decade, with blond hair pulled back into a bun. She was quite pretty, but she looked upset. Good, she should be.
"That's right, you are the foreman's wife," I told her in my most superior tone, although it didn't have much gravitas as I was unclothed. "I'm in charge of this household now and you will leave."
She didn't say more and pulled the door shut behind her. I sighed with relief, alone once again, not wanting her to see me this way. I was embarrassed and at a loss on how to express that. I found the small pile of clothes still upon the dining table. Unfolding the skirt, I stepped into it, slid it up my legs and buttoned it about my waist. I frowned at the lack of drawers. Donning the white blouse, I slipped one arm, then the other into the long sleeves. There were no buttons on the front, only two long panels that hung down to about my knees. I tried to ascertain how the front was closed, but after about five minutes of fumbling, I gave up, leaving the front open. I was covered better than before; it was a good start at the return of my modesty.
With this reasonable amount of coverage, I felt ashamed at my harsh words to Maura. She hadn't earned my sharp tongue. I would have to apologize when I saw her next.
In the kitchen, I found a covered plate of eggs, bacon and biscuits still warm on the top of the range, and I ate with relish. Cole's seed had filled me up, but I was still quite hungry. With nothing else to do, I wandered his – our - large house until he returned.
Cole returned within the hour to find me reading a book. His large frame filled the doorway and I was once again amazed at how handsome my husband was. I remembered the feel of his hot skin, the callouses on his large palms, what he could do with his nimble fingers.
"I see you've dressed," he murmured, his gaze raking over my body.
I glanced down. "Oh, there's something wrong with this blouse. There aren't any buttons."
He held out a hand and I took it, placing my book on the arm of the chair. Gently, he turned me around to face away from him. His large hands came around my body and grabbed the long panels that dangled down. He wrapped one, then the other, about my waist and I felt him fumbling with them at my back, securing them.
"There. It buttons in the back."
Turning me back around, he took in my blouse. So did I.
"I'm sticking out!" What kind of garment was this?
"Yes, I can see that and I'm enjoying it immensely. If I wasn't so hungry I'd fuck you again."
I pursed my lips. "That's neither here nor there. I need a blouse!"
He nodded toward me. "You're wearing your blouse. As you have clearly observed, your blouses will keep your breasts exposed. It's what married women wear."
"My mother doesn't wear something like this."
"Yes, she does."
I froze, thinking. She'd always worn a white or colored blouse with a scarf of the same fabric about her neck, criss-crossed and buttoned behind her. "She's always modestly dressed. I've never seen her breasts exposed before."
"You wouldn't. You were a child, then an unmarried woman."
I placed a hand on his arm, the large muscles of his biceps clenching beneath. "You...you want everyone to see me like this?" Is this what he desired? To share my breasts with others?
"Not everyone will see you, but here on the ranch, yes."
I bit my lip. "But why?"
"Besides it being what a wife wears, it allows me to see your beautiful breasts at all times. I don't want anything in the way if I want to touch them. Pull on your nipples. Suck on them."
I gasped. I couldn't help it. The mental image he wrought was very appealing.
"Can't you do that here, in the house, in private?"
Cole lifted my chin with his thumb, forcing me to look at him. "What's the matter, darlin'? The real issue, please, because you know you'll be exposed to others. Sam's already seen you."
"I don't like my breasts," I whispered. There. I'd said it. I felt tears well in my eyes.
"Oh, darlin'. They're sheer perfection. Why wouldn't you
"That's right, you are the foreman's wife," I told her in my most superior tone, although it didn't have much gravitas as I was unclothed. "I'm in charge of this household now and you will leave."
She didn't say more and pulled the door shut behind her. I sighed with relief, alone once again, not wanting her to see me this way. I was embarrassed and at a loss on how to express that. I found the small pile of clothes still upon the dining table. Unfolding the skirt, I stepped into it, slid it up my legs and buttoned it about my waist. I frowned at the lack of drawers. Donning the white blouse, I slipped one arm, then the other into the long sleeves. There were no buttons on the front, only two long panels that hung down to about my knees. I tried to ascertain how the front was closed, but after about five minutes of fumbling, I gave up, leaving the front open. I was covered better than before; it was a good start at the return of my modesty.
With this reasonable amount of coverage, I felt ashamed at my harsh words to Maura. She hadn't earned my sharp tongue. I would have to apologize when I saw her next.
In the kitchen, I found a covered plate of eggs, bacon and biscuits still warm on the top of the range, and I ate with relish. Cole's seed had filled me up, but I was still quite hungry. With nothing else to do, I wandered his – our - large house until he returned.
Cole returned within the hour to find me reading a book. His large frame filled the doorway and I was once again amazed at how handsome my husband was. I remembered the feel of his hot skin, the callouses on his large palms, what he could do with his nimble fingers.
"I see you've dressed," he murmured, his gaze raking over my body.
I glanced down. "Oh, there's something wrong with this blouse. There aren't any buttons."
He held out a hand and I took it, placing my book on the arm of the chair. Gently, he turned me around to face away from him. His large hands came around my body and grabbed the long panels that dangled down. He wrapped one, then the other, about my waist and I felt him fumbling with them at my back, securing them.
"There. It buttons in the back."
Turning me back around, he took in my blouse. So did I.
"I'm sticking out!" What kind of garment was this?
"Yes, I can see that and I'm enjoying it immensely. If I wasn't so hungry I'd fuck you again."
I pursed my lips. "That's neither here nor there. I need a blouse!"
He nodded toward me. "You're wearing your blouse. As you have clearly observed, your blouses will keep your breasts exposed. It's what married women wear."
"My mother doesn't wear something like this."
"Yes, she does."
I froze, thinking. She'd always worn a white or colored blouse with a scarf of the same fabric about her neck, criss-crossed and buttoned behind her. "She's always modestly dressed. I've never seen her breasts exposed before."
"You wouldn't. You were a child, then an unmarried woman."
I placed a hand on his arm, the large muscles of his biceps clenching beneath. "You...you want everyone to see me like this?" Is this what he desired? To share my breasts with others?
"Not everyone will see you, but here on the ranch, yes."
I bit my lip. "But why?"
"Besides it being what a wife wears, it allows me to see your beautiful breasts at all times. I don't want anything in the way if I want to touch them. Pull on your nipples. Suck on them."
I gasped. I couldn't help it. The mental image he wrought was very appealing.
"Can't you do that here, in the house, in private?"
Cole lifted my chin with his thumb, forcing me to look at him. "What's the matter, darlin'? The real issue, please, because you know you'll be exposed to others. Sam's already seen you."
"I don't like my breasts," I whispered. There. I'd said it. I felt tears well in my eyes.
"Oh, darlin'. They're sheer perfection. Why wouldn't you
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