Page 19 of Her Shameful Wedding Night (Corporate Correction)

Chapter Eleven

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Bradley took his handsaway, pulled them out of her lacy panties, and Zoe couldn’t keep herself from whimpering at the loss of the terrible pleasure he had forced upon her naughtiest places. She looked up at him with her lip caught between her teeth for a moment, the hot blush pulsing in her cheeks. Naked, his chest seemed so deep, his arms so strong that Zoe’s knees almost gave out under her, her body quivering at the memory of how he had just lifted her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a hummingbird’s feather.

How could she have gotten him for a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé? The handsome, brilliant stranger who had come into town to fight for the legal rights of those whom the corporations had left behind. Now, his clothes gone so that he could enforce on her the kind of traditional marriage it seemed he wanted, state program or no, his hard cock pointed at her as if to say that a girl who wanted a husband like Bradley Corvan had to do as he said, no matter how shamefully he had decided to take his pleasure.

His eyes gazed back at her seriously, and as she looked up at him they seemed to narrow slightly, and a small smile to appear on his lips.Hungry, Zoe thought, her heart beating faster and a little motion of her hips betraying how thoroughly Bradley had already put her under his command, put her into training as his submissive bride.He’s hungry for... for me. For fucking me.

Zoe couldn’t keep looking into his face, for fear she might faint from the roiling shame and the burning need. She dropped her chin and started toward his bedroom door, where the big bed with the dark green comforter waited. They had never fooled around there: Bradley had asked once, a few months before, if she wanted to go to the bedroom, and that had represented the moment when Zoe had put her resolution to save herself for marriage into effect. He had had his hand on her breast, she remembered, under her t-shirt, and she had felt her brow crease, and she had just given a little shake of her head, and he had never asked again—the perfect gentleman.

She had never been in his bedroom, had never been in a man’s bedroom at all. Now this perfect gentleman had discovered, with the help of awful Nurse Carter, the reason Zoe had felt she must save herself for marriage—the reason she had refused to name to herself until this very moment as her bare feet trod across the gray carpet that led to an open door beyond which she could see Bradley’s enormous bed.

Zoe Ralston had known, for a very long time, that she needed fucking much more than she should. She had known that if she went to Bradley Corvan’s bedroom she would need so much fucking she wouldn’t be able to get out of bed until she had begged him to master her utterly and completely—had begged him to do whatever he wanted with her body.

Anything. Shave her pussy. Spank her naughty backside for disobedience. Make her suck his hard cock. Fuck her in her lacy panties.

Take my bottom’s virginity on my wedding night.

More. Even more. Whatever he wants. Whatever he can dream up for me, to shame me and humiliate me and use me, as long as it makes his cock feel good.

For a moment, as she passed through the doorway into Bradley’s bedroom, her heart quailed at the idea that she would have to tell him all these degrading things. Each of them had come into her mind like fireworks of mortification, one sending its own shudder through her chest and making her move faster toward the bed, and now she faced the bed, at its foot. In her white panties, she stood at the edge of a man’s bed—a naked man who had told her she must bend over now and wait for him to come and fuck her.

She didn’t have to tell him, though, did she? She didn’t have to admit that inside an innocent Midwestern girl lurked a sex fiend. She just had to bend over, because if she didn’t do as her husband-to-be said she would find herself bent over a stool to get a paddling on her young bottom... one that she wouldn’t soon forget.

That thought made her bend over, and it made her hang her head, because she didn’t want a paddling. Did she? No, she definitely didn’t want Bradley to put her over one of his kitchen stools and take a leather paddle to her upraised cheeks, warm them to an unbearable heat before he took out his cock and made her thank him for the punishment, just like that, over the stool, the penis thrusting between her lips, getting bigger and harder until he decided the time had come to fuck the same place he had paddled.

Zoe let out a little whimper, and she took the soft comforter in her grasp. She rubbed the fabric, trying to find in its reality some means of pushing the fantasy down inside her again. Even as she felt the soft down inside the fabric, though, and the tiny prickles of the feathers, that wicked part of her moved helplessly and shamelessly, as if she knew that a virgin in lacy white bridal panties had only one purpose: pleasing the master whose feet Zoe heard coming toward her, making the floor beneath the carpet creak softly.

Big, strong, and naked. Zoe bit her lower lip as a tiny whine came from her nose. She turned her head over her shoulder to see Bradley standing there, pumping his cock in his hand as he looked at the girl he had told to bend over for fucking. His eyes were on her bottom, on the lacy thong, as he masturbated, kept his hardness hard for her.

Zoe’s mind flashed back to him telling her she wasn’t allowed to touch herself without permission, from now on. She would never have thought, before today, that a rule of that kind would pose a problem. Now she wondered whether she could ever work up the courage on a weekday morning, say, at the breakfast table, to ask her husband if she could please play with her naughty pussy later that day.

But thinking about what he had done to her tonight, how he had spanked her over his knee, holding her in place with his powerful arms... how he had pulled down her jeans and panties... how he had made her kneel and take a penis in her mouth... how he had stood looking at her punished bottom, offered over the side of his bed... Zoe knew that she would need to touch herself, down there, on a day when they had gotten up too late, say, for him to fuck her before he left for work.

Her cheeks went terribly hot at the thought of what would happen if he should catch her. He would paddle her for that, wouldn’t he? If he found her naked in the kitchen, leaning against the counter the way Zoe had done just that morning but with no clothes on at all because she needed it so bad, her fingers working her little clit desperately... he would march her to the stool and bend her over it, get the paddle, and Zoe would scream as in place of wicked pleasure her husband taught her a terrible lesson in her wifely duty.

Her lips had parted as this irresistible, mortifying fantasy had flashed through her mind, just at the sight of Bradley holding his erection in his hand and enjoying his look at his bride in her sexy panties. Her breath had begun to come in short gasps.

His eyes returned to her face, and he smiled.

“You look so sexy, Zoe,” he said very softly,

That made a whimper come from deep in her throat.

He took another step, so that he stood right behind her. Zoe shuddered, and a part of her almost resisted, almost decided to straighten up and to run away, because of how it felt to have him so utterly in control—so dominant over her that he could tell her she must not move, must present her pussy and bottom just as he chose, while he exercised every freedom... while he decided when to bring his hard cock near, when to put his hands on her hips, her thighs... when to step even closer and lay his penis between her bottom-cheeks, over the lacy strip that ran so naughtily between them and left them so bare for a husband to fondle as he chose.

She craned her head to keep looking at him, but Bradley reached out casually with his right hand, turned her head firmly toward the other end of the bed, and held it that way. She looked at the pillows against the metal headboard while he moved his hardness between the round little apples he had spanked, as if he enjoyed their warmth and the friction they gave.

It felt so shameful that Zoe had to close her eyes and hang her head, but the next thing was more shameful still. Continuing to hold her tight against him with his left hand, Bradley moved his right from her head to her waist, and ran his fingers underneath the back of the thong, to pull it out from the valley between her cheeks and tug it over the right one. Now his cock moved against her most private places, shaved for him that morning by the nurse who had known much too much about Zoe’s needs.

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