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He moved to the writing desk and grabbed a pamphlet from the top of it, and when he came back I wiggled nervously under the heat of his gaze.

He didn’t need to tie me down to fuck me. He could easily overpower me any time he chose.

So what was he doing?

“It’s called a Female Paroxysm,” St. Erth said. “According to this pamphlet, it’s the newest treatment for disobedient wives such as yourself.”

“I don’t want a treatment,” I said.

Why was my breath coming so quickly?

“Did you hear measkwhat you wanted?” St. Erth asked coldly. “According to this pamphlet, this is a long and tedious process but, if done correctly, it will right your humors.”

He flipped my skirt and under-layers up impatiently. Even though I was tied so tightly that I couldn’t see, I could tell by thecool sensation of the breeze that blew through the window that I was now exposed and bare for him.

My husband set his jaw and he picked up the pamphlet again, scanning it impatiently.

Then he began to rub. . .in the place between my legs.

My cheeks flamed uncomfortably, and I strained at the bonds that tied me to the table.

“I don’t like it,” I complained.

“You’re not supposed to like it,” St. Erth said sharply. “It’s a scientific treatment.”

At first, his fingers felt rough and harsh on me, making my skin ache there.

I could feel his eyes on me, that prickling heat that meant he was gazing at me, raking down my body with his eyes.

Then his fingers moved from their harsh, sharp movements to a firm circular motion.

“What’s supposed to happen?” I asked in a small voice.

“If the pressure is firmly applied, then you will convulse powerfully,” St. Erth said, and I felt his other hand on my thigh.

My chest suddenly felt tight, and a strange pressure seemed to be growing in my belly.

“Hurry up,” St. Erth said after a few more minutes. “I’m ready to fill this cunt up.”

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

“Let me go,” I said, straining against the ties that bound me.

“Not until the treatment is done,” he said. I gasped as he suddenly pressed two of his fingers deep inside me. “Are you ready to have this cunt filled? Are you ready for my baby?”

There was a strange wet sound from between my thighs, and I tried to twist my hips back and forth to get away from the pressure that grew there.

“Stop wiggling,” St. Erth said sharply, pulling his fingers out and giving my cunt a sharp slap.

Then he pressed two fingers inside me again and it almost felt like my core was gripping him tightly. His other fingers circled between my legs, over and over, sending strange sparks of sensation along my skin. My chest and core seemed to be on fire, the flames licking up my neck to heat my face.

“Stop, please,stop,” I begged, my breath coming in little pants. “It hurts, it feels like pressure.”

“No,” St. Erth said, and his voice was hoarse.

For a moment I thought I was going todieand I moaned with the fact that my cruel, harsh husband was going to kill me right here on the table.

I strained against my bonds so hard that my hands and ankles began to sting, but there was no escaping the steady pressure of his fingers.