Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“Dinner?” she asks in a dry tone. “I haven’t even started cooking.”
She’s funny, my new wife. That’s something I didn’t know about her. There’s a lot I don’t know about her. “Chicken, beef, or fish?”
That brown gaze flicks to me and then away. “None of the above. I’m a vegetarian.”
My eyebrows raise. “For how long?”
“For forever. I saw a documentary in middle school about the treatment of animals in factories and modern farms, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Then why are you serving meat at your reception?”
She gives me a tremulous laugh. “Would you have wanted to eat tofu for dinner?”
“I would have wanted to respect my wife’s wishes.”
“Well, your wife wishes to make the eight hundred people happy.”
“What about her husband? Does she want to make him happy?”
“Him, too.”
“Then sit down. You’re pacing.”
She stops abruptly. Her body is completely still, but the delicate white flowers threaded through her hair continue to quiver. It gives the effect that she’s flying, fluttering. Constantly in motion. “This is strange. Right? It’s not just me?”
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course.”
There’s a knot in my stomach. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” she says, too quickly.
She is. She should be. Obedience. Submission. Extreme kink. Isabella might have researched those things. I hinted at them, after all. But she won’t understand fully until she experiences them herself.
That’s her new reality with me.
A controlled reality.
None of the emotion or drama that plagued my parents. None of the betrayal. This would be a straightforward arrangement. Painless. For me, anyway. There will be plenty of pain for her. Pleasure, too. I have so many plans for her.
Those plans begin now.
“That couch over there,” I say in a voice both casual and firm. There’s a smattering of armchairs in the room. I want her on the couch, something large enough to support her elaborate gown.
Isabella looks determined, and a little stoic. There’s curiosity in her gaze. That will help. And a willingness to please. That makes my cock hard. She starts to sit, but the long train of her gown gets in the way. I help her tuck it over the back of the sofa, help her sit down off her high heels. It’s gentlemanly. Gentlemanly unless you know what’s on my mind.
I stand in front of her, and she looks up at me. That pose. Those eyes. God. I want her mouth around my cock, but that will have to wait.
Training takes time. The first thing she needs to know is that obedience is rewarded.
“Spread your legs, my dear wife.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“You heard me. I’m going to claim my husbandly rights.”
“Now? Here?”
I don’t bother responding with words. My silence is answer enough. I wait, my cock like iron, my blood pumping. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what I’ve been wanting. Part of me wants her to rebel, so I can have the sweet pleasure of punishment. The other part knows how to ride the edge, to push her only slightly past her boundaries, to make her complicit in her own debasement.
She swallows hard. “What if someone comes in? What if the wedding planner comes back?”
“She won’t.” She was hired for her discretion as much as her skill. There is no chance of her coming back inside. It’s clear what I wanted when I ordered her to leave. The wedding planner knew. If there’s staff outside, they also know. Only my new wife was naïve enough to think I wouldn’t taste what was mine.
Isabella spreads her legs—only a few inches apart. Following my order, technically.
“Wider.”
She spreads them farther apart. The skirt rides up, showing off her white stockings and bare thighs. She’s not wearing any panties. I already know this because I decided on her entire wardrobe, from the dress to the corset to the embellishments in her hair.
I reach down and palm the inside of her knee. And push. With inexorable command I push her legs open until they’re spread wide against the sofa. Her cheeks have turned crimson. So pretty. The expansive white lace covers her pussy from view, but I can feel her. I run my hand over her and find her smooth. Waxed, most likely. She’s wet, slightly. Slick enough when I run two fingers through her folds. I think the embarrassment has turned her on.
That bodes well for her.
I pull my fingers through her wetness, back and forth, back and forth. “Some will say I’m an indulgent husband. Buy whatever you want. Go wherever you want. Do whatever you want, but when you’re with me, your body is mine. I’ll use it at any time in any way I see fit. Do you understand?”
Her mouth opens on a silent gasp. “Yes.”
“You don’t. Not yet, but you will.” I find her clit and tap a little Morse code against it. She squirms on the sofa, and her legs close to a fraction. I pinch the inside of her thigh, and she makes a high-pitched whine of pain. Her legs open wide again. “I’m precise in my commands. Clear in my expectations. And firm if you need to be reprimanded.”