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This blog showcases spanking fetish stories and poetry; plus some other random thoughts and ideas, written by a thirty-something female switch.
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The Trial of Remi K
Remi K wakes, shattered and sore, with a spotlight on her face. She is waiting for the Law, waiting for someone to tell her why she is here. She has been in the same spot for hours, in the same high backed chair.
She is naked and cold. Her wrists and ankles are bound to the chair, tightly bound with leather cuffs and ropes. Her neck is in a collar. Ropes bind her breasts and her nipples are clamped. She is hungry and does not understand why the Law does not come.
The wood of the chair feels cool underneath her burning bottom. She remembers being taken from her room to be interrogated and stripped, remembers bending in the courtroom for the bite of the cane.
Remi K remembers being collared in front of the court and led on a rope back here, to the darkness, and remembers nothing more.
The spotlight shines deep into Remi K's eyes, and she squints. Someone else may be in the room. There may be a hundred other girls naked and bound, but all she can see is the spotlight.
She can hear nothing, not even another person's breathing. She shivers.
Remi K hears footsteps. The Law is coming. She will find out why she is held here, without food, without clothing. She will be taken out of the darkness.
He is here before her but she cannot see him. She can sense another person in the dark, but not even an outline is visible. Suddenly a hand slaps her sharply across the face, once, twice. She feels the tears stinging but refuses to break down and cry.
The world spins in the mind of Remi K. Her wrists hurt. Her ankles hurt. Her neck is stiff from the collar. Her nipples are tense and numb from the clamps. All is confusion.
A hand touching her, running up her leg. Unable to move or turn away, unable to see him because of the spotlight.
"Are you the Law?" she asks.
"I am."
Remi K wants to escape. She wants to know why she is here. She wants to know what he wants of her. She wants to please.
His hand is on her thigh now. Sharply the stroking turns to smacking, hard slaps stinging the inside of her legs. Remi K feels a choking sob escape, but stops it. Fear might stop him letting her go.
Remi K feels the cold air on her body. The only hot place between her legs where her thighs are sore. She knows she is exposed and the spotlight means he could see where she can not.
She feels ashamed but turned on at the same time.
"Why have you brought me here?" she whispers.
"You belong."
The courtroom did not give any answers either, remembers Remi K. They told her nothing other than her name and her age, which she already knew. But why she was taken from her room, taken to the court, then collared and brought here, she does not know.
Now he tells her she belongs.
Does this mean that Remi K is destined to be a slave forever, to be tied, bound, and spotlighted under his gaze?
The bite of the whip cuts into her skin and she is tied there, unable to move. She feels a bead of sweat, or is it blood, running down her body. She can only hear the strokes and the white-hot sensation across her. She cannot understand why. She cannot move, only experience.
Remi K is sore and shattered. She is hungry and is desperate for water. The Law is still in the room but now he stands watching her, quietly. Neither of them speak.
She feels her bonds being loosened, first her ankles, then her wrists. She feels his lips on hers before her collar is unbuckled. Her arms snake around him, feeling the power of his muscles, feeling the heat of his body. He carries her in his arms and cradles her. She is offered food, which she consumes hungrily. She is offered water, which regenerates her.
"Game over?" he asks as he nuzzles her ear.
"Oh yes please," comes the giggly voice of Remi K.
He kisses her with all the passion of lovers in play, before flipping her over and starting to spank her willing bottom, making it bright red and burning sore. She feels her heart thundering as she and the Law complete their scene together, before bed, breakfast, and a bus trip home.
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Posted: 10:36 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Head Girl: Part Two
Georgina had been standing in the corner for ten minutes, feeling flushed and wishing she had not been so cheeky. Not for nothing was the Matron of St Bride's feared and respected.
"Well, girl - I think we should continue. If you keep acting like a little girl, we will have to treat you like one. Fetch me the hairbrush."
Spinning round in indignation, Georgina's mouth fell open in an indignant exclamation.
"Like hell I will! That's for babies."
Matron grabbed Georgina by the arm and twisted it, making her wince.
"You ... have spent all week behaving like a child. The first year girls get the hairbrush when they are naughty, and so will you. Now go and get it."
The head girl went to the table and picked up the large flat-backed hairbrush, feeling a churning in her stomach as she did so. Thank goodness this wasn't witnessed by the other girls in the dormitory.
"Please Matron ... I'll be good. Let me off this time."
"No Georgina. Too many chances already. You are head girl here and an example to the other girls. An example has to be made of you. Everyone will be made aware that you have been punished in this way and that should deter you from being lazy and cheeky again."
Matron sat, took the hairbrush from Georgina, and indicated she should go back over her lap. Georgina hated this, but could not see any way to get out of it. Once over at least she couldn't see the woman's face and she couldn't see hers.
"Matron, please don't take the head girl post away from me ... ow!"
The hairbrush cracked against Georgina's bottom and made her yelp, wriggling ungainly with her skirt up over Matron's lap.
"You'll stay head girl if you behave, and if you take all your punishment today like a good girl. If you swear and struggle I will not only see you are demoted, but that you are sent to the Head. And you know what will happen then."
"Yes Matron," sniffled Georgina. She was well aware what happened to the girls who had to see the Head. So far she had been lucky enough to avoid that.
"I'm going to give you eighteen of this hairbrush ... hard. You will count backwards and if you count incorrectly, we start again. Is that clear?"
"Yes Matron."
The first stroke fell hard on Georgina's sore bottom, and she gritted her teeth to stop a sob coming out.
"Eighteen Matron, thank you."
Another three followed quickly, and Georgina kept count, feeling increasingly silly at being over the knee like a small child being punished for being naughty.
"Fifteen Matron, thank you."
Matron was feeling quite annoyed by this time, and felt she was not getting through to Georgina. She beat her harder with the hairbrush until she could see hints of bruising in the skin. Georgina struggled a bit and was still crying when the last few strokes were reached, but she had not miscounted once.
"Now get up."
Georgina stood in front of Matron, feeling very small and subdued.
"That's for being cheeky and for being lazy. Now there is the matter of bullying the smaller girls."
"Oh miss ... that didn't happen. I haven't been bullying anyone."
Matron held up her hand.
"Enough. Get me the strap ... now ... and don't dawdle. And take your position over the desk."
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Posted: 10:35 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Head Girl: Part One
Matron looked again at the report she had received on Georgina Mitchell, the Head Girl at St Bride's.
"A lazy and disrespectful attitude."
"Poor grammar and no attention at all to her French."
"Slovenly, untidy, and rude."
"A bully who steals from the girls in her House and puts the blame on them."
Something had to be done. Matron had been entrusted with the task of punishing Georgina and was expecting the girl to come and see her any minute. This time she would be made an example of - no more light punishments or deals struck to say sorry and get away with it.
The knock on the door prompted her to put down the report, stand up, straighten her uniform, and prepare herself for the task ahead.
"Come in, girl."
Georgina came in, and it was clear from first appearances that she was indeed a slovenly and untidy girl. Her hair was a mess and her tie was not fastened correctly, and she had mud stains along the hem of her black skirt. She was also chewing gum and had an attitude that made Matron's temper rise almost immediately.
"Spit that gum out now. What do you think you are playing it, a lazy filthy slut like you, supposed to be an example to others?"
"Sorry Matron," said Georgina, removing the gum and transferring it to the waste bin. A giggle was in her eyes.
"And stop laughing. You are not here on holiday. I have heard so many bad things about you and this time it is not funny. Last time you were here we had a discussion about your behaviour and you promised to apply yourself to your work and be more tidy in your appearance."
"But ..."
"No buts. I think if you behave like a little girl you should be treated as one. I think you need to be put over my knee and smacked like the little troublecauser that you are."
Georgina was open-mouthed and indignant.
"You can't do that. I'm Head Girl and I'm 18."
Matron had taken an instant dislike to the girl and was determined to humble her and break her spirit. She took a seat in the high backed chair.
"Get over here, now."
She propelled Georgina over her lap, her large limbs flailing and her bottom stuck out, making the girl look rather silly. Hopefully she was feeling a little humiliated already. She certainly would later.
"You've been a lazy - idle - bad - girl. You do - nothing - do not - apply - yourself - to your - lessons. I have heard - nothing - but - bad - reports - about - you!"
With each pause Matron landed a hard slap on Georgina's skirt-covered bottom. The Head Girl was already wriggling and protesting, kicking and struggling, all of which intensified as Matron pulled back her skirt, revealing pink lacy knickers, which broke school regulations.
"What are - these?" Matron rained smacks over the knickers and the bare skin which was already showing at the side and the backs of the legs, while Georgina yelped and argued.
"I ain't done nothing, you bitch! Stop it or I'll tell my parents!"
"I should think - you - will - you - naughty - girl!"
The girl's skin was already hot and red under Matron's hand but she continued the spanking until the girl struggled less, stopped cursing, and started to sniffle.
"Now get up and go in the corner. A disgraceful exhibition - I have never seen anything like it! And keep your skirt up so I can see that bottom, you nasty little girl."
Georgina stood with her face to the wall, her face flushed with shame. She knew that there was much more yet to come.
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Posted: 10:34 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Shower
Tom and Jackie had been out all day, seeing the sights of the small French town they'd gone to for a weekend break. Their hotel room was stiflingly hot, so much so that they divested themselves of the layers of clothes they needed to keep warm outside as soon as they came through the door.
Jackie got a can of Coke from the minibar and reclined on the bed, watching opera on a Spanish TV channel.
"I need a shower," sighed Tom, scratching his neck and feeling a bit sweaty, "guess I'll have to try out the facilities first."
Lying back, drinking the Coke, drinking in the opera, reading her guide book, Jackie plotted what they could do for the rest of the night. She'd brought her hairbrush which looked very inviting, sitting innocently at the side of the bed.
The bathroom door opened. Tom came out with a towel fixed round his waist and carrying another, looking rather sheepish.
"What's up?" laughed Jackie.
"Well, you know that mat that is supposed to be on the bathroom floor ... well I forgot and left it in the shower, so it is very wet."
"And ...?"
