Chapter 9
Blonde Astrid Fullhan was dying of shame and was very reluctant to leave the bathroom into which a smirking and triumphant Henry Warren had led her by the elbow after he had taken virile and enthusiastic profit from the physical duress which she had suffered under the pinewood paddles of Betty's sorority sisters. He had left her there and closed the door with a mock, gallant little bow and called to her, "Take your time and wash up good, snoopy, and then Betty and I will drive you back home. And I'll give you the reel of film you just earned yourself. You know, Astrid girl, you're not a half-bad fuck at all. If you'd only get with it and put some makeup on and wear sensible clothes, you might even get your hubby to give it to you regular-you sure need it, you went off like a firecracker there in bed!"
She had uttered a strangled cry and her face had turned scarlet with shame as the door had clicked shut behind her. Then, bursting into tears, she had at last begun to run the water in the washbowl and doused her face first in cold water, and then rinsed it thoroughly with warm water and soap. A moment later, as she was drying her face with a hand towel, she uttered another cry of terror. Henry Warren opened the door again, but this time only to toss her discarded clothes back into the bathroom with a jeering, "If we had more time, we'd dig up a real sexy outfit for you, Astrid, so you could vamp your hubby when you get back home."
Her bottom had begun to throb painfully now, but what disturbed her most was the seething glow in her loins. As he had thrust himself repeatedly back and forth inside her cuntal sheath, Astrid Fullhan had writhed and jerked her naked bottom on the bed, and the friction had augmented the painful heat of the paddling. Yet at the same time, coupled to the friction of his vigorously delving penis, it had wakened her into turbulent, quaking orgasmic surrender the like of which she hadn't known even with her own husband, no, not even on their honeymoon!
Somewhat revived by the wash, the blonde matron decided to take a shower, if only to soothe the flaming torment of her well-paddled bottom. Bending to the taps, she regulated the water till it was cool but not too cold to bear, and then awkwardly clambered into the tub and turned her back to the blessed spray. Wincing and gasping, she stood there at least five minutes until at last the throbbing pangs seemed to diminish. Then, carefully toweling herself, she hastened to put on her clothes. She gasped as she discovered that Betty had substituted some of the items of her original attire; her suspants were missing, and in their place was a glossy narrow black satin-elastic garter belt with two tabs for each leg, and a pair of dark-tan nylon hose. Her own dress and slip and pumps were there, not the spike-heeled pumps she had been forced to put on during the initiation. Her brassiere was there as well, and this she at once put on with a gasp and fiery blush as she remembered how much of herself she had exposed not only to those horrible girls but also to that smirking black-haired youth who had taken such unheard-of liberties with her.
At the very thought, she clenched her thighs together and glanced down at the thick bush of cuntal curls, ruffled and softly lustrous after the shower. Her blushes deepened, and she hastened to put on the garter belt. Then, putting a towel down on the toilet seat top, and very carefully lowering herself, she drew the nylons onto her lusciously rounded calves and thighs, then affixed the garter belt and made the tabs secure to each nylon sheath.
Then the slip and the dress and finally she wriggled her toes into her shoes and straightened, with a gasp. A look at herself in the mirror showed her that her pigtails still had their blue ribbons, and that her eyes were swollen from having cried during the paddling and during Henry Warren's unexpected, vigorous assault upon her tender, quivering cunt. She bit her lips at the memory of all that, and then hesitantly she opened the bathroom door. Betty and Henry stood there waiting for her, and Henry Warren was holding out a canister of film . . . the reel of that movie which had been taken of her in the garage.
"Here you are, snoopy," Betty giggled. "You earned it, Astrid girl. Now we're going to drive you home."
"Oh please-let me out a few blocks before that-I'm-I'm so ashamed-oh promise me- you won't ever tell anyone-" Astrid Fullhan stammered. She had completely forgotten Mathew's car, so overwhelmed was she by her ordeal.
