Shannon had a private joke of her own, too. She wore the satin and lace gown, the borrowed petticoat, the antique pearl necklace, nylons and white satin slippers, and even a veil with more pearls and blossoms of baby's breath. But that was all. Of course, the snug fitting bodice with no sleeves wouldn't allow her to wear a bra, and on a whim, she opted not to wear any panties, either.
It was deliciously decadent, not to wear panties to her wedding. She was practically melting as it was, in her heavy gown with the church's fickle boiler kicking in to overdrive now that winter was more than half over. And on the short drive from the church to the country club, a slight breeze fluttered around her legs and up under her skirts to caress parts of her that had not been caressed since she left Chicago.
"Is something wrong?" Kerrick asked, his gaze filled with concern.
Shannon grinned. "No, honey. I'm fine. Better than fine."
"But you're wiggling like you've got ants in your pants."
"Ha! That would be difficult. I'm not wearing any."
Kerrick turned his head suddenly, his red SUV swerving onto the shoulder. He corrected it, then stared at her hard. "You're not wearing any pants?"
She shook her head, wishing she had a camera to capture his expression. Then there were two of them wiggling in their seats. Once at the country club, Kerrick was brisk almost to the point of rudeness, as he greeted their guests. Suddenly, he grabbed Shannon's wrist and pulled her away.
"Kerrick?"
"Shh!"
Shannon gulped, a frisson of fear fluttering low in her belly. He wouldn't spank her now - he couldn't! Not on their wedding day! Although he'd firmly and forcefully explained to her after their formal engagement that he would indeed continue to spank her - often - all through their marriage. "You'll vow to love, honor, and obey, and I'll vow to love, honor and cherish," he had said, "or the wedding's off!"
They slipped through the crowd and disappeared down a corridor that lead to the restrooms. Shannon saw a few of the guests chuckling, no doubt imagining that Kerrick was going to steal a few kisses. Would they still be laughing if they thought he was going to spank her? "Kerrick? Please, stop," she whimpered.
"It's all your fault," he growled, glancing hastily in both directions. Then he tugged her into the restroom, and bolted the door behind him. "I can't stop thinking about it. About you!" His words came out on a rush, his breath hot on her neck. And then it happened. Her fantasy. She heard him lower his zipper. Felt him lift her, skirts and all, then felt him fill her. His zipper was cold against her flesh, his penis hot and hard. She clung to him. His motions were clumsy, almost brutal, yet with each kiss, with each thrust, she knew that he truly loved her. For now. For always.
With a final thrust, he rammed his seed inside her. "You'll pay for this, my love," he groaned.
"Ah, Kerrick! That was - that was wonderful!"
"Yes, it was. But payback's a bitch. You drove me nuts with your little pronouncement back there. So I have one of my own. Darling, after dinner, after the dance, after we check in to our motel – you are going to get your wedding spanking! I've got a special paddle just for this occasion, and I even have a pair of handcuffs, if you'd like to experiment. And you won't be wearing any panties at all for our entire honeymoon!"
The End
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The Painter Page 7