"And the floor of the bathroom is flooded because I didn't close the curtain properly."
Jackie put down her guide book. "I see."
She finished her Coke and picked up the hairbrush.
"OK ... over."
Tom opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. He bent over the bed wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
Jackie aimed the hairbrush against the wet towel with a thud.
"Ouch!"
"I don't think I'm getting through to you. This needs to come off."
Tom grumbled but Jackie unhooked his towel with a practised hand so he stood naked and bent over ready for the hairbrush.
"This is for being naughty and for flooding the bathroom. It's a bloody disgrace and rude when we're supposed to be on holiday."
Crack! went the hairbrush against the damp skin of Tom's bottom, making him wince. A red patch roughly the same size and shape as the back of the brush was now visible, following in quick succession by five others, while Tom rocked backwards and forwards, complaining.
"Ouch ... that hurts!"
"It's supposed to," snapped Jackie, "now get back in the bathroom and wipe up the mess in there."
Tom stood up, still dripping wet from the shower but now rather more sore on the behind than he was when he came out. He reached out to Jackie and pulled her towards him.
"I do love you," he smiled.
Jackie watched him retreat into the bathroom, into the steam, carrying both wet towels.
"Love you too," she whispered.
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Posted: 10:34 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Alice's Adventures on the Underground
Alice had been a bad girl all day. She'd run off when the others had stopped for food and festivities at the nearby pub, and she had put up a poster in the window calling Robert a 'dumbo'. She'd been a terror and a pain, and to cap it all, she point-blank refused to accept his lift, meaning Andy had to put up with her on the Tube instead, all the way along the Piccadilly Line.
"Insufferable girl!" he muttered, as they bought their tickets and waited on the platform.
Alice smirked as she sipped at a carton of Ribena.
The train arrived, almost empty for once, since the time of night was fairly late. Andy spotted a carriage completely unoccupied, and propelled Alice into it.
She took a seat, and sulked. She was determined not to be friendly and approachable, and was revelling in his obvious discomfort.
Andy sat down by Alice, and pulled her towards him for a cuddle.
"Don't do that," she hissed, "we're in public now."
Quick as a flash, she found herself across his lap, struggling as he raised her skirt and pulled back the material of her knickers so the bare cheeks of her bottom were revealed.
"Nooooo, please don't," wailed Alice, as Andy's hand made contact with her skin with a smart smack, followed by others of the same strength, causing little patches of pink to appear on her white bottom.
Her embarrassement was quickly increased as he tugged down the front of her blouse, exposing her bare breasts, and pulled her knickers down to her knees.
As the train approached the first station he put her skirt back down and wrapped his arm around her, hiding her breasts.
She closed her eyes, feigning sleep, in case someone got into their carriage.
The train moved off. Still alone in the carriage, Andy flipped back Alice's skirt and increased the intensity of the spanking on her bare bottom, tweaking and playing with her nipples at the same time.
Alice kicked and protested but couldn't escape.
At the next station the pantomime of replacing her skirt and holding her like a sleepy girl, tired at the exercion of the day, continued, but no passengers came into the carriage.
Andy's hand snaked under her skirt to stroke the hot skin, to slip a curious finger between her buttocks, to scratch along them with eager fingernails.
A longer stretch between stations allowed him to give her a long, hard spanking without pausing, down the backs of her legs as well as all over her bottom. She buried her head into the seat cushions, trying to concentrate on anything other than the burning shooting through her with each slap.
At a busy stretch of the line, there were many more passengers on the platform, one or two looking into the carriage where Alice lay across Andy's lap. He managed to busy himself in a book, looking as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have someone sleeping in that position with him.
A man got into their carriage, and settled himself opposite the pair.
Alice opened her eyes in surprise, and wondered what they would do now. How to hide what was going on?
"Been a naughty girl, has she?" said the stranger, a smile playing about his lips, "don't mind me, old man, you just carry on."
Andy thought for a second, and then flipped up Alice's skirt, starting to stroke and smack her again.
"Very nice," said the stranger, then, addressing Alice, "are you learning your lesson yet young lady?"
Alice was blushing furiously at both ends by this time and turned her head away from the stranger, so their eyes didn't have to meet as she was being punished.
"Where are your manners, Alice?" Andy's voice came out of the space above her, as the spanking intensified again. Alice closed her eyes tight, jolting forward with each slap and wishing she was somewhere else.
"I'm sorry, my sub appears to have forgotten her place. Please don't mind her."
The stranger smiled. "I'm afraid that when mine does something like that, there's nothing for it. A good beating, that's the key. Use a hairbrush or take a belt to her."
Alice bit her lip. She was beginning to regret acting up all day now.
A new station, and her skirt again replaced. The stranger moved over and sat beside them, opposite Alice's head, reaching over to stroke her hair and her face.
"She's very pretty."
"Yes," said Andy, "but very wilful. I really don't know what I can do with her."
The stranger moved seats, so that Alice's legs were next to his. He pulled them across his knee, so she was lying over the laps of both men.
"Do this," he said, raising his hand high and bringing it down smartly on the crease between Alice's bottom and the backs of her legs.
Andy sat back as the stranger took charge, giving Alice a harder spanking that he had ever tried, using both hands and leaving her with vivid red marks wherever his hands had made contact.
He dipped his head to kiss Alice, feeling her shaking with pain and fear, but seeing the pleasure gleaming in her eyes. He loved to see her like this, the first time he had watched her reactions when someone else was dealing with her. She was such a sweet little thing.
Finally, the train drew up at the final station. Alice pulled up her top and her knickers and slid off the seats, afraid to meet the stranger's eye.
On the short walk home, no words passed between Alice and Andy. She couldn't tell whether she had pleased him or not, but couldn't remember doing anything wrong.
Once in the house, Andy took her by the arm and led her to the sofa.
"You were enjoying that far too much, you slut. Over the arm please."
Alice bent over obligingly, and then gasped as she felt her knickers not just being lowered, but being torn off, and her legs being forced wide apart.
She tried not to wriggle and to to think of anything else than being where she was, as she was, as she heard Andy unbuckling his belt ...
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Posted: 10:32 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Feathers
She waits, face down on the bed as he commanded. Her dress feels too tight, the skirt too short, the bodice cuts into her small breasts, the ruffles at the sleeves feel too fussy.
She waits, for the door to open. She waits, for his footsteps. She waits, for the command she knows will come, but what will it be? Will she stay here, in the safety of the warm bed, with a pillow to bury her face in? Will she have to stand and bend? Will she be ordered over his lap?
She waits, the tingling of her bottom perceptible even through the lacy undies and the smooth cotton of the dress.
She waits, the cool air lapping at her bare legs, teasing the nape of her neck, kissing the exposed expanse of her back.
She waits, sensing his approach. All her senses heighten. She hears his familiar tread on the stairs, smells his aftershave, feels a trickle of sweat run down her thigh, tastes dry in her mouth.
She waits, and he approaches. She feels her dress being raised, her undies being lowered. She wriggles and raises her hips to assist. She keeps her head down and dares not look. She hears the quiet command to 'stay'.
She waits, and feels his hand gently stroking her, lightly, skimming like a feather. Over the skin his skin feels like it is painting a layer of protection, one which makes every pore sing, every minute hair shudder. She raises her bottom up to meet the slowly stroking hand, to feel the love and warmth between them.
She waits. There are no words between them but this contact binds them together, stops time as they fuse, get the measure of each other. The deceptive gentleness of his hand, moving like a little bird over her skin.
She waits for the punishment she knows will come, in a minute, in five, in ten. She waits for the sharp slap against the skin which has been slowly awakened, slowly made receptive and brought to life.
She waits for the feather touch to end, for the command, for the control. She longs for him. She longs for him to take her and break her. His slow, compassionate touch makes her want him all the more, to wish to serve him and be his.
She waits, and time flutters. The longing, the silence, and the birth of the pain that only he can give her.
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Posted: 10:31 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Room 101: Part Two
The door closed with a thud which made Jody jump from the bed, wide-eyed, trying to cover herself up with her hands in front of her.
Tall and dark, Richard Wharton glanced around the room, annoyed to see his bag open and his things in disarray on the bed. He looked at the flushing face of the girl, down to her knees where her knickers were bunched up, up to her hands which hovered nervously in front of her pubic area. Back to the bed where the other girl sat, smirking, half sitting on one of his straps.
Just that morning he'd spent a happy hour with his partner bound and gagged on the bed while he strapped, whipped and caned her. She'd gone off with a secret smile on his face and he'd enjoyed his day all the better for his morning exercise.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Sadie stood up and made a mock curtsey, "Sorry sir, we were just tidying your room and we got a little carried away. You really shouldn't carry luggage like this around with you, you know."
"It was in the wardrobe, where you have no right to look."
Jody was in the process of pulling up her knickers but was stopped by a quickly barked instruction in her direction.
"You, girl. Strip. Everything off."
"But ...".
"NOW."
With trembling hands she obeyed, removing all her garments until she stood completely naked and defenceless. Richard smiled appreciately. A nice body, he thought. Wide hips, pert little breasts. Innocent little face.
"Turn around."
Jody bit her lip and turned around, aware that her bottom must still be pink from her spanking.
"You've been a naughty girl, I can see. Naughty girls should be punished, don't you think?"
"Yes ... I suppose so."
"Yes. Stand in the corner over there, facing the wall. I'll deal with you later."
He watched her go, the pink flush on her bottom contrasting beautifully with the white skin of the rest of her body.
Sadie sniggered and strutted over to Richard. "You want to watch her, sir. A right little bad 'un. Never could keep her hands to herself."
"The same goes for you, I imagine." He turned to regard her more fully.
She was about to walk away when she felt a firm grip on her shoulder, propelling her over to the bed.
"Get off me!"
Richard was now exasperated. His afternoon plans had been disrupted. His partner was out shopping, and these two girls were cluttering up his room, the sweet and quiet one standing in the corner, naked and available as he had requested; and this girl, smirking at him. A right little brat.
