“You know, Obadiah, you’re really too much of a gadget freak to work security.”
“And you’re a Luddite, Bill. What’s your point?” Obadiah did not bother to look up from his laptop to answer the older security guard on duty with him tonight. A complicated array of cords, boxes, and connectors ran across the table between the monitors and Obadiah’s laptop.
“I just don’t see the point of all this. You can simply watch the screens.” Bill grumbled.
“You can watch the screens, Bill. I’m working on my final project for my computer science class,” Obadiah explained patiently, silently thinking that his project was far more interesting than one for any class.
Bill grunted, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Want anything from the snack machine?”
“No,” Obadiah paused before adding, “Thanks, though.” With everything connected, he settled back in his seat to watch the monitors. “Excellent timing,” he muttered to the empty room, “But the guts of this pair!”
He wasted only a moment shaking his head at the figures that appeared on the screen showing the interior of the capital dome. A few clicks and several keystrokes later, the monitor showed footage of the capital dome Obadiah had captured earlier in the week. The current scene was transferred instead to a video file on his laptop.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Obadiah's Journey (chapter 1)
This story began as a very "innocent" scene between two nameless individuals. But when Jada gave me multiple suggestions for character names...well, you'll see how Obadiah hijacked my innocent storyline. And I hope you'll follow along to see where he takes us.
The door clicked shut behind Violet, blocking out the light from the stairwell and leaving her in darkness. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. She walked forward carefully, one hand gently tracing the bookshelf beside her.
At the end of the row, she turned and paused again. Here, a dim light filtered through sheer curtains that covered a rare floor-to-ceiling window. The pale light revealed rank upon rank of library shelving that she knew to be basic metal shelves capped with wood to add elegance. She reached for one, tracing the metal fixture with its paper inset describing the books stored in the row.
This side of the library was rarely visited. A researcher could find any of the millions of published cases far easier on Westlaw or Lexis. These books, each differently colored series representing a section of the country, were a memorial to a time long past. In daylight, she would think these books better stored, if at all, in the stacks, for all the floor-space they took up in the high ceilinged, formal library. But at night, they had a certain magic, each row filled with a uniform series in a slightly different color.
She walked forward, her pace still measured and slow. She passed another window, pausing only a moment to consider this new array of books before continuing on.
A flash of the gold-foil on the Atlantic Reporter caught her eye, revealed by the light from the window just ahead. Her step stuttered. He had promised to meet her here, where an internal column interrupted the shelving. For some inexplicable reason, the space had been filled with a round table and chairs on one side of the column and a stuffed chair on the other. No one used this little study spot, hidden away in never accessed books, even during the day.
The door clicked shut behind Violet, blocking out the light from the stairwell and leaving her in darkness. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. She walked forward carefully, one hand gently tracing the bookshelf beside her.
At the end of the row, she turned and paused again. Here, a dim light filtered through sheer curtains that covered a rare floor-to-ceiling window. The pale light revealed rank upon rank of library shelving that she knew to be basic metal shelves capped with wood to add elegance. She reached for one, tracing the metal fixture with its paper inset describing the books stored in the row.
This side of the library was rarely visited. A researcher could find any of the millions of published cases far easier on Westlaw or Lexis. These books, each differently colored series representing a section of the country, were a memorial to a time long past. In daylight, she would think these books better stored, if at all, in the stacks, for all the floor-space they took up in the high ceilinged, formal library. But at night, they had a certain magic, each row filled with a uniform series in a slightly different color.
She walked forward, her pace still measured and slow. She passed another window, pausing only a moment to consider this new array of books before continuing on.
A flash of the gold-foil on the Atlantic Reporter caught her eye, revealed by the light from the window just ahead. Her step stuttered. He had promised to meet her here, where an internal column interrupted the shelving. For some inexplicable reason, the space had been filled with a round table and chairs on one side of the column and a stuffed chair on the other. No one used this little study spot, hidden away in never accessed books, even during the day.
Friday, November 19, 2010
HD - Tour (part 4)
If you haven’t read the other HoloDeck stories…you can start here. The HoloDeck series explores spanking, sex and BDSM in a fantasy world where nothing goes wrong, and if it does, they have sci-fi level medical care available. I find that sort of thing fun and titillating. Your mileage may vary. This is the final part of a four-part Macy/Colin story…you can find the first part here, the second part here, and the third part here.
“Oh no,” Colin said firmly, glaring at her. “I’ll hear a good bit more begging from you first. And your screams. Your sobs. None of this false bullshit.”
He shoved her backwards onto the table, her back flat on the fur rug, her bottom hanging off the edge. He pulled the picnic benches forward a bit and put a booted foot on either bench, spreading her very wide. A bit of rope secured her feet. He pulled her hands together, wrapped them with rope and stretched them far above her head before securing them.
He took his cane to these new targets – her thighs, her pussy, her breasts. He circled her, his blows precise and hard. She strained and writhed wordlessly on the table, occasional low moans punctuating his mutters of “Nice!”
He dropped the cane and scooped up more fresh snow. The first handful was pressed against her pussy. The next two held against her gorgeous breasts. She tossed her head back and forth, begging him with a nonsensical string of moans.
He swept the snow away and fell on her with his mouth. His hands squeezed her painfully. The suction of her mouth caused her to cry out. Her back arched, pressing her breasts harder into his mouth.
He forgot his desire to punish her, giving over to his desire to ravish her instead. He dropped his pants and thrust into her, but the remnants of cold snow served to remind him of his original purpose. Gritting his teeth, he pumped into her until she grew frantic for him. Then, growling, he withdrew.
A horrible rubber crop found its way into his hand. He struck her breasts, her pussy. It took only a few strokes to set her begging. He struck again, watching her tears fill her eyes. He hit her pussy twice more.
“How does my little slut want it?” He rubbed his cock teasingly against her clit, sliding down but not entering her.
“Please, Colin, just fuck me!” She raised her hips, opened her legs even further, begging with her body.
He gave into her pleas, taking everything she offered.
“Oh no,” Colin said firmly, glaring at her. “I’ll hear a good bit more begging from you first. And your screams. Your sobs. None of this false bullshit.”
He shoved her backwards onto the table, her back flat on the fur rug, her bottom hanging off the edge. He pulled the picnic benches forward a bit and put a booted foot on either bench, spreading her very wide. A bit of rope secured her feet. He pulled her hands together, wrapped them with rope and stretched them far above her head before securing them.
He took his cane to these new targets – her thighs, her pussy, her breasts. He circled her, his blows precise and hard. She strained and writhed wordlessly on the table, occasional low moans punctuating his mutters of “Nice!”
He dropped the cane and scooped up more fresh snow. The first handful was pressed against her pussy. The next two held against her gorgeous breasts. She tossed her head back and forth, begging him with a nonsensical string of moans.
He swept the snow away and fell on her with his mouth. His hands squeezed her painfully. The suction of her mouth caused her to cry out. Her back arched, pressing her breasts harder into his mouth.
He forgot his desire to punish her, giving over to his desire to ravish her instead. He dropped his pants and thrust into her, but the remnants of cold snow served to remind him of his original purpose. Gritting his teeth, he pumped into her until she grew frantic for him. Then, growling, he withdrew.
A horrible rubber crop found its way into his hand. He struck her breasts, her pussy. It took only a few strokes to set her begging. He struck again, watching her tears fill her eyes. He hit her pussy twice more.
“How does my little slut want it?” He rubbed his cock teasingly against her clit, sliding down but not entering her.
“Please, Colin, just fuck me!” She raised her hips, opened her legs even further, begging with her body.
He gave into her pleas, taking everything she offered.
Friday, November 12, 2010
HD - Tour (part 3)
If you haven’t read the other HoloDeck stories…you can start here. The HoloDeck series explores spanking, sex and BDSM in a fantasy world where nothing goes wrong, and if it does, they have sci-fi level medical care available. I find that sort of thing fun and titillating. Your mileage may vary. This is the third part of a four-part Macy/Colin story…you can find the first part here, and the second part here.
Cold air hit Macy’s bare skin like a thousand pinpricks of ice. Actual ice, in the form of snow, covered the ground and the bare branches of the surrounding trees. They stood in a clearing, a rustic wooden picnic table and benches explained the purpose of the spot. The air was thin, cool, but as Macy adjusted, no longer bitingly cold.
Colin turned to Macy, watching the tiny shiver race through her. Her nipples crinkled in the cold, tightening to hard nubs. He flicked one, drawing her attention from the scenery to him.
“It’s cold!” she complained.
“Still whining, are you?” Colin leaned towards her and kissed her nose, then each erect nipple. Macy moaned, arching her back in an attempt to press her breasts against him. He pulled back, teasing, “I’ll fix that soon enough, love.”
He strolled over to the picnic table. The bench on the far side held a number of items out of Macy’s sight. He picked up an enormous fur rug and flipped it out over the rough table.
“Come, pet. Lean over the end for me.”
Macy shuffled over somewhat reluctantly. The pain of the switching had faded quickly enough, but the memory had not. She slid her hand through the fur, slowly lowering herself onto the table. Colin roughly smacked her thighs until she opened her legs. “You know better than that, little one. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to punish you.”
Macy cast a skeptical glance over her shoulder at him but kept her peace. Not that it would matter either way, but occasionally Macy made the wiser choice. Colin ran his fingernails up her back, pressing hard enough to leave white lines in her flesh. His hands roamed, scratching and pinching. He cupped her buttocks in his hands, fingers digging into the muscle as he squeezed hard.
He smacked her bottom with his cupped hand, the loud sound echoing among the trees. He paused, pressing himself between her legs, running his arms up her back, laying himself over her. With a groan, he pulled himself away and took up a heavy flogger. He brushed her hair aside and settled into a steady rhythm. Macy grunted a little at the heavier blows, but otherwise seem to melt into the flogging.
“Warm enough, pet?” he asked softly.
“Mmmm hmmm,” she mumbled wordless agreement.
He switched to a carbon fiber cane, her back well prepared for these sharper blows. He moved to her bottom, the fullness of her cheeks receiving his attention for the first time. She clenched her hands into the fur blanket, moaning a bit.