"I think that can be arranged, Astrid. Now listen," Betty approached the sniffling, mature victim, hands on hips, a sarcastic smile on her red lips, "I don't want to ever catch you spying on Henry and me again, you understand? I'm going to have those bricks plastered up at the back of the garage, and they better stay that way. Get me? Otherwise we'll tell your hubby what you're up to when he's away from home. And just so you won't get any silly ideas about snitching, I think it's only fair to tell you that what you're taking home with you is just a copy of the movie. I've got the original-"
"Oh, you horrid girl!" Astrid wrung her hands helplessly, tears glinting in her dilated eyes. "You promised-if I came to this awful initiation, you-you'd give it back-and then what he did to me-I ought to tell the police-"
"But you won't, Astrid baby," Henry Warren chuckled, "because then it would all come out how you used to spy on Betty and me, and besides you can't be sure the police would blame me for giving you what you really wanted. Boy, the way you wriggled when I was banging you, Astrid baby, you really wanted it."
"Oh stop talking like that-what do I have to do to get the original? I suppose you're going to blackmail me some more," the blonde matron sobbed.
"No. If you quit making trouble for us, nothing is going to happen. But that's why I'm going to hang on to the original, just to make sure it doesn't. All right now^ let's go back home."
Numb with shame and crushed by her defeat, Astrid Fullhan walked with bowed head out to Henry Warren's car, and Betty couldn't help giggling as the blonde matron uneasily shifted herself onto the front seat and then eased herself down with a grimace.
At her request, they let her out two blocks away from her house, and sat in the car watching her glance nervously up and down the street before starting back towards her house.
"Well, that was our good deed for the day. Now I guess you better drop me off at the house not too close, lover, so I can be there to welcome my new Mom back from her honeymoon," Betty Jurgens leaned over and kissed her black-haired lover. . . .
Astrid Fullhan hesitated a moment at the front door of her house, then unlocked it and walked into the spacious living room. Her heart was pounding rapidly, as she glanced uneasily around. But there was no sound to alarm her. She moved towards the stairway, hoping to get up to her room where she could change and perhaps rub some soothing cold cream on her still excruciatingly tender buttocks. But just as she started up the stairs, her husband's voice nailed her to the spot, with a gasp and her finger tightened on the mahogany wooden rail.
"Oh, I see you're back, Astrid," it was Matthew Fullhan, his voice pleasant and unhurried.
"Oh I-yes, d-dear-I-I just got in-"
"From Lois's, I presume?"
Astrid Fullhan turned to stare down at her husband, who was staring at her intently.
"Why-why, yes, yes of course, darling," Astrid Fullhan faltered, but a sudden rush of color to her wan face again betrayed her.
"Now that's very funny, you know." He moved up the stairs beside her, took hold of her wrist. "Very funny, considering that I just happened to call Lois an hour ago and she told me she hasn't seen you all afternoon."
"Oh-well I-I was going there-but-something came up-and-Matthew, you're hurting my wrist-please, Matthew!" Flustered, trembling, her face now scarlet, she tried to turn her face away from his level gaze, to break the grip he had on her wrist, but he retained her.
"I'm not saying you went to meet a lover, because you're not that kind of woman, Astrid. But I want to know why you lied to me. And you did lie, you know. Now are you going to tell me the truth?" he said in a soft voice, but his eyes were hard and narrowed.
"Please, M-Matthew, I-I didn't do anything wrong-"
"I'm not saying you did, Astrid, but I want to know why you lied to me. If there's nothing wrong, you shouldn't be afraid to tell me that you didn't go to Lois's but went somewhere else. Now what's this all about?"
Desperate to keep her secret, Astrid Fullhan managed to twist herself away from him, and started up the stairs. Matthew Fullhan swore under his breath and reached up for her. His left hand momentarily pressed against her bottom, and from that single contact, he was able to detect the fact that she wore no panties under the thin skirt and slip.
"Now wait a minute-come back here, Astrid -what the devil is this all about?" he growled, then hurried up the steps after her. He caught her at the landing, took her by the shoulders, and shook her. "I want an answer, and I want it damn fast!"
"Matthew-for God's sake-what's got into you today? I told you-I-I didn't do anything wrong-"
"That's not the right answer. And I want to find out if what I just felt is an illusion or something-" With this, he suddenly stooped and grabbed her skirt and slip with both hands and yanked them upwards to her hips.