He pulled her down beside him and across his lap. Her kicking and squirming, protesting, was no match for his strong left arm which pinned her down with a practised touch in the small of her back. He pulled down her knickers with such force that he heard them tear, and heard her swear at him for ruining 'a decent pair'.
A nice little bottom, he thought, wondering if this would be the first time a man had taken over over his knee for discipline. Trying out a sharp smack her wail of protest hinted that it might well be a new experience for her. Good. One slap after another turned her bottom cheeks to pink and then to ruby red as he prolonged the spanking. Sadie swore, struggled, even tried to bite him at one point. What a little witch, he thought. He'd enjoy really making her suffer.
Finally as she quietened and laid limp across him, he let his hand rest on her burning skin, which looked very sore indeed.
"Get up, girl. Behave yourself."
Sadie stood up, looking a little subdued but with traces of defiant fire still burning in her eyes. He'd have to do something about that.
"Get those clothes off and stand in the corner, there."
He watched her strip, then walk across and stand beside Jody. Ah yes, the other girl. Richard picked up the whippiest of his canes and tapped it lightly against her bottom.
"Come here, girl."
Jody moved across to the bed and stood in front of him. Something was dancing in her eyes - excitement? exultation? fear? He wished he could define it.
"Bend over the bed. Legs apart. Now."
She glanced over at where Sadie stood with her back to them, bottom flaming, and shoulders shaking with silent tears, and obediently bent over.
What a pearl, thought Richard. A beautiful young girl with an equally beautiful young bottom, ready for him to make his mark. He knew this was her first caning, and although she deserved every stroke, he would make it so memorable she would lie awake at night longing to feel the wood cutting into her again.
With a whoosh and a crack, the cane cut into her, leaving a red weal which immediately bloomed into her pink skin. He heard her gasp and wince, clenching her bottom together in reaction to the pain. Richard liked to see the effect every time; he never got bored with it.
In quick succession, five more strokes followed, close upon each other, leaving a neat sequence of lines across her peachy bottom. How he longed to bend and kiss it, to fondle it, feel the ridges and the heat generated by them.
"Six more, girl, and you will count each one."
"Yes. Yes ... sir."
The first one was considerably harder than the first six, making Jody cry out in pain and move out of position, composing herself enough to count and thank him for the stroke.
She's a natural, he thought. An absolute natural.
The process was repeated another four times, with the same performance each time, the audible cry of pain, the composure, the counting.
The last stroke must always be harder than the others, he thought to himself, and summoned up all his strength to bring the cane down on her unprotected bottom. Jody squealed and fell down onto the bed, sobbing.
"What number, girl?"
"Twelve ... sorry sir, that was twelve. Thank you." he heard through her frantic crying.
"Good girl," Richard knelt down behind her and kissed each of her bottom cheeks, rubbing her back as he did so. What a pretty girl, lovely. "you can stand up and dress yourself now."
Now for the other girl.
"Now it is your turn ... over here, girl."
Sadie walked downwards him and stood, sulkily, waiting for instructions. She was furious at being manhandled and spanked like a child with Jody standing there listening to all of it.
"Lie down on the bed. On your back."
"I will not!"
She found herself picked up and thrown down on to the bed, with his hands pulling up her legs high up, revealing not only her bottom but her vulva and other secret areas as well. She blushed at the thought of what he could see, and was more than aware of him having a good look.
Richard reached across and found the wooden paddle, deep within the bag. This would be fun.
Sadie burst into tears at the first stroke of the paddle across her still sore bottom, already stinging from the hand spanking she had endured earlier. This hard thud was more than she could bear at the moment, but she knew that the attack was only just beginning.
His grip on her legs was tight, and she could tell he had more than enough strength to master her. Best to give in and let him than to fight and be left in a mass of bruises and unable to sit for a week.
She lost count of how many times the wooden paddle and her body met together with an echoing sound which could surely be heard all the way down the corridor.
Eventually she was released and lay back on the bed, her hot bottom burning against the cool bed-cover.
Jody had turned round and her eyes met Sadie's. Both girls were of one mind as they leapt on Richard, sitting astride him, pinning him to the bed, clicking on the handcuffs.
"Now it's time for our fun, Mister," said Sadie, her hands straying down to unbuckle his belt.
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Posted: 10:29 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Room 101: Part One
Jory had a whole corridor of rooms to clean, to tidy, to change bed linen and towels, and to give some air. It was not a job she enjoyed, but one which gave her enough money for her weekly clothes shopping and a ride down town to go clubbing every Friday night.
She'd worked at the Lodge for ten weeks, starting with duties in the hotel laundry, progressing to her current post of maid and cleaner. Today she worked alongside Sadie, a more experienced former concierge who was now in charge of housekeeping and making sure the guests were comfortable in a warm and clean environment. It was quite a drop from serving business guests and VIPs but she had adapted well since she came to England.
They'd seen the couple in Room 101 several times during their stay. He was tall, broad-shouldered, always wearing a black suit and a shirt with a starched collar. She was small and slim with spectacles and chunky heeled shoes. Usually she was in shorts but once or twice she'd worn a long skirt which swayed as she walked, emphasising her figure, good legs and a tight little bottom.
Jory knocked on the door. The Do Not Disturb sign was not present, which usually indicated the guests had gone out, but her training required her to knock twice, wait, and then let herself in.
"Look at this room!" she gasped, thinking of the amount of work she and Sadie would have to put in to get it right. Not only were the bedclothes in a heap and the tea things dumped on the floor, but the wardrobes were open, clothes were hanging off hangers, and two bags overflowed out on to the floor.
"Let's tidy up the luggage first," suggested Sadie, moving over to the bags.
She started to organise the contents into neat piles - dirty clothes were bagged up in plastic and put at the bottom of the wardrobe, hairdryers and shavers were replaced without their cords trailing, and books were placed neatly in a pile.
"What on earth ...?" said Jody.
She looked into the second bag with eyes wide and mouth open, then reached in and pulled out a riding crop.
"Do they have a horse in here?"
Sadie laughed. "Oh you are a little innocent, aren't you? Betcha there's more stuff in there."
Curiosity getting the better of them they dragged out the bag and tipped it out on to the bed. Paddles, hairbrushes, floggers, straps, belts, whips, and canes came falling out, along with some handcuffs, a ball gag, a blindfold, some rope, and a couple of uniforms - one a classic schoolgirl and the other a smart twinset like you would find in an old-fashioned office.
The girls looked at each other.
"Gosh. I wonder what you do with that ...?"
Jody looked at her watch.
"Shall I put it on? The uniform?"
Sadie glanced nervously about. "I'm not sure we should. I mean ... this is private stuff, isn't it?"
"Well," said Jody with a smile, "I've always wondered what it felt like to be punished as a schoolgirl. You only have to put me over your knee and smack me; you don't have to use those."
Sadie thought for a minute. "OK, you're on. But only for a minute, mind. We've got a lot of work to do."
Jody changed into the uniform and stood in silence, adjusting her tie with a shaking hand, betraying her growing interest and excitement.
"Come here," said Sadie, sitting down on the bed.
Jody walked over, feeling very like the little schoolgirl she was dressed as, one who had not done her homework and who had been cheeky to Miss.
She was still surprised when Sadie pulled her across her lap, pulled up her skirt, pulled down her knickers, and started to smack her bottom in a way which left her in no doubt that it wasn't the first time.
Jody wriggled and protested. She'd expected a bit of fun but this really hurt!
Sadie was enjoying herself. Not since she'd been a prefect had she been able to soundly spank another female bottom and she remembered how good it had felt to redden the skin and feel the heat under her hand.
Engrossed as they were, Sadie in spanking and Jody in wriggling and squealing to get away, they didn't hear the door of the room open ...
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Posted: 10:29 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Beloved
Naked and silent she felt the roughness of the newly-christened sheets beneath her, chafing against the sore tops of her legs.
"My darling girl. My beloved."
She felt the warmth and the sensation of his hand brushing over her skin, almost imperceptible, smoothing over the blush of her buttocks, the tender redness, the welts he had given her as she had bent and counted just a few minutes before, when he had pushed her into a secret space of stars which exploded and shone just for the two of them.
She moaned into the pillow, feeling the dryness in her mouth as she struggled to stay still, to stay quiet, to please him.
"What do you require me to do, sir?" she asked.
He smacked her bottom sharply.
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
She shook her head, mute and obedient. She felt the touch of his hand exploring her, over each buttock, between them, down the cleft to her pussy, which he ran a finger over, quickly, down the backs of her legs. His fingers felt gentle, loving, protective. She felt the wetness of his kiss as he moved up her legs and back on to her bottom, kissing each cane mark, running his tongue over the vivid purple track.
Then suddenly, again, she was shaking and struggling with pain as he started to slap the backs of her legs, over and over, so hard that she jolted forward on the bed with every contact between palm and thigh. The sound resounded in the room along with her cries, muffled by the pillow.
He stopped. He started to stroke her back.
"Good girl. Look at me."
She turned her head, her eyes wet with tears. She smiled, betraying her pleasure at what he had done to her. He kissed her face, her nose, her lips, nuzzling against her. She rubbed her head against his body. His little plaything, his little pet.
"I think you need more, don't you? Speak. What does my little girl need?"
He heard the words he knew he would hear, coming back to him from the depths of the bed, from the lovely girl with the ruby-red bottom and legs who lay, tempting and naked, face-down before him.
"Please punish me. I have been a bad girl."
He walked to the bed, picked up the hairbrush, and laid her down across his lap. Holding her across the waist he began to spank her with the hairbrush, hard, giving her what she both desired and deserved. Today he would bring her to tears of pain and pleasure, he would make her beg for mercy and yet hunger for more. The wood connected again and again with her bare bottom, already clearly marked from previous sessions, and the long, burning hand spanking he had given her when she had braced herself against the shower cubicle wall earlier. It had been wonderful to smack that shapely and smooth wet skin, and to watch her fighting the impulse to ask him to stop.
Now the hairbrush would have no mercy. He would beat her with it until she could bear no more, until her bottom bore the swollen purple patches of his mastery of her will and her spirit. He smiled to hear her usual protestations, 'please sir, please no more', knowing that unless she gave him the word, she was happy to continue this fascinating game.