“Oh dear,” he said mockingly, “Is someone getting turned on by this?” He slid a finger easily into her wet pussy. He fucked her hard for a moment, then withdrew and slid his wet finger into her ass. She squirmed harder, undeniably aroused by his actions. He knelt a bit to set aside the cane, his finger fucking her ass. His other hand scooped up a handful of pure white snow. Without warning, he cupped the snow around her pussy.
Macy screamed, pushing herself halfway up. Her back was arched, her elbows still on the table but drawn back to support her head and shoulders off the table. Colin withdrew his finger and dropped the snow. He took her roughly by the hair, holding her in this half raised position.
“Someone give you permission to get up, little one?”
“No,” Macy whimpered.
Colin pulled her roughly to her feet, glaring at her. He held her firmly, watching her tremble. She whimpered when he reached to touch her face, not quite shying away from what she thought would be a slap.
“If you can’t follow the rules, Macy, you don’t leave me any choice.” Colin pushed her back against the table, “You simply like it too much when I spank you, don’t you? Answer me!”
“Yes, Colin,” she stammered the words out, “I like it when you spank me.”
The fingers of his other hand, still bitterly cold from the snow, pinched a nipple, twisting it painfully, “And what about that? Do you like that too?”
“No,” Macy panted, but a rush of wetness between her legs betrayed her. Colin pushed his erection hard against her.
“Don’t lie to me. You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You like that too, don’t you?”
“Please…”
Colin simply pulled harder, “Please what?”
“Please fuck me,” Macy managed.
Cold air hit Macy’s bare skin like a thousand pinpricks of ice. Actual ice, in the form of snow, covered the ground and the bare branches of the surrounding trees. They stood in a clearing, a rustic wooden picnic table and benches explained the purpose of the spot. The air was thin, cool, but as Macy adjusted, no longer bitingly cold.
Colin turned to Macy, watching the tiny shiver race through her. Her nipples crinkled in the cold, tightening to hard nubs. He flicked one, drawing her attention from the scenery to him.
“It’s cold!” she complained.
“Still whining, are you?” Colin leaned towards her and kissed her nose, then each erect nipple. Macy moaned, arching her back in an attempt to press her breasts against him. He pulled back, teasing, “I’ll fix that soon enough, love.”
He strolled over to the picnic table. The bench on the far side held a number of items out of Macy’s sight. He picked up an enormous fur rug and flipped it out over the rough table.
“Come, pet. Lean over the end for me.”
Macy shuffled over somewhat reluctantly. The pain of the switching had faded quickly enough, but the memory had not. She slid her hand through the fur, slowly lowering herself onto the table. Colin roughly smacked her thighs until she opened her legs. “You know better than that, little one. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to punish you.”
Macy cast a skeptical glance over her shoulder at him but kept her peace. Not that it would matter either way, but occasionally Macy made the wiser choice. Colin ran his fingernails up her back, pressing hard enough to leave white lines in her flesh. His hands roamed, scratching and pinching. He cupped her buttocks in his hands, fingers digging into the muscle as he squeezed hard.
He smacked her bottom with his cupped hand, the loud sound echoing among the trees. He paused, pressing himself between her legs, running his arms up her back, laying himself over her. With a groan, he pulled himself away and took up a heavy flogger. He brushed her hair aside and settled into a steady rhythm. Macy grunted a little at the heavier blows, but otherwise seem to melt into the flogging.
“Warm enough, pet?” he asked softly.
“Mmmm hmmm,” she mumbled wordless agreement.
He switched to a carbon fiber cane, her back well prepared for these sharper blows. He moved to her bottom, the fullness of her cheeks receiving his attention for the first time. She clenched her hands into the fur blanket, moaning a bit.
“Oh dear,” he said mockingly, “Is someone getting turned on by this?” He slid a finger easily into her wet pussy. He fucked her hard for a moment, then withdrew and slid his wet finger into her ass. She squirmed harder, undeniably aroused by his actions. He knelt a bit to set aside the cane, his finger fucking her ass. His other hand scooped up a handful of pure white snow. Without warning, he cupped the snow around her pussy.
Macy screamed, pushing herself halfway up. Her back was arched, her elbows still on the table but drawn back to support her head and shoulders off the table. Colin withdrew his finger and dropped the snow. He took her roughly by the hair, holding her in this half raised position.
“Someone give you permission to get up, little one?”
“No,” Macy whimpered.
Colin pulled her roughly to her feet, glaring at her. He held her firmly, watching her tremble. She whimpered when he reached to touch her face, not quite shying away from what she thought would be a slap.
“If you can’t follow the rules, Macy, you don’t leave me any choice.” Colin pushed her back against the table, “You simply like it too much when I spank you, don’t you? Answer me!”
“Yes, Colin,” she stammered the words out, “I like it when you spank me.”
The fingers of his other hand, still bitterly cold from the snow, pinched a nipple, twisting it painfully, “And what about that? Do you like that too?”
“No,” Macy panted, but a rush of wetness between her legs betrayed her. Colin pushed his erection hard against her.
“Don’t lie to me. You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You like that too, don’t you?”
“Please…”
Colin simply pulled harder, “Please what?”
“Please fuck me,” Macy managed.
Friday, November 5, 2010
HD - Tour (part 2)
If you haven’t read the other HoloDeck stories…you can start here. The HoloDeck series explores spanking, sex and BDSM in a fantasy world where nothing goes wrong, and if it does, they have sci-fi level medical care available. I find that sort of thing fun and titillating. Your mileage may vary. This is the second part of a four-part Macy/Colin story...you can find the first part here.
Macy was pressed hard onto the forest floor, various hard objects poking her back. Colin lifted himself off her, pulling her up by her wrists. She wore only the ridiculously short terry-cloth shorts. Colin pulled her over to a fallen log.
“Hands right there on the log, brat. Bend over, keep your legs straight.” Colin watched, then corrected himself, “Spread your legs for me, love.”
Macy moaned as she followed his directions, feeling the shorts slip up to reveal the crease of her bottom and even part of her butt cheeks.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Colin ordered as he stomped away to select a few switches. He cut the green branches from three different trees. His pocket knife was unusually sharp, trimming the switches was easy. He returned to find Macy in the position he had left her.
“Good girl,” Colin tapped the first of the switches along the crease of her bottom, “Keep your position, little one. You put a hand or foot back here and I will smack it, you understand?”
“Yeah,” Macy said reluctantly, bracing herself. But nothing could have prepared her for the burning assault of the switch, biting into her sand scoured skin. Her cries startled small game, birds fluttering away from the scene.
When the first switch broke, Colin swapped it for the second without missing a beat. Macy’s screams went up a notch as he laid into her thighs. A hand whipped back to protect her thighs. Colin caught her wrist, wordlessly striking her palm three times before releasing her hand.
Sobs shook Macy’s body. Colin stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her to his hip. He dropped the switch and delivered several ringing blows to her bottom with his palm. The abrupt change of sensation made Macy writhe within his firm grasp.
He stepped back and retrieved his final switch. He laid into her again, this time occasionally striking her calves. She was fighting with herself not to move, to accept the burning punishment. He watched her carefully, stopping before she lost the fight.
Colin pulled her up, wrapped her in a tight hug. Macy shook a little against him, her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath. He pulled her back a bit, watching her. He wiped a slow finger through the tear streaks on her cheeks.
“That really fucking hurt, Colin.” He silenced her by setting his wet finger against her lips. He removed the finger and kissed her trembling lips. Then he pulled away, keeping hold of one hand.
“I didn’t bring you to Yellowstone just to switch you, Macy. Come, we’ll walk a bit. I want you to see Old Faithful. And perhaps we’ll find a nice hot spring to rid of us some of this sand.”
Macy muttered something about the unfairness of it all as they walked, but Colin ignored these accusations. They had plenty of time for a little sightseeing before his next adventure.
* * *
Colin pulled himself out of the hot spring, taking one of the towels provided by the HoloDeck. He helped Macy out and wrapped another towel around her. She held the towel close as she watched him dress. He put on casual wool slacks and a striped flannel shirt.
“And for me?” Macy asked curiously. Colin held out a pair of boots, lined with fleece. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Macy continued, “What goes with these?”
“Put them on, Macy” Colin said patiently, refusing to answer her questions.
She stomped into the boots and laced them up. A fashion statement they were not, which only meant they were functional. Colin took her by the hand and the forest dissolved.
Macy was pressed hard onto the forest floor, various hard objects poking her back. Colin lifted himself off her, pulling her up by her wrists. She wore only the ridiculously short terry-cloth shorts. Colin pulled her over to a fallen log.
“Hands right there on the log, brat. Bend over, keep your legs straight.” Colin watched, then corrected himself, “Spread your legs for me, love.”
Macy moaned as she followed his directions, feeling the shorts slip up to reveal the crease of her bottom and even part of her butt cheeks.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Colin ordered as he stomped away to select a few switches. He cut the green branches from three different trees. His pocket knife was unusually sharp, trimming the switches was easy. He returned to find Macy in the position he had left her.
“Good girl,” Colin tapped the first of the switches along the crease of her bottom, “Keep your position, little one. You put a hand or foot back here and I will smack it, you understand?”
“Yeah,” Macy said reluctantly, bracing herself. But nothing could have prepared her for the burning assault of the switch, biting into her sand scoured skin. Her cries startled small game, birds fluttering away from the scene.
When the first switch broke, Colin swapped it for the second without missing a beat. Macy’s screams went up a notch as he laid into her thighs. A hand whipped back to protect her thighs. Colin caught her wrist, wordlessly striking her palm three times before releasing her hand.
Sobs shook Macy’s body. Colin stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her to his hip. He dropped the switch and delivered several ringing blows to her bottom with his palm. The abrupt change of sensation made Macy writhe within his firm grasp.
He stepped back and retrieved his final switch. He laid into her again, this time occasionally striking her calves. She was fighting with herself not to move, to accept the burning punishment. He watched her carefully, stopping before she lost the fight.
Colin pulled her up, wrapped her in a tight hug. Macy shook a little against him, her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath. He pulled her back a bit, watching her. He wiped a slow finger through the tear streaks on her cheeks.
“That really fucking hurt, Colin.” He silenced her by setting his wet finger against her lips. He removed the finger and kissed her trembling lips. Then he pulled away, keeping hold of one hand.
“I didn’t bring you to Yellowstone just to switch you, Macy. Come, we’ll walk a bit. I want you to see Old Faithful. And perhaps we’ll find a nice hot spring to rid of us some of this sand.”
