And as he touched her so naughtily, even through the clothes appointed by Prosperian society to guard a girl’s virtue, Priscilla clung to him more fiercely and trembled more violently.

  “H-how… how high…?”

  “Did I turn up your governor?”

  She nodded against his chest, as if unable to speak.

  “Are you very wet, darling?” William asked naughtily, finding that along with his affection came the desire to tease her, since the teasing seemed to make her even more submissive.

  “Oh, sir,” she said, clearly having imbibed, as she should have, from her guardian’s and her mother’s lessons that wetness between her legs, despite being in its own lewd way so wonderful, was a matter about which a gentleman should not inquire of a respectable girl.

  “Priscilla,” he said in a low voice with just the hint of a threat to her backside, as he also strengthened the threat with a little squeeze just there, where he would of course spank her sometime very soon, for some reason, “you know from what the doctor said that that part of you belongs to me, now. When I ask whether you are wet, you will tell me. The governor’s control can tell me, of course, just how warm and wet you are down there, so you must not think of lying. I wish, however, to hear it from you: you must learn to confess to me your need for fucking.”

  She shuddered at the coarse word, the meaning of which she still didn’t know. “What does it mean, sir? That word?”

  “You’ll know soon enough, Priscilla. For the moment, you need only understand that when a girl’s cunt is wet, she is ready for fucking. Now tell me whether you are wet.”

  Priscilla disengaged herself a little from his arms so that she could look up at him, her face a mask of arousal so strong that William’s cock gave a little leap at the sight.

  “Oh, sir… I’m so wet. I… Please, you’ll… you know, put the lotion on?” She hid her face again in William’s shirt.

  “Yes, darling. I’ll put the lotion on before I fuck you. I’ve turned your governor up to seven, to get you ready.”

  “Only seven?” she whispered.

  “Yes. The reason it feels like more than you’ve ever felt before down there is that you spent a whole day with it turned down to zero, and then two hours with it turned up to two.”

  “Will you… will you ever turn it…”

  “Higher?”

  She nodded, pressing her cheek even more firmly against him, as if she couldn’t bear the mere thought that William might see her face after she had admitted she wanted to know just how much lascivious pleasure her fiancé could force upon her.

  “Oh, yes, darling. But you’re not ready for that, yet.” He stroked her hair for a moment, then said softly, “It’s time to take off your clothes, now.”

  Soon he would ensure all her clothing would be keyed to his touch as well as to hers. William looked forward greatly to being able to strip his wife down to her underwear with the motion of a finger at the right place on her collar. Prosperian formal clothes had safety switches that made it virtually impossible that a young lady’s gown might fall off at a ball, but of course William might threaten to release the safety switch whenever he pleased, and make his bride stand before a dinner party in her shift and drawers. That sort of punishment—a magnate displaying his wife’s charms to teach her the vital lesson that her modesty belonged to him—was far from unknown in Prosperian administrative society, though William had never had the luck of observing an example. The husband generally turned his wife’s governor all the way up before removing her clothes, to increase the cogency of the lesson; as she stood there, blushing to the roots of her hair, the experience of that shame would make her so wet and in need of fucking that William had even heard of the appearance of visible damp spots on girls’ drawers, when their husbands raised their shifts in front of the company.

  To command Priscilla to remove her gown, though, had its own charms. He gently pushed her back from him and looked down into her troubled blue eyes. She had taken off her gown for her guardian and for the doctor, but William could see that whereas before the notion had embarrassed her, now it affected her at a much deeper emotional level. The governor between her legs, with its ability to heighten erotic arousal when the man who controlled it chose, by making a girl go long periods with her sexual pleasure centers effectively turned off, had clearly triggered a new reflection in her heart.

  “Must I, sir?” she asked very clearly, as the heaving of her little bosom in her corset charmed him and distracted him not a little.

  “Yes, darling,” William said. “You must, or I shall have to spank you over my knee, the way a little girl is spanked when she must learn to obey her parents.”

  “You wouldn’t!” But even as she spoke the words William saw in her eyes both the knowledge that he would and a rush of arousal that made her bite her lip.

  “I would, Priscilla. And I will, now. You’ve earned yourself your first spanking from your future husband. You’ll have it in your underwear, but I will pull your drawers down, of course. Then you will remove your shift and drawers, and we shall proceed with the rest of your training. Remove your gown this instant for your punishment.”

  Her mouth opened but no sound emerged. With great satisfaction William watched her hand go at last to the place on her collar where the fastening hook, as it was called in deference to the ancient history of fashion, lay. She released the safety switch, and its soft alarm sounded in the still air of her bedroom. Outside on the landing, William could hear the steps of the servants putting the house to bed, but Priscilla seemed not to hear them as she looked steadily into the eyes of the man to whom she now belonged.

  She moved her fingertip in the three circles that opened the hook, and gave a little gasp as her corset opened, as a slit appeared up the side of the gown. At the same time the skirt stiffened so the garment could stand upright, and Priscilla, looking adorably small and innocent in her snow-white shift and drawers, stepped out of it, with her eyes modestly fixed downward on the floor.

