THE OBEDIENT BRIDE
Demanding husband pushes his much younger teen bride's sexual limits, molding her into the hot wife he desires.
Alex watched his willowy young bride begin to dry herself after stepping out of the shower. She stood in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, knowing that he liked to watch her as she stood naked in front of him. She was quickly learning what pleased her new husband.
He watched her as she wrapped her long strawberry blonde hair in one towel and then continued drying herself with another. Only having been married for a few months he remained captivated by her nubile young body.
At nineteen years old, she was half his age and her body was lithe, creamy white and unblemished. She had the body of a ballerina and he never tired of watching her.
Alex found the expression on his new bride's flawless face puzzling. It was enigmatic at best. She was like the Mona Lisa he thought, as he continued to scrutinize her closely, she was inscrutable, unfathomable.
Her thin reserved smile revealed nothing of what she was thinking, and more importantly, what she was feeling. That was one of the things about his young wife that both fascinated and excited him most. The first time he took her, he had discovered that there was passion beneath her placid façade.
Unlike most pretty young women, she wasn't a giddy, bubbly chatterbox who constantly babbled about nothing. She didn't seem to feel the need to express an opinion on every subject. She didn't have the urge to tell you everything she thought.
And unlike other attractive teen girls she wasn't all 'Me! Me! Me!'. Misty was reserved, she kept her own counsel. She was serene in her quiet reserve. She was mature beyond her years. That was also one of the things that most attracted Alex to his much younger wife Melissa.
But the thing that most attracted Alex to Misty, as she preferred to be called, was something he recognized in her the first time they met. Behind her inscrutable quiet façade she was pliable, compliant, submissive.
Alex immediately recognized that he would easily be able to bend Misty to his will. He saw that he could fashion her into his version of the perfect obedient wife, a hot wife. With just a little effort on his part, she would do whatever he demanded. She would then become the vessel through which he could live out his wildest most uninhibited sexual fantasies.
Alex continued to watch Misty as she prepared herself for the evening. He was sitting in the high backed leather easy chair in the corner of their bedroom with his feet up on the matching ottoman as he scrutinized her every move.
Having finished drying herself, she was sitting at the old fashioned dressing table he had bought for her at a vintage furniture store downtown. It seemed perfect for Misty when he saw it. It was the same type of dressing table you might find backstage at a theater or at a strip club.
It was the kind of dressing table at which actresses and showgirls sat as they primped in front of a mirror in advance of their performances. It was white and ringed by bright bare lightbulbs.
Alex could imagine the glamourous performers combing out their hair and applying their makeup in front of brightly lit mirrors like these, preparing to strut their stuff for an audience.
Misty's face was glowing as she tried to make herself beautiful for her new husband and his mystery guest who would be arriving soon. Like the actresses and dancers who had used the dressing table before her, she too would be performing for her own audience very soon.
Glancing into the mirror, Misty saw her husband watching her. She felt a chill run through her body. It wasn't a casual stare he was giving her. Her husband was leering at her in an unnerving sort of way. There was lust in his eyes and she wondered if it portended how the rest of the night would unfold.
It was the same lust she had seen in his eyes the first time she disrobed for him, offering him her young body. He had demanded that she make a show of slowly, very slowly, stripping naked in front of him on their wedding night. She had done so willingly, without giving it a second thought.
Misty had been, and continued to be, helpless to resist her older husband's raw animal magnetism. She had been so excited that a rich and handsome man twice her age had shown any interest in her at all that she felt compelled to surrender to his desires, to his every whim.
She had always been self-conscious because she was tall, lanky and small breasted. Although she knew she was pretty, she was not movie star or cover girl beautiful by any stretch of the imagination.
And that's why she felt so lucky as she stared into the mirror again, looking at the reflection of her ruggedly handsome husband with his curly black hair and dark penetrating eyes that seemed to look right through her.
She and he were a study in contrasts. He with his swarthy complexion and barrel chest covered in black curly hair and she a willowy blue eyed strawberry blonde with long wavy hair that cascaded down to the top of her perky alabaster breasts.
The only thing they seemed to share in common was their height. At five foot eleven she was nearly as tall as her six foot husband. But his body was muscled and sturdy. Misty's body was sleek, with long slender legs that went all the way up her pert pear-shaped ass.
Misty always felt physically diminutive when she was near her husband. At one hundred fifteen pounds she was less than half his weight. She always felt small, weak and helpless in his presence. And it excited her.
As Alex stared back at his young wife's angelic doe-eyed face they briefly made eye contact in the mirror before she turned away blushing. But not even in that fraction of a second did her face betray what she was thinking or feeling.
It was the Mona Lisa staring back at Alex again. Beautiful but enigmatically mysterious as always. The more he watched her sphinxlike expression the more aroused he became, just as he always did.
Alex continued to quietly watch his attractive young wife as she slowly did her eyelashes in the brightly lit mirror. He had been silently watching her since she got out of the shower. She had stepped into the bedroom to dry herself knowing he would want to watch. And he knew she had done so just for him.
Misty pretended not to see him sitting across the room from her. She knew that would appeal to his voyeuristic instincts. She had slowly dried her body, making a show of caressing her breasts, then her backside and then her pussy with the soft bath towel.
She had turned sideways as she gently and sensuously rubbed her body with the towel. Misty purposefully kept her head turned away from Alex, allowing him to play the unseen voyeur.
In the brief time they had been married, she had learned to avoid her instinctive impulse to look back over her shoulder at her husband, acknowledging his presence. She knew his eyes never strayed from her anyway.
Pretending not to see him watching her was one of the less troublesome things he had conditioned her to do in the few months they had been married. There were other things she had learned to do for him that had taken longer and had only been achieved once she finally capitulated under her domineering husband's constant and intense pressure.
Alex's eyes followed his teenage bride's slender finger's as she put the eyeliner brush back in the bottle and placed it on the counter. He caught her looking up out of the corner of her eye. Had he seen a flash of fear, perhaps apprehension, in her eyes briefly? The moment had been so fleeting, he could not be sure.
For his part, Alex had learned that watching Misty's face, trying to catch her reaction, was usually a waste of time, but a pleasurable one, nonetheless. There were other 'tells' as a poker player would say. At the moment he could tell that she was aroused as she sat at the dressing table contemplating the rest of the evening.
There was a puddle of her sex juices on the padded bench beneath her. Even if he had not been able to see it, he could smell her body's musky perfume from across the room.
Looking up, Alex's eyes were drawn to Misty's youthful perky breasts. They weren't particularly large but they were well-proportioned for her willowy body. He watched as her petite breasts swelled in and out and her sexual anxiety grew.
Misty's delicate nipples were another 'tell' that she was aroused. Like her breasts, her areolas and nipples were petite. Though small, they were a vibrant reddish color like her lips. Her tiny areolas were the size of quarters and her aroused nipples were pebbled with desire, looking like large ripe red raspberries.