Macy muttered something about the unfairness of it all as they walked, but Colin ignored these accusations. They had plenty of time for a little sightseeing before his next adventure.
* * *
Colin pulled himself out of the hot spring, taking one of the towels provided by the HoloDeck. He helped Macy out and wrapped another towel around her. She held the towel close as she watched him dress. He put on casual wool slacks and a striped flannel shirt.
“And for me?” Macy asked curiously. Colin held out a pair of boots, lined with fleece. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Macy continued, “What goes with these?”
“Put them on, Macy” Colin said patiently, refusing to answer her questions.
She stomped into the boots and laced them up. A fashion statement they were not, which only meant they were functional. Colin took her by the hand and the forest dissolved.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
HD - Tour (part 1)
If you haven’t read the other HoloDeck stories…you can start here. The HoloDeck series explores spanking, sex and BDSM in a fantasy world where nothing goes wrong, and if it does, they have sci-fi level medical care available. I find that sort of thing fun and titillating. Your mileage may vary. This is the first part of a four-part Macy/Colin story.
Macy blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. The transition into a HoloDeck scene was sometimes jarring. The heat of Colin’s hand wrapped around hers was the first surprise. The feel of fabric on her skin was the second. She wore a tiny pair of shorts and a bikini top. Her bare feet were sunk in loose, white sand.
Colin stood watching her, holding her hand innocently enough. He wore board shorts and a Rash Guard shirt, the lines of the shirt accenting his strength. Macy took in the scenery, rolling dunes of white sand as far as the eye could see.
“White Sands, New Mexico,” Colin answered before she even voiced the question, “It’s early spring, love, so we shouldn’t get to warm.”
Macy beamed at him, digging her toes in the warm sand. The air was rather cool on her skin, considering the warmth radiating from the sand and the warm sun overhead. They walked for a piece, Macy watching as her manicured toenails sparkled in and out of the white sand.
Suddenly, Macy stopped, turning herself in front of Colin and bringing him to an abrupt halt. She grabbed his other hand, laughing, “Race me?” She nodded to the top of the next dune.
Colin shook his head, but smiled indulgently, “What does the winner get?”
“What do you want?” Macy stepped close, pressing her body against him.
“At the moment,” Colin allowed himself to respond to her touch, “You. Naked. Beneath me. But I’ll settle for the top off.”
Macy kissed him and darted away. Even with the head start, Colin easily caught up. He reached the summit of the next dune just a moment before her, not having pushed himself to outdistance her. Macy pouted at him, her merrily sparkling eyes ruining the effect.
“Top off, little one.”
“Colin…” Macy whined.
Colin took a step toward her and tipped her over his outstretched leg. He delivered a flurry of hard swats to her bottom. She giggled at this assault, playfully kicking her feet. Colin shifted his attention to her thighs, his hand reddening the bare flesh. Macy stopped laughing.
“I’ll take it off, Colin. Jeeze!”
“You’re still whining at me, little one.” He continued smacking her bare thighs, hard. “Take it off.”
Macy struggled to untie the top, hampered by the ungainly position he held her in. She finally managed to pull the top off without unhooking it. “It’s off. Ow! Stop!”
Colin set her back on her feet, smiling benignly at her, “One of these days you’re going to figure out that it is easier just to obey me.”
Macy shrugged playfully, causing her freed breasts to bounce at him, “Where’s the fun in that?” She flung herself at him, catching him off guard so that they tumbled down the side of the sand dune.
Their fall became a wrestling match. Sand flew around them as they rolled, grappling at one another. The warm sand was rough on their skin. By the time Colin pinned Macy, both were panting for breath. Colin held Macy’s hands above her head, straddling her and holding her legs down with his own.
“You are such a brat!” he said. Her only response was laughter, her giggle breathless from their exertion.
“You need a good switching, but there are no switches here.” He looked up expectantly and the sand dissolved around them.
Macy blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. The transition into a HoloDeck scene was sometimes jarring. The heat of Colin’s hand wrapped around hers was the first surprise. The feel of fabric on her skin was the second. She wore a tiny pair of shorts and a bikini top. Her bare feet were sunk in loose, white sand.
Colin stood watching her, holding her hand innocently enough. He wore board shorts and a Rash Guard shirt, the lines of the shirt accenting his strength. Macy took in the scenery, rolling dunes of white sand as far as the eye could see.
“White Sands, New Mexico,” Colin answered before she even voiced the question, “It’s early spring, love, so we shouldn’t get to warm.”
Macy beamed at him, digging her toes in the warm sand. The air was rather cool on her skin, considering the warmth radiating from the sand and the warm sun overhead. They walked for a piece, Macy watching as her manicured toenails sparkled in and out of the white sand.
Suddenly, Macy stopped, turning herself in front of Colin and bringing him to an abrupt halt. She grabbed his other hand, laughing, “Race me?” She nodded to the top of the next dune.
Colin shook his head, but smiled indulgently, “What does the winner get?”
“What do you want?” Macy stepped close, pressing her body against him.
“At the moment,” Colin allowed himself to respond to her touch, “You. Naked. Beneath me. But I’ll settle for the top off.”
Macy kissed him and darted away. Even with the head start, Colin easily caught up. He reached the summit of the next dune just a moment before her, not having pushed himself to outdistance her. Macy pouted at him, her merrily sparkling eyes ruining the effect.
“Top off, little one.”
“Colin…” Macy whined.
Colin took a step toward her and tipped her over his outstretched leg. He delivered a flurry of hard swats to her bottom. She giggled at this assault, playfully kicking her feet. Colin shifted his attention to her thighs, his hand reddening the bare flesh. Macy stopped laughing.
“I’ll take it off, Colin. Jeeze!”
“You’re still whining at me, little one.” He continued smacking her bare thighs, hard. “Take it off.”
Macy struggled to untie the top, hampered by the ungainly position he held her in. She finally managed to pull the top off without unhooking it. “It’s off. Ow! Stop!”
Colin set her back on her feet, smiling benignly at her, “One of these days you’re going to figure out that it is easier just to obey me.”
Macy shrugged playfully, causing her freed breasts to bounce at him, “Where’s the fun in that?” She flung herself at him, catching him off guard so that they tumbled down the side of the sand dune.
Their fall became a wrestling match. Sand flew around them as they rolled, grappling at one another. The warm sand was rough on their skin. By the time Colin pinned Macy, both were panting for breath. Colin held Macy’s hands above her head, straddling her and holding her legs down with his own.
“You are such a brat!” he said. Her only response was laughter, her giggle breathless from their exertion.
“You need a good switching, but there are no switches here.” He looked up expectantly and the sand dissolved around them.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Love Our Lurker Day (a day late)
I'm a day late to join the LOL Day, started by Bonnie - my tardiness will come at no surprise to anyone who knows me. It's a day when spanking and kink blogs encourage their lurkers (and other readers) to post a comment.
If you're writing your first comment, it need not be long or complicated; as a blogger, it is wonderful to receive any comment, even the shortest, shyest comments. Take the plunge, leave a comment.
If you're writing your first comment, it need not be long or complicated; as a blogger, it is wonderful to receive any comment, even the shortest, shyest comments. Take the plunge, leave a comment.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
A quiet evening
The television was on, simply background noise as he worked on his computer. Her hand, cool against his knee, caught his attention. She sank to the floor at his feet, legs folded neatly beneath her. Her fingernails ran down his bare leg, traced back up to his knee. She rested the flat of her hand against the inside of his knee, her cheek pressed against the other side of his leg.
"What's the matter, beautiful?"
"Nothing," she closed her eyes, shutting out the lie.
"Don't lie to me, little one." He closed his computer, his hand cupping her face.
"Don't stop working," she said quietly, her eyes still closed, "I'm just going to cuddle up with you."
"Then why aren't you up on the sofa with me? Cuddled up in my lap?"
She shrugged, saying nothing. His fingers worked through her hair, massaging her scalp. She sighed, wrapping herself more tightly around his leg.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, "About yesterday."
"I already told you, you've nothing to apologize for."
"Yeah," her quiet whisper could not have said more clearly that she disagreed.
"Get up here, you." He set his computer aside. When she didn't move, he carefully brushed her hair back from her ear then took a firm grip and pulled. She followed her ear, standing up and falling promptly over his lap.
"Meanie," she muttered as she rubbed her ear. But she barely had time to pout at him, as he pushed up her satin nightgown and began spanking her. He spanked hard, varying the swats from thuddy to stingy and back again. He covered both sides of her bottom and worked his way right down her thighs. She squirmed a little and whimpered a little, but largely accepted his punishment without complaint.
"Get up," he growled at her, helping her to her feet and then standing himself. "Put your hands on the couch," he pushed her into position. "And get those legs apart," he demanded, his hand slapping her inner thighs until she had spread her legs to his satisfaction. "Stay right there."
Her legs shook just a bit as he walked away, the only outward sign of her nerves. He could be after anything to use with her in this position. The possibilities were seemingly endless. She heard him return to the room, but forced herself not to look.
"That's my good girl," he murmured, his hands roaming her backside. She arched her back in response, offering her bottom for his caress. He did just that for a long moment, rubbing her bottom, teasing it with his nails.
The sharp crack of the strap against her bottom broke her relaxation. She took several quick breaths, but he did not let up. He knew what she needed, enough pain to forgive herself. Enough pain to let go.
She was near tears when he stopped. He wrapped her in a hug and pulled her onto his lap as he sat down. She curled into his chest, just as he had wanted her to do earlier. Sometimes, it took effort to keep her happy, but it was well worth it.
"What's the matter, beautiful?"
"Nothing," she closed her eyes, shutting out the lie.
"Don't lie to me, little one." He closed his computer, his hand cupping her face.
"Don't stop working," she said quietly, her eyes still closed, "I'm just going to cuddle up with you."
"Then why aren't you up on the sofa with me? Cuddled up in my lap?"
She shrugged, saying nothing. His fingers worked through her hair, massaging her scalp. She sighed, wrapping herself more tightly around his leg.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, "About yesterday."
"I already told you, you've nothing to apologize for."
"Yeah," her quiet whisper could not have said more clearly that she disagreed.
"Get up here, you." He set his computer aside. When she didn't move, he carefully brushed her hair back from her ear then took a firm grip and pulled. She followed her ear, standing up and falling promptly over his lap.
