by Emily Tilton
Nick smiled, and sat down in the chair before he answered, guiding her with his right hand so that she stood up against his thigh and he could put his arm around her waist ready to draw her down over his lap for her punishment.
“Wait and see, sweetheart,” he said. “Now raise your skirt for me. I’m going to pull down your panties. A wife needs to be spanked on her bare bottom.”
“But…” Janice protested quickly, but then her voice trailed off. Her hands, held folded in front of her in a sort of beseeching way, twitched downward, touched the front of the floral-printed cotton blend of her knee-length dress. “Why?” she whispered, as her fingertips pulled just a little at the fabric, not ready to obey him yet it seemed, but trying to prolong the time before Nick grew strict and did something to enforce her compliance with his shameful instructions.
“Why does a wife get spanked on the bare, do you mean?” Nick asked, raising his eyebrows. He didn’t mind lingering a little at this point: having his arm around Janice’s waist and knowing that he would soon begin to give her what she had earned for her misbehavior, and after would enjoy her just as he pleased with his already very hard cock, made this stage of her training delicious in its own right.
Janice nodded, biting her lip. A deep crease had appeared on her forehead.
“Because a good wife doesn’t get to keep her clothes on when her husband wants them off, Janice. I haven’t enforced my rights the way I know I should have, but that’s going to change.” He watched her lips part, as if to protest, but no sound came out. Something in him that must have lain buried deep until tonight seemed to rise just as his cock had, and instead of keeping it down in his mind, examining it, and putting it away, Nick spoke it out—as he intended to voice all such impulses in the future. “From now on, Janice, you’ll be naked a good deal of the time. When you’re allowed to put on panties, I will choose them, and then you will ask me for permission to take them down when you need to use the bathroom.”
Janice had begun to shake her head, but that only seemed to inspire a greater flow of dominant arousal in Nick.
“Don’t shake your head, sweetheart. We both know you’ve needed this kind of discipline for a long time. Things are going to be very different now, especially in the bedroom.”
She drew back, pulled a little against Nick’s arm, but he had never felt as sure of anything as he did that the time to spank the woman he loved had arrived. He drew her firmly down over his lap, and transferred his grip on her waist quickly to his left arm, so that he could start to raise her dress for her, since she had disobeyed him. Her backside would pay the price for that hesitation, Nick promised himself, and next time Janice would pull up her skirt or pull down her pants when her husband instructed her to prepare for punishment—or for fucking.
“Nick! Please… don’t… I’m not ready…” Her voice had a sort of trance-like quality to it, now, as it rose from where her head hung below his left thigh, since he had upended her completely to make her bottom available for the stern lesson she would get.
He had her skirt up over her waist, to expose her blue-flowered panties. His cock gave a leap at the sight, and the knowledge that he would take them down, now, whether Janice liked it or not. She struggled under his restraining arm, growing more frantic as she seemed to grasp that he truly did mean to punish her as she deserved for her disrespect to her husband.
“You’re ready for discipline when I decide you’re ready, sweetheart. And you’ll prepare yourself for fucking when I want to have sex, too. That’s why a wife gets punished on the bare—so that her husband can have his way just as he likes, afterward.”
He put his fingers inside the waistband of the modest, little-girlish cotton panties, and pulled them down with a forceful yank, to leave them almost at her knees. Janice’s pretty little bottom met his eyes, with a peep of her cunt (why was he thinking of her private parts this way? He had barely even called Janice’s vagina a ‘pussy’ in the privacy of his own thoughts before tonight!) and a few stray blonde hairs showing between her thighs.
Nick couldn’t resist, and he didn’t mean to: he put two fingers there. “You’ll shave this for me tomorrow, Janice, or I’ll spank you again when I get home. I like a bare cunt on a wife. It shows she understands she has no privacy from her husband, inside her panties.”
Janice gave a low moan, and a gasp. “You… you won’t…” she whispered.
