she didn't have to in order to avoid danger.
Her meandering thoughts turned to the source of her newfound freedom;
Christopher. He had asked a little while ago for the intimacy of sharing a bath.
To avoid conflict, she had been inclined just to let him make the decision, but he
had begged her to be honest, and honestly, she had wanted to be alone. He wasn't angry. He was disappointed but acquiesced to my wishes. He listened to me! He
had listened in bed too, she remembered, taking her quickly to minimize the pain, just as she had asked.
Affection towards her husband stirred within her. She had been attracted to
him because he was handsome and soothing and represented safety. But
suddenly she liked him. I want his company because he's Christopher. He's safe
and kind and he draws me in ways I don't fully understand. These are goodthoughts, and I like them. I feel content.
Perhaps someday she would understand happy. For today, contentment
measured among the most pleasant things she had ever felt, like this soothing salted bath, like crying when she needed to, like the lovely pleasure she had felt
earlier today when she let Christopher touch her.
I should let him touch me again, she decided. He wants to, I'm sure of it. She also felt again the shy curiosity about the act. He said that once her soreness faded, she would enjoy him putting… that inside her. It's hard to imagine, she thought, it stung and burned so badly the first time. Perhaps now, since she was open, the discomfort would not recur.
She had been sore all evening, a lingering embarrassing reminder that she had taken all her clothes off and been naked with a man who had touched her intimate parts and then thrust himself inside her. But the ache was fading in the
warm water, and the man was her husband.
We pledged our bodies to each other, forsaking all others. That means I owe
him access to mine. The realization that he also owed her access to his made her smile as a confusion of images and sensations filled her mind; of eyes filled with
flattering desire, lips kissing her, arms embracing and supporting, fingers eliciting naughty pleasure from her unmentionable places. Heat coiled in her belly.
She sat up taller, her breasts breaking the surface of the water, the nipples hardening in the cool air. I liked it when he touched me there, and he liked to do it. She hesitantly stroked one bud. Nice, but not the same. And lower, am I ready to be touched there again? Her hand slid under the water, down her belly. The bruises hardly hurt anymore, but touching herself proved too daunting, and she
stopped. I'll leave the intimate caressing to my husband. I suggested waiting
until tomorrow, but right now I want to be touched. Am I brave enough to askhim? she wondered. Then she shook her head. Not really. However, her nightgown remained in the bedroom. I can emerge nude. That might be clue enough.
Finished bathing, she stood and picked up a towel, pleased to be able to bend
over. Then she dried herself quickly. The chill in the room from the drafts of wintery air filtering around the windows stung her, and her nipples hardened further. Before her nerves could stop her, she walked quickly through the front room to the bedroom. Christopher reclined on the bed, reading a novel. He glanced up, and she grinned to see his eyes widen and his jaw drop.
“Did you have a good bath, love?” His calm voice seemed at odds with his
stunned expression. Clearly, he had not expected a move this bold.
She smiled sweetly at him. “Yes. I really needed that. Perhaps, sometime, we
can do… what you suggested.”
“Let me know when you're ready,” he told her eagerly.
“Is it normal for a husband to give his wife so much power over the
choices?” she asked, surprised again by his generosity and consideration.
“How do I know?” He shrugged, his lips curling into a white-toothed grin.
“I've never been married before. But I doubt it matters. Others have their marriages, but this is ours. I know what I want it to become, and I won't get there
by being controlling.”
She climbed onto the bed beside him. “The sheets have been changed.”
“They have,” he agreed.
Katerina blushed. “Well, it did have a significant mark,” she said.
“Indeed,” he winked, “and no wonder. Someone was deflowered here.”
She put on a shy, innocent expression that was only half feigned. “I think it
was me.”
