I giggled for a moment at the thought of going for long without an orgasm, given how horny I was--it seemed like such a tall order. In fact I had almost come right that moment, at the sound of "Mrs. Smith," combined with the aftershocks from our brief ocean-fuck, and I was feeling giddy at the thought of what he had planned for me.
He became serious, even ritual. "I have claimed your womb, now, Mrs. Charles Smith" (again I nearly swooned at the erotic negation in the old-fashioned phraseology) "but before this night is over I am going to claim you completely. I was fortunate to find you here in the water before some other man saw your wantonness and realized that it meant you were for anyone who wanted a slut to use; now you shall come with me, and I will be the one to use you. I shall bring you to my bed and you shall serve me there."
He paused, gravely, and I saw a special light come into his eyes. "I do not wish you to be in any confusion about how you will serve me tonight, wife, so I will explain to you now. When I bring you back to our room, I will tie you to the bed, face-down, over pillows that raise your hips, so that you cannot interfere with my pleasure."
My knees started to buckle at these words. Charles had gotten very good at this (see Explorations: Books 6-10 for the fantasy-version of this process), at somehow expressing both love and degradation--even cruelty--that was for me so hot as to make me really feel faint with arousal.
He continued, in the same tone of authority. Each sentence increased the raging heat in my loins. "My cock," he said slowly, "is going to be in your bottom all night long. It will be uncomfortable for you, I'm sure, wife, to have to take it in the ass as many times as I'm going to give it to you, but I am the bridegroom, and you are the bride, and on her wedding-night a bride must learn to submit to her bridegroom."
I struggled against his hands, heedlessly desperate to touch my cunt, my anus, to demonstrate my submission, to show how well I knew my own wantonness. I felt my whole body growing hot with shame and desire, despite the chill of the water. I could tell from the slight curl of a smile on Charles' lips that I had turned beet red.
"And as unnatural as some may find it, your ass is the submission I demand of you, Mrs. Smith." He grasped both my wrists in his big left hand, and brought his right hand around, and arrogantly took my bottom, and split it open on his fingers, and found my rectum with the tip of his middle finger.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," I whimpered. The finger urged inward. "Ah. . . why, Sir. . . why my. . . oh, no. . . I'm going to. . . " The finger left me, and he gathered me into his chest, still imprisoning my wrists but holding me gently with his other arm. "Why my ass?" (Not that I didn't know, but an anal-submissive loves to hear her condition described.)
"Perhaps because it is unnatural and shameful, and a girl who has had a cock in her ass all night long has learned that a man's pleasure is insistent and commanding, and that she must submit to it."