Bound by Lust

by Shanna Germain

  By the time our wedding rolled around, I had a trousseau every bit as stunning as Therese’s. Designer dresses, handmade lingerie, silk peignoirs, and gorgeous shoes and bags. I’d even survived my preliminary trip to the spa the day before the wedding. My embarrassment at the specialty extras Therese had ordered for me had quickly faded to blushing excitement when I realized that under my tuxedo, I’d be taking my vows wearing silk panties over my now satiny-smooth crotch.

  I made it through the ceremony okay. My behavior at the reception wasn’t entirely stellar, but I chalked that up to wedding jitters and at the ribbing I’d gotten because more than one person had picked up on the “obey” in my wedding vows. The few times Therese tapped my butt and warned me to mind my manners, I told myself she really just wanted to fondle my panty-clad backside through my starched black trousers. Although I looked pretty good in my tuxedo, I knew it paled in comparison to my statuesque beauty in the perfectly tailored feminine attire Therese had packed for our honeymoon.

  Imagine my surprise when I woke up the next morning in Maui to find myself alone in bed. A piece of white parchment paper with thick black lettering was prominently positioned on the nightstand under Therese’s large, oval, polished maple hairbrush. The list started with being rude to the matron of honor and ended with disobeying Therese by drinking an unauthorized third glass of champagne. My hand shook a little as I realized that according to the rules we’d negotiated, I was in for some serious consequences!

  Therese walked in from the balcony just as I finished reading. She was wearing a sheer white peignoir that matched the one she’d packed for me. The sunlight from the open doorway silhouetted her gorgeous curves. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but how much I wanted to fuck her. And how nervous I was getting. I pointed indignantly at the paper.

  “I wasn’t drunk!”

  Therese raised her eyebrow. “I’m certain your punishment list says you were disobedient, not drunk.”

  It did, but I still didn’t like the way the words looked on the paper. I took a deep breath, settling my butt firmly on the edge of the bed and trying not to fidget. “I don’t think you should, you know…spank me.” I swallowed hard. “I only had a few drinks.”

  The look on Therese’s face made me feel like a bug on a pin. I lowered my eyes, clenching my butt and concentrating on the pattern in the carpet as she walked over to me.

  “I know you weren’t drunk, sweetie.” Therese’s fingers were cool and soft against my morning stubble. I sighed and leaned into her palm.

  “While I will thrash you in the future if you get drunk without permission, your first bare-bottomed session with the brush will be solely to remind you that I am now your wife. You will always obey me.”

  I started to pull away, but her light tap on my jaw had me freezing in position. “The rest of your punishment will wait until Friday night. But right now, you need to learn what ‘obey’ means. I’m going to run a bubble bath for you while you shave everything you can reach. Then you’re going to relax in the tub and think about what we’ve negotiated while I lay out your clothes for you.”

  I could reach everything but my back. By the time I was done, the huge, heart-shaped tub was overflowing with rose-scented bubbles. I climbed in and leaned back with my head on the bath pillow, letting the water soothe away my anxiety. The extra level of nudity had my freshly shaved skin tingling as I moved against the warm, scented water. I slowly stroked my cock—exactly six times. Just as I was finishing, Therese walked in with my attire. Instantly, my cock pointed up through the bubbles. I wrapped my hand around my shaft again, sneaking in two extra strokes beyond what I was allowed.

  Even without the sunlight in back of her, her peignoir clung so I could still see her curves and the dusky shadows of her nipples. She hung my new skin-tight pink minidress with the scoop neck on the back of the door and draped my lingerie across the vanity: a strapless padded white satin bra with matching panties, a lacy white garter belt, and silk stockings with a seam up the back. She set my makeup case and jewelry box in front of the mirror, next to a flowery silk neck scarf. Then she held up my strappy pink stiletto heels, custom dyed to match my dress, so I could admire them before she set them on the floor.

  “Lean forward, dear, so I can get your back. Then you can towel off and lotion your entire body.”

