them closed as she felt his hand on the back of her bra. She gave another whimper, though, when she felt how skillfully he unhooked it. He had turned her around to face him again, and Carly still had her arms up, the fingers of her right hand nervously feeling the strange, tiny garment she held. She didn’t feel certain she had ever held something so lacy; the idea that it would go… down there… still made her cheeks hot.
Jim took her wrists and lowered them, and then she felt her sensible beige bra coming off, and she knew he could see her little breasts as he had never, she realized, done before. The image of herself in the lacy panties and only the lacy panties—her breasts uncovered, available—swam before her eyes, and made her bite her lip just as Jim took advantage of his skill at undressing a girl to touch her there. He took one breast in each hand, and Carly’s eyes flew open with a needy moan at the feeling of his thumbs on her stiff nipples.
Jim’s eyes were on her chest, she could see with another flush of heat, but he raised them with a smile that made Carly’s heart skip a beat even as his rubbing thumbs sent a thrill of arousal straight to her clit.
“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked softly. “I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.”
“Oh, God,” Carly breathed. “Sir… yes. It feels so good.”
Jim had to swallow hard; it had taken him almost completely by surprise. His arousal just at touching Carly’s nipples, fondling her sweet little breasts, exceeded any sexual desire he had ever known. Something about having his wife between his knees this way, her panties and jeans around her knees and her pretty pussy bare, his hands exactly where he wanted them, had made him so hard in his own jeans that his cock started to ache.
Carly was his wife, and she had denied him the dominant sex he preferred—not truly, he felt sure, by any real fault of her own. Now, though, he had reasserted his possession of her body; he had disciplined her with a firm hand, put her across his knee and spanked her hard. The main score between them, the imbalance created by their evident miscommunication, had been settled. Jim knew he must still whip her for stealing, but the spanking had made clear to both of them that from that moment forward Carly Gradin Williams’ body belonged to her husband, smacked bottom-cheeks, warm pussy, silky breasts, sweet mouth… virgin anus, even, when he decided to put his hardness there.
And they both wanted it that way; the most important reason his cock had grown so huge along his thigh as he mastered his bride for the first time lay in that realization. The Marriage Academy site had it right, about Carly at least: she needed her husband’s guidance, even when that meant a trip over his knee.
Even when it meant a sound whipping over the bed, before she learned at last what her conjugal duties would involve from now on.
He moved his left hand downward, and Carly whimpered to feel his thumb press gently against the place where Jim knew his wife’s greatest naughtiness lay hidden. He put his right hand around her waist, laid his palm possessively on her warm bottom, then worked two fingers down and in so that he could find the velvet tunnel he had opened on his penis the first morning of their married life.
“Oh, no,” Carly whispered softly, as Jim watched his hands at work on her adorable, smooth pussy.
He glanced up, a bit puzzled at her distress, and saw her looking down at him with her cheeks bright red, right as his fingers found out just how wet she had gotten. He felt his eyes widen.
Carly bit her lip. “Sir,” she whispered, “I’ve never been so wet before, I don’t think. It’s… I’m… I’m so very naughty. I played with myself, and you spanked me, and…”
Jim had pressed his fingers deeper inside her as she spoke, and rubbed firmly with his thumb. Carly’s body gave a jerk, and to his delight he felt her pussy clench on his caressing hand.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I’m going to…”
But Jim took his hands away, the right one very slick now with his wife’s lewdness. He put them down to the bunched panties and jeans around her knees, and he lowered them to the floor. His cock gave a leap at the sight of the huge wet spot on the gusset of his demure bride’s underwear, and the musky, heady fragrance of her arousal made him feel like he had fire in his veins.
“Put on the panties, Carly,” he growled. “Right now.”
He looked up from her gorgeous naked body to her eyes to see them wide with mingled alarm and helpless need. Carly bit her lip as she brought the lacy thong in front of her and lowered her eyes to look at it, left hand joining right to hold the naughty panties between them. She turned the sexy underwear, untangled it a little so that it hung much as it must have hung on the rack from which she had taken it.
“Do I have to?” she whispered, not looking up from the lewd garment in her hand. “They’re for bad girls, aren’t they?”
Jim smiled. “They’re white, aren’t they?”
Carly’s brow furrowed, and she gave a little nod.
“But,” her husband continued, “even if they were black—or red…”
To his surprise, Carly shivered at the very notion of the wicked colors and let out a little whimper. Jim felt the arousal build in him, so high and hard that he had difficulty remembering his duty to use the belt on his sweet girl’s bottom. He kept his resolve in mind though: she had a whipping coming, before they proceeded to the sexual training he now felt certain she needed to receive as much as he needed to give it.
“They would still be for a good girl, if I told you to put them on.”
She bit her lips hard, and she stooped quickly, then, as if she wanted to put the panties on before she could change her mind. Her face went pinker as she went through the slightly ungainly motions of getting all the way out of her jeans and then of putting her feet into the leg holes.
Then she stood, drawing the lacy garment up her legs. As soon as she felt the fabric touch her pussy, Carly bit her lip hard and emitted a little sob, so arousing that Jim had to put his hand down between his legs to give his cock a rub through his jeans.
With his eyes on Carly’s face, he watched her notice what he had just done. Her hands were still at the thrillingly slender elastic waistband of the thong, just twisting it straight as she settled it into place, At the sight of Jim touching his hardness, Carly moved her right hand down, slid her fingers inside the provocatively narrow lace that covered the sweet cleft of her pussy so scantily that Jim could see her pink private lips through it.
“No,” he growled. “Take that hand away. Put your naughty hands on your head, sweetheart, then turn around. I want to see your bottom.”
