Page 35 of Shameful Needs
But even as I begged, I knew it was useless. The paddle hovered above my burning bottom like a promise, and I could feel Ryan’s patience wearing thin. He’d already heard me confess to being trained like a captive whore, to learning to service Chad’s cock like the eager little slut I’d been. What was left to tell would only make things worse.
“He taught me to take it in my ass.” The words exploded from my throat in a rush, as if saying them quickly would make them hurt less. “He said good girls let their men use all their holes, that I needed to learn to be a proper little ass girl for him.”
I felt Ryan’s hand tighten on my waist, his fingers pressing into my skin. The silence that followed my confession seemed to stretch forever, and I wished desperately that I could take the words back, could somehow undo what I’d just revealed.
“Is that why you told me it was off limits?” Ryan asked, his voice deadly quiet. “Because you’d already given that part of yourself to another man?”
I sobbed against the leather, my entire body shaking with shame. “Yes,” I whispered. “I thought… I thought if you… if you had me there, you would think of me the way he had, and I didn’t… I didn’t think I… I wanted it to be, you know, in the past—I wanted to be different… for you.”
The admission hung in the air like a poison cloud. I’d just told my husband that I’d lied about who I was, that I’d denied him a part of me that I’d freely given to another man—a part thatsomewhere in the back of my mind, I’d known Ryan would want. The betrayal in my own words made me sick to my stomach.
“How often?” Ryan’s voice was controlled, but I could hear something dangerous underneath it. “How often did he fuck your ass?”
“Every time we had sex,” I whispered, the shame burning through me like acid. “He said my pussy was just for foreplay, that real men took what they wanted from the back. He trained me to come from it, to beg for it. By the end, I couldn’t get off any other way.”
The paddle came down hard, harder than any blow before it, and I screamed as fresh fire erupted across my tortured flesh. But this time it felt different—not like punishment, but like claiming. Like Ryan was trying to burn Chad’s ownership right out of my skin.
“That’s why you faked it with me,” he said, and I could hear the hurt in his voice now, the pain I’d caused with my lies. “Every time we made love, you were thinking about him. Wishing I would flip you over and take your ass like he did.”
I couldn’t deny it. The truth was too obvious, too devastating to argue against. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER 17
Ryan
I setthe paddle down and walked around to the front of the bench where my gorgeous wife lay, clad in the sexy red lingerie, the lacy thong stretched around her spread knees where I had left it before turning her ass an almost-matching vibrant shade of red. Heather’s tear-streaked face was a mess of smeared makeup and raw emotion, but underneath all that pain and humiliation, I could see something else. Something that made my chest tighten with a jumbled mixture of love, anger, and arousal.
Relief.
She was relieved to have finally told me the truth. After months of lies, months of faking orgasms and denying me parts of herself she’d freely given to another man, the burden of deception had finally been lifted from her shoulders. The knowledge should have made me feel better, but instead it just stoked the fire of my anger.
“Look at me, Heather,” I commanded, my voice carrying the new authority I’d never used with her before this afternoon, but which had quickly demonstrated its usefulness.
Her green eyes met mine, and I saw myself reflected in them—not the gentle, hesitant husband she thought she’d married, but someone harder. Someone who’d been pushed too far and was finally pushing back.
“The boyfriend you gave your ass to,” I said, letting the name hang in the air between us. “Tell me more about him.”
She flinched as if I’d struck her. “Please, Ryan… sir. You know everything now. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” I reached down and cupped her chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact. “You’ve been lying to me for our entire marriage. Pretending to be someone you weren’t. I want to know exactly who my wife really is.”
Her breathing was ragged, her body still trembling from the paddling. But I could see the way her pupils dilated when I touched her face, the way she struggled against the restraints to press her thighs together. Even now, even in pain and shame, her body was responding to my dominance.
“He was older, sir,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Twenty-eight when I was eighteen. He said I needed to learn, that I was too innocent for my own good.”
“And you let him teach you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I… yes, sir.” Her cheeks flushed deeper. “I loved it. I loved the way he took control, the way he didn’t ask permission for anything. He made me feel…”
“Feel what?”
“Desired. Used. Like I was exactly what he needed.” The words tumbled out in a rush, as if she couldn’t hold them back any longer. “He called me his little ass girl, and I… God help me, I liked it.”
The confession hit me with stunning force. My modest wife, whom I’d treated with such careful respect, had spent a year being degraded and used by another man. As his obedientass girl. And she’d loved every minute of it.
“Is that what I should call you?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Mylittle ass girl?”
Her entire body shuddered at the words, and I saw her pussy clench visibly. The response was immediate and undeniable—this was what she craved, what she’d been denying herself and me for months.