"Meanie," she muttered as she rubbed her ear. But she barely had time to pout at him, as he pushed up her satin nightgown and began spanking her. He spanked hard, varying the swats from thuddy to stingy and back again. He covered both sides of her bottom and worked his way right down her thighs. She squirmed a little and whimpered a little, but largely accepted his punishment without complaint.
"Get up," he growled at her, helping her to her feet and then standing himself. "Put your hands on the couch," he pushed her into position. "And get those legs apart," he demanded, his hand slapping her inner thighs until she had spread her legs to his satisfaction. "Stay right there."
Her legs shook just a bit as he walked away, the only outward sign of her nerves. He could be after anything to use with her in this position. The possibilities were seemingly endless. She heard him return to the room, but forced herself not to look.
"That's my good girl," he murmured, his hands roaming her backside. She arched her back in response, offering her bottom for his caress. He did just that for a long moment, rubbing her bottom, teasing it with his nails.
The sharp crack of the strap against her bottom broke her relaxation. She took several quick breaths, but he did not let up. He knew what she needed, enough pain to forgive herself. Enough pain to let go.
She was near tears when he stopped. He wrapped her in a hug and pulled her onto his lap as he sat down. She curled into his chest, just as he had wanted her to do earlier. Sometimes, it took effort to keep her happy, but it was well worth it.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
HD - A short story
If you haven't read the other HoloDeck stories...you should! That said, the HoloDeck series explores sex and BDSM in a fantasy world where nothing goes wrong, and if it does, they have sci-fi level medical care available. I find that sort of thing fun and titillating. Your mileage may vary. This is a single scene Macy/Colin story. It is unabashedly sexual. If that sort of thing bothers you, skip this one.
Macy was naked but for the silk and leather color around her neck. Colin had grown so fond of these slave scenes, Macy thought irritably, that he would do well to buy her a collar to wear outside the HoloDeck. Macy forced her attention to her surroundings.
She stood in a lushly appointed bed chamber. Rich tapestries covered the walls, depicting scenes of fantastic sexual adventures. Plush carpeting covered the floor. An enormous four-poster bed dominated the room, surrounded by heavy velvet drapes and made up with silk sheets. Two chairs flanked a small table set under an enormous window.
Macy fingered the collar. A pleasure slave, then, but a pampered slave. Macy sat on one of the chairs, sinking into the rich upholstery. An open journal sat on the table. Macy checked the date out of habit and flipped through the journal. Her handwriting filled the pages with graphic details of her lord’s visits.
She squirmed in her chair, her pussy uncomfortably wet. But it was impossible to set the journal aside. She slid her fingers down to play with her clit as she read.
“This is what my little one gets up to while I’m away?” Colin appeared silently beside her. He wore only a robe, his hair wet from bathing.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Macy leapt to her feet.
“No apologies, little one.” He kissed her, hard. One arm pulled her tight to him, his other hand slipping between them. His fingers thrust hard into her wet pussy, fucking her.
She whimpered when he pulled away, but he pushed her hard against the wall, a hand behind her head. He brushed his robe aside and thrust roughly into her.
“Is that what you wanted, little one?” he growled out as he pumped in and out of her.
“Yes, my lord. Please. Take me.” Her hips thrust against him, her back arched, her body pressed against his. She came hard and fast, her muscles clenching painfully around him.
“Now that was very naughty, little one!” Colin pulled himself away slightly, glaring at her, “The other, well, I’ll not begrudge you for how you entertain yourself when I’m away.” A hand stroked her cheek, “But this?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Macy took great gulping breaths, startled by the strength of her orgasm. She nestled her forehead into the hollow of his shoulder, “Are you going to punish me?”
“Yes, little one. Lean over the bed for me. Legs spread, that’s right. Stretch your hands out to the other side of the bed. Good girl, arch your back and present your naughty bottom for me. Nice.”
A heavy leather strap thudded across her bottom. Macy arched into it, giving her bottom up to him for correction. The thudding pain was somehow remote after her orgasm, sending pleasant vibrations into her pussy. Macy held her position easily, only straining to present herself more fully, to open her body to his correction.
“I don’t think this is getting through to you,” Colin tossed the heavy strap to the floor and took up a cane instead. The sharp pain shattered through Macy, bringing a cry to her lips. Her body strained, but she held her position. Colin struck rapidly and hard, hardly giving her a chance to recover between strokes. White lines appeared on her skin, then red welts.
He laid the welts on evenly, close spaced parallel lines from the fullest part of her bottom to mid-thigh. Her whimpers teased Colin’s ears and he smiled his satisfaction. He took a deep breath, rubbing the welts for a moment, letting her think he might be nearly finished.
But he drew back the cane and carelessly struck across the welts. He laid on crisscrossing stripes, seemingly willy-nilly but actually quite balanced. Her screamed echoed in the room.
He tossed the cane aside and thrust roughly into her, “Have you learned your lesson, little one?”
“Yes! Please, my lord. Please…”
“Quiet,” he ordered, fucking her hard. His hips pounded into her tender bottom. She kept her legs spread for him, her body his for the taking. He reached beneath her, taking her breasts in his hands as he rocked into her. She moaned and worked her hips against him, pushing hard, taking him deeper inside her.
He felt the muscles across her stomach clench, her breathing change. He withdrew abruptly, “Did I give you permission, little one?”
“No. My lord, no, please. I want…”
“I know what you want, little bit. Be a good girl now.” He set his erection against her bottom hole, wet from her juices. He pulled her bottom open, his hands squeezing the welts, digging into the pained flesh. She moaned, wordlessly reaching back to hold herself open for him, offering herself.
He moved his hands to her hipbones, slowly pushing into her. He gave a little sigh when he settled deep into her. Then he began a slow thrusting, in and out, fucking her bottom. His fingers reached around to her slit, teasing her. His hips pressed against the welts.
“Now, you may come,” he panted, his fingers teasing her clit. She ground against his hand, creating the sensation she needed. When she clenched up, gasping, he let her go. Her bottom spasmed around him, brining him to orgasm as well.
“Such a good girl!” Colin rolled off her regretfully. “Looks like I need another bath, will you join me?”
Giggling, Macy pushed herself off the bed and strolled into the bathroom, her hips rolling seductively at him.
Macy was naked but for the silk and leather color around her neck. Colin had grown so fond of these slave scenes, Macy thought irritably, that he would do well to buy her a collar to wear outside the HoloDeck. Macy forced her attention to her surroundings.
She stood in a lushly appointed bed chamber. Rich tapestries covered the walls, depicting scenes of fantastic sexual adventures. Plush carpeting covered the floor. An enormous four-poster bed dominated the room, surrounded by heavy velvet drapes and made up with silk sheets. Two chairs flanked a small table set under an enormous window.
Macy fingered the collar. A pleasure slave, then, but a pampered slave. Macy sat on one of the chairs, sinking into the rich upholstery. An open journal sat on the table. Macy checked the date out of habit and flipped through the journal. Her handwriting filled the pages with graphic details of her lord’s visits.
She squirmed in her chair, her pussy uncomfortably wet. But it was impossible to set the journal aside. She slid her fingers down to play with her clit as she read.
“This is what my little one gets up to while I’m away?” Colin appeared silently beside her. He wore only a robe, his hair wet from bathing.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Macy leapt to her feet.
“No apologies, little one.” He kissed her, hard. One arm pulled her tight to him, his other hand slipping between them. His fingers thrust hard into her wet pussy, fucking her.
She whimpered when he pulled away, but he pushed her hard against the wall, a hand behind her head. He brushed his robe aside and thrust roughly into her.
“Is that what you wanted, little one?” he growled out as he pumped in and out of her.
“Yes, my lord. Please. Take me.” Her hips thrust against him, her back arched, her body pressed against his. She came hard and fast, her muscles clenching painfully around him.
“Now that was very naughty, little one!” Colin pulled himself away slightly, glaring at her, “The other, well, I’ll not begrudge you for how you entertain yourself when I’m away.” A hand stroked her cheek, “But this?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Macy took great gulping breaths, startled by the strength of her orgasm. She nestled her forehead into the hollow of his shoulder, “Are you going to punish me?”
“Yes, little one. Lean over the bed for me. Legs spread, that’s right. Stretch your hands out to the other side of the bed. Good girl, arch your back and present your naughty bottom for me. Nice.”
A heavy leather strap thudded across her bottom. Macy arched into it, giving her bottom up to him for correction. The thudding pain was somehow remote after her orgasm, sending pleasant vibrations into her pussy. Macy held her position easily, only straining to present herself more fully, to open her body to his correction.
“I don’t think this is getting through to you,” Colin tossed the heavy strap to the floor and took up a cane instead. The sharp pain shattered through Macy, bringing a cry to her lips. Her body strained, but she held her position. Colin struck rapidly and hard, hardly giving her a chance to recover between strokes. White lines appeared on her skin, then red welts.
He laid the welts on evenly, close spaced parallel lines from the fullest part of her bottom to mid-thigh. Her whimpers teased Colin’s ears and he smiled his satisfaction. He took a deep breath, rubbing the welts for a moment, letting her think he might be nearly finished.
But he drew back the cane and carelessly struck across the welts. He laid on crisscrossing stripes, seemingly willy-nilly but actually quite balanced. Her screamed echoed in the room.
He tossed the cane aside and thrust roughly into her, “Have you learned your lesson, little one?”
“Yes! Please, my lord. Please…”
“Quiet,” he ordered, fucking her hard. His hips pounded into her tender bottom. She kept her legs spread for him, her body his for the taking. He reached beneath her, taking her breasts in his hands as he rocked into her. She moaned and worked her hips against him, pushing hard, taking him deeper inside her.
He felt the muscles across her stomach clench, her breathing change. He withdrew abruptly, “Did I give you permission, little one?”
“No. My lord, no, please. I want…”
“I know what you want, little bit. Be a good girl now.” He set his erection against her bottom hole, wet from her juices. He pulled her bottom open, his hands squeezing the welts, digging into the pained flesh. She moaned, wordlessly reaching back to hold herself open for him, offering herself.
He moved his hands to her hipbones, slowly pushing into her. He gave a little sigh when he settled deep into her. Then he began a slow thrusting, in and out, fucking her bottom. His fingers reached around to her slit, teasing her. His hips pressed against the welts.