  “There,” William said. “Now put your gown away, and come lay yourself over my knee.” He turned to take hold of the back of the wooden desk chair that stood at her little desk, where she had done so much diligent schoolwork. Now she had a different kind of lesson to learn.

  He turned the chair and sat in it, to see that Priscilla had put her gown in her closet and closed the closet door. She stood there in her underwear, her hands clasped in front of her midriff, and her beauty nearly took William’s breath away.

  “Sir?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Will you turn it down?”

  William smiled. “While I spank you? No.”

  “But…” A frown of deep confusion appeared on her pretty face. “I… oh, I don’t even know if I can say! It’s so embarrassing!”

  “I think I know what you mean, Priscilla. You are worried that it won’t be a punishment, aren’t you?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Don’t worry about that. If your husband says it is a punishment, then it is a punishment for you. And I think when I have finished spanking you, you will understand better. Now come here, or I will turn it down.”

  Chapter Nine

  Suddenly Priscilla did think she had started to understand, as she took her first tentative step toward where William waited. She felt much naughtier even to be in her underclothes in his presence than she had when Mr. Tester had inspected her; that must represent some part of it. The idea that William would lift her shift and pull her drawers down, that he would apply his firm hand to her bare bottom as if she were a misbehaving child, made her private part so warm and wet that her thighs felt slick as she moved toward him—and that was part of the punishment, wasn’t it?

  To know that William did control her; that with the simplest use of the governor between her legs, on her (her mental voice fell to a whisper) cunt, he could allow her to feel what she had felt just a few minutes before—the aching ecstasy that had brought her to her knees before her fiancé, the pleasure that cried out that there must be more pleasure, right that instant, and if Priscilla couldn’t have more of that pleasure she would die… to know that made for a kind of discipline she had never, ever imagined. She had thought that being whipped by Mr. Tester and by her mother, over the same bed where William now promised to do things to her at whose nature Priscilla still couldn’t guess, had taught her to be the kind of good girl who deserved the good things a husband like William brought with him. But those whippings seemed to her now like nothing, compared even with the idea of laying herself over her bridegroom’s lap for a spanking.

  And all because of the governor. The thing she couldn’t even feel except in the way William’s words and William’s touch affected her most private places. She remembered the instant of terrible pleasure when Dr. Gowdy had installed it, the way she had writhed for a fraction of a second much more violently even than she had when the doctor had given her her first climax. Now, with the governor set at seven (how high did the numbers go?! surely they couldn’t go higher than ten?) she felt more aching arousal than she had with the doctor’s fingers and wand exploring the secrets between her legs, and the thought of that writhing moment seemed to make her flesh cry out, strange as it seemed, for her future husband to spank her as hard as he could.

  He put his hands out to receive her, and she felt his touch on her body for the first time separated only by the thin fabric of her shift, blushing again to know that soon he would make her take that off, just as he would soon lower her drawers and see her naked bottom. He guided her silently to his right side, then laid her down, trembling, over his lap. Upended, with her backside the highest part of her, Priscilla felt a tremor of fear and shame go through her body, but mingled so thoroughly with arousal that she couldn’t help a whimper that seemed to express all three things.

  “Please, sir,” she said.

  “What are you asking for, darling?” William’s voice came from high above her, and she thought again about the moment she had knelt, looking up at him, feeling that she wished only to worship this godlike, handsome man in hope that he might permit her to please him. He adjusted her on his lap, putting his left arm around her waist and raising her bottom so that her head hung down further and even her toes came off the floor. She felt so small, and William seemed so big and strong. She whimpered again, a tiny sound from the back of her throat.

  She hardly knew what her please had meant, but she said in a whisper, “Please, not very hard,” even though just a moment before she had caught herself longing for him to be severe with her.

  “Don’t be silly, Priscilla. I must spank you hard. You must learn your lesson. When I require you to undress, you will undress.”

  He pulled her shift up.

  “I shall lower your drawers now, darling. I want you to think about what it means when a husband must bare his wife’s bottom for punishment. Through your disobedience you have forfeited your right to be covered before me when I instruct you in your duty. Now you must have a lesson over my knee, with your underwear down.”

  Another whimper, this one almost a sob, burst from Priscilla’s throat. How could anything so shameful make her feel so much of that terrible, itchy pleasure in her little furrow?

  She felt his fingers inside the elastic waistband of her drawers.

  “When we are married, Priscilla, you will wear a new sort of underwear that I imagine you’ve never heard of,” William said conversationally, just tugging the garment down a little and then pausing, as if to let her feel the meaning of his words.

  “What?” she said, startled, raising her head and trying without success to turn her face so that she could see him.

