The second night of our marriage, at bedtime, he once again asked me to disrobe. I obeyed but hesitated for just the slightest moment before doing so. Well, that was enough for him! Once again I found myself across his knee, my bottom bared and soundly slapped until I
was sobbing with contrition. What's more, he made it very clear that he would no longer be lenient—any future disobedience would be 'punished far more severely'.
Then he lifted me off his lap, stripped my shift from my body, dropped me on the bed, and took me swiftly, without thought or care for my well-being. At last his finger found my clitty, but after just a brief flick, he growled that 'disobedient little girls do not deserve release', and so once he was spent and went to sleep, I tossed and turned, almost frantic with need... until it occurred to me that I, too, have hands! Surely if he could cause such sensations between my thighs, I would be able to do the same!
And so my fingers wandered to that secret place and found a hard little button, just aching to be touched. I stroked it carefully, trying to remain as silent as I could, and the pleasure grew stronger and stronger until my toes were tingling and I could feel that odd pressure building...