“Now, you may come,” he panted, his fingers teasing her clit. She ground against his hand, creating the sensation she needed. When she clenched up, gasping, he let her go. Her bottom spasmed around him, brining him to orgasm as well.
“Such a good girl!” Colin rolled off her regretfully. “Looks like I need another bath, will you join me?”
Giggling, Macy pushed herself off the bed and strolled into the bathroom, her hips rolling seductively at him.
Friday, September 24, 2010
SL Party Report - Monday/Tuesday
By Monday, the party was wrapping up. It seems like Monday was a blur of goodbye hugs and promises to email, only some of which I've followed up on because I'm terrible with that. (If I owe you an email, please email me!) This was the first party that I've stayed later than all my close friends, and saying goodbye proved to be very difficult. I've decided it's far easier to leave a little early, saying goodbye to everyone at once and having your attention taken by getting to the airport, getting through security, and getting home before you have time to think about it. Saying goodbye to each of my friends, individually, and watching them leave, was really difficult.
I won't go through all the individual goodbyes. Those that I missed were nearly as hard as those I managed to hug goodbye.
I had a nice final scene with Craig. Bittersweet, though, as we may not see one another until Boardwalk Badness in April.
I also managed to catch up with R, who I had missed at two parties running. It was lovely to catch up. He gave me a "good girl" spanking. The perfect way to wind down a weekend like this. It happened to fit both needs, as we were able to talk during the spanking. We had a rather funny discussion about what any vanilla person would think, hearing us. Our typical scenes last so much longer than any imaginable "spanking" - I cannot imagine what people think we are doing. I've heard the sounds of smacking, from hotel rooms and hotel elevators, but I cannot dream what an unsuspecting vanilla might imagine.
At every party, there are a few discussions that stand out, this party was no different. Along with the "what would vanillas imagine is going on" discussion, the following stand out:
On the memorable scale, my return to the airport takes the cake. First, I must thank Dave and Stacy, who graciously agreed to take me along on their early morning ride to the airport...I'm ever so grateful that I did not have to take a cab. And they were, understandably, sleep deprived by our early departure. But the story is simply too good to pass up.
After returning their rental car, we got a luggage cart. Dave loaded their four bags onto the cart. I offered to pull my own, because it rolls and I'm used to carting it around after me. Dave insisted that it was no problem. He put it on top of the bags, then stacked his own briefcase on top. He assured me that it was his work laptop, he wouldn't let anything happen to it, so he wouldn't drop my bag. I wasn't worried about my bag...which turns out to be a good thing.
From the rental car drop off to the airport, we had to go up an escalator. Stacy and I had fallen some distance behind Dave, talking. Dave bravely pushed the baggage cart onto the escalator, ignoring the signs prohibiting such an action. You can imagine what happened at the top of the escalator. The baggage cart got stuck, finally overturning. Stacy and I tried to backstep down the escalator, but we were eventually force to tumble over our bags. (I realized after that if I had simply turned around and walked down the escalator, I could have easily escaped this craziness. But my mind doesn't function rationally in face of an impending disaster.) An innocent bystander, texting on her phone while watching us, was nearly doubled over with laughter. Luckily, we were all unhurt by the events, but I still have to decide if I should bring charges against Dave at the next CP Court. I'd have to ask him to recuse, of course...
I won't go through all the individual goodbyes. Those that I missed were nearly as hard as those I managed to hug goodbye.
I had a nice final scene with Craig. Bittersweet, though, as we may not see one another until Boardwalk Badness in April.
I also managed to catch up with R, who I had missed at two parties running. It was lovely to catch up. He gave me a "good girl" spanking. The perfect way to wind down a weekend like this. It happened to fit both needs, as we were able to talk during the spanking. We had a rather funny discussion about what any vanilla person would think, hearing us. Our typical scenes last so much longer than any imaginable "spanking" - I cannot imagine what people think we are doing. I've heard the sounds of smacking, from hotel rooms and hotel elevators, but I cannot dream what an unsuspecting vanilla might imagine.
At every party, there are a few discussions that stand out, this party was no different. Along with the "what would vanillas imagine is going on" discussion, the following stand out:
- Erica relating a story where she had impressed a top with her logic, to which she replied, "I think well off my feet." I laughed until my side hurt, because I, too, think better OFF my feet than on.
- At the SSNY suite party, I was explaining why I don't often play in truly public parties anymore. The phenomenon where people approach me and say, "Hi, my name is...would you like to play?" I'm embarrassed for these people! There are those people who can say nothing more to me than "Would you like to play?", but those are people I have played with countless times! I know that's impossible to know, but, really?
On the memorable scale, my return to the airport takes the cake. First, I must thank Dave and Stacy, who graciously agreed to take me along on their early morning ride to the airport...I'm ever so grateful that I did not have to take a cab. And they were, understandably, sleep deprived by our early departure. But the story is simply too good to pass up.
After returning their rental car, we got a luggage cart. Dave loaded their four bags onto the cart. I offered to pull my own, because it rolls and I'm used to carting it around after me. Dave insisted that it was no problem. He put it on top of the bags, then stacked his own briefcase on top. He assured me that it was his work laptop, he wouldn't let anything happen to it, so he wouldn't drop my bag. I wasn't worried about my bag...which turns out to be a good thing.
From the rental car drop off to the airport, we had to go up an escalator. Stacy and I had fallen some distance behind Dave, talking. Dave bravely pushed the baggage cart onto the escalator, ignoring the signs prohibiting such an action. You can imagine what happened at the top of the escalator. The baggage cart got stuck, finally overturning. Stacy and I tried to backstep down the escalator, but we were eventually force to tumble over our bags. (I realized after that if I had simply turned around and walked down the escalator, I could have easily escaped this craziness. But my mind doesn't function rationally in face of an impending disaster.) An innocent bystander, texting on her phone while watching us, was nearly doubled over with laughter. Luckily, we were all unhurt by the events, but I still have to decide if I should bring charges against Dave at the next CP Court. I'd have to ask him to recuse, of course...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
SL Party Report - Saturday
I have an excuse for not posting this sooner...several excuses. But let's be realistic, you don't really care - you just want to get a voyeuristic thrill from my adventures. And I'm an exhibitionist, so this works out. Enjoy!
Despite staying up too late Friday night, I woke up relatively early Saturday. Jada and I hung out in our room until we found some friends who were up for breakfast. Did I mention how glad I was to have "my" roommate? It's wonderful to have someone to enjoy the downtime at parties with, I've certainly been spoiled with that.
We must have eaten breakfast late, or lingered over breakfast, because the next thing I have written down in my notes is the SSNY suite party that afternoon. I had a great time talking to people there. To cap off the event, I met Keith Jones. The first real spanking video I saw, well before coming into the scene, starred Keith Jones and Erica Scott. Watching them on film is the reason my first party was Shadowlane. So...way cool once I got over the stuttering, star-struck part.
I left the suite party, planning to watch Craig do a fire and wax scene. I'm interested, but wanted to watch someone else first. When the demo didn't show, Craig fit in a short cane scene with me before Jada came up for her turn with fire and wax. Watching Jada and Craig do the fire and wax scene was quite interesting. I'm not sure I can stay that still, though.
After Craig had cleaned up from that scene, a group of us were sitting around his suite talking. Craig wandered over to where I was sitting on the couch, cane in hand. He dropped it against my leg. I smiled at him, thinking, I'm sitting here, wearing jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, but I'm always up for a caning from someone I enjoy. I thought we would move to a different position, but no - an entire scene with me fully clothed, sitting on the couch, while a group of friends talked around us. And remarkably, this was one of the hottest scenes of my weekend. Craig insisted that I tell the room that I'm "a little exhibitionist." I refused, and the cane struck everywhere. I finally did mutter it, under my breath, when the conversation got loud around us, but Craig was onto that. Instead, he insisted I tell the room that I was "a fucking exhibitionist." For some reason, that was easier. Go figure! It's inexplicable, really, but it was an incredibly amazing scene.
When Jada and I had recovered from our respective scenes, we headed down to our room to prep for the Saturday night dinner. We both followed the "Mad Men" theme, more or less by accident. I think we looked quite nice, though, especially considering the limits of Jada's last-minute wardrobe and our combined inability to do anything girl-like with our hair. In fact, given those things, we looked fantastic!
I had great company for dinner. Brad, as usual, was a wonderful dinner "date". He even asked me to dance. Craig also braved my avowed inability to dance. I enjoyed conversation with L&M at the dinner table, discussing various outfits. L had great advice for shoes and accessories. Being something of a tom-boy, I missed all these lessons growing up, so I soaked it all in.
I must admit that the lack of food (somehow, I'd missed lunch) and sleep (to bed too late, awake too early) caught up with me Saturday night. I called it a night early, finally giving in to the need to sleep. Craig sweetly stopped by to make sure I was alright. Jada came to bed soon after, so I didn't feel like such a wimp...although she had the excuse of getting in so late the night before
Despite staying up too late Friday night, I woke up relatively early Saturday. Jada and I hung out in our room until we found some friends who were up for breakfast. Did I mention how glad I was to have "my" roommate? It's wonderful to have someone to enjoy the downtime at parties with, I've certainly been spoiled with that.
We must have eaten breakfast late, or lingered over breakfast, because the next thing I have written down in my notes is the SSNY suite party that afternoon. I had a great time talking to people there. To cap off the event, I met Keith Jones. The first real spanking video I saw, well before coming into the scene, starred Keith Jones and Erica Scott. Watching them on film is the reason my first party was Shadowlane. So...way cool once I got over the stuttering, star-struck part.
I left the suite party, planning to watch Craig do a fire and wax scene. I'm interested, but wanted to watch someone else first. When the demo didn't show, Craig fit in a short cane scene with me before Jada came up for her turn with fire and wax. Watching Jada and Craig do the fire and wax scene was quite interesting. I'm not sure I can stay that still, though.
After Craig had cleaned up from that scene, a group of us were sitting around his suite talking. Craig wandered over to where I was sitting on the couch, cane in hand. He dropped it against my leg. I smiled at him, thinking, I'm sitting here, wearing jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, but I'm always up for a caning from someone I enjoy. I thought we would move to a different position, but no - an entire scene with me fully clothed, sitting on the couch, while a group of friends talked around us. And remarkably, this was one of the hottest scenes of my weekend. Craig insisted that I tell the room that I'm "a little exhibitionist." I refused, and the cane struck everywhere. I finally did mutter it, under my breath, when the conversation got loud around us, but Craig was onto that. Instead, he insisted I tell the room that I was "a fucking exhibitionist." For some reason, that was easier. Go figure! It's inexplicable, really, but it was an incredibly amazing scene.