  “Shh,” William said, and pulled the drawers down another inch, so that the backs of his fingers were against the curve of her twin bottom-cheeks. Another of the little whimpers came from Priscilla as if of its own accord, this one much sharper. When her guardian and the housekeeper had whipped her, there had been nothing like this; she had taken off her clothes and laid herself down. A handsome man, the handsome man to whom she now belonged, hadn’t touched her like this, bared her like this.

  “Husbands call them training pants,” William said, “and they are indeed a little like the training pants worn by toddlers.”

  “B-but…” The drawers were all the way down to the top of her thighs, now, but William tugged them gently down even further so that they made a tangle just above Priscilla’s knees.

  “Wives, I believe, simply call them punishment drawers.”

  He put his big hand on her bottom, and this whimper came much more like a cry of alarm from Priscilla’s chest. No one had ever touched her that way—even the doctor, with his mortifying manipulation, had touched her most private places only clinically. But William held her little bottom in his hand far, far from clinically: he held, cupped, and squeezed the tiniest bit. He said, through his hand, that Priscilla Auden’s bottom belonged to him, now, and that as Mrs. William Verner she would submit it to his caresses and to his discipline as often as he required. Between her legs, where the little governor allowed her seven degrees of arousal but no more, the itching became nearly unbearable.

  “Oh, please… please, sir… what are they?” The thought of having to wear anything called either training pants or punishment drawers only made the itching worse. She didn’t know if she wanted the spanking to start, or wanted to have her terrible curiosity about what William had told her of this new sort of underwear satisfied so perhaps some of the baffling mixture of dread and arousal would go away.

  “I will tell you only one thing about them, darling, before I spank you,” William said, beginning to rub her bottom in gentle circles that seemed to make her little cries come out as a continuous, pleading whine. “The waistband opens to my touch, but not to yours.”

  Priscilla, so distracted by his touch and by the anticipation of the spanking and what would follow that her wits already seemed utterly removed from her, took a very long time to understand the simplest part of what he meant. It didn’t make sense, so her mind kept recoiling from it and concentrating instead on the very, very pressing question of when he would leave off the awful rubbing and start the spanking that now seemed almost welcome.

  But he didn’t leave off the rubbing, and to her shame she realized that the whine had turned into a low moan as the warmth in front, though it seemed it could not build—since, she imagined, her fiancé had set the control to seven—nevertheless could apparently ache more and more frustratingly. How warmth could ache, Priscilla felt she might never be able to figure out, but her lust-addled brain thought it might have something to do with feeling like the whole region William had so mortifyingly called her cunt now seemed actually to glow with heat.

  Then, just as he lifted his hand and she knew the first spank from her future husband would soon land on her bare bottom, Priscilla did understand what it meant that William would be able to undo the waistband on her training pants, but she herself would not. She pictured herself standing in front of him, with legs crossed, doing a little girl’s dance of discomfort. Sir, may I please use the toilet?

  She gave a little gasp of shame as the ache and the itching became so strong she had to ball her hands into little fists as they hung down by her face.

  Then William’s hand came down hard, with a loud sound she felt sure her parents must be able to hear from down the hall. For a tiny moment she wondered when she would feel the sting, but then as the second spank landed like the first in the middle of her bottom, across both cheeks, she realized that she had already felt it, and somehow instead of hurting, exactly, it had simply seemed to refocus the terrible ache in front, where she suddenly became all too conscious of her naked private part being divided from William’s trousers only by the thin muslin of her shift. That warmth under her future husband’s hand, as now he began to alternate his spanks between cheeks that themselves felt like they had begun to glow, flowed backward, and for a few moments—a very few moments—the spanking actually felt good.

  Priscilla was a good girl, now, she thought with a strange pride: Mr. William Verner had taken her in hand. He would spank her when she needed it, and she would accept the lessons he saw fit to give. He was her accepted lover, and he had the right to bare her bottom. All the naughty feelings she might have down between her thighs belonged to him, and he would control them, punish her as necessary, and then he would do something like what the doctor had done, but it would be ever so much nicer because she loved William and William loved her.

  But that strange moment of comfort and pride vanished almost as quickly as it had come. William kept spanking, and he kept spanking hard, saying nothing and letting his firm hand do the talking. The glowing ache, and even the itching, went away, but Priscilla got not the slightest joy from their disappearance, because her bottom hurt.

  She cried out, and though she wanted to stay still she couldn’t keep from writhing across William’s lap almost the same way she had writhed naked in the exam chair at the doctor’s office. William tightened his left arm’s grip around her waist and kept spanking her.

  She kicked out behind, but he merely shifted her little body in between his legs and immobilized her knees under his right thigh.

  “Please…” she sobbed. “Please, sir, no more.” If her parents couldn’t hear the spanking itself, they must be able to hear her crying. She pictured a look of satisfaction on her mother’s face, and that made her break into fresh tears, though somehow it also helped her still her body across William’s left thigh as he continued the spanking a few moments more, until her whole backside felt like it was on fire.

  “Are you sorry you didn’t undress when I asked?” William asked softly.

 

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