"Ohhh nooo!!" the blonde matron wailed, grabbing at his hands and trying frantically to tug down her garments, stooping towards him.
But he maintained them at her waist, and there before his incredulous eyes was the provocative vision of her thick cuntal fleece, the plump thighs sheathed so bewitchingly in the dark-tan nylons, at the tabs of the black garter belt, which made her pale-carnation-tinted flesh even more spectacularly bare.
"I was right-you haven't got any panties on! What did you do, leave them at some boyfriend's place?"
"No-I didn't-oh you're horrible to think of such a thing-" Now she was close to tears, still fighting to pull her garments down.
Matthew Fullhan swore under his breath again, and then suddenly put his left arm under her back and his right under her knees, lifted her up in the air, and carried her thus into his bedroom, dumped her unceremoniously upon the bed.
"Now then, Astrid, I'm going to find out what this is all about and you're not leaving this room till I do!" he exclaimed as he took off his suitcoat and tie, then went back to lock the bedroom door.
His mature blonde wife had scrambled off the bed, gasping, trembling, her face scarlet, her lips trembling. She fought for speech, but it seemed choked in her throat as she watched him approach her.
"Matthew-I beg of you-this isn't like you -let me alone-you don't know what I've been through-I mean-" Astrid caught herself, and then gasped and blushed once more.
"I know what I've been through, and I've had just about enough of it. Now let's us get down to the bottom of things. Take your clothes off. I want to see you without panties again, and then we'll have a little question and answer session. And you'd better come up with the right answers, Astrid, or I'll give you what you've had coming for a long time," he angrily warned.
The blonde matron backed away against the locked door, panting, her big full breasts heaving wildly, her hands lifted to fend off his relentless approach. "Oh please-I swear I didn't have a lover or anything like that, I swear it, Matthew! Won't you believe me?"
"That's got nothing to do with it. Are you going to take your clothes off or do I rip them off you?"
"Oh, you-you're just dreadful-all right- I'll take my dress off-"
"And the slip too and be quick about it!" he mercilessly insisted.
Bursting into tears, Astrid Fullhan stooped, caught up the hem of her dress, and drew it off her body and let it fall to the floor.
"Now the slip!" he menaced, his eyes glittering pinpoints of desire.
"Now don't make me take it off, you know how ashamed-"
"That's what I'm getting at. You're always ashamed. I haven't seen you naked since we got married and this is just about the right time. Go on, take that slip off, before I tear it off you-I mean it, Astrid!" He took a step towards her, reaching out his hands.
With a cry of terror, his blonde wife yanked the offending slip over her head and let it drop, then swiftly clamped both hands over the thick fronds of her cuntbush. It was a pose very much like the famous painting "September Morn", but there was nothing amusing in it for her now inflamed and thoroughly sophisticated husband. His eyes swept her shrinking body, clad in only the bra, the black satin-elastic garter belt, the hose, and pumps.
"My God, that's more like it!" he breathed. "Now take the bra off too!"
"Oh no, Matthew, what's got into you?"
"Some sense at long last, that's what. Are you going to obey me or aren't you? I'll tear it off, so help me, I will!"
Astrid Fullhan reached behind, sobbing distractedly, and her trembling, fumbling fingers at last found the hooks and eyes of the bra, loosened them and let it flutter to the floor. Now she was naked except for garter belt, hose, and pumps, and she had never been more desirable. His eyes took in the panting jut of her cantaloupe-like breasts, the dark circles of the areolae, the crinkly buds of her nipples, the lascivious nook which was her navel, and just below it at the lower abdomen, the growth of those dark curls which shrouded the soft fleshy pink cuntal lips. Her legs were quaking beneath her, and his eyes feasted on them too, surveying her for the first time as a pasha might contemplate a new slave brought from the harem to his bedchamber.
"Turn around!" was his next order.