When Jada and I had recovered from our respective scenes, we headed down to our room to prep for the Saturday night dinner. We both followed the "Mad Men" theme, more or less by accident. I think we looked quite nice, though, especially considering the limits of Jada's last-minute wardrobe and our combined inability to do anything girl-like with our hair. In fact, given those things, we looked fantastic!
I had great company for dinner. Brad, as usual, was a wonderful dinner "date". He even asked me to dance. Craig also braved my avowed inability to dance. I enjoyed conversation with L&M at the dinner table, discussing various outfits. L had great advice for shoes and accessories. Being something of a tom-boy, I missed all these lessons growing up, so I soaked it all in.
I must admit that the lack of food (somehow, I'd missed lunch) and sleep (to bed too late, awake too early) caught up with me Saturday night. I called it a night early, finally giving in to the need to sleep. Craig sweetly stopped by to make sure I was alright. Jada came to bed soon after, so I didn't feel like such a wimp...although she had the excuse of getting in so late the night before
Monday, September 13, 2010
SL Party Report - Friday
My Friday began with a bracing swim. The pool was in the shade and, therefore, entirely too cold. The hot tub was, naturally, in the sun and, therefore, entirely too hot. Not one to give up on these things easily, I swam several laps in the pool before overheating in the hot tub and heading back to my room for a shower.
I met Gia and Craig for a late breakfast at the Cafe, where we immediately set about confusing our waitress. We took places that had been vacated by others and the waitress seemed entirely bewildered that we might want to order food at a restaurant. Imagine that. We did manage to get food in a timely manner, however, despite having another couple join us a bit later. Gia performed an amazing feat of turning plain yogurt into some semblance of edibility by adding various jellies and jams. I'm still not certain the resulting concoction was edible, but she seemed to enjoy it. For myself, I picked at my fresh fruit and finished off Craig's meal (following my tradition of preferring someone else's meal to my own).
During brunch, I set up a session with M. We retreated to my room for a kinky Dean-student scene much like the one we had engaged in at FMS, which is described here. Many thanks to M for such a fun scene.
Because I had gotten up unaccountably early, I decided to take a nap. But first I sent Craig a text asking him to text me when he was free, as I knew he was playing. Unlike the day before, Craig did text me...and call me...and pound on my door. All of which I slept through. I sent him a text when I woke up and we were able to meet for a quick scene.
I met up with Mike Tanner for a roleplay scene we had planned. While away at college, his niece (me) had been strip-dancing to earn spending money. This story deserves a blog of its own, which I'll write after I finish my party reports. (Someone should remind me.) For now, suffice it to say that it was a really great scene.
After that, it was time to prepare for the Vendor's Fair. Craig and I had been discussing the scene for months, it seems, exchanging ideas and stories. I skipped the schoolgirl theme and wore my white corset, black leather shorts, and heels. Katy-Lynn stopped by to help me into the corset, but I forgot that I wouldn't be able to bend over to fasten my shoes on. I wandered down the hallway in search of help, where I was unexpectedly rescued by Erica and J, who each took a shoe. I met up with Katy-Lynn and her boyfriend, R, who had agreed to accompany me down to the ballroom. I am grateful for their company, as I did attract more than a few second glances.
Craig and I had planned a "take-down" scene, in which he would surprise me by spanking me without warning. I caught sight of him when I entered the ballroom, pacing on the far side of the room. I caught a glimpse of him later, busy at one of the booths. When he did catch me, I was caught completely off-guard. He flipped me over his knee and spanked me hard, a scene which I think caught a few people's attention. It was a great, hot scene for all it was short. Craig helped me up and gave me a hug and a kiss. I mentioned that it seemed like forever and he responded with something along the lines of "You came in the room 18 minutes ago." Details like that can really make a girl feel appreciated and noticed. Craig knows how to make a scene for me.
If I were doing it again, the only change I would make is to be certain that my escort, in this case R, was expecting it. R hadn't met Craig, didn't know about our relationship, and was more than slightly concerned. Katy-Lynn did a stellar job of both blocking the view of my breasts spilling out of my corset from one of the more obvious creepers and restraining her boyfriend at the same time. Aside from that oversight on my part, an excellent scene.
After a bit more mingling at the Vendor's Fair, Craig and I retreated to my room for the rest of our scene. On our way through the casino, a random lady stopped and asked us where a particular restaurant was located. When we admitted we had no clue, she got all flustered and said, "Oh, I thought you worked here!" Craig and I had quite a laugh over that on our way up to my room. As for the scene, it was all the things we tried on Thursday - more intense, more powerful, and so incredible it defies description. It made for an amazing scene.
We had just wrapped up the scene and finished aftercare when my roommate arrived! I was very excited to see Jada, who was only able to make it to the party at the last minute. We spent a bit of time catching up, which naturally included another spanking for Jada and I from Craig, and getting into the party spirit before heading for one of the suite parties.
Jada and I met up with a friend of hers and returned to our room for a "bedtime spanking." Before we got settled in, Craig knocked on the door in search of his toy bag, which he had left in our room. I stepped out in the hall and quickly became distracted by a conversation. Before too long, Gia came by and we wandered up to their suite, leaving Jada our room.
Craig spanked me again in his suite, a quick scene that I obviously should have taken better notes of, because it has blurred into the weekend. (Some might say I should write my party reports more quickly, but I'd ignore those nay-sayers.)
Jada joined us, bringing along Strict Dave, who had come by our room to give us "bedtime spankings". He had brought along a belt, which he played with suggestively, but I don't remember him using it that night. Instead, I got a lovely bedtime spanking and called it a night. All in all, a great official start to the party.
I met Gia and Craig for a late breakfast at the Cafe, where we immediately set about confusing our waitress. We took places that had been vacated by others and the waitress seemed entirely bewildered that we might want to order food at a restaurant. Imagine that. We did manage to get food in a timely manner, however, despite having another couple join us a bit later. Gia performed an amazing feat of turning plain yogurt into some semblance of edibility by adding various jellies and jams. I'm still not certain the resulting concoction was edible, but she seemed to enjoy it. For myself, I picked at my fresh fruit and finished off Craig's meal (following my tradition of preferring someone else's meal to my own).
During brunch, I set up a session with M. We retreated to my room for a kinky Dean-student scene much like the one we had engaged in at FMS, which is described here. Many thanks to M for such a fun scene.
Because I had gotten up unaccountably early, I decided to take a nap. But first I sent Craig a text asking him to text me when he was free, as I knew he was playing. Unlike the day before, Craig did text me...and call me...and pound on my door. All of which I slept through. I sent him a text when I woke up and we were able to meet for a quick scene.
I met up with Mike Tanner for a roleplay scene we had planned. While away at college, his niece (me) had been strip-dancing to earn spending money. This story deserves a blog of its own, which I'll write after I finish my party reports. (Someone should remind me.) For now, suffice it to say that it was a really great scene.
After that, it was time to prepare for the Vendor's Fair. Craig and I had been discussing the scene for months, it seems, exchanging ideas and stories. I skipped the schoolgirl theme and wore my white corset, black leather shorts, and heels. Katy-Lynn stopped by to help me into the corset, but I forgot that I wouldn't be able to bend over to fasten my shoes on. I wandered down the hallway in search of help, where I was unexpectedly rescued by Erica and J, who each took a shoe. I met up with Katy-Lynn and her boyfriend, R, who had agreed to accompany me down to the ballroom. I am grateful for their company, as I did attract more than a few second glances.
Craig and I had planned a "take-down" scene, in which he would surprise me by spanking me without warning. I caught sight of him when I entered the ballroom, pacing on the far side of the room. I caught a glimpse of him later, busy at one of the booths. When he did catch me, I was caught completely off-guard. He flipped me over his knee and spanked me hard, a scene which I think caught a few people's attention. It was a great, hot scene for all it was short. Craig helped me up and gave me a hug and a kiss. I mentioned that it seemed like forever and he responded with something along the lines of "You came in the room 18 minutes ago." Details like that can really make a girl feel appreciated and noticed. Craig knows how to make a scene for me.
If I were doing it again, the only change I would make is to be certain that my escort, in this case R, was expecting it. R hadn't met Craig, didn't know about our relationship, and was more than slightly concerned. Katy-Lynn did a stellar job of both blocking the view of my breasts spilling out of my corset from one of the more obvious creepers and restraining her boyfriend at the same time. Aside from that oversight on my part, an excellent scene.
After a bit more mingling at the Vendor's Fair, Craig and I retreated to my room for the rest of our scene. On our way through the casino, a random lady stopped and asked us where a particular restaurant was located. When we admitted we had no clue, she got all flustered and said, "Oh, I thought you worked here!" Craig and I had quite a laugh over that on our way up to my room. As for the scene, it was all the things we tried on Thursday - more intense, more powerful, and so incredible it defies description. It made for an amazing scene.
We had just wrapped up the scene and finished aftercare when my roommate arrived! I was very excited to see Jada, who was only able to make it to the party at the last minute. We spent a bit of time catching up, which naturally included another spanking for Jada and I from Craig, and getting into the party spirit before heading for one of the suite parties.
Jada and I met up with a friend of hers and returned to our room for a "bedtime spanking." Before we got settled in, Craig knocked on the door in search of his toy bag, which he had left in our room. I stepped out in the hall and quickly became distracted by a conversation. Before too long, Gia came by and we wandered up to their suite, leaving Jada our room.
Craig spanked me again in his suite, a quick scene that I obviously should have taken better notes of, because it has blurred into the weekend. (Some might say I should write my party reports more quickly, but I'd ignore those nay-sayers.)