  I couldn’t wait to see if the water made Therese’s peignoir transparent. But when she put the razor down, she didn’t have so much as a drop on her clothes.

  “Join me when you’re dressed, sweetie. Full makeup. Panties over the garter belt and stockings. And don’t tape your penis. Your panties are designed to hold it in place until I take them down for your spanking. Oh, and wear your pearls.”

  She ran her finger over the side of my naked bottom. I shivered hard. Then the door was closed, and I was alone.

  I thought about stalling. But my beautiful clothes were waiting for me. I was also pretty sure that no matter how long it took me to get ready, Therese would be there with that stupid brush. I climbed out of the tub and toweled off. Then I picked up the garter belt and ran my fingers over the exquisitely designed lace.

  Therese hadn’t ordered me to hurry. I moisturized every inch of my hyper-sensitive skin—except my cock. I’d already pushed my luck there with the extra two strokes in the tub. Then I slid my lacy, snow-white garter belt around my waist. I sat down on the vanity chair, and I lifted my right foot. I pointed my toes, admiring my shell-pink polish as I eased the first stocking on. I shivered as the silk slithered up and over my freshly shaved calf. Walking five miles a day is boring as hell, but it pays off in aces when I arch my legs to show them off under my skirts. I clipped the first stocking into place, then slid on the second.

  My cock was poking up in a most unladylike manner. With all the hair shaved away, my manly attributes looked even bigger than usual, especially with how turned on I was. I did my best to ignore them, frowning as I hooked the second stocking in place and stood up.

  Therese had assured me the satiny white panties would hold everything properly out of the way. A white pouch that appeared much too small to accomplish its mission was strategically positioned in front. I slid the panties on over my stockings and garters, my eyes widening as the soft silk encased and lifted—and covered my cock and balls. My manly parts were all still in there, but the lines of the panties disguised my telltale bulge in a way that drew even my eyes away toward my legs and bottom.

  I gave myself a couple of tentative squeezes. The panties got noticeably tighter, but the outside lines stayed the same. Grinning like an idiot, I stretched my arms high over my head, turning to admire my profile in the mirror. No matter which way I turned, the curve of my tight, round, and very shapely rump was prominently displayed. I tried not to think too much about why Therese was going to be fixating on that particular portion of my anatomy, concentrating instead on looking womanly. This was going to be good!

  The thickly padded strapless bra matched the sleek, soft panties. I was surprised to find a plastic bag with a pair of rubber gloves and a small squeeze tube tucked in one cup. A note in Therese’s firm, flowing penmanship stated succinctly, “A pretty girl secretly enjoys the feeling of appearing in public with very sensitive nipples. Smear half the tube on each, then rub and tug on both for one full minute. You will then throw away the gloves and immediately put on your bra. From that point on, only your wife may touch your breasts!”

  I carefully unscrewed the top. Whatever was in there smelled vaguely like sports cream and candied ginger. I put on the gloves and dutifully squeezed half the pungent, clear gel on each nipple. The gel was cool at first, gradually heating as I rubbed, though it didn’t really get hot. I liked the way it made my dusky rose flesh glisten and the tiny tips peak. Sixty seconds later, I tossed the gloves and tube in the trash and worked the close-fitting bra into place.

  Again, I had to grin at how delectable I looked. I turned my profile to the mirror, running my fingers up and down my
sides as I admired my now very feminine profile. My hands kept coming back to my breasts, lifting them, trailing my fingertips over the thick padding covering my very sensitive nipples. Even through the padding, I could feel the heat of my fingers stroking.

  My eyes widened as I realized the heat was actually on my nipples, not sinking in through my bra. I shifted my shoulders, but my bra fit too closely to scratch the itching burn that was building—and not just on the tips of my nipples. Everything the gel touched needed attention.

  And only Therese could touch me. My cock strained into my panties as I dutifully lowered my hands and set about finishing dressing. The dress fit me like a second skin, the delicate pink bringing a gentle flush to my skin, the perfectly cut scoop neck enhancing the illusion of cleavage. Damn, my legs looked miles long in those stockings! With each step, my now perfectly ladylike bottom swayed seductively.

