“Yes, sir,” she sobbed.

  “Do you plan to take off your clothes when I tell you to, next time?”

  But before she could choke out another Yes, sir, he put his hand again on her bottom, and just held her there, again. Instead of the words, a moan broke from her chest: a terrible, long, low, needy moan. If she thought she had ached for her accepted lover’s most lascivious touch before, Priscilla felt then, she hadn’t known what ache meant.

  “Oh… oh, William… sir… oh, p-please,” she stammered.

  Chapter Ten

  William smiled. His cock had been so hard for so long now that he felt he could sympathize very easily with what his bride now endured.

  “Yes, darling,” he said gently. “You may get up and remove your underwear for me, then lie on your tummy on the bed, over the pillows with your knees well apart. I’ll put the lotion on now.”

  He helped her to her feet, loving the feeling of having her little body in his arms, her lithe shape freed of her gown’s and corset’s constraints. Her trembling and her clinging to him made his heart seem to glow with affection and care for her. He thanked all the powers of good that the act of disciplining his bride, which aroused him so strongly that it seemed nearly to steal his reason away, should also be the best way to show his tenderness, when he comforted her.

  When she stood again, half-turned toward the bed, she said with her blushing face turned over her shoulder, “The lotion is on the nightstand.” In the light from her bedside lamp, her shift was translucent, and with her drawers down around her knees, leaving a sweet strip of bare flesh between the two garments, she looked wonderfully submissive. The little pout that remained on her face from the spanking turned her mouth down just the tiniest bit, so that he felt the urge to kiss her tears away.

  He stood and did just that, taking the opportunity to raise her shift and hold the bottom he had warmed so thoroughly again in his hand. The little apples of her backside seemed to fit so perfectly into his palm that he could already scarcely imagine his life before she belonged to him, before he could exercise his right to touch her lasciviously and disciplinarily whenever he wished. Priscilla tensed and gave a startled little moan, as if she worried that he might spank her again, and then she yielded her body up to his again.

  “Thank you, darling,” William replied when he broke the kiss. “Now take off your shift and drawers, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” Priscilla murmured, turning away and grasping the neck of her shift to unfasten it, so that she could remove it over her head.

  William had the urge to make her strip for him while facing him, but to take all her modesty away would spoil some of the fun, he thought on a moment’s reflection. He would lay her over the pillows, make her come, get her ready for fucking, and then at last deflower her—all with her face turned demurely away, down toward the bed just as if she were being punished, while he enjoyed himself as he pleased. The illusion of permitting his blushing bride to keep a shred of her modesty as his cock triumphed over her maidenhead made him harder than ever.

  He took two of her firmest pillows—loving the notion that now he could always picture his sweet darling nestled in her little bed among these many soft things, for Priscilla seemed to have no fewer than six pillows upon her bed—and piled them for her down near the foot so that he would be able to stand comfortably when the time came to take hold of her hips and thrust in, claiming her as his own.

  When he turned back to her, she had laid her shift over the back of the chair, ready of course to be put on again as soon as he allowed it. An administrative-class Prosperian girl knew that she must never be unclothed for any longer than those to whom she answered required it of her. William found that terribly endearing, but he also wondered whether even after he left his sweet girl tonight he should require that she sleep naked, as she would sleep naked, in his arms, many nights in the near future, when she had come to him as his wife.

  Now Priscilla stooped to pull her drawers off, and the ungainly posture made William smile even as the tiny wisp of cunt hair and even of the pink secrets between her thighs that he could see made his cock leap. She straightened up, folding her drawers and laying them on the chair. Then she turned to look at him over her shoulder, her left forearm over her little breasts and her right hand down in front of her private part, even though she still faced the corner where her desk stood, and William couldn’t see the naughty treasures she hid. In the glow of the lamp, he could just make out the lingering redness from her spanking, turning her bottom a warm shade of pink.

