Page 19 of Shameful Needs
Charlie pulled Dora to her feet and guided her to the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees. “You’re going to take all of me now,” he said, his voice thick with authority. “Every inch, just like you did for him.”
I watched, transfixed, as Charlie entered Dora from behind, his hands gripping her hips as he set a punishing rhythm. Her cries of pleasure filled the room, and I could see the complete surrender in her posture, the way she pushed back against him eagerly.
“That’s my good girl,” Charlie growled, one hand tangling in her hair to pull her head back. “This is what you were made for, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Dora gasped, her voice broken with pleasure. “Yes, I need this. I need you to use me.”
The camera captured every detail as Charlie withdrew and repositioned himself, pressing against the tiny button of his bride’s anus. “And now I’m going to take what’s mine,” he announced, pushing slowly into her bottom as she cried out.
“Notice how completely Dora submits to her husband’s authority,” the narrator continued as Charlie established a steady rhythm. “Her previous experience allows her to accept this intimate act without resistance, providing Charlie with complete access to her body.”
The scene was raw, primal, and devastatingly arousing. Charlie’s dominance was absolute as he claimed every part of his wife, and Dora’s responses showed pure ecstasy. This was what I had craved with Ryan, what my body had been screaming for during all those gentle, loving encounters.
“Ask yourself,” the narrator said as the couple reached their climax together, “is your situation similar to Dora’s? Do you have secrets that prevent true intimacy with your husband? Are you denying him—and yourself—the pleasure you both deserve?”
A sharp alarm suddenly pierced the air of my room, making me jump. It took me a moment to realize what had happened—my hand was between my legs, my fingers working frantically against my clit. I hadn’t even been aware of moving, so absorbed had I been in the scene playing out before me.
“No,” I whispered, snatching my hand away as if burned. But it was too late. The sensor had detected everything.
The door to my room burst open, and a huge man I didn’t recognize strode in, dressed in the khakis and black polo I’d seen the trainers in the facility wearing.
The man was tall and powerfully built, with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing brown eyes that seemed to see right through me. His presence filled the small room completely, making me feel even smaller and more vulnerable than before.
“I’m Master Paul,” he said simply, his voice carrying an authority that made my stomach clench. “And you’ve just earned yourself a punishment.”
Before I could react, he strode to the bed and sat down beside me. His hands were on my shoulders, pulling me across his lap with an efficiency that spoke of long practice. I found myself draped over his muscular thighs, my bare bottom elevated and exposed.
“No!” I cried out, trying to twist away from him. “Let me go! I didn’t mean to?—”
But my struggles were useless against his strength. Where Ryan had been hesitant, uncertain, Master Paul was completely confident. His left arm wrapped around my waist, holding me firmly in place while his right hand rested on my upturned bottom. There was no negotiation, no gentleness, no apology. Just absolute control.
“Your pussy belongs to your husband,” he said calmly, his hand beginning to rub my backside in slow circles. “From now on, you’re not permitted to touch it without permission. Do you understand?”
I continued to struggle, but as his hand moved across my heated flesh, I felt a treacherous sense of relief flood through me. This was what I had needed from Ryan—not hesitation and guilt, but firm, decisive action. Master Paul wasn’t asking if this was okay or apologizing for what he was about to do. He was simply doing it.
“I said, do you understand?” His voice carried a warning that made my pussy clench despite my fear.
“Yes,” I whispered, my struggles becoming more halfhearted as arousal began to course through my body.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master Paul.”
“Good.” His hand lifted from my bottom, and I braced myself for the first blow. When it came, it was hard and sharp, nothing like Ryan’s tentative swats. The sound echoed through the room, and I cried out at the immediate sting.
“You were warned not to touch yourself,” Master Paul continued, his hand falling again across my other cheek. “But you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You’re so desperate for stimulation that you disobeyed within hours of arriving here.”
I squirmed across his lap, my movements becoming more frantic as the spanking continued. But each struggle only seemed to send fresh waves of arousal through my body, making my pussy grow wetter despite the pain blooming across my backside.
“I can tell you’re getting turned on,” Master Paul observed, his hand pausing mid-stroke. “Your body is responding exactly as it should. But you’re being punished, and I’m going to spank this horniness right out of you.”
His hand resumed its relentless rhythm, each blow harder than the last. The spanking continued without pause, the huge, strong hand falling with mechanical precision across my burning flesh. I couldn’t stop the thought from bubbling up in my fevered brain: unlike Ryan, this man knew how to punish a naughty girl properly. No leniency, no stopping to ask if I was okay. Just the steady rhythm of punishment that my body craved even as my mind recoiled from it.
“Your husband tried to be gentle with you,” Master Paul said, his voice calm and measured as his palm connected forcefully with my sit spot. “He thought kindness would be enough. But you need firm boundaries, don’t you, Heather?”
I twisted desperately across his lap, my movements becoming more frantic with each stinging blow. But the struggling only made everything worse—or better, depending on how I looked at it. Every writhe and buck sent jolts of electricitystraight to my core, my body interpreting the helplessness as arousal rather than distress.
“Stop fighting and answer me,” he commanded, his hand pausing just long enough to rub the heated flesh he’d been punishing. The gentle touch after the harsh spanking made me whimper with need.
