Second Time Around Read Free

to sit down, Willa?” He says it softly, yet with weight, as if suggesting that by saying “yes, I do want to sit,” I’ll incur some penalty.
    So I brace my knees, shake my head?and just stand there, aching, aching in every nerve and cell, and mostly between my legs, where my pussy is swimming wet.
    I do not know what has happened to me. I do not know what has happened to James. But I know we’re two new people, transformed forever.
    “Good girl, good girl.” He flexes his fingers and the small action is beautiful, evocative. “Yes, I’ve learned a lot about me…and a lot about you, too. About what you need.”
    My face must show my confusion, because he chuckles.
    “You probably don’t even know it yourself yet, but if you’ll let me, I’ll show you. If you’re brave enough.”
    Like I had a chance. I’m suddenly helpless before him. And I like it.
    I manage a nod this time. And I keep on nodding, like some penitent, anxious to please.
    “Very well, then. Take off your panties.”
    What?
    My mouth opens in one last dying gasp of the old me, wanting to question or protest, but he quells me with a level, old-fashioned look.
    “Willa, take off your panties.”
    Quiet tones. That thrill.
    My heels are high and I glance around, looking for support, then realize I’m to be offered none. Awkward, like some half-grown gazelle not sure of its ability to stay upright, I rummage up my skirt, tug my knickers down, and step out of them, teetering from one foot to the other, nearly toppling over as I catch one stiletto in the elastic at the last moment. But I manage to right myself, and then straighten up and just stand there, clutching a little bundle of white lace in my hands, not sure what to do with it.
    “Hand them to me.”
    I step forward, fighting not to give in to vertigo and topple over. I feel yearning and confusion, and I feel so very, very horny that I can barely see straight. I’m right in front of him, all senses ramped up. He’s giving off waves and waves of power that lap across the tender surfaces of my now-exposed pussy and excite it unbearably. He puts out a hand, waggles his fingers, and obediently I drop my panties into it. I feel even fainter as a waft of strong woman-smell drifts up from the fabric.
    Oh God, how long have I been so turned on? They’re saturated with juice, stained dark, revealing. He crumples them in his long fingers, wafts them quickly in front of his face, his eyes closing a moment. Then he stuffs them into the pocket of his leather jacket and returns his attention to me, only me.
    “Have you been with a man since me?”
    Regret sluices through me, even though it shouldn’t. We weren’t married. I was lonely. I took a man home, a work colleague who seemed nice. Who was nice, but not James. We fooled around and it was okay, just okay. But I couldn’t go through with it and fuck him when the moment came.
    “You can answer, sweetheart. I’m not going to punish you.” His eyes are level and inquisitive. I wonder why I seem to add the word yet to that last sentence. “I’ll only punish you if you lie to me. If you deceive me.”
    Punish? Oh…Oh…
    I’m very, very conscious that I’m standing here without my knickers and my husband is talking about punishing me. It seems strange and surreal to be doing so, but also right in a way I cannot seem to quantify. I love James. I always will. And even though I understand the reasons why we parted, I want that parting to be over. To make things right.
    And it’s right and good and exciting and fitting that my pussy should be naked, beneath my skirt, to suit his will.
    “There was one guy…I didn’t fuck him. But we…we kissed and played around a bit.”
    James tips his head to one side, eyeing me. That smile’s back, flirting around his lips. Is he pleased I didn’t fuck someone else, or pleased I allowed some liberties? I really can’t tell.
    “Did you let him touch you there?” he nods toward my crotch “Between