  He watched her eyes go nervously from him to the pillows on the bed. As if noticing where he had placed them and not understanding, she looked back at him with wide eyes.

  “Go ahead and get over the pillows now, Priscilla,” he said in a firm tone, not finding it particularly easy to keep his impatience out of his voice.

  She turned, still covering herself and with a deep furrow in her brow.

  “I’ll permit you to cover yourself this evening,” William said, “but you must expect to be punished in the future if you try to hide those sweet charms from me.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted as if to shape an objection, but perhaps she saw the hunger in her bridegroom’s eyes and what it promised if she delayed in her obedience any longer. She bit her lip instead of speaking and scurried to the foot of the bed. There she hesitated for a moment, as if working up the courage to move her hands from her chest and loins in order to clamber up.

  William refused to let the opportunity go to waste: he took a step forward and gave his girl a sharp spank in the middle of her bottom. The sound of it rang out in her little bedroom, along with her ambiguous cry of pain, mingled with very obvious arousal. Even the inventors of the clitoral governor didn’t know, and subsequent research hadn’t determined, whether something about the device actually strengthened and deepened the sensation that traveled from a girl’s bottom to her clitoris, or whether the deprivation attendant on having the governor at zero, together with a girl’s first erotic awakening at the hands of a man created some analogous effect. Whatever it was, William knew that when he spanked Priscilla, with the governor turned up past five, it would always stimulate her sexually.

  Priscilla gave him one final half reproachful and half wondering look over her shoulder. Then she climbed quickly onto her bed and put herself over the pillows. William told himself that nothing could be as pretty as Priscilla Auden in a lovely evening gown, smiling up at him, but the sight of her naked over the pillows, with bottom raised, obediently parting her knees so he could at last see all her most intimate charms in person at closest range, had even greater attractions, at least when his cock was threatening to burst through his trousers.

  The sweet pink inner lips of her virgin cunt pouted primly, peeping out from the creamy folds of her outer ones with their adorable red curls. Above, even the tiny flower of her anus winked at him from between the little cheeks that his firm hand had made so warm and rosy. He had a guilty pang at the thought of the resolution he had made on his way to the Auden house tonight, that he would finish in his bride’s bottom, but he had no intention of parting from the idea, perhaps to spurt his seed on her back or even her face.

  Custom dictated that after deflowering his bride’s cunt, a gentleman did not spend his seed there, so as not to leave her with a swollen belly should he elect to pay compensation instead of marrying her. But men were divided on the matter of which other ways of enjoyment should be opened on a girl’s first night of sexual service to her future husband. Some maintained that only the mouth should be enjoyed in addition to the cunt, while those of William’s mind insisted that even an administrative-class bride should be left in no doubt that her husband would make frequent use of her anus.

  As he fetched the little tube of lotion from Priscilla’s night table, he pondered the question of whether to turn her governor up—or even down—to help get her cunt ready for fucking. To turn it up would certainly make her wetter down there, but he could tell from the way she glistened, and from the naughty scent in the air, that her wetness wouldn’t pose a problem. To turn the governor down would increase the need she felt on an emotional level, born of the increased frustration as he curbed the sensate feeling between her thighs for his mastery.

  He stood behind her, listening to her whimpering little breaths and feeling a mixture of love and arousal of which he had not even imagined he was capable. As he watched, her cunt-lips seemed to flutter and her bottom clenched. Priscilla gave a little cry of embarrassment, as if to know that her fiancé could see her private parts do that shamed her.

  William couldn’t resist: he stooped and kissed her right there, where it said WEV in tiny letters, right upon her clitoris.

  “Oh! William!” she cried out in surprise. “Wh-what are you…?”

  He flicked his tongue out, and Priscilla gave a little scream. She tasted tangy and terribly naughty, and he couldn’t keep himself from tasting her again.

  “Oh, sir… oh, please… l-lotion…”

  “Shh,” William said, standing again and finally squeezing some of the clear unguent onto his fingers. “Here you go, darling.”

