Page 33 of Her Shameful Wedding Night (Corporate Correction)

Zoe bit her lip and obeyed. She said, looking at the bookshelf, “I’m sorry, Tony, sir. You’re right that my paddling isn’t going to feel as nice.” Her voice sounded quavery, but very distinct.

“Good girl,” Bradley said. “I’m proud of you.”

He tapped the paddle against her backside three times, and then he pulled it back. With his left hand, now, he caressed his lovely wife’s lovely bottom very lightly, so that he could hear her breath catch in her throat at the gentle touch. With that hand, also, he pulled the suspenders of her garter belt aside on both sides, so that they went fully down her flanks and wouldn’t get in the way of the stern message the paddle would impart to her pert young cheeks.

He moved his left hand to rest atop her back. Zoe’s breath puffed rapidly through her flaring nostrils, and she closed her eyes.

“Ten hard swats, now, Zoe Corvan, for touching your pussy without permission,” he said, putting authority in his tone.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Oh, please, no.” Her voice sounded almost as if she meant to speak only to herself, the refusal or the denial directed somehow not so much at the announcement of her sentence but at the way she felt about it.

He raised the paddle high. The music, very loud now just as he had requested of the DJ, came wafting reassuringly through the door. No one outside the library would hear either the crack of the leather across a naughty bride’s bottom or her screams of agony as she paid the penalty for illicit pleasure.

He brought the paddle down. The slap of its face upon the center of Zoe’s bottom echoed despite the small proportions of the room and the absorptive effect of the many old books.

Zoe’s cry of pain, and even the creak of the table under her as she began to struggle helplessly against Tony’s hold across her shoulders and Bradley’s hand upon her back, echoed just as loudly. Her pert bottom danced under the leather, and she screamed again, as he gave her another swat, and then another, all in the center of her backside, to make a perfect pink circle there.

“Keep her dress up, Tony,” he said, pausing for a moment since a part of Zoe’s skirt had come loose and threatened to get in the way of the fourth stroke from the paddle.

“Please... it hurts so much,” Zoe sobbed. She turned her face back over her shoulder, tears now flowing down her face, but then looked back at the bookshelf with wide eyes and bitten lip when he met her eyes with a stern, cautioning gaze. “Please, sir,” she pleaded to the law code of 1890. “No more?”

Tony had pulled the dress well up, now. Bradley raised the paddle and brought it down again and again and again, moving the swats right to left and holding her down firmly on the cushion though Zoe tried desperately to squirm away. Her little bottom clenched and unclenched in agony, and her sweet pussy peeped out lewdly as her thighs rubbed against each other in an attempt to soothe the smart a bit. She tried to throw her hands back, to cover her punished cheeks, but Tony kept them pinned under her.

“That’s seven,” Bradley said. Tony nodded.

“Zoe, babe, I want you to hold still for the last three. Tony, why don’t you step back. Zoe, you’re going to bend your back and push out your bottom like a good girl who knows she’s been naughty. And you’re going to bend your knees and spread them, to show us your little pussy.”

Zoe sobbed, “Please... sir, no.”

Bradley raised the paddle and brought it down very hard, so that she screamed. Her bottom had gone a very bright shade of pink; he knew that every paddle stroke would feel excruciating to her now.

“That didn’t count, Zoe,” he said. “You still have three coming. Can you hold still?”

Zoe sobbed, her chest heaving and her bottom squirming.

“John, get a close up of this ass, please,” Bradley said, the dominant blood singing in his veins.

“Oh, God,” Zoe whimpered, as John bent to do as the groom had asked.

“Zo,” he said again, “can you hold still for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she sobbed, bending her knees and spreading them her hips working lasciviously as if for the camera. Tony loosened his hold and stepped back and Zoe exaggerated the pose still more, offering her red bottom for the end of her punishment.

John, too, stepped back. Bradley pulled Zoe’s dress up a final time and held it atop her back, making certain the heavenly sight of his bride’s well-disciplined rear end would remain unimpeded for the camera.

Then he raised the paddle again and brought it down three times in quick succession, middle—right—left. Zoe went rigid with pain, but she held her bottom still for her lesson in obedience, just sobbing quietly as the final sharp noises of her punishment rang out.

Bradley’s cock felt as hard as stone. The time had come for the part of Zoe’s wedding night that he hadn’t told her about—as well as the part he had promised. In her eyes, in the church bathroom’s mirror, he had thought he saw her need for what would now befall her, and then again in her bedroom—and a final time, more visibly, when John and Tony had gone to get her for her paddling.

He put his hand softly on her punished backside and leaned down to speak in her ear as she whimpered quietly over the table.

“Zoe, the next part of your discipline is going to teach you how deeply you belong to me. I know you need it, but I know you probably won’t be able to admit that you do. I want to make sure you know that I understand that, okay?”

A puff of air came from her nostrils. He could see the end of the deep furrow in her forehead, and he kissed it, and then her cheekbone.

Zoe nodded, very slightly. “Okay,” she whispered. “Wh-what is it?”

“I’m going to share you with John and Tony, now. They’ve both been tested recently so they’re going to ride you bareback, just like I do.”

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