"Oh Matthew, don't shame me so-oh please don't!" she wailed. But when he pretended to take still another step and to reach out for her, she uttered a strangled little cry and hastily turned her back to him, then bowed her head, and put her face into her hands as her shoulders heaved with sobs.
Her ripe, opulent buttocks flinched and shivered, the muscles contracting lasciviously in her frantic attempt to diminish the most intimate portions of her body from his male eyes. The inflammation from the paddling had faded somewhat, but it was still obvious at first glimpse that beautiful mature Astrid Fullhan had been soundly and effectively spanked on her naked behind.
"Well, well, well, that's very interesting! Now I see why you're not wearing any panties. Who did it to you?"
"I-I don't want to tell you-oh please don't make me, I'll just swear to you-on the Bible if you like-but I didn't go to a lover, I wouldn't do that-I love you, M-Matthew!" she wailed.
"It's about time you showed me something on account of that love, Astrid. Come on now. Get over here on the bed."
"W-what are you saying-oh, no, not like this, oh no, it's indecent-"
This time he seized her by the scruff of the neck with his left hand, and brought his right palm up smartly four stinging, noisy times, two to each jutting bottomsummit, imparting a bright red hue to the already darkly colored flesh. Astrid uttered a frantic wail and squirmed and wriggled like an eel, trying to reach back and to cover up her already burning bottom. But he marched her by his grip on her neck over to the bed and pushed her forward so that she bent over the edge, kicking her stockinged legs.
Swiftly he dragged down the zipper of his fly, liberating his swollen, rampant penis.
"Maybe you'd like another spanking right now?" he chuckled thickly, putting his left palm on the small of her back and applying two or three more stinging quick spanks to the ripest curves of her wriggling, weaving naked behind.
"Ohhh noooo! Oh don't, please, I can't take anymore-they spanked me raw-oh Matthew, if you only knew-oh my God-oh dear!" and thus having involuntarily given up part of the secret she was trying so desperately to hide, Astrid burst into hysterical tears and abandoned herself, draped over the end of her husband's bed, her flaming bottom weaving and squirming shamelessly as she kept her face covered in her hands in her abject despair.
"Well, this is one position I haven't tried, so let's see what happens," he said huskily. Moving quickly behind her, his hands gripped the edges of her lush hips, and directed his penis towards the pink gape of her cuntal lips, framed so silkily by the thick dark-brown pubic curls. He arched himself forward, engaging the tip of his savagely turgid weapon just inside the soft quivering humid lobby of her voluptuous love-core.
Astrid Fullhan stiffened, her tear-stained, contorted face turned back over her shoulder as she regarded him with a look of utter stupefaction and shame, "Ohh, what are you doing -oh no-Matthew, oh that's horrible-oh I'm so ashamed-"
"I'm going to fuck you, Astrid. Do you understand me? The word is fuck. It's something we've never used in bed the last four years, but from now on we're going to use it a lot and do it a lot, too. And you're not going to wear any more than this, and the light's going to be on at night, you understand me? Now you just lie there and take it for a change, because you've let me lie there in bed plenty of times at night inches away without giving my prick-yes, Astrid, I said prick-the least concern. From now on you're really going to act like a loving wife!" he ordained.
Then, even as she rushed her hands back and tried to dislodge him, he clenched his grip on her bare hips and thrust violently forward. Astrid Fullhan stiffened, her eyes rolling in their sockets, dilating hugely as she felt the chafing friction of her husband's penis along the tender, tight route Betty's black-haired lover had so recently taken and so masterfully attuned.
Now, planted almost to the hilt inside his wife's tight quaking cunt, Matthew Fullhan exulted in the first actual possession of that opulent, temptingly bared body since the wedding night. She had always been fastidious and shy, and never before had he done it except at bedtime under the welcome shelter of darkness to appease her inhibited modesty. But now, finding her emotionally distraught, discovering her "initiation costume" as he had, the once meek artist felt exactly as if he were making passionate love to a beautiful wanton ... indeed, a callgirl exactly like Eleanor who had taught him so well up in Boston.
