Cynny stretched under the soft sheets of her papa’s huge bed, luxuriating in the warmth of the morning sun spreading over the covers. She opened one eye and glanced to her left, but Papa was nowhere to be seen. After five days of marriage, she was starting to become accustomed to his schedule. He was an early riser, and while she sometimes wished he was still in bed when she awoke, she was at least grateful he allowed her to sleep in. At Talcott House, all the girls rose at the same early hour each morning, and anyone who attempted to laze around in bed, even for a few extra minutes, had to face Garland. But Cynny wasn’t at Talcott House anymore, and the only person she had to worry about pleasing was her husband.

She turned on her side and snuggled into her pillow, sighing with contentment as she recalled the last few days. Lord Grayson was a good papa, she thought, and best of all—he loved her. Her heart fluttered at the memory of the first time he’d told her so, after they shared their first intimacies as husband and wife.

A delicious ache bloomed between her thighs as she replayed all the times he’d put his mouth to her kitty, as well all the times he’d claimed her with his cock. Though he’d been mostly gentle with her during their first time joining together as husband and wife, the following times he’d been rougher, pounding into her so fast and deep she thought she might faint from the sheer pleasure of it.

She sat up against the pillows and squirmed on the mattress, her legs pressed tight together as the pulsing in her kitty became more insistent, and her ninnies commenced tingling as heated waves of desire stole through her. Pushing the covers off herself, she lifted her nightdress up and spread her legs, peering at her smooth shaven privates.

Papa had shaved her yesterday morning during her bath time, telling her that he planned to keep her kitty smooth at all times. Tentatively, she parted the petals of her quim to discover immense moisture gathering within her core, glimmering on the pinkness of her privates.

She flushed, wondering how to best proceed. Papa said when her quim tingled and ached and became wet it meant she was aroused. It signaled her yearning for his touch. But he wasn’t here right now. She wasn’t permitted to dress herself—her papa delighted in selecting her clothing and dressing her each morning—so she couldn’t get dressed quickly and then go in search of him to ask for assistance with the urgent situation between her thighs. She had to either wait patiently for his return, or attempt to take care of matters herself.

At Talcott House, Miss Wickersham had forbidden all her young ladies from touching themselves in the manner in which Cynny was tempted, however now that she was a married woman and her new papa hadn’t mentioned whether or not stroking her own clitty was permitted, she supposed it would be acceptable to caress her own flower. Cammie’s letter had mentioned her papa punished her for touching herself without permission, but maybe not all papas cared if their little girls touched themselves. Surely if this was important, Cynny’s papa would have already forbidden her from doing so.

She sighed as temptation, along with the aching in her privates, grew and grew, until she couldn’t cease squirming on the mattress.

She didn’t yet know if she would be able to make herself feel as good down there as her papa made her feel each and every night, but she wouldn’t know unless she tried.

Parting her folds wider, she gathered some of her wetness and rubbed it over her swollen nubbin. A blast of sensation immediately affected her, and she smiled, entranced that she was apparently able to bring herself pleasure if she so wished. She glanced at the door, nervous over the prospect of being caught, but she didn’t hear any footsteps in the hallway and decided to continue on, rubbing more and more moisture over her clitty and pressing down upon it harder with each precise stroke.

When she thought of the intimacies she’d shared with her papa, the tingling and aching increased, and she rocked her center against her swirling digits as a wave of ecstasy rolled over her. She closed her eyes and gasped, riding the blissful sensations of her secret release.

But when the last wave finished surging through her and she opened her eyes, she cried out at the sight before her. Papa was standing at the end of his bed, his arms folded over his chest, and his visage stern.

Oh no. Her tummy flipped. Papa looked mad.

She hurriedly rearranged her nightdress around her legs and reached for the covers, as if to pretend she hadn’t just been touching her own kitty, but Papa came around the side of the bed and grabbed the covers away from her. He sat down next to her, forced her legs apart, and flipped up her nightdress to reveal her privates to his gaze.

“Cynny, were you just pleasuring yourself?”

Tears filled her eyes, because he looked awfully disappointed, and the last thing she wanted was to fall out of his favor. Her heart skittered and nerves abounded within her. Maybe Cammie’s letter had been right. Maybe all little girls weren’t supposed to touch their kitties, even after they finally got papas.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” She buried her face in her hands. “Please don’t spank me.”

She remained still as he inspected her kitty, pulling her folds wide apart and trailing his fingers through her lingering wetness.

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Cynny, look at me.”

She spread her fingers just wide enough to peer at him from behind her hands. “If it makes you mad, I’ll never do it again, Papa.”