"So beautiful," he said.
Now she lies sobbing in his strong arms, her vulnerability and her submission precious gifts that he holds dear as he nibbles her neck and her breasts, holds her fast against him, reaches behind her to cradle and pinch at her bottom, now almost unbearably sore for her, and burning hot to his touch.
"Speak to me, beloved," he says.
"I love you so much, sir. So very much," she says.
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Posted: 10:27 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Rose Garden
It was dark when she opened her eyes, although from the sounds around and outside she knew it was day. The blindfold blocked her view and disoriented her, making her believe that it was the dead of night.
She was still wearing the white silk gown and the panties she had put on for him last night, when they had lain in each other's arms all through those post-midnight hours when the world belonged to the cats and the owls. She snuggled up to the warmth of his body, the slow, methodical wheeze of his breathing as he slept.
Now he picked her up and carried her in his arms like a baby, close to him, protected, warm, safe, trusted.
"Where are you taking me?" she whispered.
"Hush, little one. Trust me."
She always did. Through the doors they went, she in his arms, close to his body, close to the smell of him and the pitter-patter of his heartbeat.
He sat down, holding her, cradling her. His mouth sought hers, hungry, soothing, searching, and she responded, feeling protected and loved.
They were outside. She could feel the warm air circling her, the caress of the sun's rays. The scent of the roses enveloped her senses.
And now she was flipped over his lap, lying across him. She gasped just a little as he raised her dress and the whisper of warm air touched the backs of her legs.
"Pretty little doll," he said.
She closed her eyes, still cocooned in blackness, listening to the sounds of distant children playing, of lawnmowers cutting grassy lawns, of traffic.
He stroked her legs, slowly, carefully, lovingly, with gentle hands, down to her feet, over them, and up again.
She felt happy and scared at the same time. Loved but so submissive in the hands of this man who held her and touched her.
She wriggled to help him as he pulled down her panties, starting to stroke and knead her bare bottom, flushed by the warm air and the sunshine.
She moaned as she felt herself getting wetter and more excited, feeling the warmth of his hand against her, slowly exploring and rubbing.
"I think this lovely bottom needs a good spanking, don't you?"
She buried her head against him, into the side of his thigh. She counted and built up the strength she knew she was going to need.
"Yes sir, please."
Soon the summer garden was filled with sound of hard smacks and whimpering cries as he held her fast and spanked her bottom to a ruby red blush, stopping now and then to touch and stroke her, to tease and tickle her, to lay his hand down against her hot skin.
She could hear the birds singing and could feel the material of his trousers as she lay close against his legs, sensing the strength of his body.
With iron hands he gave her the hardest, yet most erotic, spanking she had ever had from him. He dipped down and nibbled at her ears and neck, rubbed her back, rubbed her pussy, ran his fingernails over her feet.
She clung to him as she reached her climax, shuddering and buckling against him, squealing with happiness as he smacked her into her special space and out again.
"Oh God ... oh darling, that was wonderful," she smiled as she huddled against him, small and vulnerable, conquered and content.
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Posted: 10:25 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Shellshocked
"What is it, Master?" she whispered as she knelt at his feet. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders, her eyes bright with anticipation, her heart pounding. The white dress she wore with the halter neck chafed at her bare breasts unsupported under it, her feet curled into the gold sandals.
He laid a hand on each side of her face, moved in to kiss her. A long, deep, kiss, savouring the taste of her, consuming her, drinking her.
"My little one."
Persephone had been in the house exactly nine days, dressed like this, mainly in this position. He'd unleashed her a couple of times a day and bound her to the bed when it was time for him to take his pleasure of her and then leave her to sleep, but he enjoyed seeing her servitude, her supplication.
"Do you love me, little one?"
She swayed back in the brief expanse of air between them, her frightened brown eyes meeting his baby blue ones, commanding, loving, with just a touch of vulnerability which had come and gone in a second.
"I love you more than I love life. I love your imperfections, sir, because they are yours. I love the way you move, the way you touch me. I love the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice. I live only to serve you, to kneel before you, to obey your every command."
Henrik smiled. He had chosen Persephone out of a room full of sweet young submissives, mainly because he could see her spirit and her filthy mind despite her shy and prudish demeanour. He had not been disappointed. He had loved punishing her, breaking her, moulding her.
He picked up the whip, swishing its tail against her, almost imperceptible but enough to make her shiver with anticipation and pleasure. She bowed her head and breathed deep in their shared excitement. He stroked her hair and she pulled his hand towards her, hungrily licking and sucking the fingers, nibbling them.
"Take your dress off."
She obeyed, easily as the dress was in one piece and one movement left it at her feet. She stood before him, naked, white as the most beautiful statue, flecked only with the marks of their shared play standing out against the skin, flogger marks over her breasts and her stomach, marks from the switch and the cane livid against her bottom, red dots on her thighs where he had hand spanked her, hard, as she struggled and wriggled against him.
Henrik smiled at his own arousal, mimicking hers, he thought as he surveyed the damp patches on her inner thighs.
"On your hands and knees, girl."
Persephone crouched as instructed, her mouth drying and her mind racing. She so wanted to please him. At first she always struggled with her punishments, even with the gentlest of hand spankings. Then she relaxed into it, to his dominance and mastery of her, to his touch, his warmth, his command of her mind and body. He who instructed her in what she was to feel, he who made her scream with pain or pleasure as he desired, he who made her come or held her at bay, laughing inside at her frustration, before letting her loose.
She felt the new sensation before she could place it. The cool, yet rough, feeling of something foreign being placed inside her. The natural, barbarous, smoothness of the shell frightened her at first, hurt her as her muscles rebelled against it. Then, as she relaxed, she welcomed this new interloper as a gift, as he intended.
"Good girl," he said, stroking her back, running his hands down over her bottom.
The first cut of the whip dug into it, its fierce white heat leaving a barely perceptible line which soon bloomed into a red track. Persephone arched her back and clawed at the floor as the pain shot through her.
Again and again he struck her. The sweat from her and the heat and the smell, the sounds as she wailed and cried and panted, but never begged for mercy, pleased him greatly. He put down the whip and knelt behind her, his fingernails clawing and scratching at her, leaving other, complimentary red tracks.
He kissed her back, her bottom, the backs of her legs. He licked her feet and nibbled her toes, before licking up the whole of the leg and into the area where he had inserted the shell.
Henrik removed the shell and started to kiss the lips, still parted with surprise from the visitor. This was beautiful. She was beautiful, and she was his.
They held each other, her lips in his hair, his lips on her neck.
"Are you mine, little one?"
"Oh yes, my Master, only yours. Always yours."
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Posted: 10:24 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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The Pinwheel
It was bought purely to make him suffer, and Tanya giggled as she thought about it, as the assistant took her money and packaged it ready to go home.
The pinwheel, and the pole they had installed as well.
She smiled.
When she got in the house she could hear the sound of tapping on the computer keyboard. After she had told him to clean the kitchen and finish wallpapering. She knew perfectly well it wouldn't be completed, and here he was messing about in the chat room, playing the role he had carved out for himself.
Roy glanced up from the screen momentarily as Tanya walked in.
"Busy day?"
She glared. Nothing had been done. The house was a tip. He'd probably just fed himself and then gone online. It wasn't good enough.
"Come off that computer ... NOW."
"I'm talking to jenny," he said, continuing to tap away.
Tanya strode over, pulled the cable from the computer, and snapped the case shut.
"Don't you dare disobey me."
Roy opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.
"Now get in there. Against the pole. You can wear the hood and the shoes but nothing else. Get in there and stay still until I come in."
He took his time getting up so Tanya slapped him hard across the face, leaving him gasping. She could see the gleam of pride in his eyes but resolved to get rid of that right now.
"Look, you little slave. You do as I tell you. Understood? Now get in there."
In 'there' was their makeshift dungeon, with a pole and a stool, a spanking bench, restraints, a cross, and their toys hanging from the wall. When they'd moved in they had converted the second bedroom at the top of the house and made it soundproof. Their little playground.
Tanya picked up the bag of things she had bought from the shop, including the pinwheel, and followed him upstairs.
Roy was knelt on the stool as she had requested, arms wrapped around the pole, with the black hood over his head and the high heels on. She'd bought them from Transformation last year and they were one of the best buys they'd made. She knew how excited he got when he was wearing them, but also humiliated and emasculated.
She'd always been attracted to men with a certain degree of vulnerability, and underneath his cockiness and outer confidence, Roy was certainly that.
Tanya picked up the ropes from the bench and secured his arms to the pole.
"I have some new toys here, slave," she said, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, leaving little red crescents there.
She liked not being able to see his face, and for him not to be able to see her. He would have no idea whether she would tickle him with feathers, flog him, stub out a cigarette on him, or any of the other games they had planned together.
Today it was the new toy. The pinwheel was solid steel and consisted of a rotating wheel with sharp pins fixed along with rim which scratched and pulled as you dragged it across the skin.
Tanya began to run the wheel over Roy's back, moving downwards from his shoulder blades and stopped at his waist, using slow, deliberate movements. She could see him shuddering and wriggling, trying to break free of the ropes.
Slowly she moved further downwards, over his bottom, down on to his scrotum, where she started moving the wheel backwards and forwards, faster, crouching behind him so she could force his legs further apart.
Roy moaned and begged for her to stop, but Tanya just smiled. She was having too much fun.
She picked up the little knife she'd bought and started to peel the ginger root, squeezing it gently to see the little bubbles of juice appear on its surface.
"Open your legs wide, little slave," she said, and inserted the root into his bottom hole, pushing it in as far as it would go.
Roy gasped and clenched but he couldn't shift this new torment.
Tanya picked up the pinwheel again, working it over the back of his neck, under the arms, down the cheeks of his bottom and his thighs, between them.
She stroked his back.
"Payback time," she said, and picked up the belt.
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Posted: 10:22 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Vicky's Mistake
Vicky had meant to tell Andy about the party, but somehow, with one thing or another, it had slipped her mind. Only when Porky Pig mentioned it in the chat room did she start to wish she had been more up front.
