Page 23 of Eager Housewife

Yes. Well.

Obviously, I spent almost nothing.

I had to know what the consequences were, right? And I was on the moral high ground. Buying dresses so Duncan can rip them when we have sex is ridiculous.

Edging and denial were the punishment. That and spanking. One evening of pink cheeks, and being denied Duncan’s cock, and I sobbed I would be his good girl and buy all the clothes he wanted me to.

And that was true. I have spent all of today buying clothes.

Because I really, really need to come. Duncan had strict instructions this morning before he left that I’m not to get myself off. If I don’t have him inside me tonight, I’m going to go green, hulk up and explode into goo.

But that doesn’t mean I’m his meek little housewife. Ohhh nooo. If I have to buy expensive clothes when I don’t think I should? Duncan has to suffer theconsequencesof his actions too.

I’ve been texting him all day. Every single item I’ve bought, he has received an image of me wearing it behind the changing room curtain. He edged me so hard I cried, so it’s only fair he should feel some of my frustration.

I have bought a lot of knickers. Cute Brazilian cut ones, lacy thongs, and also bras, scandalously short dresses, stockings, skimpy tops, and crotchless knickers. And yes, I made sure to photograph those in theirfullglory.

Pinging over the first picture, I grinned when I saw the tick turn blue and knew he’d seen it. He looked at every single image, but didn’t respond.

I admit, I’m excited to see what he’s going to do when he gets home later.

I’m unpacking my haul into my wardrobes in our large and airy bedroom, expecting I have plenty of time until Duncan returns, when a door slams downstairs and quick steps thud on the stairs.

My pulse leaps as Duncan strides into the bedroom.

His face is thunder.

“Blythe.” A single, furious word. He’s across the room and has me pinned to the wall in a second. “You wee fucking, tease.”

Then his mouth is on mine, an angry kiss that’s possessive. His fingers pinch at me, bruisingly hard and I whimper and try to wriggle away. He ignores me, holding me tighter.

“You think that was funny, huh?” he says against my lips as he wraps his hand around my throat.

My heart pounds as he squeezes, and I gasp for breath. The sensitive part of my windpipe compresses, and I scrabble ineffectually at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Blythe,” he sighs regretfully as he releases my neck, and grabs my dress.

I cry out as he rips it down, the stitching digging into my skin then giving up with a harsh rending, leaving my breasts bared. Ducking to my chest, he bites the sensitive bud of one nipple and pain and pleasure flare out and down my spine.

That distracts me and the next thing I know he’s got his trousers open and he’s shoving the remnants of my dress from my shoulders so I’m naked, and hitching my thigh to his waist.

“Look what you did to me,” he fumes as he fits the crown of his achingly-hard cock to where I’m soft and wet and needy. “I’ve been trying to work, wifey. And you’ve been—” he breaks off and thrusts brutally into me, filling me in one stroke.

Our groans fill the air together, mine high and with the pinch of hurt that always happens as he pushes that massive length into me, and his a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Fuck, Blythe.” He thrusts again and again, interspersing deep long strokes with short hard flexes of his hips. “The things those photos did to me.”

I find his shoulders and cling to him, digging in my nails as the pleasure spirals in me.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls as my inner muscles clench, close, so close to orgasm.

He pulls out and roughly jerks me around, pushing my breasts against the wall and pulling my hips back before slamming in again. My nipples are pert from rubbing against his shirt, and the cool wallpaper is just enough stimulation as he takes me hard and fast.

“I guess it’s not so funny, now.” He’s gripping my hip with one hand to keep me in place, and grasps my hair with the other as he grinds out dirty words about how he’s wanted to be in my hot wet cunt all day. About how he wanted to use me and feel me come all over his dick.

It’s not funny, no. But it’s so sexy I can’t breathe. I can’t say anything. My head is cotton wool, and I can’t even remember what I did to deserve being railed so well.