But Nick could tell just from the heady scent of her arousal that his wife had gotten very wet at the idea of his new mastery of her body. He raised his right hand and brought it down hard, in the middle of her bottom, spanning both cheeks with a hard smack, the very first spank he had given his wife, but by no means the last.
Janice cried out and writhed under his arm, but Nick knew he couldn’t show any lack of resolve: he kept spanking her, hard and fast, putting both her thighs under his right leg when she started to kick and going right on, assuring her with the severity of this first punishment that she didn’t want to repeat the educational exercise tomorrow night.
“You will shave that pretty cunt, Janice,” he said, as he spanked her over and over, right, left, and center. “And you will suck your husband’s cock, and you will spread your bottom, too, for the penis to enter there, whenever I tell you to get ready for anal.”
Chapter Six
The Zedaar in Nick Strauss’ mind thought it necessary to ask its colleague about the prominence in its host’s desire for sex in his mate’s non-reproductive rear passage.
Yes, responded the Zedaar in Pierre LeGrand’s neural net, my host also intends to train his girl to receive the penis in her bottom. But is it not a frequent characteristic of organics that they wish to receive the pleasure evolution bestowed on reproductive activity without worry for the natural reproductive consequences? My host looks forward to depositing his semen in Hailey Miller’s anus and thereby ensuring she does not become pregnant.
Of course, replied Nick Strauss’ parasitical invader. The females’ mouths, too, it seems, are to be used for the pleasure of the male member. But the strength of my human’s purpose, in contemplating his mate’s shame at being made to receive a fucking in her bottom, is quite remarkable.
And how does she feel about it? the other Zedaar sent curiously. I sense that my host’s female is ready to receive the penis there, though she is rather anxious about whether it will hurt.
I will influence the mate, I think, to bring forward feelings she keeps deeply hidden otherwise, of needing to have her shame overcome. I believe that if I manage the encounter correctly, she will become enamored of having my host’s penis thrusting there, though still too embarrassed to say so. The Zedaar in Nick Strauss returned his attention to the scene in the forest ranger’s kitchen, then, satisfied with the consultation, which had required somewhat less than a nanosecond of real time.
Overcome with the arousal generated by the sensations of spanking his wife’s pretty little bottom, of seeing the redness his justice had brought to the round hind-cheeks that clenched and unclenched with the pain of her terrible lesson, of hearing her submissive cries for mercy, Nick had stopped punishing her and put his hand on her backside. The Zedaar felt the greatest amusement as its host put two fingers at the place where the valley between the female’s buttocks and the crease that ran under those now-very-rosy globes intersected, and both her vagina and her anus lay hidden.
* * *
Janice sobbed over her husband’s knee, her body limp in his grasp. She had taken hold of the legs of the wooden chair when for a moment it had seemed she might be able to use the resulting leverage to move her bottom away from Nick’s terrible punishing hand, but he had proven much too strong for that: with his left arm over her waist and his right leg across her thighs he had simply immobilized her backside and kept spanking it, over and over, as she screamed in pain at having her trim rear end taught so forcibly to behave when her husband wished to discipline his bride.
The shame made nearly as great a part o
f the punishment as the agony in her little cheeks. She felt her bottom tighten and then relax, surging helplessly under the spanking Nick had chosen to administer, showing him the cleft of her pussy, she knew, with the end of each contraction. Her face burned nearly as hot as her backside at the thought of what her husband saw as he punished his wife with her panties down.
And the things he had said, about the bedroom… they kept going through Janice’s mind as she received her awful discipline for disrespect. She knew wives who let their husbands take charge that way, in bed, but how could any modern woman allow it? To accept Nick’s—even though he was the man she loved—filthy masculine desires, when it came to sex… Janice could never do those things, or let Nick do them with her… to her… inside her.
Could she?
She felt his fingers there, and she thought again, over and over, He can’t. I can’t. He can’t. I can’t.