“I had never thought I might catch you in the act of such naughtiness, Cynny, otherwise I would have told you that touching your kitty without your papa’s permission is expressly forbidden.” He lifted his hand from her quim and delivered one firm spank across her sensitized folds. She gasped at the sting and fought the urge to close her thighs, lest he smack her kitty again. “You are never to touch what belongs to your papa again, unless you have permission. Do you understand, little girl?”

“Yes, Papa. I understand.” She uncovered her face entirely. “Um, Papa?”

“Yes, Cynny?”

“Am I getting a spanking now?” She blinked hard against the rapid swell of tears, and she swallowed against the burning lump in her throat.

“Since I hadn’t yet told you this was against my rules, I suppose I cannot punish you for it.” He reached for her hands and gave them a squeeze. “But know that next time I discover you’ve been up to such shameful naughtiness, I will give you a firm spanking on your kitty.”

She gasped and shook her head. “You won’t have to do that, Papa, because I promise to never touch myself again.” Guilt and embarrassment surged through her, and she found herself confessing, “At Talcott House we weren’t allowed to touch ourselves because Miss Wickersham said we must save our special treasures for our papas. I wasn’t certain how you would feel about me touching myself, but my kitty was aching so much that I decided to try to make it feel better on my own, even though I wasn’t completely certain you would approve.” A quiver raced across her bottom cheeks. Would he decide to punish her now because of her little confession?

He cupped the side of her face and brushed an errant curl behind her ear. He still didn’t look pleased with her, but most of the sternness had faded from his expression at least. “I appreciate your honesty, Cynny. Now, little girl, the next time you are uncertain about whether or not you’re allowed to do something, or whether or not what you’re about to do is right or wrong, what do you think you should do?”

She bit her lower lip for a second, then sighed as she met his gaze. “I should talk to my papa first.”

“Good girl. That’s exactly what you should do. It’s my job as your papa to help you be the best little girl you can possibly be and guide you in all things. If you are ever uncertain about a situation, I expect you to come to me at once to discuss it.”

“All right. Thank you for being so understanding, Papa,” she said, with a sudden guilty thought to the pocket watch that was still hidden away with her drawers. But she couldn’t admit to stealing from him. Though he loved her, and she loved him, their marriage was still new and they were still getting to know one another. While she wanted to believe he wouldn’t stop loving her for committing such a grievous crime against him, a little voice in the back of her head—albeit, the voice that often landed her in trouble—whispered that it would be easier if she simply placed the watch in a random part of Grayson House the next time he left the estate.

“Now,” he said, sounding stern again. “Look at the mess you’ve made on Papa’s bed.”

She glanced down, following his gaze, and startled at the rather large wet spot she’d left in the midst of stroking her kitty, her moisture leaking onto the linens. Her inner thighs were coated in wetness as well. She flushed with shame and wished she could crawl under the covers and hide.

* * *

“Oh, Papa, I didn’t mean to make a mess! I’m sorry! I-I can change the linens and make the bed anew,” Cynny offered, trying to get up. But Grayson placed his hands upon her shoulders, preventing her from rising.

“Calm down, little girl. You aren’t in trouble, and the maid will be the one changing the linens. You are the lady of this house and such work would not be appropriate for you. But I’m going to have to get you all cleaned up.” He grasped her by her waist and lifted her off the bed, standing her between his legs. The rosy peaks of her bosom had hardened and were tenting the front of her thin nightdress. His cock stiffened at the prospect of giving her a thorough bath. But, beyond dressing her and getting her ready for breakfast, he had come to her room with another purpose in mind.

“Cynny,” he said, reaching for the small box that had been delivered a short while ago, which he’d placed on the bed without her taking notice. “Before your bath, Papa needs to show you something.”

“What’s in the box, Papa?” Her eyes widened with glee and she jumped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Oh, is it another present? Papa, you’ve given me so many new things recently. I think you shall spoil me.”

A grin tugged at his lips, as her enthusiasm warmed his heart. His uncertainty about how she would react to the contents of the box, however, kept his mood rather serious, and he didn’t quite smile. “I wouldn’t call it a present, but a marital aid.”

Her eyebrows drew together and she scrunched her little nose up, looking so adorably confused and innocent in this moment, that he had to fight the urge to push her down on the bed and have his way with her. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

He opened the box, revealing a series of silver butt plugs in varying sizes, from small—intended for beginners—to the largest, which wasn’t quite as big as his hardened cock. There was also a container of salve, the lubricant he would liberally apply to her rosebud in preparation of breaching her snug hole.

Her confusion lingered and she gnawed on her lower lip as she gazed at the items. “Papa, are those…naughty pieces of artwork? They look almost like cocks. Are we going to decorate your bedchamber with them?”