  He knew how different the experience of the lotion on the fingers of her bridegroom, with the governor at seven, would be from what it had felt like when she herself had put it on to assuage the regular, non-erotic itching, the night before, but his sweet girl’s reaction came as a delightful surprise nevertheless. At his touch she cried out and moved her bottom lewdly to rub her clitoris against his fingers. She seemed almost like an animal in heat, presenting her cunt to him with the arching of her back, and the sounds that came from her throat were like the whines of a gratified puppy.

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you,” she managed to get out, as William rubbed the ointment around and around the place where the doctor had installed the governor that gave him absolute control of his bride’s erotic life. Her cunt felt so soft and warm and wet to his touch that he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He stood and quickly unfastened his trousers so that they and his drawers dropped to the floor together.

  “Oh, please,” Priscilla moaned. “Please don’t stop, sir.”

  “It’s time for me to do something else, darling. I’m going to fuck you now.”

  She gasped as he pushed the head of his cock against her cunt very softly, rubbing it up and down to get her used to the feeling of having his manhood there, pressing it against her clitoris so that she gave a happy little cry.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What are you touching me with?”

  William looked down at her innocent little face, her cheek turned against the chenille coverlet of her girlhood bed, her eyes closed. He looked at her little hands, stretched out to either side of her face.

  “It’s my cock, darling,” he said. “It must enter inside your cunt, now, and then enter your bottom afterward.”

  “It feels very nice, sir,” Priscilla said dreamily.

  “It will hurt you in a few moments, I’m afraid. I must take your maidenhead, so that your cunt will be open for my cock from now on.”

  “My what?” Her eyes flew open, and she tried to turn her head to look at him.

  “Shh,” he said, still rubbing the head of his cock soothingly up and down. “Your maidenhead.” He moved his cock to the place where it would enter her fully, loving how very wet she had gotten for him. He pushed a little further in. Priscilla gasped.

  “Oh! Y-you can’t… can you? Sir? What are you doing?”

  He pushed again. “I can, Priscilla,” he said. “And I will. Be brave now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Priscilla felt William’s hands take firm hold of her hips. Whatever his cock might be, it felt terribly strange and yet terribly right to have it there, so close to the place where the itching seemed to have worsened rather than gotten better, the more he rubbed the lotion on the little bud. Somehow when the governor was turned up, no soothing seemed possible; even though the slick motion of William’s fingers felt better than anything Priscilla had ever felt in her life, it only made her want him to keep going and going until the pleasure engulfed her completely and her body melted away into nothing.

  Now the place up at the top of the little slit burned and itched on, and the place further down where William pressed in the soft but also firm thing, which felt warm and alive, had some of that feeling, but not all of it. Whatever fucking was, it had something different about it from having the lotion put on and from what the doctor had done with his wand.

  Then, suddenly, William pushed it in, very hard, and at the same moment Priscilla realized that the cock must be part of his body and felt the pain of her maidenhead’s taking. She gave a little cry as she felt the governor do something down there akin to what it had done when William had set it to two and kissed her on the landing: the pain in her private part flared up, and Priscilla’s body struggled against her bridegroom’s grip—to no avail, for he held her very tightly and held his cock firmly inside the sheath it seemed he had opened up for himself between his bride’s thighs—but the little bud the doctor called her clitoris throbbed and burned with the need for more.

  Just as she had felt, when he spanked her over his lap, that she wanted the spanking to go on as long as William should want to make her lesson last, now she felt that to endure this new thing in front would satisfy her burning need for this new pleasure. Still holding her firmly, he began to move the cock in and out, and that motion, though it did not touch Priscilla’s clitoris, nevertheless—whether in some way it were the work of the governor or not—seemed to assuage some of the ache there. She whimpered under him, feeling her face assume a woeful expression of mingled discomfort and arousal.

