Page 55 of Shameful Needs
“I know you won’t,” Ryan said with quiet certainty, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes along my spine. “Because now you understand what happens when you forget who you belong to.”
His words sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the pain. I did belong to him—completely, utterly, in ways I was still learning to accept. This punishment had burned that truth into my flesh in a way that would stay with me for days.
“Can you kneel up for me, ass girl?” Ryan asked gently, his hands helping to support my weight as I struggled to push myself up from the pillows.
I whimpered as I tried to move, every shift sending fresh waves of agony through my punished flesh. My bottom felt swollen and impossibly tender, the skin stretched tight with what I knew must be vivid bruises. Ryan’s strong arms came around me, lifting me carefully until I was kneeling beside him on the bed.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, his fingers tilting my chin up until our eyes met.
I gazed up at him through my tears, seeing the same man I’d fallen in love with, but understanding him so much more completely now. His blue eyes were warm with affection, but underneath that gentleness was steel—the unwavering authority that would guide me for the rest of our marriage.
“I love you,” he said simply, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheeks. “All of you, including the parts that need such firm handling.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, my voice catching on the words. “Thank you for… for giving me what I need, even when I can’t ask for it properly.”
Ryan smiled, and I felt my heart flutter at the warmth in his expression. “That’s what husbands are for, sweetheart. To take care of their wives in every way they need it.”
My heart swelled at his words, even as my bottom throbbed with the evidence of how thoroughly he’d just demonstrated that care. I wanted to collapse against his chest, to let him hold me while the fire across my flesh slowly faded, but I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t finished with me yet.
“Now,” Ryan said, his voice taking on that commanding tone that made my stomach flutter with nervous anticipation, “I think you need to show me how grateful you are for your correction.”
I blinked up at him, my mind still foggy from the intensity of my punishment. “How, sir?”
His hands moved to his belt, and I felt my breath catch as I understood what he wanted. Even through the haze of pain, my body responded with that shameful heat I could never control. He was going to use me, claim me while my bottom blazed with the consequences of my disobedience.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” Ryan commanded, his fingers working at his zipper. “Turn around and present yourself for me the way a wife should when it’s time for her husband to use her.”
I whimpered as I tried to position myself, my punished flesh screaming in protest as I shifted on the bed. Getting on my hands and knees sent fresh agony through my bottom, but I forced myself to obey, spreading my thighs wide as I offered myself for his use.
“Beautiful,” Ryan murmured, and I felt his warm palms settle on my burning cheeks. I cried out at the contact, the pressure against my bruised flesh almost unbearable. But underneath the pain was something else—a deep, primal satisfaction that he was claiming his property exactly as I needed him to.
I felt the broad head of his massive cock pressing against my dripping pussy, and I gasped at how ready my body was for him despite everything. The punishment had only heightened my arousal, my vagina aching to be filled by the man who owned me so completely.
“Tell me what you are,” Ryan commanded, his voice rough with desire as he began to push forward.
“I’m your ass girl,” I sobbed, my voice breaking as he stretched me wide. “I’m your wife who needs to be disciplined and used.”
“That’s right,” he growled, driving deeper until I felt completely claimed. “And what happens when you forget your place?”
“You punish me,” I gasped, my hands fisting in the comforter as he began to move. “You remind me who I belong to.”
The rhythm he established was relentless, each thrust sending jolts of sensation through my punished bottom as his lap connected with my burning flesh. The combination of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, breaking down every wall I’d ever tried to build around my true nature.
I felt Ryan pause mid-thrust, and through my haze of sensation, I heard a familiar beep—his handheld device, with what must be the same app Dr. Hamelin and Master Paul had used. My face burned as I realized Ryan must be checking the readings from my sensor, studying the data that revealed my body’s most intimate responses even as he used me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Your arousal is spiking even higher than it did at the facility. The punishment really did give you exactly what you needed.”
His fingers found my clit with devastating precision, working the sensitive bud while his massive cock filled me completely. But this wasn’t random touching—I could sense the calculated way he adjusted his rhythm, the way he seemed to know exactlywhen to increase or decrease the pressure based on whatever the sensor was telling him.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, my body climbing toward something that felt bigger than any orgasm I’d ever experienced. “Sir… oh, God… please…”
“That’s it,” Ryan murmured, his voice rough with authority. “Come for me, ass girl. Show me how much you needed this discipline.”
The combination of his fingers on my clit, his cock pounding into me, and his lap pressing against my burning bottom sent me spiraling beyond anything I’d ever felt. The climax that tore through me wasn’t just physical—it seemed like a complete surrender of everything I’d ever tried to hide from him. I screamed until my voice gave out, my entire world exploding into sensation that seemed to go on forever.
When it finally began to subside, I collapsed forward onto the bed, my body shaking with the aftershocks. Ryan gathered me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me with surprising gentleness as I sobbed against his shoulder.
“There,” he murmured, his hand stroking my hair while carefully avoiding my punished bottom. “That’s my perfect girl.”