Jada joined us, bringing along Strict Dave, who had come by our room to give us "bedtime spankings". He had brought along a belt, which he played with suggestively, but I don't remember him using it that night. Instead, I got a lovely bedtime spanking and called it a night. All in all, a great official start to the party.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Party Reports Coming Soon
This year's Shadowlane party was awesome! I got home today and I'm not quite up to writing my party report. But I expect to have something posted before the weekend. Check back soon!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Holodeck (part 4)
Colin held Macy close while the HoloDeck rearranged the stage. The brackets released Macy’s ankles and a strange contraption appeared. Created from Colin’s imagination, the punishment block had been built to Macy’s measurements. Colin had modeled the block in a light sculpture, the HoloDeck created an item engineered to withstand any imaginable stresses.
The punishment block was like a spanking bench on steroids. Padded cups molded themselves to Macy’s knees, supporting her as she knelt on them. A paddled bolster cradled her hips, but swept up and away from her pussy, leaving her exposed. The curved bolster supported her tummy, then narrowed to a padded bar that rested between her breasts, leaving them exposed as well.
Padded straps wrapped around the back of Macy’s knees. A protective strap enclosed her waist, protecting her kidneys. Her legs were spread wide, her wrists linked loosely beneath her tummy. A modified all-fours position, but floating at a convenient height.
Colin checked the fit, the positioning, Macy’s comfort. The device fitted her perfectly, supporting her comfortably. Not that she would remain comfortable, of course, but Colin wanted her focus to be on the pain he and the others would inflict, not some mundane muscle cramp.
“Beautiful,” he muttered as he stepped back, running his fingers over her skin. He ran his nails along her, digging in, leaving white lines in his wake. She shuddered and arched for him, aching for his touch.
“Such a fucking sensation whore, Macy! You’re in position for one hell of a punishment and still you strain for me!”
Macy turned her head slightly to look at him, “I’m yours,” she said simply, her voice shy but ringing with honesty.
“Mine to share?” he kissed her neck, not at all gently.
“Yours,” she repeated, “To do with as you please.”
He groaned, took a fistful of her hair and turned her head to kiss her full on the mouth. “You make me crazy,” he said shortly, pulling away. “Some jewelry first. Decoration, if you will.”
The items appeared as he needed them, planned out in advance. Heavy nipple clamps, adorned with jewels, were placed on either nipple. He tightened them down until she gasped. He set a thick leather rod between her teeth, a chain dangling from either end. The chains were unnaturally heavy for such sparkling, intricate things. He attached the chains to the clamps.
“Hold that,” he growled at her when she whimpered, “This isn’t meant to be fun, Macy.”
He circled behind her, taking an enormous glass plug finished with a clear crystal. A bit of lube and he began working it into her. The steady pressure combined with the tight clamps caused her to pant, struggling to control her breathing. Colin worked slowly, liberally applying lube as he worked. He pushed into her and withdrew, teasing her, mind-fucking her until she gave over to his will and accepted the plug.
He plunged a finger into her wetness, running it around inside her. “So wet! Such a naughty girl!” He withdrew, plunging a thick glass dildo into her. Too large to be enjoyed, the dildo stretched her uncomfortably.
“Almost done, pet,” he muttered as he slid beneath her. He spread her lips and sucked her clit clean. Then he attached one last clamp, the heavy charm pulling her clit painfully.
He circled her, watching her tremble. He sank down in front of her face, their eyes level. She stared through him, fighting an internal battle to accept what he had done. He watched in silence for a moment.
“Too much,” he said, flicking his fingers towards her. The clamps loosened ever so slightly, the plug and dildo shrunk minutely. He flicked his fingers again until her eyes tracked him. “The decorations aren’t your only punishment, little one. I’m going to let some of our paying guests beat you. But you are not to come, you dirty slut.”
He smacked her face, rocking it to one side, pulling the chain roughly. Before she recovered, he smacked her in the other direction, jerking that nipple painfully.
“You come again, Macy and I’ll crop your pussy until you are in tears,” he fingered her chin with one hand, his other sneaking through to slip between her pussy lips, “Only then will I cane your pussy, got me?” He smiled at the rush of wetness brought on by his threats.
“God, I love you!” he flicked his fingers again, ever so slightly reducing the pressure on her. The decorations were meant to torment her during the punishment, not be the punishment.
Colin stood up, his crotch in Macy’s face, to beckon the first customer over. Macy nuzzled against him, her breath harsh as her movement caused the chains to tug and pull. Colin took a fistful of her hair, pulling her face up to look at him. She whimpered and sobbed at the lightening bolts of pain that shot through her nipples.
“Be good!” he said harshly, drinking in her reaction. Abruptly, he released her head. Her body trembling, she returned to her delicate nuzzling. Colin did his best to ignore her, instead watching the first man aim his heavy strap across Macy’s bottom.
The blows rocked Macy into his dick. He tangled a hand in her hair again, but this time used it to keep himself moving with Macy. He watched her body language, her breathing and enjoyed her teasing efforts. He petted Macy as she struggled through a round of heavier blows, finally waving the man off.
“Insatiable little girl,” he murmured as he knelt down to check on her. Her eyes tracked him, her breathing easy, and her lips curled up in a tiny smile around the leather bit between her teeth. He unbuttoned his fly as he stood, waving over another customer.
Macy caught Colin’s zipper with her lips, no easy task with the leather rod in her mouth. All but ignoring the person beating on her, she worked the zipper down and pushed the fabric aside. The first customer was replaced by another and another, each wearing themselves out using straps and floggers on her vulnerable backside.
Colin knelt again, checking her. Her lips worked frantically, so he withdrew the leather.
“Please, Colin…”
“Please what, little one?”
“I want to feel you. Please?”
Colin nodded as he stood, pulling his pants further to the sides, pushing his silk boxers beneath his balls, freeing his erection for her. “Insatiable,” he muttered as she pushed herself against him.
Her lips teased at his cock, her breath warm against his bare flesh. She ignored the pain in her nipples in her push to pleasure him. But the teasing was pushing Colin’s limits; he needed something more or something less. He pulled her up sharply by the hair, jerking her breasts. He nodded to the next customer.
This one took and odd position, handing his cane to Colin and grasping Macy’s hair. The customer held Macy firmly. Colin dropped to a knee to get the right angle. He brought the cane up sharply against Macy’s taunt breast.
Macy thrashed against the hold in her hair, but the man held fast. She bucked and arched her back, but her motion was limited. Colin coolly caned her breasts until silent tears streaked down Macy’s face. Colin nodded to the man, who gently lowered Macy’s head, easting the intense pressure.
Colin stepped around behind her and began on her thighs. The cane raised welts, angry red welts on her already tortured skin. He smacked one thigh at a time, alternating sides, cruelly allowing the cane to wrap and bite into her inner thighs.
Macy finally dropped the leather bar, the dropping weight pulling a deep moan from her, “Please!” she cried out.
“Has my little pain slut had enough?” Colin teased, tracing the cane tip over her bottom and legs.
“Please Colin?”
He circled around to her front, tapping wickedly on the leather bit. He pulled her up by the hair, considering. Finally he pointed to the crowd.
“You,” he said, pointing, “get her some water. You, you, you, and…yes, you. I’ll take your help for the final bit. Over here for a moment, please.”
Gentle hands held Macy’s cheeks, encouraged her to drink cool, refreshing water. The hands brushed back her hair and Macy saw Lady Galla’s slave girl, quietly tending to her. The girl lightly kissed Macy’s cheek before slipping away.
Colin took his place, his pants removed. He stood confidently in front of Macy, his proud erection just out of her reach. A million tiny pinpricks ticked her back – vampire gloves – two hands, four hands, six. The hands explored her body as Colin pushed himself forward.
“Remember what I told you. I come first, Macy, or I promise you, you won’t like what happens.”
Macy nodded her agreement. Vampire gloves teased her breasts, her bottom, her sides, her legs, even her wet pussy. Unseen hands removed the clamps, pulling them roughly away. One hand took up the dildo, working it in and out rhythmically. Another unseen hand grasped the butt plug, fucking her relentlessly. Four hands, sometimes six, continued to torment her with vampire gloves.
Macy struggled to ignore the sensations, to put the rhythm of the fucking into her own rhythm of pleasing Colin. Colin groaned and pulled away, “Not yet, little one.”
The crowd shift. Colin removed the dildo and slid himself into her. His hips thrust against her throbbing backside, each time pushing hard against the plug. One displaced helper slid beneath Macy and took her nipples into an unseen mouth. That mouth suckled and teased Macy’s breasts while the vampire gloves continued and Colin thrust powerfully into her.
Macy felt the last powerful thrust and the pulsing that signaled Colin’s climax. Fingers, his or someone else’s, found her clit and rubbed her to climax, his cock still deep within her.
The crowd melted away, leaving the two of them. Colin waved a weary hand and transferred them to a deep, warm bath, their bodies still entwined.
“You are so fucking amazing, Macy,” Colin managed, cuddling her in the warm water.
“You are pretty fucking amazing yourself, Colin. The way your mind works…”
Colin silenced her with a kiss. Their hands played under the water, enjoying this simple pleasure of one another nearly as much as the elaborate scene.
The punishment block was like a spanking bench on steroids. Padded cups molded themselves to Macy’s knees, supporting her as she knelt on them. A paddled bolster cradled her hips, but swept up and away from her pussy, leaving her exposed. The curved bolster supported her tummy, then narrowed to a padded bar that rested between her breasts, leaving them exposed as well.
Padded straps wrapped around the back of Macy’s knees. A protective strap enclosed her waist, protecting her kidneys. Her legs were spread wide, her wrists linked loosely beneath her tummy. A modified all-fours position, but floating at a convenient height.
Colin checked the fit, the positioning, Macy’s comfort. The device fitted her perfectly, supporting her comfortably. Not that she would remain comfortable, of course, but Colin wanted her focus to be on the pain he and the others would inflict, not some mundane muscle cramp.
“Beautiful,” he muttered as he stepped back, running his fingers over her skin. He ran his nails along her, digging in, leaving white lines in his wake. She shuddered and arched for him, aching for his touch.
“Such a fucking sensation whore, Macy! You’re in position for one hell of a punishment and still you strain for me!”
Macy turned her head slightly to look at him, “I’m yours,” she said simply, her voice shy but ringing with honesty.
“Mine to share?” he kissed her neck, not at all gently.
“Yours,” she repeated, “To do with as you please.”
He groaned, took a fistful of her hair and turned her head to kiss her full on the mouth. “You make me crazy,” he said shortly, pulling away. “Some jewelry first. Decoration, if you will.”