“No, Cynny, these are not naughty pieces of artwork. These are butt plugs, little girl, intended to go in a wife’s bottom hole.”

She tried to step back, but he grabbed ahold of her hips, forcing her to remain standing between his spread legs. She reached around and cupped her behind, shaking her head.

“Papa, I had something in my bottom once, and it burned oh so badly! Please don’t make my hiney hole burn. I promise to be a good girl. I will never, ever touch my kitty again.”

He sat the box aside and pulled her into his lap. “My dear Cynny, as I’ve already said, you are not in trouble for touching your kitty—this time. That discussion is already over. I told you I wasn’t going to punish you for it, and I’m not going back on my word. I plan to claim your bottom hole with my cock one day, Cynny, as is my right as your husband and your papa. The plugs—which I assure you will not cause a burning sensation—are intended to train your most private hole to accept my cock. You’ll start with the smallest plug and work your way up to the largest one, and in time once I feel you’ve been adequately prepared, I will claim your hiney hole with my cock.”

Her face reddened and her eyes remained as wide as he’d ever seen them. “Well,” she finally said, “I suppose as long as we start with the smallest one, I will survive it.”

He chuckled. “Little girl, I intend for you to do more than survive it. I intend for you to enjoy it as much as I do. Now, this burn you mentioned. Have you been punished before with ginger in your bottom?”

She flushed a brighter red and nodded. “Yes, Papa. One time Miss Wickersham put a carved plug of ginger root in my hiney hole. She was trying to punish me with her wooden ruler, but I kept clenching my bottom cheeks, which she didn’t like much, so she had Cook prepare the ginger root before she finished my spanking.”

His cock leapt at the image of her former headmistress disciplining her in such a manner. “And what, pray tell, did you do to earn the spanking in the first place, young lady?”

“I-I broke into the sugar cabinet and stole some sugar.”

“Ah, that sounds quite naughty indeed. Good little girls shouldn’t steal.”

Her face paled and a look of guilt flashed in her eyes, but the expression faded almost as soon as he noticed it, and he decided she must simply be embarrassed for having to confess the details of a punishment she had received from her headmistress.

“Before your bath, Cynny, Papa is going to put the smallest of the plugs in your bottom hole. Every day, before I dress you and get you ready for breakfast, you will spend several minutes with a plug in your bottom. And sometimes, I may require you wear the plug throughout the day. Today, however, I will not force you to wear it for long.”

She nodded, the blush in her cheeks returning, as she stared at the box.

He assisted her in rising to her feet, then drew her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her standing naked before him. She trembled slightly and kept glancing at the box.

He cupped one of her breasts. “You are so lovely, Cynny. You please me, more and more every day. I am proud to call you my little girl.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Her eyes shone bright, as they often did when he praised her. He endeavored to never stop telling her how much she meant to him and how much she pleased him.

He gently turned her around and urged her to bend over the bed. “Good girl. Now part your legs for Papa. Very good. Now, reach around and spread your cheeks apart. Show Papa your little puckering hole.”

He watched, enraptured, as she slowly complied, drawing her behind apart and revealing her rosebud. Heated desire wound through him, his shaft going hard as a rock and his balls tensing up tight. He loosened his neckcloth, removed his jacket, and commenced rolling up his sleeves, all the while keeping his gaze on his little girl’s quivering hiney hole.

He moved forward and stroked her back, then swept her long golden locks over one shoulder, preventing her from hiding her face in her hair. “I promise this won’t hurt, little one. It may be a tight fit, and you might feel a great deal of pressure, but I do not wish to hurt you. If something feels wrong, I want you to tell me. Understand?”

“I understand, Papa. Th-thank you.”

He reached for the salve and uncapped the container. She tensed at the sound and whimpered, but she remained in place like a good girl, still holding her bottom cheeks apart for the plug.

“Please hold still while I apply some lubricant to your hiney hole, Cynny. This might feel cool, but I promise it will make the entrance of the plug much easier.”

She mumbled her assent, and he rubbed a copious amount of the clear liquid onto her pucker. Then he pressed forward with one digit, breaching her hole only long enough to coat her insides with the salve. She mewled and squirmed slightly, but for the most part stayed still during his ministrations. His heart warmed knowing that despite this being a new and intimidating experience she was trusting him to take care of her and wasn’t resisting his touch. When he’d sent a footman to Mrs. Stilton’s shop, with a note requesting the special box be delivered to his residence as soon as possible, he hadn’t known how Cynny would react when faced with the prospect of anal training. But it pleased him that despite her nervousness she wasn’t fighting him. So sweet and trusting, his little bride.