Janice knew, though, somewhere in her confused, strangely detached mind, that she wouldn’t be repeating those words to herself that way unless something about them had found, inside her, deep down, a different way of looking at the matter. She knew it, and realizing that she knew it made her give a sobbing moan at her husband’s touch, at the way he pushed his fingers in, down there, between her thighs, without asking or even telling her he meant to do that—that the next part of Mrs. Nick Strauss’ training as her husband’s sexual plaything had begun, and somehow Janice had managed to be a good enough girl for her husband that she had earned the special reward he had promised her.
She cried out, arching her back under his arm, struggling against him in an entirely different way now. She tried to spread her legs, to give his fingers better access to the part of her that burned the hottest.
Nick clucked, though, and said, “Are you a naughty girl after all, Janice?”
She almost said, “Yes,” but the part of her that hadn’t ceased saying, He can’t. I can’t, stopped the word in her throat, and instead she let that resistant element come out. “Not my bottom, Nick. Please. I’ll… I’ll suck it, but… please, not my bottom.”
Yes, she would suck it. Janice had always known that good wives did that. When Nick had asked, all those years ago, she just hadn’t felt ready, really. And then he had never asked again, and Janice had felt bad that she had made the face when he asked the first time, on their honeymoon, when she should have been making all his sexy dreams come true.
But… not my bottom. It’s too small, and… it will hurt…
At that thought, though, she felt her pussy clench, and she knew Nick, rubbing a little more firmly now, would feel it, too, and her cheeks burned with the idea that he would know the shameful little spasm had happened when she thought of his penis thrusting hard in her little ring. To her dismay, that thought in turn made the wetness come: she could feel it, feel herself making his fingers slick and moist as they played with her naughty places.
He must have felt it, because he rubbed harder, further down, and he relaxed his right leg a little so that Janice could disgrace herself by spreading her knees, desperate to show him how much she needed fucking, as shameful as that was… a wife needing her husband’s hard penis after he had just punished her… a wife learning her lesson and displaying the cunt she knew she had to bare for him, by tomorrow night, or get a whipping.
“Yes, Janice,” he said softly, making circles on her clit so that she bucked and writhed under the restraint of his strong muscles, “in your bottom. Tomorrow night. First, though, I want you to say thank you for your spanking.”
Janice felt her body tighten: she knew exactly what he meant, because the same idea had made her blush only a moment before. Now, placed in the light of gratitude for her husband punishing her, it seemed even more mortifying, and her face went hot as a blazing stove.
“You know what I mean, Janice,” Nick said. “I’m sure you do. It’s time for you to show you can be a dutiful wife at last.” He rubbed harder, though she had felt sure he would stop, when she had seemed with the tension in her body to reject his instruction. Then she understood, because his fingertips made her cry out, and his thumb went inside her, where his cock belonged.
“No, please,” Janice said in a sobbing voice. “Please don’t make me.”
A moment before she had said to herself that she would… and now she begged her husband not to enforce his will, his marital right to thrust his hardness into her mouth and wherever else he chose… and yet now Janice felt even more certain that he would… that he would make her, punish her, throw her on the bed and have his way… everything—he would do everything, if she didn’t comply and do as her lord and master commanded.
She felt her body convulse, and she seemed to float off, out of herself, and she gave a different cry from any she had ever let out before.
“Did you just come?” Nick said, his voice half full of severity and half full of wonder.
For Janice Strauss had never experienced orgasm before, and now she knew she couldn’t live without more of them. He would make her, and he would whip her, and paddle her if she needed it… all if she didn’t get on her knees without any further encouragement from her husband and… and…
And suck his big, hard cock. Her back arched again, her pussy contracted, and she screamed even louder, for Janice was coming, and coming, and coming, and at the same time struggling to get down on the floor, between Nick’s thighs, kissing his hardness through the green fabric of his ranger uniform, saying, “Please… please… please… I need it so bad, sir.”
The sir surprised her, but Janice felt how very right the word was for the man who had finally taken her in hand, had finally given her the lesson she had always needed, his firm hand on her bare bottom.