  “There you go, darling,” William said in a deep, thick voice that Priscilla, with a little blush, knew must mean that he was enjoying what he did to her very much. “There you go. I’m fucking your little cunt, now. You’re going to get your covers a little bloody, but the servants will understand.”

  “Bloody?” Priscilla gasped in confusion, hearing in her voice also the strain of the burning pain the cock enforced on her with each of the deep plunges William now ceaselessly made into her newly opened cunt.

  William thrust in and out for a few moments without answering. When he spoke, his voice was nearly a pant, as if his exertion and his pleasure were almost too much for him. “When a girl loses her maidenhead, there’s always a little blood, darling. My cock shows the proof that you were a pure virgin before I deflowered you just now, and there will be a little blood on your pillowcase, too.”

  Was it the governor that made this image, of her fiancé’s bloody cock and of the stain on the pillowcase, seem to increase the burning down there, making the pleasure seem to get the better of the pain? Priscilla cried out, and realized suddenly that the thing the doctor had done with the wand—the climax—might soon happen to her.

  “Are you going to come, darling?” William asked. “Are you going to come for me?”

  He moved his hips even more fiercely and quickly now, and his cock seemed to pound into her cunt. His words, somehow giving permission for her to feel that thing that had seemed so shameful in Dr. Gowdy’s office—and still seemed shameful now even with his permission—brought the thing upon her. Suddenly the pleasure seemed to flow outward from the little bud, through her cunt and the hips he held and the thighs against which her bridegroom’s own thighs slapped. Priscilla’s back arched and she tried despite the burning discomfort to push her bottom against William’s sinewy thighs, wanting desperately to feel him as deep as he could possibly go inside her. A cry burst from her that she knew her parents and the servants must be able to hear, and she threw back her head both caring and not caring, as the shame itself seemed to make the pleasure greater.

  William held himself in deep, stroking her back, until the tension left her muscles and she lay limp over the pillows. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Such a good girl. Can you be brave for me again?”

  “What?” Priscilla murmured into the coverlet. What did he mean? Her mind went back to the other thing he had said, that she had only half-comprehended as he finished applying the lotion right there, where the climax had just exploded, and told her that he would fuck her. What would ten feel like? she wondered.

  She tried to remember what he had said, just before he put his cock down there.

  “I’m going to fuck your bottom now,” William said gently, and he laid a fingertip there. “My cock will enter you here, and I will have my own climax inside you that way.”

  “Your climax?” she asked dreamily. Did men have them too, then?

  He pushed the finger inside her anus. Priscilla gave a little cry. It felt pleasant, but also oh, so naughty.

  “My cock will spurt my seed inside you. It is how babies are made, but only when I put my seed in your cunt.”

  Priscilla felt her brow furrow at this strange revelation. She couldn’t consider it, though, because now William had put two fingers in her bottom, and she understood why he had said she must be brave again.

  “Oh, sir, please. Please, not in there. It hurts.”

  “Shh, darling. Feel how you can open to me. It will hurt tonight, but you will learn to enjoy it, except when I fuck you here to punish you, with your governor turned down.”

  Priscilla bit her lips and felt her brow pucker in alarm as William added a third finger, though she tried to tighten her bottom against the invasion.

  “You must open, Priscilla. My cock is going to fuck you here whether you like it or not. It is a husband’s right to enjoy his wife’s bottom, and a very good way to keep families small. You will have regular bottom-fucking when you are my wife.” As he spoke the last words, William put the fingers of his other hand down and began to rub her clitoris.

  The pain didn’t go away, but it changed. It changed so much as it mingled with the pleasure from the little bud that had begun again to burn and ache that Priscilla found that suddenly she wanted to be her future husband’s good girl in this lewd way, too. She found that her body understood exactly what he asked of it, even if she blushed even to think about naming what that motion was, as nature had intended it. Her bottom surged as she felt her face turn red, and she did open for the thrusting, turning, itchy fingers.

 

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