  I took a long time with my hair and makeup, shifting my shoulders in a vain attempt to soothe my nipples as I brushed the shoulder-length curls of my favorite blonde wig just so. I added especially sultry touches to my face with extra mascara. I outlined my lips with deep rose lipstick until they looked full and pouty. Then I fashioned my scarf around my neck until my Adam’s apple was completely disguised, added the matinee-length pearls Therese had given me for a wedding gift, and strapped on my stiletto heels. This time when I turned in front of the mirror, I had to admit my unexpected blush and the way my shoulders occasionally moved on their own in response to the heat on my nipples were definitely enhancing my looks—in addition to keeping me exceptionally aware of the naked parts of my body hidden beneath my clothes. I looked stunning from every angle.

  Therese was waiting for me by the sliding glass door. The sun streaming in behind her outlined her curves in luscious detail through the shimmering silk of her peignoir. She took one look at me, and her face broke into a beautiful smile.

  “Darling! You look enchanting!”

  I blushed and walked slowly toward her, my head high and my hips swaying as I placed one high-heeled foot in front of the other. When I was almost next to her, she took my hand and led me out onto the balcony. Two crystal glasses of sparkling water with lime wedges waited on the table—next to that fucking piece of parchment and Therese’s hairbrush. My heel caught in the carpet and I grabbed her hand. Therese patted my fingers reassuringly and, as soon as I’d regained my balance, led me the rest of the way to the table. My face heated and my nipples burned as she motioned me to one chair, then took the other.

  “Do you like your panties?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. They’re very comfortable, and they keep my panty line smooth, even though I’m really turned on.” I wasn’t sure why the “Ma’am” slipped out. It just seemed like the thing to say, given what was on the table.

  Therese nodded, her hand moving lightly over the edge of the brush. “Ma’am is an appropriate way to address me at punishment time. By the way, you’ll wear different panties after your thrashing—ones that will keep your mind on your very sore bottom rather than your very horny cock, though you’re to tell me immediately if you feel undue discomfort on your genitals. Do you understand and agree?”

  My face heated more as I shifted my shoulders and tried not to look at the hairbrush. “Yes, Ma’am.” Damn, my voice was breathy and feminine in a way I’d never been able to produce before. Then again, I’d never been waiting for a spanking from my wife before!

  “Very well. While today’s thrashing will address only your need to learn the meaning of the word ‘obedience,’ we’ll go over the rest of your list to remind you what to expect at this Friday’s punishment session.” She motioned toward my glass and picked up the creamy white paper. “Drink up. I want your vocal chords wet enough for some good strong yells when I’m thrashing you.” She took a long, slow sip of her water, pursing her lips as she shook her head at what even I could see was way too many lines of writing. “Oh, dear. You’ve been quite naughty! Is there anything else you’d like to tell me about before we begin?”

  I shook my head, my curls brushing against my shoulders as I forced myself to swallow the cold, wet liquid. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth had gotten. I knew what was on the list. It started with my being rude to her bitchy matron of honor, then ran the gamut from using the wrong fork with my salad to posing with my tie askew for some impromptu pictures. Therese and I had agreed when we’d negotiated this year’s rules that since I was so very serious about being seen in public as an elegant woman, neglecting my manners or decorum at any time would be a punishable offense. The last item was disobeying Therese and drinking that stupid third glass of champagne at the reception.

  My hands were trembling, so I set my glass firmly on the table. “Will today’s s-spanking be my actual punishment for disobeying you at the wedding? Or is this, um, more general?” Shit. Stumbling over my words was very unladylike.

  Therese quirked her eyebrow at me. “Do you need two spankings for disobedience?”

  “One would be okay!” Damn. I was even more upset about the tremor in my voice. Therese’s fingers were absently stroking the brush now, caressing the smooth, flat, highly polished back. My nipples were burning so much I couldn’t help fidgeting. I told myself it was purely because of the effects of the gel, not because I was getting so nervous.

