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And I had.
I straightened up slowly, wanting to look away from Cal, or to close my eyes, but unable. I needed to see what he looked like—what his eyes looked like—when he saw me completely naked for the first time. Without even thinking about it, I started to move my hands to cover myself again.
Cal shook his head slowly. His lips had curled up into a little smile and his eyes had crinkled around the edges. I chewed my lower lip. I thought I could see some lust in his expression, which made my tummy churn, but I could see justice, too; he meant to care for me, but his face said that tonight that responsibility involved punishing me until I couldn’t sit down.
Tonight and every night I need the paddle, forever. I swallowed hard. Not every night, every night. But probably a lot more often than I wanted, at least at the start.
Not more often than you’ll need, though, said the observer who really had begun to feel like me.
I took my hands away. They hovered in front of me for a moment as I tried to figure out where to put them, and then I remembered, with the help of Cal’s patient eyes. I felt heat flood my cheeks as I put them back on my head. I hadn’t done that with all my clothes off, before. I felt just how submissive a posture it was for the first time; how it lifted and presented my little breasts and left my bare pussy completely accessible.
And Cal stood there, fully clothed, absolutely gorgeous, with the horrible instrument of correction in his hands.
“Turn around and bend over, darlin’,” he commanded. “On your elbows.”
I shot him one final, pleading look, and watched his eyes narrow and his smile fade. Then I obeyed, feeling the crease in my forehead deepen to what felt like a canyon. I turned to look across the big bed with its dark blue comforter at the off-white wall. Such a normal bedroom, but for me, I suddenly thought, a place of shame and pain.
His bedroom.
You disrespected him. That’s why the pain will come before the pleasure.
I felt my face work with all the roiling thoughts and feelings in my head, my heart, my belly.
Cal wouldn’t always punish me before he fucked me. I knew that. I remembered the expression on his face as I cast my eyes down to the comforter, bending to go down onto my elbows in the softness of its down. I knew, somehow, with absolute certainty, that the desire I had seen in those blue eyes didn’t demand suffering of me, but only mastery.
I had to bite my lip hard at that thought, and I felt a mortifying clench between my tightly closed thighs. I couldn’t help picturing him behind me, maybe even approaching already on footsteps muffled by the bedroom’s thick carpet. I saw him looking at my backside, reddened already by his firm right hand.
The inescapable suspicion that he must be thinking about fucking me drew a little whine from my nose. Jake had fucked Shelly from behind, as she bent over her chair in the living room. The dominance of it, his control over his wife as he used her pussy for his enjoyment after disciplining me, had made me quiver with need and shame, had made me want to touch myself. I wanted, suddenly and desperately, to play with myself there and then. I wanted to make myself feel good to take away from the coming pain—I even wanted to show Cal how naughty he made me feel, how badly I needed his hardness.
His hardness. I swallowed hard. I heard the floor creak slightly, even closer than I thought he had gotten, and then I felt a different hardness, the wrong hardness, slap the inside of my left thigh lightly. I jumped, though it hadn’t actually stung.
“Spread your legs, Grace,” Cal said. “I want you to feel like I can see everything while I paddle you.”
“Why?” I asked, turning my head over my shoulder to look at him. Cal had a very stern expression on his face, a look that said he had taken responsibility for training me and he intended to discharge that duty fully and faithfully. My eyes went wide. “Why, sir?” I added.
“I’m pretty sure you can figure that out,” he replied. “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? Are you going to put yourself back in this position anytime soon?”
I opened my mouth to reply, instinctively, that the idea really seemed absurd; Cal had already received the approval and acceptance that apparently gave him the right to see whatever he liked anyway. And if he intended to continue courting me, even to marry me, it would mean sex—just as he himself had already declared, about all the shameful things he meant to do to me and make me do, tonight.
And yet I definitely didn’t want to spread my legs right now. Despite it all, I definitely still felt a modesty that didn’t seem likely to go away no matter how misplaced I thought it.
“Eyes front,” Cal commanded. A lot of the patience in his voice had vanished. “Spread ‘em and show me that sweet virgin pussy.”
CHAPTER 32
Grace
Until that moment, I hadn’t understood about talking dirty. When Jake had degraded Shelly, talking about her pussy and her ass as if they belonged to him, and he could treat those most private parts of her however he liked, it had troubled me almost as much as it had turned me on. In Cal’s soft but oh-so demanding voice, the words that did the same to my own body’s intimate places made me clench so hard I cried out, and I knew why. It still troubled me, and I felt sure it would take a good long time to get used to it, but I understood.
I wanted my sweet virgin pussy to belong to him. I needed it to be no more than a mere possession that the man who took me in hand could play with… train… thrust into as hard as he chose just to make himself feel good. He could call it whatever he wanted, because he owned it.
With a gasping moan as the need surged inside I shuffled my bare feet apart. I felt Cal’s left hand come down on my back.
“Arch this,” he told me. “Push out your bottom.”
I closed my eyes. Blood flooded into my cheeks. I bent my back, lifting myself on my elbows and proffering my backside to my future husband.
All of it. The thrill that went through me as his words echoed in my head mixed arousal and terror so thoroughly that I couldn’t have said which I felt more of.