Chapter 8
Carly pulled her hand away from her pussy as if she had received an electric shock—or, more truly, as if she had touched a hot stove. Her mind seemed to recede, then, for her hands simply obeyed her husband’s peremptory command and went to her head, her fingers twining together. She started to turn, feeling her naked hips brush thrillingly against Jim’s denim-covered thighs.
True, a voice at the back of her head said, Carly Gradin doesn’t put on sexy panties, and she doesn’t put her hands on her head, and she doesn’t show anyone her bottom with the lacy thong between the round little cheeks. But that voice seemed like a whisper from far away and, to Carly’s surprise, it seemed a kind of reassurance—a source of comfort. No, her mind seemed to tell her, it’s not you who just raised your breasts to offer them to your husband, who has to display herself this way for his intimate inspection. It’s another girl.
Another girl who could enjoy submitting shamefully to the handsome man to whom she belonged. The strong man she had to call sir. The wise man who had spanked her over his knee, and would soon take his belt to her poor little bottom.
Her husband, who had decided she must learn her lesson in the naughty panties she had tried to steal.
“Bend over, sweetheart,” he said. “Push your bottom out for me. You can put your hands on your knees, now, and bend them.”
Carly let out a little sob from deep in her chest as her pussy clenched hard at the words. She didn’t let her mind think about it: she told it to keep observing, while the other girl, the sexy, wanton girl, obeyed the handsome man who so clearly had no intention of letting his bride get away with half measures in the bedroom. From now on, she knew, he would have his way completely. His cool hands on her bottom, fondling her lewdly in her lacy panties, told Carly that beyond a shadow of a doubt. She moaned as he ran two fingers under the gusset, to stroke her pussy from her tingling clit to her aching vagina, then again as he worked that hand’s thumb farther back to press its ball against the tiny ring of her anus.
There? He wouldn’t… would he?
His hands left her backside, and the blush on Carly’s face got even hotter as she pictured him contemplating the bottom that belonged to him. From now on, she knew for certain and with a jump of her heart in her chest, he would discipline her there when she had earned it. Wet towels in the dryer would mean a whipping, she felt sure. Sassy words would mean a trip across her husband’s knee.
And cotton panties under my nightgown, when Jim tells me I’m going to put on something sexy, to do my conjugal duty? The way I knew I should have done on our wedding night?
Carly swallowed hard, shuddering with arousal at the thought, and at the knowledge that Jim could see the wicked things a man likes to see: a girl’s bottom, a girl’s pussy, wrapped in lacy giftwrap… a present for him, for his hard cock’s pleasure. She bit her lip, remembering how he had stroked the rigid length of his manhood through his jeans. Was he doing that now?
Then she heard him shift on the bed behind her, and she heard the soft sound of his zipper. A mewing sound came from between her lips.
“Turn around and kneel down, sweetheart,” Jim said in a low voice that sent a shiver up her spine.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Please…”
He called me a good girl. Good girls don’t do… that.
“You know you should have learned to do this a long time ago, Carly. Don’t make me put you over my knee again.”
The little whimper rose again. Standing in that shameful position, her hands on her knees, she felt her hips jerk and her back arch at the thought of it—of a spanking because she wouldn’t do her wifely duty and kiss her husband’s huge, hard penis.
Carly used that mental image, the terrible little fantasy of going back over Jim’s tree-trunk thigh to learn obedience, to make herself turn around. She had her eyes closed as she knelt on the thick carpet. She had never seen a cock up close before, and the thought made her heart pound in her chest, Naughty girls did this—naughty girls in lacy panties knelt like this in front of a man who had unzipped his fly to put his hardness in their mouths and take his pleasure there.
“Open your eyes, Carly. Kiss my cock to thank me for spanking you.”
With her lips pursed, Carly took a deep, sobbing breath through her nose. She could smell Jim’s musky, masculine scent, like the most intense version of the strangely intoxicating smell of him that she knew from their bedroom in the morning. She let out the sob, and she managed to obey, despite the heat that rushed to her cheeks.
Jim held his long, hard penis in his left hand. He had stripped his jeans all the way to the floor, and unbuttoned his flannel
shirt. A jolt of electricity went through Carly’s whole body, shooting out from her clit at the naughty-girl sight, like a centerfold in the kind of sexy magazine you glimpsed at the half-concealed top of the Little Bend pharmacy’s periodical rack.
Jim stroked his cock gently, pumping up and down the rigid shaft. To Carly’s mingled dismay and paradoxical comfort, he reached out with his other hand, to take the back of her head into his grasp. She clenched in the lacy panties at the dominance of the gesture, of the way he pulled her face down, and she gave a little cry as the red fluted head of the penis seemed to rise up to meet her.
“Do as I told you, sweetheart,” Jim said, his voice sterner now that he had to enforce his will.
Jim made her do it. He pressed her closed lips against the tip of his hardness, where a small drop of pre-cum had formed. His cock gave a jerk in his hand at the sheer dominance of making his innocent bride kiss a penis for the first time. Carly mewed through her closed lips, glistening wet now with what he had forced her to take upon them.
She clearly sensed that her obscene, unwilling kiss had caused the movement, and she obviously knew what it meant: her husband wouldn’t let her stop doing her duty with that little peck. Carly would learn now to please him on her knees, her lips open around his thick, thrusting shaft. She would do it regularly, from now on, Jim had decided, made to give head several times a week at least, until she learned to do it well.
“Get a good look, Carly,” Jim said. “You’re going to get to know your husband’s cock now.”
“Oh, please… sir,” she whispered, her eyes darting up to his for a moment and then back down as if in fear of the consequences if she didn’t keep her gaze fixed on the long, hard thing in front of her. Her cheeks had turned bright red, and her breathing came raggedly between her slightly parted lips.
The sight of his seminal fluid, shining on those pretty lips, made his penis jerk again, and he watched her give a little start at the motion.