Well "¦ Andy had typed in their MSN messenger correspondence "¦ we’ll have to discuss this when we next see each other.
This was how Vicky had found herself standing naked in Andy’s living room, positioned in front of the window so his neighbours could see her bare bottom while she waited, hands on head, as he requested, while he sipped his wine and read the newspaper.
She felt irritated and humiliated by having to wait, vulnerable and disregarded like that. She would have loved to have fidgeted, scratched her neck, pick at a scab on her finger, but no, she had to stay still, not knowing who might be walking past, glancing in, and seeing her, standing as she was.
Before he had settled down, Andy had shown her his new toys, let her touch them, hold them. He’d worked the tip of his new dragon cane between her pussy lips and smiled at the discomfort it had caused her. He’d pinched her nipples and flicked them with the new leather strap he’d got at the last fetish fair.
But he hadn’t even started yet. Vicky hadn’t been spanked for two weeks and was beginning to feel withdrawal symptoms. Only yesterday she had snapped at a co-worker who hadn’t paid an invoice on time, and on the bus she had stewed in silent frustration at the hold-up in the traffic.
Usually when she visited Andy they’d lunch together, chat for a while, and then she’d be over his knee, getting a fast, hard, bottom warming before she could even think about it. Not today though. He was making her suffer, making her think about it, making her wait.
He had the hairbrush out, she could see. He was wearing the thick leather belt he’d used on her the first time they had played together, the one which left red kisses all over her. And the floggers and canes were waiting on the table, along with the slipper and the wooden paddle.
Vicky sighed.
Andy ignored her, although she could tell from the way his eyes were moving over the newsprint that he wasn’t really reading the words.
At the party she had given in to temptation and let someone unsuitable give her a sound strapping in front of her friends. She’d been excited by the experience but also felt a bit uncomfortable, a bit violated, and certainly knew that Andy would not have approved had he been there.
Now he was here and she was naked, waiting for her punishment.
"Well, Victoria, I’ve heard you’ve been deceitful and vain. That you showed yourself up at the party when I specifically asked you not to do so."
Vicky nodded.
"Too impulsive. Too eager. I’ve told you about that before. It gets you into trouble and makes you unhappy."
"Yes sir. I’m sorry sir, I just got carried away."
Andy went over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, kissing her briefly on the nose before turning her around so she faced the window.
"Put your hands on the window sill."
Vicky did so; bending over to reveal the target she knew he would soon be aiming at. She knew it would hurt like hell as she hadn’t been touched for days and every time she had to wait it was almost like starting again.
She winced and gasped as he started to smack her bottom, hard from the start, then harder and harder, fast and frenzied. She had forgotten how hard his hand was, worse even than a leather paddle when he didn’t take it slowly and warm her up. And obviously today she was not going to get her warm-up.
"You’ve been a very bad girl, Victoria, and bad girls have to suffer."
Vicky’s bottom already felt burning hot and on fire, and still the slaps continued. She could see out on to the street and prayed that no-one would walk by and see what was going on.
She felt her body shaking with a mix of pain, fear and excitement as his finger entered her and probed within her as he continued the spanking. Confusion and arousal overwhelmed her as she came, clutching the window sill, feeling the burning in her bottom and the tightness in her pussy.
"You bad girl, wicked, lascivious, horny bitch. You need a damn good thrashing young lady and you are going to get one."
Andy pulled her close to him and led her to the sofa, cuddling her and running his fingers through her hair.
"Over you go."
Across his lap, Vicky felt safe and protected, centred and secure, even though she knew what was coming next.
"You know the rules, Victoria. Six with the slipper and twelve with the hairbrush to start with."
Vicky shook, jolted and moaned with each blow, trying desperately to keep count in her head, willing him to stop so she could feel his hand stroking her, soothing her, sharing the heat of her hot buttocks, which were already sore and sensitive.
Eventually she felt his hand resting on her, the slow track of his fingernails moving across her bottom and up along her spine. She pushed her body down against his so they were as close together as they could get.
"Enjoying this a little too much I think, don’t you think so girl?"
She could feel his body heat and his heartbeat and whimpered as she clung to him, her naked skin against the strong fibres of his trousers.
"Right miss, now we’ll use the slipper again. Another six - are you ready?"
Vicky murmured acceptance of this. As Andy used the slipper on her he locked his free hand with hers and felt her clutching fingers closing tightly on his. He loved seeing her like this, totally open, totally at his command.
He put the slipper down, slid his hand between her legs and forced them further apart. Alternating between rubbing and spanking her pussy he could feel her getting more frantic and more compliant. Picking up the hairbrush he smartly cracked it against the insides of her thighs, seeing her tense and hearing her squeal each time he did.
"Oh God "¦ oh sir, please "¦"
Andy started to tickle Vicky, letting his hands roam over her, her armpits, her sides, the small of her back, the creases at the back of her knees, between her buttocks, at the back of her neck.
Vicky giggled and squirmed, even registering pleasure when he started to mix this play with hard smacks on her bottom and the backs of her legs.
"Get up and bend over the table."
He watched as Vicky stood and walked across to the table without a murmur, her bottom and legs already beginning to show signs of marking. Little red marks dotted the backs of her legs and a bruise was beginning to bloom just above her sit spot.
"Bend over with your legs apart."
Andy picked up the flogger. Last time he did this he did every inch of her, shoulders, back, bottom, thighs, calves, feet, stomach, breasts. He’d loved every minute of it, teasing her with the suede strands, flicking them against her, bringing them down hard every now and then.
After he’d finished he’d licked and nibbled at her breasts and she had totally gained his awe and respect for taking what she had.
Now it would just be straightforward, bottom and backs of legs, forty strokes, hard and fast. The flogger could be a mean and furious master if it had good reason and a strong man behind it.
Before he started he let the flogger strands tickle and soothe the area between Vicky’s legs, moving them back and forwards, slowly.
Now he’d make her realise the error of her ways.
As the strands bit into her flesh again and again, she moaned and wriggled, gripping the sides of the table as her bottom and legs bounced under the whip.
When he had finished, Vicky’s bottom was blazing red and hot to the touch, and she was on the brink of tears.
"Please "¦ no more "¦ I’m so sorry."
Andy helped Vicky up and led her to the sofa again, pulling her on to his knee, hugging her.
"Lean forward and put your hands on the floor, and wrap your legs around me."
Vicky hated this position. It left her totally vulnerable, although she could cling to Andy’s legs if she really wanted to. It just gave her such strain on her hands, as if there wasn’t enough to think about.
She knew this position not only presented her bottom in a new position to be tormented, but it also gave Andy a view into her most secret parts. Vicky blushed at the thought and buried her face against his legs.
The crack of the wooden paddle was a shock after the biting flogger and the hugs, and she remembered how much she hated it. Each contact with her skin resounded, sent a shockwave of pain through her, and made her yelp.
It seemed the beating would never end, and Vicky winced at the hurt in her bottom and the cramp that was starting to form in her fingers.
"Now get up, little slut, and stand where you were in the window."
Vicky stood, hands on head, bottom and thighs aflame, her eyes full of tears.
"Right, young lady," said Andy, "I am going out for half an hour and when I come back, miss, you are going to get a good, hard caning - do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir," sniffled Vicky.
"And you will find that if you ever "¦ ever break my trust again, that I will have no hesitation in breaking you."
Vicky was alone, watching the hands of the clock go round and round, not daring to look behind her - for all she knew, Andy was going outside to stand for half an hour watching her to see if she moved.
She knew she would be having trouble sitting down for a while after he’d finished with her "¦ and yet she stood there, hands on head, sore and shaking, highly aroused, longing for the swish of the cane, longing for its burning, hungry welts to leave their mark on her.
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Posted: 10:19 PM, Dec. 9, 2006 |
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Three Nurses
It was a hot day and Chris jumped out of bed, stretched out his arms, and yawned. He'd been up late last night watching the football and the roar of the crowd and the excited voice of the TV commentators were fresh in his head.
Out on the chair were his new black trousers, still with their tags on, and he was looking forward to putting them on for his meeting later. Dipping in and out of a cold shower, he sipped at a lukewarm cup of tea while towelling himself dry. Into the black Speedos, the dark shirt, the black ribbed socks. He pulled the tags off the trousers and stepped into them for the first time. A perfect fit. Splashing on a liberal quantity of aftershave he was ready to go.
He'd been given a postcode to find but when he typed it into the sat nav, 'unnamed road' came up.
Well, it was a pleasant sunny day, just right for a long, mysterious trip in the car. He revved up the engine and set off, the silence in the car just punctuated by the odd 'turn right', or 'third exit'.
When he had 'reached his destination' he was surprised to see that there were no buildings about, just a thick expanse of woodland reaching from the unnamed road he found himself on. Chris stepped from the car and looked around. He couldn't see or hear anything.
Just then he heard footsteps and, rather inquisitive to find out what was going on, he walked further into the woods. Suddenly he felt his arms pinned by someone wearing a smooth dress and with a faint hint of perfume around them.
"Is this him?" said the unseen voice. Female, husky.
Another woman stepped into view, wearing a district nurse's uniform - blue dress, dark blue belt, short sleeves. Her bust swelled suggestively underneath the material.
"That's him, Sarah," she said, "let's take him with us."
The woman holding Chris let him free for a second before taking a grip of his forearm and leading him forward. She was wearing a tight-fitting uniform of a slightly darker blue that flattered her figure perfectly. As they progressed on their journey the two women exchanged some conversation - Chris noted the more aggressive nurse was called Beth.
Deep in the woods Chris was surprised and excited to see a woman in a stretchy white dress, with 'Nurse Tracy' imprinted on it. She was flexing a cane and looked as if she would stand no nonsense from anyone.
"Bring the slave here," she commanded.
Beth and Sarah both took an arm and led him forward.
"Strip, slave."
