A Wife's Correction by Emily Tilton

Author:Emily Tilton [Tilton, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2016-02-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

From the office, Ben heard Martha cry out, and smiled. Maintaining an air of nonchalance about the panties had required a good deal of willpower.

What he found when he entered the bedroom, though, went well beyond his expectations: Martha bent over the bed with her hand behind her, frantically rubbing her pussy inside the gusset of the lacy panties, sobbing with pleasure. Yes, he would have to shave her there; these panties and the other pairs he would buy would look even better once no hair could hide that lascivious view.

She had bowed her head, but as he watched she turned her face back over her shoulder as if to look at her naughtiness in the mirror. When she saw him standing in the doorway her hand froze.

“Didn’t I tell you how to play with yourself?” Ben asked with only a tiny hint of authority in his voice. “I’m very happy to see you in your pretty panties, Martha, but when I give an instruction for how you are to touch your little cunt you must obey it, or you won’t like the consequences.”

“Please don’t whip me again, sir,” Martha pleaded. “My bottom hurts so much already! I couldn’t bear another whipping! Please let me try again!”

She stood up, looking terribly guilty, and turned to him with her hands clasped in front of the tiny panties. She looked so sexy—so submissive and so beautiful—that it nearly took Ben’s breath away. His cock, so very well satisfied inside his wife’s mouth just a few minutes before, sprang to attention, to Ben’s surprise.

He smiled when he saw Martha’s eyes flick down there as she noticed that he had gotten hard again just at the sight of her in her naughty panties. Her eyes widened, and Ben’s smile broadened at that sign of almost-maidenly anxiety.

He took the two steps forward needed to close the distance. It felt so good just to be naked with her—or rather to be naked and hard when his wife wore the skimpy underwear he had given her, and now at last told her she must wear. He seized her wrists in his left hand while with his right he reached down even further to lay his hand on the place covered with the scanty red lace.

Martha gave a startled cry as he began to caress her pussy roughly through the panties.

“Yes,” he growled, “nice and wet just like I thought. I’ll punish you over the marriage bench for playing with yourself in a disobedient way.”

She looked up at him with a face that seemed to mingle woe and desire in equal measures. He could see in her eyes just how aroused the idea of the old-fashioned marriage bench got her, alongside the fear of the implement that had achieved quasi-legendary status among those who had parted ways with the old disciplinary traditions of the founders.

Ben had never thought he might be the sort of husband to put his wife over a marriage bench; the custom had always

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