Astrid Fullhan, horrified and crushed by the turn of events, tried to remain passive. Her face scarlet and stained with tears, covered by her trembling hands, she shrank her upper body down against the bed to try to diminish herself, ostrich-like. But his sinewy fingers dug into her throbbing, bruised, and quaking hips, maintaining her in this obscene position, and her stockinged legs jerked and twisted as she strove for purchase on the floor with her pump heels.
Arrived at the hilt of his turgid ramrod, he lingered there, glorying in this conquest. His eyes devoured the deeply cleft pink-and-white smoothness of her bare back, accentuated lasciviously by the narrow black band of the garter belt. Her beribboned pigtails, a ludicrous paradox now for all her mature beauty laid there before him, tumbled over one shoulder and along one heaving side and he could feel the grudging response of her warm cuntal walls against his deeply imbedded prick, and the aching of his testicles told him that he was going to make up for four years of deprivation at long and thrilling last!
"We're going to be doing this more often, Astrid girl, so you better get used to it," he panted, as he slowly drew himself back till his glans rubbed against the very brink of her ..quivering cuntal orifice.
"Oh M-Matthew-oh G-God, oh don't, oh I want to die-this is so shameful-"
"Stop that whining, woman! Try to act like a woman for the first time since we got married! And when I finish, you're going to tell me who spanked you and why, you understand me? Otherwise, over my lap you'll go for another dose! And now, start cooperating- wiggle that gorgeous ass of yours, you beautiful blonde prude!"
"Matthew!" her voice was shrill and horrified to hear him use such obscene words, he who had always been so soft-spoken and meekly devoted to her.
"And that's another thing, Astrid," he growled, as he suddenly thrust back to the very hilt and drew a stifled groan and a frantic squirming from her reddened buttocks against his grinding belly, "there's going to be no more of this prissy talk between us. We're going to call a spade a spade, and you're going to learn your wifely duties, to use your own sort of flowery language, in a brand-new way. No, I haven't got a safe on, and if I give you a baby, so much the better. I'm going to keep you bare-footed and pregnant, Astrid Fullhan, and teach you how to keep your husband happy at night, do you understand me?"
"Oh, M-Matthew, oh this is dreadful-aahh -oh please, you're hurting me-oh you're like an animal-oh my God-please stop-ohhh!" Astrid Fullhan wailed, lifting her anguished face and turning it back over her shoulder to beseech him for mercy. For he had slipped his hands round her hips and his fingers had dug into her tender groin as he maintained her, while she fought to twist and disengage herself from his vigorous harpooning of her chafed and now twitchingly wakening cuntal sheath.
The paddling and then Henry Warren's vigorous ploughing of her tender lovesheath had broken down the dam of Astrid Fullhan's inhibited reserve. Now, coming so closely upon that sequence of events, her husband's entirely unexpected possession of her had annihilated all her intellectual defenses, and left her simply a woman of shuddering and beleaguered flesh who could no longer mount a defense to the priapic prowess which Matthew Fullhan had learned, thanks to the enthusiastic tutelage of the beautiful callgirl Eleanor.
Now his hands reached forward under her belly, roving up to the big panting gourds of her breasts, cupping them in his hands and kneading them luxuriously and greedily, as he fitted himself more tightly to her. Astrid groaned and squirmed, completely dominated, bent over and helpless, receiving him as one of the Sabine women must have received her Roman overlord centuries ago.
As his fingertips rubbed her stiffening nipples, he began to fuck her with a regular cadence now, which he had acquired from the deft ministrations of the honey-haired callgirl. Quickly, drawing halfway in and then pushing back till he gained the lost terrain, he began to exacerbate her sensitive membranous tissues with a reiterated friction that began once again to waken those long-dormant instincts which Astrid Fullhan had tried so successfully during most of her life to suppress because she believed them to be "animal" and "sinful".
A look of shame mingled with awestruck wonder appeared now on her tear-stained, lovely face, her eyebrows arched and her eyes bulged glassily as her hands dropped from her face, and her palms feverishly pressed down hard against the rumpled covers of the bed to sustain herself against his incessant attack.