Chris felt his fingers tremoring a little as he undid his shirt, trousers, pulled off his socks. Feeling a little foolish in just his black Speedos he was beginning to wonder if this was a dream when he found himself upended over Beth's lap, wriggling as she began to spank him, hard, first over the Speedos and then tugging them down to his knees. The slow warmth from her hand connecting with his bare bottom made him feel very happy indeed, especially if he turned his head to see the other girls, wearing the uniforms he loved and ready for their turn.
"Oh, look, isn't he obedient?"
"Oh miss, don't, miss." Chris was enjoying this game, feeling his bare skin rubbing up and down over her dress and her bare leg underneath.
"Miss Sarah, what do you think we should do with the slave? Should we keep him?"
He heard Sarah laugh.
"Certainly. If he is good I will use my ruler on him. And you girls can go collecting branches. Would you like that, slave?"
Chris couldn't quite believe his luck, or catch his breath.
"Y-yes miss."
Sarah picked up the ruler and tapped it against his bottom. She was aware she was teasing but liked the fun of it.
"No ... you can wait. Stand up."
Chris stood before the three nurses naked except for the Speedos which were slowly making their way down from his knees to his ankles. He felt a strange mixture of foolishness, submissiveness and humiliation.
Tracy laughed.
"Over to the tree. And you had better control yourself slave or we will really make you suffer."
She watched as the other girls tied him to the tree, Sarah picking up the ruler and starting to get into the swing of it. The sound of the wood making contact resounded through the woodland, mingling with the tweeting of the birds and the distant and sparse hum of traffic.
"Well now, I think our slave is getting a bit excited," said Beth, moving around to the other side of the tree.
"Time for some branch collecting, ladies."
Chris was getting tired and ratty just standing there for their amusement, his bottom smarting slightly from the spanking and ruler. He was aware of one of the women staying, staring, but wasn't sure which one. They were all gorgeous. If he wasn't tied he would have reached across and pinched himself to make sure he wasn't still in bed asleep.
He felt a cane tapping against his thighs. Was this Miss Tracy then?
Craccccck!
He took a deep breath and fought to control his impulse to play with and relieve himself as more cane strokes landed. He loved the sensation and was hugely turned on by the thought of three nurses kidnapping him and humilating him in the woods.
"Thank you miss, I'm sorry miss."
"Did someone ask you to speak, slave?"
"No, miss."
"Well, I think you need a sharper lesson than this. Miss Beth! Miss Sarah!"
Chris could hear the footsteps crunching through the woodland and the rustling of branches.
"This is your lucky day, slave," said Tracy.
Chris watched wide-eyed as the three nurses wandered in front of him, all flexing birches made from the branches they'd just found, and found himself fighting a huge hard-on as they all began to undo their uniforms ...
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Posted: 8:35 AM, May. 11, 2006 |
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The Traveller
Foggy and twiglet had been in pm in the chat room for most of the night when they finally plucked up the courage and agreed to meet.
His fingers itched with anticipation as he typed 'what are you doing next week?' and he couldn't believe his luck when the response flashed up 'nothing much ... I think I'd enjoy playing with you'. He smiled as he typed a quick final sentence, knowing the effect it would have: 'honey, I'm going to redden your butt slowly, effectively, and erotically'.
He could almost sense her wetting her knickers when she read that. It always worked like a dream. So many girls had been over his lap, one more was always welcome. And this girl was so sweet, so sensitive.
He'd really enjoy giving her a really good thrashing; he could sense from the way she interacted in the room that she badly needed it.
twiglet couldn't sleep as the pm exchange ran through her brain over and over again. She was hugely excited by the prospect of meeting this guy, of feeling him take control of her, of letting his dominance wash over her.
It had been too long since someone had reached out and said what others had just quietly thought, that she needed a strong hand and a firm personality, she needed a man who would not shy away from giving her that rush of pain, that red raw bottom she'd craved ever since she'd logged on and made her first post.
Every day for the rest of the week she was full of thoughts about Foggy - what did he like? black lace - so she got some knickers and stockings he'd appreciate; what did he want her to say? she was determined to be herself, shy and submissive, not answering back, giving in completely to his authority; what would he do to her? he'd given her more than one clue, and she shivered in excited anticipation just thinking about it.
He phoned her the night before, and twiglet curled up in her chair, mobile clamped to her ear, hearing that sexy voice send fireworks and crackles through her, warming her up, leading her on.
She was so nervous she couldn't concentrate on anything, cooking the evening meal, going to work ... she'd bought a new velvet top that she knew he would like, and dressed up in her best shoes and her loveliest skirt.
For an autumn day she was amazed to find bright, hot sunshine, and couldn't stop fidgeting throughout the morning leading up to their appointment.
Foggy had spent the morning irritated by having to wait for twiglet to come out of work; and by spending the night alone. He wasn't used to it, and has slept badly. He'd also cut himself shaving and had swathed himself with aftershave to draw attention away from the little nick just under his bottom lip.
He waited for her outside her office trying to remember what she looked like, from the photograph she'd sent him. Would he know her? Did it matter?
Then she was there, looking excited and flushed, moving over to hug him, blushing as she murmured a shy hello. Nice looking girl, he thought, looking her up and down.
Tight little breasts, tiny frame, firm bottom, cute legs. He was going to enjoy this.
twiglet was overcome with confusion and the feeling of 'am I doing the right thing'. She felt him looking her over and was embarrassed at the attention. She felt the palms of her hands get hot and sticky and knew her pants were already damp with excitement.
As they walked along the pavement he stopped her and made her change places with him, so she was walking on the side away from the road. This made her feel instantly submissive, and she nibbled her lip as they continued to his car, realising that she was really with someone who could control her without very much effort.
Her brain was working overtime as they cruised along in the car. They stopped for lunch at the 'Lord Darcy' pub, but she couldn't eat much with her heart fluttering in her mouth. Sensing her nerves he held her hand and stroked it, calming her and making her feel safe.
Such a sweet girl, he thought. Well worth the long journey.
The hotel was quiet as they checked in, mid-afternoon. He left her to freshen up while he retrieved his toy bag from the car. She gave herself a rub down and then stood at the window, watching for him coming back across the car park.
Come on, twiglet, she said to herself, you can do this. Battling with desire to a/ run away and b/ to lock herself in the room and him out, she gave in and settled in the armchair, waiting.
The rattle of the key in the door roused her from a moment of silence. He seemed pleased to see her still there, quiet and waiting.
Foggy settled himself on the bed and took in the atmosphere, the room, the sunlight coming through the window, and this girl, a bit scared, very shy, very pretty, just waiting for him to take control.
"Ok, come here," he said, and smiled as twiglet came over and settled herself on his lap. Cuddling her he could smell her perfume and feel the ticking of her heart. She seemed very small and very scared.
"So, tell me what you like to do," he said, "do you like things to be stingy or thuddy?"
She shook her head, "I don't know sir."
twiglet was looking down now, furiously blushing, a bubble of sweat across her top lip. Her fingernails dug into him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He could tell she was battling with so many disparate feelings she couldn't speak.
"OK, over you go."
Now she was over his knee and it felt good. She was warm and not very heavy, and he could feel her breathing as he started to stroke and knead her bottom. From the start he decided to smack her long and hard with his hand, and was turned on by the reaction he got from the first slap, a sequence of wriggles and moans.
"You shouldn't have worn such a thin skirt, should you young lady?"
"No sir," came back the response, and he could feel her shake with some emotion - was she embarrassed? was she amused? he couldn't tell how to play this one.
twiglet was soon wishing she hadn't been so keen to meet him as the smacks got harder and harder and first, her skirt was lifted, and then her knickers were pulled back.
"You didn't need to wear such attractive knickers, young lady!" he said, admiring them against the pinky-red of skin as he continued to spank her.
"I'm glad you like them sir," she mumbled.
So nice, Foggy thought, to have a quiet and submissive girl for a change. Brats were all very well, but he never quite felt in control with them.
With this girl he could do practically anything and she'd go along with it.
"Kneel over the bed, twiglet."
In that submissive position she looked very alluring, he thought, as he reached over to pull down her knickers.
Time for the toys - he strapped her hard, tawsed her, flogged her, paddled her, caned her. He worked on the backs of her legs, between her legs, and all over her bottom.
He loved to see her reaction to each different sensation; her cries with each stroke of the strap and the tawse, her moans of pleasure from the flogger (next time he'd strip her naked, tie her to the bed, and flog every inch of her, front and back), her grumbles from the wooden paddle, and her gasps of pain from each cut of the cane.
Her bottom looked gorgeous, beautifully coloured and elegantly marked.
twiglet was so aroused and excited she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping.
"Do you think this is funny, young lady?" he asked.
twiglet struggled with the concept of the increasing pain, the giggling, and what her response should be.
"I asked you a question, young lady."
"N...no sir."
Foggy smiled. What fun.
She was really getting into it now, he could see. Her bottom was lovely and red and burning hot to the touch as he stopped to stroke it, to feel the bare skin under his fingers, to hand-spank her some more.
twiglet tensed as she felt him breathing more urgently as he moved behind her, hot and heavy as he nibbled and licked her ear, kissed her neck, ran his hands over her bottom.
She could feel his erection pressing against her as his fingers brushed her pussy lips fleetingly.
"Yes, yes," she gasped.
His fingers probed inside her, feeling her juices flowing. She was so warm, so wet, so beautiful. His free hand snaked up to caress her tiny bud breasts, feeling the nipples harden as he stroked and explored, feeling her body shudder.
As she buckled and squealed with pleasure across the bed he clung to her, his own excitement mounting, starting to smack her bottom harder and harder as he rode against her, feeling the explosion from between her legs.
"Oh God, oh God," panted twiglet as she clawed at the bedclothes.
Then she was across him again, her bare bottom bouncing and dimpling under the leather glove, the strap. His fingers tugged at her hair, pulling her closer to him, feeling a warm glow at her protests.
She stood before him and held out her hands as he tawsed and caned them, before they fell together on the bed, touching, stroking, exploring each other, sharing smiles and kisses, running their fingers through each other's hair and over each other's bodies.
"You're so beautiful," she said, full of smiles and ready to do anything.
Foggy held her close, his hands running over the lovely acres of bare flesh, hot, sensitive, vulnerable.
