Page 31 of Her Shameful Wedding Night (Corporate Correction)

Zoe’s eyebrows and forehead worked urgently as she looked at the two formally dressed men waiting to bring her to the reading table for her punishment. In their eyes—John’s icy blue and Tony’s nearly black—she could see, to her mortification, that they knew the secret of her dark needs. Her face burned. Had Bradley told them? Or... and she knew as she framed the idea for herself that it must be the case... could they see it on her face and read it in the very way she held her body, just as Nurse Carter must have done?

Again she looked at Bradley. He met her eyes, and then he shifted his phone from his right to his left hand, still keeping it trained on her, framed between John and Tony. Her eyes went wide as he reached into his jacket, and then she gave a little cry as she understood what he must be fetching out, before she even saw the awful, pretty thing.

A white paddle. A paddle for the bride.

“Bring her to the table, guys,” Bradley said.

“Come on, Zoe,” Tony said in his deep, lightly accented voice. “We know you’ve got this coming, and you do too.”

In a last plea for aid and mercy, she turned to John. His eyes seemed a little more troubled than Tony’s, but he said firmly, “You need to get used to this, it seems like. Are you going to go to the table on your own or do we need to take you there and hold you down?”

Part of Zoe wanted to do this with a little dignity at least, and she almost composed herself to walk the few steps to the place where the cushion awaited her on the polished oak tabletop. Another part simply panicked, though, at the sight of the paddle. She turned, and took hold of the doorknob.

But Tony had her around the shoulders, then.

“Hey!” she cried, as he started to draw her away. The music from the big, echoing reception room had gotten loud and fast. Everyone would be dancing now, or unable to hear what transpired in the library. “Stop!” she yelled again, though, but John had his hand over her mouth, now, as the two groomsmen hauled her across the Persian rug to the table, and bent her over the cushion without, it seemed, the slightest effort.

They made her put her elbows under her, and they held her in place as she kept struggling, feebly, their hands on her back and her arms. Zoe shuddered at the profanation of her lovely white gown, and the terrible violation it symbolized of her special day, the one day when an ordinary girl should be treated like a princess. A thrill of shame and helpless, wanton need went through her at the thought that she had lost that privilege thanks to her lewd misconduct, and she would pay the penalty now at her own wedding reception.

“Pull the dress up,” Bradley said. “Let’s see what she’s got on underneath.”

Zoe turned her face, hot as the sun, back over her shoulder to look at her bridegroom, his phone in one hand and the paddle in the other. Somehow she could be turned on by the urgency of his wish to see the special underwear she had on, the lacy things she had donned to be married in, at the same time she felt the deepest shame that her new husband wanted to show his groomsmen the lewd sight.

“Sir, please...” she started, when she saw the stern look on his face, and then she realized what kind of effect the word might have on John and Tony, who had not yet moved to obey Bradley’s command. John stood at her left and Tony at her right: she craned her neck to get a look as the former’s expression and when she saw it she turned in panic to the other side so that she could take in Tony’s too.

Both of them had heard her call her husbandsir, and both of them had received the same impression from it, and—Zoe felt certain—had reached the same conclusion. Bradley had clearly told them that his pretty young bride needed firm discipline, and had acknowledged the fact. Even if she struggled now, and needed to put up a fight before she got what she deserved, here on her wedding day, she knew she had earned this paddling.

The groomsmen’s duty was clear, their faces said. They would help their newly married friend teach his bride the lesson in submission she had coming.

“Oh, no,” Zoe whispered, as they bent a little now, and started to raise her skirt: she felt the air moving on her thighs, over the stockings and the bare skin between their tops and her lacy white panties, with only the suspenders of her garter belt to cover her.

“Let me get a close-up,” Bradley said, as John and Tony piled the fabric on Zoe’s back. She whimpered at the terrible thought of her backside framed so perfectly by the lifted dress, the stockings, the suspenders, and the panties. She felt the lens of Bradley’s phone as if it could actually touch her while it captured the moment of her being revealed so very shamefully to her bridegroom and his friends.

“Look at those naughty panties,” Tony said with a chuckle. “You don’t really have to pull them down, do you? You can already spank her ass without any protection, right?”

Zoe gave a little sob at the humiliation. She had somehow put the thong on without thinking about this moment.

Or did I, really?That idea made it even worse, though! Had she had it in mind, somewhere deep down, that she wanted Bradley’s groomsmen to see what a fine piece of ass their friend owned, now?

“Yeah,” Bradley confirmed, standing up again. “But she learns her lesson better if you pull her panties down. And it makes her easier to fuck, too.”

Zoe cried out at the terrible words, and at how her new husband casually accompanied them by yanking her lacy thong down to the tops of her stockings where the suspenders kept the panties from descending any further.

“Of course I can always just pull them aside when I fuck her,” he continued. “But I like to make sure she understands that I’ll take down her underwear whenever I feel like it, whether to punish her or to put my cock in her.”

“Oh, God,” Zoe heard herself whispering.

On my wedding day. On my wedding day.Each time her mind repeated the words, the shame and the need seemed to grow, together as a single unit. Down where her husband and his friends could see the place that had been covered until a moment before by her panties, scanty as they were, the warmth had increased terribly, too.

“You can see that the nurse shaved her for me, when she had her exam,” Bradley said.

“Is she getting wet thinking about her paddling?” John asked, a little surprise in his tone. “Isn’t that a little pussy juice there, right on the lips?”

Zoe struggled again, then, for the first time in several moments. What else could she do? But the effort she made to distract them from what they had noticed between her legs served her very badly indeed. When she felt John and Tony holding her down over the cushion, keeping her from moving so that Bradley could paddle her, a wave of arousal swept through her body from her clenching pussy to her bucking hips to her nipples hardening into the lace of her bra.

“Look at that,” Tony said, with an admiration in his voice that seemed to indicate he fully grasped just how wanton a bride his friend had married. “Does she get it in the ass, too?”

Zoe bit her lip, and she heard a submissive whine emerge from her throat despite her best effort to contain it.

---