Then, drawing his right hand away, maintaining her left breast in the cup of his left palm, Matthew Fullhan directed his right forefinger along her naked side, making her wriggle and gasp as if she had been tickled; then his finger edged under her right hip and towards the soft portals of her cuntal lips, already distended and engorged by the acceptance of his half-imbedded penis.
"Matthew, what-what are you doing to me -oh don't-oh stop-you make me feel so shameful-oh dear-Matthew stop-oh please don't-ooohhh!" she suddenly gasped, her face lifting, congealed in anguished shame and stupefaction.
He had found the dainty nub of her clitoris, and was pressing it back into the soft pink cowl of cuntal flesh, and once again the throbbing dynamo began to stir deep within Astrid Fullhan's long repressed womb. Her body uncontrollably jerked, as he delved to the hilt again, then drew back-but this time, almost to the brink of her twitching pink cuntal lips. As he did so, he accelerated the friction of his forefinger against the now-hardening nodule of her clitoris; and she was shaken by a series of convulsive spasms which drew panting little wordless cries from her parted lips, while her eyes hugely widened, glassy with tears, darkened by the shadow of her sudden awareness of what was taking place within her being.
"I've always wanted to do something like this to you, you've always been so dignified and haughty, Astrid darling," he confided in a thick, shuddering voice. "But by God, I'll make you cum or know the reason why not! There -do you feel me in you ? Do you feel my prick in that tight warm sweet little cunt of yours, Astrid girl?"
"Oh Matthew, what's come over you-oh God -you've never acted or talked this way before -oh Matthew-aaahhh-oh-ouuu-aaahhh- oh Matthew!" she moaned.
His finger had begun to tweak and rub and prod her clitoris back and forth and up and down, while at the same time he increased the vigor of his prick-thrusts, hilting her each time, making her body shake and quake to the turbulent jostling of his belly against her jutting, distended, reddened naked bottom.
"You're-you're crushing me-oh please, not this way-it's like an animal-oh don't, Matthew, I beg of you-" she tried to protest, her voice choked with sobs.
"There's a lot of the animal in all of us, Astrid, and it's about time you learned that. There, do you feel me? I've got my finger on your clit, you sweet bitch, now, I'm going to give it to you but good!" he gasped.
His finger again probed her clitoris back into its dainty cowl, and, as he drew himself back, he thrust full force into the quaking cavern of her cuntal sheath. He uttered a cry, as he felt himself explode within her, and the lash of his viscous jut against the sensitized walls of her love-core undid all of her chaste and inhibited reserve. Her body stiffened, her head lifted, and then her fingers scrabbled at the covers as a long groaning cry exuded from her panting lips. Her body threshed and quaked under his, as she answered him even against her will.
He drew himself out almost at once, seated himself on the edge of the bed, lifted her by the waist with both hands, and flung her ruthlessly across his lap. Then, stunned as she still was by the volcanic orgasm which had burst within her loins, he clamped his right leg over her nylon-sheathed calves, tucked her waist in with his left arm, and patted her quivering reddened buttocks. "Now then, young lady, where did you get that big sweet ass of yours tanned like that? Come on, Astrid, I want an answer, or else I'll paint it a brighter red than it was when I pulled up your clothes! I'm waiting, young lady!" And, to hurry her response, he applied a sonorous slap to the base of each upturned naked bottomglobe.
Astrid tried to kick and weave and twist herself off, but in vain. "Oww!" she wailed in a most unladylike way, turning her tear-stained face back to him.
"Are you going to tell me or not?"
"Oh please, please, you've had what you wanted-oh you awful brute-you've hurt me so-please don't-let me go now-oh I'm so ashamed-"
His hand described a series of rapid arcs as it landed first on left cheek, then on right, flattening her resilient, spacious bottomglobes, imparting a new bright hue of painful crimson to her naked behind.
"Owww-ouch-oh I can't stand anymore- I'll tell-oh I'll tell, Matthew, if only you'll stop, oh be merciful, oww, ohhh!" she at last hysterically capitulated.
"Well then?" His hand rose above her squirming, reddened behind.