"You're such a lovely girl, twiglet," he said, tasting her exquistive sweetness, feeling an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and caring.
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Posted: 8:33 AM, May. 11, 2006 |
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Angel
Julia opened the letter she'd found on her doormat, recognising Charley's writing on the envelope.
She settled in front of the fire with a cup of tea to read it, digesting every word the other woman had written ... angel ... sweetheart ... lover.
The last sentence jumped out at her and floated in the air before her sparkling eyes:
"I'd just love to feel your burning bottom under my hand as I spank you."
They'd talked about it, of course, when they'd talked around the fun they'd had in the past and what turned them on. Charley had smiled sweetly when Julia told her, shyly, of the time she'd had her knickers pulled down in front of her flatmate, while her girlfriend smacked and caressed her.
"You bad girl!" Charley had giggled, with a gleam in her mischievous face.
Julia had been flustered and had dropped her Jaffa Cake on the floor of the cafe, watching it roll across the dirty surface and under their neighbour's table.
"You should be spanked for that, miss," smiled Charley, "one day, one day."
And now the letter.
Julia read on.
"You'll be waiting for me when I arrive, naked, lying face down over the arm of the sofa. You'll say nothing and I'll come in, punish you, and leave."
The fantasy they'd talked about! Julia felt her mouth suddenly grow dry as she continued to read the details and the instructions.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The day came.
Julia unlocked the door, closed the curtains, started to undress. Every item of clothing was folded neatly and placed in a pile beside the fire. She took a glance at herself in the full-length mirror. Her body wasn't bad, really, now she was taking an objective look. Really quite nice. She turned around and looked at the reflection of her bottom, neat, well-proportioned, smooth.
Not bad at all.
The clock said five-fifteen as Julia positioned herself across the arm of the sofa as requested, legs slightly apart, bottom raised up. She folded her arms under her, then adjusted herself so her hands cradled each side of her face.
The door creaked open.
Julia's mind worked overtime - was it Charley? Did she have someone with her? Was it (terrible thought!) someone else, a mistake, another visitor? Was it her mother, her boss, someone who would be horrified to see her displayed and waiting like this?
She felt a hand brushing her bottom and shivered. The touch was light, almost imperceptible. Charley's?
A hand firm on the small of her back.
The sounds in the room as smack after smack of skin against skin started, increased, built up.
Julia bit her lip and let little ows and cries escape as the spanking continued, her bottom starting to sting.
It felt good, it felt painful, it felt comforting.
Her head cradled in her hands and buried in the cushions, each smack sounded like a gunshot, felt like a sharp burn against her skin. She was so sensitive, her body responded so well to every kind of touch.
Harder and harder the hand worked on her, and she was determined to take it. She'd given her word; she would not 'red' her as she deserved what she was getting.
Finally there was the warm stroking, the loving patting and rubbing, the closeness.
She felt warm lips kissing her burning skin.
Then the cold air against her red-hot bottom as her tormentor moved away. The click of the door as it closed.
Julia stood up and looked in the mirror again. Lovely and ruby red, her bottom was a glowing peach of loveliness, and she smiled.
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Posted: 8:32 AM, May. 11, 2006 |
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Together
She stands numb and vulnerable before him, as he places his finger on her lips, mutely asking her to keep quiet. Naked under layers of clothes she shivers. His hands clutch her, move over her curves, the shape of her, trace patterns on the patches of skin left uncovered - hands, face, neck, throat, ears. His finger circles her nipples one by one as she stands, feeling small and self-conscious.
Her eyes lock on to his as his hands roam behind her, across her shoulder blades, down her back, the curve of her spine, across the top of her bottom, running down to cradle it, a cheek in each palm, stroking, exploring, caressing.
She lifts her arms as he removes her sweater, letting it crackle with static as it comes away from her hair. Her lips part as she breathes free and feels the chill getting to her body through her thin blouse.
He dips his head to kiss her face all over, to lick her forehead, nose, chin, her warm lips, running his tongue and mouth down over her neck, throat, the satin blouse. Her nipples harden as he laps at them, leaving damp patches against her. She steps back as he unbuttons her, letting her last top covering float to the ground like clipped wings.
She sighs as he nibbles at her, licking between her breasts, biting her shoulders, kissing her neck. His hands snake under her skirt, ripping a stocking as he explores the bare patch of thigh, scratching with curious nails, pressing and kneading with outstetched palms. She unhooks her skirt and lets it fall, the black lace of her knickers and the lace tops of her stockings all that is left of the artificial her.
He wants to see her, turns her to face away from him, running hands over her, rubbing his head against her back, her bottom, her legs, like a cat. His hands in her knicker waistband as the electricity rushes through her, the touch of him, the feel of his breath against her, the urgency as she feels his excitement growing just as hers had done. The rush of cold air against her as he bares her bottom, brushing his lips against it, every inch, inhaling her natural perfume mixed with the scent of baby oil.
The click and swish as he unbuckles his belt, slides it out of the trouser loops. doubles it over, draws it back. The smart crack as the leather makes contact with her white skin, smooth and sensitive. The red kiss across her bottom from the belt, the warm glow, the feel of his lips against her again, removing the hurt.
Another crack, harder, then another, and another. The marks of love he traces with wonder, feeling proud of her and enjoying the moment. Pulling her to him, nibbling the back of her neck, sticking his tongue in her ear, his breathing getting faster and heavier.
The belt again, cracking against her, the red stripes from the leather, her gasps and anxious excitement.
His hand against her, smacking the thighs, overlaying the belt marks, skin on skin. The echoes of his skin against hers and the sounds they make together, his breathing, her little whimpers and pants of pleasure.
His hands roaming over her legs, over the silk stockings, the cheeky hint of the skin beneath, up to the trimmed bush between her thighs. A finger stroking and tangling the hair, rubbing fleetingly against damp pussy lips, her body shuddering.
He draws her towards him, across his lap as they land on the bed together, rubbing her head, pulling her hair, scratching her neck, leaning down to kiss her back, to run his fingernails down her spine, to run his tongue down her bottom crack and into her pussy. Burying his lips at the nape of her neck, warming himself in the heat of her.
Now the spanking really starts as he holds her fast, her hand trapped behind her back and entwined with his. He can spank her hard and she wriggles and protests as her bottom starts to tingle and burn, get hot and sore.
She is his and he is hers and no one can take this moment away from them.
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Posted: 11:31 PM, Mar. 21, 2006 |
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Three's Company
They had met him at the party and they'd all got on; Joel had been impressed by the young man's lack of experience and his willingness to learn more.
"Come and see us," he'd said, running an absent-minded hand over Linda's thigh, watching with interest the conflicting feelings battling within her, "you can play with Linda, learn some new techniques."
On the way home Linda had been quiet. She'd liked Mark, found him friendly, sweet, modest, and easy to talk to. But now she was going to have to play with him, lie there and take whatever he chose to dish out, while Joel watched and encouraged. It had long been a fantasy of hers but now it was in reach she was almost overcome with nerves.
"You will do whatever he says, Linda." said Joel, "I'll be there the whole time but he calls the shots- is that understood?"
"Yes sir," murmured Linda, feeling a cool trickle of sweat working its way down her back and a familiar pounding in her heart.
She'd taken all day to pamper herself and prepare herself for the session; shaving her legs, putting on body oil and scent all over, taking care to select her best lingerie and to arrange her hair to the best advantage.
Joel had watched her preparations with interest, wishing that he could just grab her and bend her over for a caning; however, he had promised their young friend a blank canvas and he had to keep his word. He did take the opportunity to put her over his knee for a few good hard smacks though, knowing the blotches would fade before Mark arrived. Anyway he enjoyed watching her squirm.
Now the doorbell went. Joel told Linda to stand facing the wall until she was told to move, which she did. She could count every swirl in the wallpaper, and every sound- the door opening, the footsteps on the stairs, the low mumble of conversation- was louder than it should be.
"Hello Linda."
Mark took in the vision of Linda in a white silk blouse, tight denim skirt, stockings, and chunky heeled shoes. She looked pretty, more so than at the party.
"Come over to the bed Linda," said Joel, watching her turn around, looking at the momentary panic and fear in her eyes, replaced quickly by a cocktail of excitement and nervous tension.
"Take off your skirt and your blouse," he said.
When Linda stood before them in her lace knickers and stockings, bare-breasted, he turned to Mark.
"You have control from here. I just ask that I remain and join in where appropriate. Linda " this man is your Master now, and you will obey him."
Linda nodded and stood to face Mark.
"Take off your knickers and stockings and lie on the bed please."
Joel watched as Linda removed the remainder of her clothes, then lay full length on the bed, obediently placing her wrists and ankles into the restraints which were tied there. He moved to tighten the ropes and make sure she couldn't move.
The men looked at each other, and at Linda.
Mark walked up to the side of the bed, picking up a flogger as he did so. Joel did the same on the opposite side. Both of them started to whip her with a steady rhythm, complimenting each other, enjoying the sounds, the sensations, her reactions.
Linda moaned and wriggled as the bonds around her hands and feet chafed her and felt uncomfortable. The flogging felt comfortable though, reassuring almost, even if it did made her yell now and then.
Joel moved to the top of the bed and watched Linda's reactions as Mark started to spank her with hard hand smacks, watching her eyes screw up, her quick gasps, her embarrassment at being watched, even by him. It made him feel good to see her discomfort and her struggle to please.
"You're so beautiful, Linda," Joel whispered, "so beautiful and so lovely when you're in pain."
He glanced up to see Mark picking up the first of the canes, tapping it gently against Linda's bottom, across the cheeks he'd just warmed a rosy red.
As the first stroke cut Joel looked deep into Linda's eyes, watching her flinch and cry out, then recover her composure.
It was a powerful sensation for both of them to see each other in this way, while she was being punished by someone else who he had chosen and brought to their house.
"Eleven more, darling," he whispered, kissing her gently on the nose.
The second and third strokes cut hard in the same spot, causing Linda to make a noise somewhere between ow and a disgruntled ooh. Joel smiled and ran his hands through her hair.