“Good girl,” he said, so far above her that Janice bowed her head and kissed again.
Instead of please don’t make me, she said in a thick whisper, “Please let me. Please let me touch it and kiss it and suck it.”
His hands, which he had raised at her sudden movement from his lap onto the floor, came down, and Janice nearly sobbed with joy when she saw him loose his heavy silver belt buckle, and then unbutton his fly, unzip the front, pull down his trousers and his black boxer-briefs in a single motion so that they dropped to the floor around his ankles. Janice’s knees felt strange on the area rug—had she ever knelt before, in her house, even to clean? She must have but it had never felt like this, for she had never had her modest blue-flowered panties around her thighs just above the knees, had never felt, as Nick’s hands moved to raise the hem of his wife’s skirt so he could see her bare, punished bottom as she sucked his cock, that she was on her knees to do a shameful sex thing she must do or have a whipping.
Her eyes had fallen to Nick’s feet as he lifted her skirt and tucked it up around her waist, wordlessly telling her of the pleasure he would take in looking at her naked backside, so red from the lesson he had taught, but now she raised them and she realized that her face had never come so close to her husband’s penis before. She heard a little mewing sound come from her throat at the way it stood up so proud and hard from the nest of dark, wiry hair around it, at the musky, masculine scent that emanated from the whole area and especially from the little pouch down below that she had never had a chance to look at before.
An old part of her told her she should feel disgust, but the new feeling that her spanking seemed to have awakened said just the opposite, though it made the hot blush in her cheeks go on and on: that she loved the hard cock the way a good wife should, and wanted it inside her, so that her husband would feel good while he thrust it in and out, fucking Mrs. Nick Strauss as she should be fucked. She looked up into his face, hardly knowing where the courage came from, and saw his blue eyes gazing down at her with what seemed to Janice a mixture of sternness and wonder.
“May I kiss your cock, sir?” she asked softly.
“Yes, sweetheart. Kiss it, and then take it into your mouth. I’m going to come there, if you do a good job, and you will swallow it.
I’ll fuck your bottom tomorrow, after you’ve shaved your pussy for me.”
Janice felt her face scrunch up, brow puckering and lips drawing into a tight line, as her impulses battled one another at this shameful news, delivered so calmly by the man who she knew would whip her so hard with his belt if she didn’t please him. She looked down at the hard phallus, and saw it give a little leap, as if the very turning of her eyes upon its length had a power to give it pleasure, and she knew she must do as her husband commanded. She leaned forward a little and kissed the tip of it, with the little slit, startled by the smooth texture of the skin.
Nick’s right hand came around the back of her neck, and Janice, surprised, tried to draw back, but he said, “Open your mouth, now,” and pulled her forward, so that she had to obey, and then his hardness was inside her, thrusting over her tongue. Nick gave a groan of pleasure so deep that it made Janice’s tummy flutter and her cheeks blush—with strange, shameful pride this time. As he began to use her mouth for his enjoyment, holding her head still, her mouth just a receptacle for his manhood, her pride grew and grew, because he had spanked her and she had taken it, and now she had his penis in her mouth.
An hour before, Janice felt sure, that would never have made her feel proud of herself, but things, it seemed, were very different now. She must do as Nick said, and please him with her body just as he liked—or he would spank her again and again, wouldn’t he? As he held himself deep, and she felt the warm seed shoot from him, desperately working to swallow, knowing she would be punished for spilling a drop, Janice shifted on her knees a little, so that she could feel the ache in her backside from her husband’s big hand.
She whimpered around his jerking, thrusting cock as she remembered she must have it in her tiny anus. The thought brought a strange contentment, too, though, that part of her declared she should interrogate. The rest of Janice, burning with what she supposed could only be the new need for fucking awakened by her first orgasm, could only think of pleasing the hard manhood in her mouth, of having it inside her every place Nick wanted to put it.