Page 11 of Her Shameful Wedding Night (Corporate Correction)

Bradley had watched the exam, though: he had watched his innocent bride shaved for her wedding night and had seen what happened when the nurse mentioned the spanking Zoe should get for her rebellion—the lesson a young bride should learn from her bridegroom.

“Please,” Zoe suddenly said, a good part of the fight seeming to go out of her in an instant. “I’ll do it.”

“It’s too late, Zo,” Bradley said, overcoming a split-second’s hesitation. “You need a spanking, and you’re going to get it now.” They had reached the chair, and he pulled it out with his right hand, turning it toward the kitchen, as he kept hold of Zoe around her waist with his left.

For an instant, her struggles increased, and she almost escaped, but Bradley managed to maintain control, as he sat down heavily on the chair, the reversal of momentum carrying Zoe into him and pushing the chair a few inches across the floor. Then, suddenly, she went limp. She turned her face to him, and the expression in her eyes made his own go wide: she had seemingly evacuated every emotion from her countenance, so that for an instant she looked to him like an utterly different person, or even a ghost of a person.

“The wedding is off,” she said, clearly attempting to keep her voice calm though he could hear the tension in it.

She may even try to break up with you, Davies had said.I can’t tell you exactly what to do, in that case, but trust your love for her.

“The wedding may be off, Zo, but you’re still going to go over my knee right now,” Bradley said without even thinking about it.

All the emotion that had disappeared suddenly came back into Zoe’s face. Her cheeks went bright pink, and then she began to try to get away again, but Bradley hauled her around with his left arm so that she faced his thighs and then in a single motion so natural that it surprised him, he spread his legs and used his right arm to upend the gorgeous eighteen-year-old who might now not be his fiancée. He laid her down over his left knee and he put his right leg across both of hers, and acting purely on dominant instinct he started to spank the upraised seat of her jeans, hard and fast.

“Ow! Stop... stop it! Bradley!” Zoe yelled, but he had no intention of stopping until he had made the point he knew he had to make: that Zoe Ralston needed a spanking, for a whole set of reasons but most important because in the end it would make her happy.

She struggled very hard now, as the swats rained down, right, left, center, but Bradley had no difficulty even in grabbing her right wrist and bending it firmly behind her, though not forcefully enough to hurt her. He slowed the spanking, but he also lifted his arm higher, so that he could bring it down harder on the seat of her jeans.

“Your real spanking... hasn’t started yet... Zoe,” he said, giving a hard spank with each phrase.

She had started to cry, and her writhing and squirming stopped as her back heaved with a sob. Bradley realized he had been waiting for exactly that: her acquiescence, the beginning of her yielding this part of her to this part of him—elements of their characters that neither of them had ever fully acknowledged even to themselves, let alone each other.

He lowered his hand gently, and put it on the taut seat of her jeans. He rubbed a circle on her bottom, the most intimate touch, he felt, he had ever given his fiancée. Their usual petting included fumbling touches inside their clothing, below the waist, but having her here over his knee, even with her jeans still on, felt like he had begun to caress something deep inside Zoe.

She responded, too, as if she felt exactly the same way: Zoe let out a long, low moan, and her whole body shuddered against his controlling hold. Her hips moved, and she managed, despite his hand holding her wrist atop her back and his leg across her knees, to push her backside up a little, wantonly—and seemingly helplessly—pleading for her fiancé’s manly attention.

He rubbed another circle, and Zoe gave another moan, lifting her sweet bottom into the hand that had spanked it a little higher, offering it—as it seemed to Bradley—for the further discipline he intended. “If the wedding is on, Zo, I’m going to take down your jeans and panties, now, and finish your punishment for disobedience.”

The sob of obvious need Zoe gave then told him everything he needed to know, but he had to make the matter just as clear to her.

“If the wedding is off, though, I’m going to let you get up and leave.”

Chapter Seven

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