"Beautiful. Nine more of these to go, sweetheart."
Mark felt empowered to be the cause of the intensity between the girl he was thrashing and her man, watching them sink deep in the space of each other. It also turned him on a great deal to watch her reactions, hear her crying, watching Joel's look of love and power as he kept his eyes firmly on hers.
Eventually he had given her twelve strokes, and could now reach out and touch, stroke, the hot bottom, now criss-crossed with beautiful welts.
Linda tried to move but the bonds held her tight. It felt odd to have a strange man touching her, to feel the different technique as he'd caned her- close and thuddy rather than the swing-back and the hot sting she was used to.
Joel nodded at Mark, "Let's go together. Are you ready young lady?"
"Yes sir, I'm ready."
Mark picked up the lightest of the canes and left the heavy one to Joel. He then tapped the cane against the back of Linda's thigh, glancing up to Joel for permission. Joel nodded and smiled.
Mark drew back the cane and aimed the first stroke just above her knee crease. The reaction he got showed him it was worth it- the tensing, the yell, the wriggle.
Joel tapped his cane up and down Linda's bottom in a series of fast light strokes, until he took aim on her sweet spot, the crease between bottom and thigh.
Linda lay flinching as the strokes came from both sides, surprising her, causing her to writhe and moan in pain and pleasure as the conflicting feelings surged and dipped within her.
Then she felt a finger slipping inside her pussy, another rubbing lube into her bottom hole. She held her breath and panted; trying to see what was happening and failing because she was tied fast.
She felt a hand on her back as the butt plug was slowly inserted inside her, making her automatically wanting to force it back out. The finger inside her stroked her clit making her flood with pleasure.
Joel smiled at Mark and nodded to the bag on the floor. Mark reached in and took out the carpet beater, feeling its unfamiliar shape and weight in his hand. He tapped it against Linda's vulnerable bottom, watching the tension and the shivers which went through her as he did so.
Thwack!!!
Linda cried out and her fingers tensed. Joel was back at the top of the bed in a flash, holding her head, kissing her, stroking her face.
Thwack!!!
Joel watched the tears start to come as Linda struggled against the pain. She looked so beautiful and he loved to watch her cry.
Thwack!!!
This time Linda writhed and squealed, and Mark looked with interest at the red swirls that had started to appear on her bottom. So pretty.
Thwack!!!
Joel's hands entwined with Linda's as he watched her reactions. It made him very aroused to see her like this, naked, vulnerable, tied, and hurting.
Thwack!!!
Mark felt so happy with the effects of what he was doing. He felt a surge of power as he beat her, knowing by glancing between her legs how much she was enjoying it.
Thwack!!!
Linda screamed and burst into tears as the last stroke bit into her. Her whole bottom felt like it was on fire and being attacked on all sides.
Joel kissed her and undid her wrist bonds, rubbing her arms to get the circulation back. Mark undid her ankle bonds and kissed her feet, pushing his tongue between her toes.
"Well done sweetheart," said Joel, smiling.
Linda looked up into his eyes.
"Thank you."
She turned to Mark.
"Thank you sir- please come to see us again."
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Posted: 11:29 PM, Mar. 21, 2006 |
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Tongues
Genevieve stepped into the room and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the only illumination being a bank of candles along the far wall.
She could see a faint outline of people sitting in the seats ahead, but not well enough to recognise faces. From the body sizes and builds she would guess that most, if not all, of the seated figures were men.
"Come in," said one voice, low, cultured, soft. Not what she expected to hear within this place. Not what she had heard in her head when she stepped out of her street clothes and signed on the dotted line.
The shift dress they had given her felt too large, hid her figure, her tiny breasts and her slim waist. Her bare feet felt every step along the cold, smooth, marble of the polished floor. Her lacy knickers snuggled against her warm skin as she stepped forward.
"You are Genevieve?"
She nodded. Without a prompt she knelt on the cool floor, bowing her head to feel the halter fixed there, the blindfold affixed over her eyes plunging them into pure darkness. She breathed heavily as her other senses stepped up to compensate for the lack of sight.
Footsteps. The tear of material as someone cut (with what? a knife? scissors?) down through her shift, leaving her naked except for her lace panties. She moved to shield her breasts but felt her arms being pinned behind her, clicked into handcuffs and clamped just under her shoulder blades.
A shiver as something - a finger? a feather? traced a path down her spine. The dampness of tongues exploring the exposed skin of her body, front and back. The smell of soap and sweat, mingling. Her heartbeat skipping against theirs.
"On your hands and knees, lady," the same low voice said, and Genevieve felt herself being pushed forward.
Rough hands tugged at the lace and ripped away her knickers, leaving her naked and totally defenceless.
The bite of a flogger as it caressed her with its sweet bunch of tails in suede and leather, the soft tickle before it bit against her skin.
Hands on her thighs and tongues, lips, against her nipples as she moaned in ecstacy as she was beaten harder. Her hands chafed against the handcuffs, her nails digging into her palms.
"Oh, more, more, more," she panted, trying to reach the other person (people?) with her lips, to rub her head against them like the animals they were, like loving cats.
The warmth of another body under her, reaching for her, pulling her down, plunging within her as they rocked together, an infinite number of hands exploring and tormenting.
Genevieve buckled and gasped as the unknown other entered her most private place, at the same time as the hot fire of the cane slashed across her bottom. She could hear her moans and his heavy, urgent, breathing as they rode each other, a wonderful mix of an ache of pain and a explosion of pleasure.
Quiet.
The click of the handcuffs being undone. The smell of snuffed candles as they were blown out.
Genevieve knelt naked, blindfolded, alone, shaking, surprised, and full of excitement.
Removing the blindfold she was amazed to see a room like any other, with a hint of daylight from a curtained window, chairs neatly arranged, and her street clothes neatly piled up beside her.
Craning her neck she could see the flogger marks wrapped across her hips on both sides, and the cane welts on her bottom and thighs. Touching them, she laughed.
"Some dream ...".
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Posted: 11:28 PM, Mar. 21, 2006 |
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Pure Pleasure
Joan had made so many mistakes in the meeting she felt like picking up her papers, walking out of the boardroom, and straight under a bus.
All through the discussions about finance, staffing, projects, and human resource development she had felt her punishment knickers chafing her, making her feel like a little girl sent to the naughty corner.
"You've been a bad girl, so you'll wear these at work all day," Calum had said, lifting her chin up and looking directly into her eyes.
Joan had felt calm, but coy and clumsy at the same time.
"And when you come home we'll have to deal with this, won't we? Because being lazy and insolent just isn't an option any more."
She had got ready for work with a heart which blipped and flipped as she dressed. And as she walked through the door to go to her bus, she'd felt his hand tapping her smartly on the rear, almost as if he was checking that she was wearing the punishment pants as he'd requested.
Now she'd made these silly mistakes at work, and she would have to confess them to him. Joan knew that Calum had an easy way of dealing with her. He liked to spank her on the bare and he liked to spank her hard. As she hopped on the bus she felt herself tensing and clenching inside her knickers, in anticipation of them being displayed and lowered later on.
The house was quiet when she got in. Calum's car was outside so she knew he was there somewhere, just not waiting to give her any attention when she arrived. Joan kicked off her shoes and lit a cigarette, flipping idly through a magazine and its gossip columns.
"Well, young lady, I think it is time we had that chat, don't you?"
Joan's eyes darted quickly from the page and up to meet his eyes. She saw a flicker there but she was aware of his authority and knew that things were serious.
"Yes sir. I'm sorry about my attitude sir."
"Yes, you will be. I think we need to do something about this, don't you?"
She wondered whether this was the right time to start to tell him about work, but decided against it. Perhaps later, when they were cuddling and sharing a bottle of wine.
Calum gestured to her to go over to him, and Joan stood up, unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it without being asked. Her newly tanned legs looked great in her white hold-up stockings, and the baby blue of her traditional gym knickers reminded him that she had been thinking about her impending discipline all through the day.
Standing in front of him she looked lovely, and Calum couldn't resist reaching round and giving her smooth round bottom cheeks a squeeze.
"Over you get."
She flopped across him, feeling a little ungainly, a little exposed. She gasped as he tug down her knickers and pinned her free hand in the small of her back. When he did that she knew it was going to sting like hell, but she was getting excited at the thought of that harsh skin on skin spanking she'd needed for so long.
"I've been such a bad girl, sir. Please make me feel better, sir, I want to be a good girl. I want to please you."
Calum loved to make her wait though, and spent time playing with her, tickling, stroking, toying, scratching. When he could see her beginning to relax, he started to spank her, hard slaps from the start, so he could his fingerprints on her skin as the patches of red began to appear.
Joan wriggled and moaned, struggling to escape. Their free hands entwined, clutching each other, as he carried on smacking her, watching her bottom bounce and clench, listening to the beautiful echoes as his hand printed patterns on her.
"You have to make more effort to be a good girl, young lady," he said, half-hoping she'd do the exact opposite so he could punish her again and again.
He could hear her rapid breathing as she rode the waves of pain as he continued her spanking, harder and harder until his hand began to sting.
"Oh, oh God, please no, please go on, please stop," panted Joan, all the feelings colliding with themselves in her brain as the sensations shot up her body.
Seeing her shaking with pain and pleasure, feeling the burning heat of her bottom, hearing her sob and plead, Calum felt his own excitement start to appear. He loved this.
Who needed toys when they had skin on skin and each other? No greater pleasure than feeling the weight of her across his legs, seeing her bottom blazing hot and red like a beacon, knowing that she was loving and hating every minute of it.
Finally he stopped and held her, sobbing, crying, thanking him for his attention and his care for her.
Then Joan stood up, pulled up her knickers, and walked into the bedroom. Now she would have to tell him about her mistakes today. Now was the time, better than any other.
She'd kneel before him, look up into his eyes, and tell him all the silly mistakes she had made, all the things she'd wanted to do but couldn't.
"What do you need?" Calum would ask her, and she would know the answer even before it made its way from her lips.
And she knew what he would make her fetch before he asked her ...
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Posted: 11:27 PM, Mar. 21, 2006 |
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