"I-I had to go to a sorority in-initiation- that's the truth, M-Matthew, you just have to believe me-and they-they paddled me- that's why-oh please, let me get up now-oh I can't stand this anymore!" she tearfully stammered.
"Well, an initiation would account for that nice red color all over your big bottom, Astrid girl. But I don't know why you had to go to a thing like that in the first place instead of over to Lois's. Now suppose you tell me! And I'll know if you're lying or not, don't think I won't!" He punctuated this with another pair of stinging spanks, and his almost naked wife jerked and twisted frantically, plunged her hands behind her in a futile attempt to cover up her reddening behind.
"I'll tell-I'll tell-only let up, I can't take it anymore, honest I can't, Matthew darling!" she wailed. "B-Betty Jurgens and her boyfriend found me-well-I was looking in at them, and they didn't like it, so they said they'd tell you about what I was doing if I didn't-if I didn't go to the initiation this afternoon-and that's all, that's the truth!"
"It's just crazy enough for me to believe you're telling the truth for a change. All right now, you can get up. No, don't go to the bathroom yet. Get down on your knees in front of me."
She stared at him, not comprehending, her mouth gaping, tears running down her cheeks.
"You heard me!" he repeated. "Or do you want to go back over my lap for another dose? And this time I'll use my belt!"
"Oh no, oh please no, Matthew!" Docilely, she sank down on her knees, wincing and gasping as the maneuver caused new waves of burning heat to besiege her thoroughly spanked naked behind.
"All right. Do you see my prick, Astrid?" He pointed to it, reached out with his other hand, and gripped the scuff of her neck to force her face closer to his limpened but still vigorously erect penis.
"Y-yes-oh Matthew, please-please put it away-"
"You'll do the putting away. In your mouth, young lady."
"Oh no! I couldn't do that-why-that's sinful-that's filthy-oh no-what are you doing -oh not another spanking, oh please no-oh Matthew-yes, yes, I'll do anything if you'll only stop!"
He had bent down impatiently, gripped her by the armpits and lifted her up and was about to pull her over his lap again when she suddenly surrendered, dissolved in tears.
"All right, but you'd better do it right this time, or I really will thrash your big bottom! Now get back down on your knees again and pay your loving husband some real wifely attention!" he commanded.
Weeping as if her heart would break, her face scarlet, Astrid Fullhan meekly obeyed.
"Now then, reach up your hands and take hold of my prick, and put it inside your mouth, all you can take, and then start sucking. I mean it, Astrid!" he menaced.
Shuddering with revulsion, but seeing the steely glint in his eyes and knowing at last that her meek husband had vanished and had been replaced by a man who would brook no more nonsense, blonde Astrid Fullhan shudderingly obeyed. Her eyes tightly closed, her lips parted to accept the spearhead of her husband's weapon, and then, as soon as it was in her mouth, he urged, "Go ahead, suck it, and I want to hear you do it!"
She gasped and gagged, but terror of him and his newly found mastery overcame that revulsion. He heard the slurping, slushing sounds of her panting moist mouth, and he felt himself once again renewed in virility.
"That's enough. I'll teach you how to really do a job on me, beginning tomorrow night, Astrid. And now, get into bed and this time on your back. I'm going to do it to you again, and we're going to take our time and find out if we're really with it!"
Astrid Fullhan stumbled to her feet, one hand pressed against her cunt, staring at her husband as if she had never seen him before. Matthew Fullhan was busy taking off his clothes, till he was down to his socks. "M-Matthew, my God, what-what's got into you -" she repeated, in a faint, little-girl voice.
"I don't know what's got into me, Astrid, but I know what's getting into you. Now get into bed the way I told you to!" He drew back his right arm, preparatory to applying a vehement spank on her reddened buttocks but Astrid had already fairly leaped into bed, rolled over onto her back, and, awaiting him, burst into conquered and submissive tears.
"Yes, young lady, this is the way it's going to be with us from now on. The lights will be on, or it'll be in the daytime, and you're not going to wear any of those thick nighties and tell me I can't feel you up when I want to, you understand me?"