  “Very well, dear.” She finished her water and motioned for me to do the same. When our glasses were both back on the table, she picked up the brush in one hand and held the other out to me. “Come inside. I’m going to thrash your bare bottom until I’m convinced you’ve learned to obey your wife.”

  It had been a long time since I’d teetered on my heels, but I did, every step of the way as I followed Therese back into the room. She shut the door firmly behind us and drew the curtains. Then she peeled off the robe of her peignoir.

  The nightgown alone was so sheer I could see the cleft between her pussy lips as well as the clear shadows of her large, dark areolas. She pulled the desk chair out and turned the seat toward me. Then she slapped the flat side of the brush against her palm with a loud smack!

  “Bend over with your hands flat on the chair. Bottom out, head up so your hair stays in place.” As I gingerly took my position, she rubbed the brush lightly over my backside. “Normally, I will have you remove your dress before your thrashing. However, this first time, I want to impress upon you the fact that my husband, even when he is dressed as a lady, will get his bottom thrashed whenever he disobeys.”

  The first smack caught me by surprise.

  “Ow!” I stood up, grabbing my bottom in surprise. The look on Therese’s face told me that had been a big mistake. I quickly bent back down. “I’m s-sorry, Ma’am. I’ve never been spanked before.” I swallowed hard as I gripped the sides of the chair. “I was surprised at how much it stings. I won’t get up again.”

  My voice trailed away as Therese chuckled in back of me. “By the time we’re finished here, my love, you will never again be surprised at just how much a thrashing—especially a bare-bottomed thrashing!—can hurt.”

  “Ow!” I jumped as the brush smacked again, but this time, I didn’t get up.

  “Very good, dear. We shall continue now.”

  By the time Therese was finished thrashing the back of my dress, I was struggling to hold my position. I was dancing on my toes on the carpet, howling as the brush slapped again and again over my very tender bottom. My wig had slipped, and my face was sopping with tears. My constant litany of “Ow! Ow! Ow!” was interrupted only by my profuse apologies and promises to always obey her in the future!

  The more I sweated, the more my nipples burned. In the position I was in, my bra moved just enough to make the heat in my oversensitized skin itch and flare even more. Therese helped me to my feet and told me to put my hands on my head. As she eased my dress off, I stood there bawling, feeling like a naughty little girl having her bottom bared for the rest of her well-deserved spanking. Therese tugged my panties over my hips.

  “I
want to keep my panties on!” I closed my eyes, shuddering as I unexpectedly jerked away from her.

  Therese froze. Even I was surprised at the panic in my voice. When she spoke, her tone was soft and soothing. “Thrashings in this family are bare-bottomed, sweetie.”

  “But I don’t want my penis hanging out!” It wasn’t until I said it that I realized why I was suddenly so upset. I didn’t care that my spanking hurt. That was turning me on! I just didn’t want my masculine attributes waving where I could see them when I was dressed as a woman.

  “Fair enough.” She pulled my panties back into place. “Bend over the chair, with your feet spread as wide as the chair legs.”

  As I carefully balanced myself, Therese opened her makeup kit and took out a tiny, jeweled pocketknife. I held my breath as she slit the back of my panties. The front pouch slipped lower as the fabric gave, but I still couldn’t see anything but sheer white satin. The breeze on my backside, however, told me my bottom was now fully exposed. Being spanked by my wife was something I once again wanted—very much.

  “We’ll buy some appropriate panties at Martine’s when we return. Until then, you will hold very still during your thrashings, so this style of panties will suffice.”

  I did. I wailed and cried and squeezed my bottom cheeks together until I knew, all the way to my bones, that there was nothing in the entire world I wanted to do more than obey and please my Therese!

  Afterward, as I stood in the corner sobbing, I choked out my confession to Therese that I’d masturbated two strokes more than I was allowed. I bent over with my hands on my knees and asked her for my punishment strokes. Therese kept her word, giving me six scorching smacks that had me wailing all over again.