Page 20 of Shameful Needs
“I don’t know,” I gasped, my voice breaking as I tried to process the conflicting sensations. “I don’t know what I need.”
“Liar.” The word was delivered with another sharp slap that made me cry out. “Your body knows exactly what it needs. Look how wet you’re getting from this.”
The humiliation of his observation made me struggle even harder, but Master Paul’s grip was unrelenting. His left arm tightened around my waist, pulling me more firmly against his thighs while his right hand continued its work. Every movement I made seemed to press my aching pussy against his leg, sending shameful pleasure through me.
“That’s it,” he murmured, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Fight all you want. It just proves my point.”
He was right, and we both knew it. The more I struggled, the more aroused I became. My body was betraying me completely, turning what should have been punishment into the most intense sexual experience I’d had since Chad. The realization made me sob with frustration and need.
“Please,” I whimpered, though I wasn’t sure what I was begging for anymore. “Please, I can’t?—”
“What you think you can or can’t take is irrelevant.” His hand fell again, targeting the tender crease where my bottom met my thighs. “You’re going to learn to accept your husband’s authority. You’re going to learn to ask permission before touching what belongs to him.”
The spanking intensified, each blow landing on spots that made me scream.
“I could look at the data from your perineal sensor if I wanted,” Master Paul said, his voice taking on a conversational tone even as his hand continued its relentless work. “See exactly how your body is responding to this. But I like to do things the old-fashioned way.”
He said nothing more, just delivered blow after blow to my burning flesh with mechanical precision. The silence was somehow worse than his lecturing had been—just the sound of his palm connecting with my skin, my ragged breathing, and the occasional whimper that escaped my lips.
The pain built steadily, each slap landing on increasingly tender flesh. My struggles became more desperate, more frantic, as the arousal that had been building began to ebb under the relentless assault. The pleasure I’d been deriving from the helplessness started to fade, replaced by genuine distress as the spanking went on and on.
“Please!” I finally screamed, my voice cracking with desperation. “Please stop! I can’t take any more!”
But Master Paul didn’t stop. His hand fell five more times, each blow harder than the last, until I felt like all the heat and arousal had been spanked right out of me. The pain was overwhelming now, drowning out everything else. My body went limp across his lap, all fight leaving me as I sobbed into the bedsheets.
Only then did he stop.
“I want you to pay close attention to your body’s needs now,” he said, his voice gentle, but commanding. “This is a very important moment for you.”
His hand settled on my burning bottom, and the instant he began to rub the abused flesh gently, everything changed. My pussy clenched hard, and I felt myself gush with arousal so intense it made me gasp. The tender touch after the harshpunishment sent shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body, more powerful than anything I’d experienced with Ryan.
“There it is,” Master Paul murmured, his hand continuing its gentle ministrations. “Your body does know exactly what it needs, doesn’t it?”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. The contrast between the pain and the gentle touch had awakened something primal in me, something that responded to his authority with desperate hunger.
“If you tell me that your pussy belongs to Ryan and you’re sorry for playing with it without permission,” he said, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality, “I’ll reward you on Ryan’s behalf.”
For a moment, I tried to resist. Some part of me wanted to maintain dignity, to refuse to give him what he wanted. But the need coursing through my body was too strong, too overwhelming to deny.
“My pussy belongs to Ryan,” I sobbed out, the words torn from my throat. “I’m sorry for playing with it without permission. I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER 10
Ryan
“Good girl,”Master Paul said, his voice warm with approval. “Now let me give you what you need.”
I watched from my home office as Paul’s hand moved between Heather’s legs, his fingers finding her thrillingly bare, glistening flesh with an ease that brought a flash of jealousy to my chest. Thanks to the excellent resolution of the video feed, I could see how wet she was, how her hips immediately began to move against his touch with desperate hunger.
I could also see the bright red color of her squirming bottom. I had learned a lot from the forceful spanking the trainer had given Heather, and the way my wife had responded to it. One thing had struck me like a lightning bolt. When she had seemed to understand that Paul would punish her to his satisfaction—that she had no way of escaping the consequences of touching herself without permission—Heather had seemed to give in and to accept her correction… maybe even to learn her lesson.
Then, the moment Paul had touched her gently, my modest wife had seemed to become the kind of needy little slut I had always hoped she might be, deep down.
“That’s it,” Paul murmured, his fingers working with evident skill. “Show your husband what you really need.”
My own hand had found my rigid cock almost without conscious thought, stroking slowly as I watched my wife writhe across this stranger’s lap. The Selecta SolutionsOrientation Materials for Husbandshad been clear about this part of the process—husbands were encouraged to observe their wives’ training, to understand their true nature.You’ll learn more about your wife in one session than you did in months of marriage, the handbook had promised.If you feel comfortable doing so, we encourage you to masturbate as you watch. Many men find it helpful as a step toward developing their naturally dominant arousal cycle toward a more expressive relationship with their submissive wives.
They’d been right. I’d never seen Heather respond like this to anything I’d done to her. Her back arched as she ground herself against Paul’s hand, her mouth open in desperate pants. This was the woman I’d actually married, the one who’d been hiding behind gentle smiles and modest protests.