"Yes, Matthew, oh please don't hurt me-I do-I do love you-Matthew-" she quavered piteously.
"Then you'll get a chance to show it from now on. It's as if we just got married. You know, I'm sort of grateful to that Betty Jurgens. So you were snooping on her and her boyfriend? Well, I'll have to get them a nice present. I'm very grateful to them both. And now, take your hand away from that soft cunt and put it out and grab hold of my prick and say hello, Astrid. You're learning the words the hard way, and I do mean hard! Get with it, unless you want another spanking!"
"Oh no, oh not another-I'll do whatever you want, I'll try to be a good wife-I know-oh Matthew-please be gentle with me-please love me a little-" she wept softly as her trembling hand reached out to feel his vigorously erect penis.
Matthew Fullhan chuckled. There would be a present for Betty Jurgens, but there would also be one for Eleanor, the honey-haired Boston callgirl who had taught him all about voluptuous chastisement and of being master in his own home. Being master in the bedroom was even more important, and from now on that was exactly the role he was going to take.
"Now, just with your finger, tickle it all over and my balls too," he directed with a happy grin on his flushed face.
Astrid again obeyed, as his eyes devoured her.
"That's enough. Now, put your arms around my neck, and when I get my prick inside your cunt, I want those squirmy legs of yours to wrap over my ass-do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"Y-yes, M-Matthew," she plaintively whispered, her face turning scarlet.
He thrust himself into the moist maw of her pink cuntal sheath, and obediently his naked blonde wife crossed her nylon-sheathed legs over his wiry buttocks.
His mouth came down on hers, his tongue delving between her trembling parted lips, and his hands reached under to squeeze and grip the shuddering opulent cheeks of her naked bottom. Then, reveling in the carnal wakening of his once prudish wife, Matthew Fullhan taught Astrid the bliss of sharing and of mutual fulfillment.
It was a demure Betty Jurgens who welcomed back her father and stepmother that evening, both radiant from a most enjoyable honeymoon, and from the look on her father's face, the swinging teen-ager was certain that Kathleen was going to change a great many things in the Jurgens' household, particularly her father's uncompromising attitude about her having a boyfriend. . . .
Matthew Fullhan returned to Boston the following Wednesday, and came back Friday night laden with packages. One of these he promptly took next door and handed to Dan Jurgens. "It's a sort of gratitude present for Betty, Mr. Jurgens, and I hope you'll let her accept it in the spirit in which it's given," the artist told Betty's surprised father.
"Gratitude? I don't get you, Matt."
"Well, you see," Matthew Fullhan grinned boyishly, "your daughter was sort of responsible for giving Astrid and me a second honeymoon. She's a very smart girl, and she's old enough to have a boyfriend, I'm thinking. Anybody who tried to get to first base with Betty would have to be worth her while, is my opinion."
"You know, you may be right at that. Kathleen-that's my wife-has been telling me the same thing all week. Maybe this Henry Warren isn't such a bad guy after all."
"Well, you can always have a long engagement," Matthew Fullhan winked at his neighbor. "I know that Astrid and I are going to have a nice long second honeymoon, thanks again to your daughter. Well, I've got to get back home and finish some unfinished business. Maybe next week you and your wife and Betty -yes, and her boyfriend too-might like to come over for a special celebration dinner."
He left a mystified Dan Jurgens behind him as he went back into his house. Then, carrying the rest of the packages, he went upstairs to his bedroom, where Astrid was dutifully waiting. She wore her customary night gown and slippers, but not for long. Out of the boxes that Matthew Fullhan opened there emerged a black net shortie nightie, another of black nylon, a hostess robe of red satin, and various bra and panty sets as well as several pairs of the sheerest black nylon hose Matthew Fullhan had been able to buy in Boston (with the expert shopping help of honey-haired Eleanor).
"You'll try a different one on every night, Astrid, and we'll see which outfit gives us both the most mileage in bed," he chuckled. "But right now, just peel your nightie off and get into bed. I've got a terrific hard-on, and I want something done about it."
"Oh yes, darling," his now awakened, eagerly wanton blonde wife happily and blushingly agreed.