The items appeared as he needed them, planned out in advance. Heavy nipple clamps, adorned with jewels, were placed on either nipple. He tightened them down until she gasped. He set a thick leather rod between her teeth, a chain dangling from either end. The chains were unnaturally heavy for such sparkling, intricate things. He attached the chains to the clamps.
“Hold that,” he growled at her when she whimpered, “This isn’t meant to be fun, Macy.”
He circled behind her, taking an enormous glass plug finished with a clear crystal. A bit of lube and he began working it into her. The steady pressure combined with the tight clamps caused her to pant, struggling to control her breathing. Colin worked slowly, liberally applying lube as he worked. He pushed into her and withdrew, teasing her, mind-fucking her until she gave over to his will and accepted the plug.
He plunged a finger into her wetness, running it around inside her. “So wet! Such a naughty girl!” He withdrew, plunging a thick glass dildo into her. Too large to be enjoyed, the dildo stretched her uncomfortably.
“Almost done, pet,” he muttered as he slid beneath her. He spread her lips and sucked her clit clean. Then he attached one last clamp, the heavy charm pulling her clit painfully.
He circled her, watching her tremble. He sank down in front of her face, their eyes level. She stared through him, fighting an internal battle to accept what he had done. He watched in silence for a moment.
“Too much,” he said, flicking his fingers towards her. The clamps loosened ever so slightly, the plug and dildo shrunk minutely. He flicked his fingers again until her eyes tracked him. “The decorations aren’t your only punishment, little one. I’m going to let some of our paying guests beat you. But you are not to come, you dirty slut.”
He smacked her face, rocking it to one side, pulling the chain roughly. Before she recovered, he smacked her in the other direction, jerking that nipple painfully.
“You come again, Macy and I’ll crop your pussy until you are in tears,” he fingered her chin with one hand, his other sneaking through to slip between her pussy lips, “Only then will I cane your pussy, got me?” He smiled at the rush of wetness brought on by his threats.
“God, I love you!” he flicked his fingers again, ever so slightly reducing the pressure on her. The decorations were meant to torment her during the punishment, not be the punishment.
Colin stood up, his crotch in Macy’s face, to beckon the first customer over. Macy nuzzled against him, her breath harsh as her movement caused the chains to tug and pull. Colin took a fistful of her hair, pulling her face up to look at him. She whimpered and sobbed at the lightening bolts of pain that shot through her nipples.
“Be good!” he said harshly, drinking in her reaction. Abruptly, he released her head. Her body trembling, she returned to her delicate nuzzling. Colin did his best to ignore her, instead watching the first man aim his heavy strap across Macy’s bottom.
The blows rocked Macy into his dick. He tangled a hand in her hair again, but this time used it to keep himself moving with Macy. He watched her body language, her breathing and enjoyed her teasing efforts. He petted Macy as she struggled through a round of heavier blows, finally waving the man off.
“Insatiable little girl,” he murmured as he knelt down to check on her. Her eyes tracked him, her breathing easy, and her lips curled up in a tiny smile around the leather bit between her teeth. He unbuttoned his fly as he stood, waving over another customer.
Macy caught Colin’s zipper with her lips, no easy task with the leather rod in her mouth. All but ignoring the person beating on her, she worked the zipper down and pushed the fabric aside. The first customer was replaced by another and another, each wearing themselves out using straps and floggers on her vulnerable backside.
Colin knelt again, checking her. Her lips worked frantically, so he withdrew the leather.
“Please, Colin…”
“Please what, little one?”
“I want to feel you. Please?”
Colin nodded as he stood, pulling his pants further to the sides, pushing his silk boxers beneath his balls, freeing his erection for her. “Insatiable,” he muttered as she pushed herself against him.
Her lips teased at his cock, her breath warm against his bare flesh. She ignored the pain in her nipples in her push to pleasure him. But the teasing was pushing Colin’s limits; he needed something more or something less. He pulled her up sharply by the hair, jerking her breasts. He nodded to the next customer.
This one took and odd position, handing his cane to Colin and grasping Macy’s hair. The customer held Macy firmly. Colin dropped to a knee to get the right angle. He brought the cane up sharply against Macy’s taunt breast.
Macy thrashed against the hold in her hair, but the man held fast. She bucked and arched her back, but her motion was limited. Colin coolly caned her breasts until silent tears streaked down Macy’s face. Colin nodded to the man, who gently lowered Macy’s head, easting the intense pressure.
Colin stepped around behind her and began on her thighs. The cane raised welts, angry red welts on her already tortured skin. He smacked one thigh at a time, alternating sides, cruelly allowing the cane to wrap and bite into her inner thighs.
Macy finally dropped the leather bar, the dropping weight pulling a deep moan from her, “Please!” she cried out.
“Has my little pain slut had enough?” Colin teased, tracing the cane tip over her bottom and legs.
“Please Colin?”
He circled around to her front, tapping wickedly on the leather bit. He pulled her up by the hair, considering. Finally he pointed to the crowd.
“You,” he said, pointing, “get her some water. You, you, you, and…yes, you. I’ll take your help for the final bit. Over here for a moment, please.”
Gentle hands held Macy’s cheeks, encouraged her to drink cool, refreshing water. The hands brushed back her hair and Macy saw Lady Galla’s slave girl, quietly tending to her. The girl lightly kissed Macy’s cheek before slipping away.
Colin took his place, his pants removed. He stood confidently in front of Macy, his proud erection just out of her reach. A million tiny pinpricks ticked her back – vampire gloves – two hands, four hands, six. The hands explored her body as Colin pushed himself forward.
“Remember what I told you. I come first, Macy, or I promise you, you won’t like what happens.”
Macy nodded her agreement. Vampire gloves teased her breasts, her bottom, her sides, her legs, even her wet pussy. Unseen hands removed the clamps, pulling them roughly away. One hand took up the dildo, working it in and out rhythmically. Another unseen hand grasped the butt plug, fucking her relentlessly. Four hands, sometimes six, continued to torment her with vampire gloves.
Macy struggled to ignore the sensations, to put the rhythm of the fucking into her own rhythm of pleasing Colin. Colin groaned and pulled away, “Not yet, little one.”
The crowd shift. Colin removed the dildo and slid himself into her. His hips thrust against her throbbing backside, each time pushing hard against the plug. One displaced helper slid beneath Macy and took her nipples into an unseen mouth. That mouth suckled and teased Macy’s breasts while the vampire gloves continued and Colin thrust powerfully into her.
Macy felt the last powerful thrust and the pulsing that signaled Colin’s climax. Fingers, his or someone else’s, found her clit and rubbed her to climax, his cock still deep within her.
The crowd melted away, leaving the two of them. Colin waved a weary hand and transferred them to a deep, warm bath, their bodies still entwined.
“You are so fucking amazing, Macy,” Colin managed, cuddling her in the warm water.
“You are pretty fucking amazing yourself, Colin. The way your mind works…”
Colin silenced her with a kiss. Their hands played under the water, enjoying this simple pleasure of one another nearly as much as the elaborate scene.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Playing Hard
Inspired by Indy's post about playing at and expanding her limits, I started thinking about what it is that allows me to endure a hard scene. Indy describes most of her breakthroughs in tolerance as occurring when she isn't aware of the intensity at which she is playing. That hasn't been my experience at all.
In fact, when I am surprised by the intensity of a scene, I am less able to handle it. The only scene (at least in recent memory) that I had to safeword out of was like this. The top was using a leather paddle that I happen to love, one I have played with and enjoyed at all intensities. But, I was expecting a light bedtime spanking. When that wasn't what I got, I couldn't process it. I wasn't able to give myself over to the pain, to relax into it.
For me, a startle like that is akin to stubbing my toe - a sharp, unexpected pain that will have me on the floor in tears, much to the bewilderment of anyone who knows me. As another example of this, I enjoyed a very intense scene at the very end of the Back to School party hosted by FMS last fall. I was giddy and running high on endorphins after the scene. I had to return to my hotel room for something and on my way back I ran smack into the door. I returned to his hotel room with tears streaming down my face. He stared at me in disbelief and said something like "I just spanked the living shit out of you, and you're asking for more. What the f*** did you do?" To be fair, my hand had swollen up as though I had a golf ball under the skin. But I probably should have sat on the ice bag he prepared for me, because the bruise on my hand was gone when I got home but I was black and blue from my hips to my knees!
Instead, I think the key to pushing my limits is trust. Do I trust the person I'm playing with? Do I trust that the Top knows how to use the implement? Do I trust that they will stop if something goes wrong? If my Top has my trust...I can go anywhere. I can give myself over to the pain and simply fly.
In fact, when I am surprised by the intensity of a scene, I am less able to handle it. The only scene (at least in recent memory) that I had to safeword out of was like this. The top was using a leather paddle that I happen to love, one I have played with and enjoyed at all intensities. But, I was expecting a light bedtime spanking. When that wasn't what I got, I couldn't process it. I wasn't able to give myself over to the pain, to relax into it.
For me, a startle like that is akin to stubbing my toe - a sharp, unexpected pain that will have me on the floor in tears, much to the bewilderment of anyone who knows me. As another example of this, I enjoyed a very intense scene at the very end of the Back to School party hosted by FMS last fall. I was giddy and running high on endorphins after the scene. I had to return to my hotel room for something and on my way back I ran smack into the door. I returned to his hotel room with tears streaming down my face. He stared at me in disbelief and said something like "I just spanked the living shit out of you, and you're asking for more. What the f*** did you do?" To be fair, my hand had swollen up as though I had a golf ball under the skin. But I probably should have sat on the ice bag he prepared for me, because the bruise on my hand was gone when I got home but I was black and blue from my hips to my knees!
Instead, I think the key to pushing my limits is trust. Do I trust the person I'm playing with? Do I trust that the Top knows how to use the implement? Do I trust that they will stop if something goes wrong? If my Top has my trust...I can go anywhere. I can give myself over to the pain and simply fly.
Friday, August 20, 2010
HoloDeck (part 3)
To my love - the man who coaxes these stories out of me at the unlikeliest of times (if my boss had any idea how I spend my workday!)...and gives me the courage to share them with others, as well as the courage to wear shorts, but that's another story entirely. Thank you, love.
Macy was naked again, standing barefoot in a warm room. She blinked the décor into focus, soft peach tones covered the walls, a slightly deeper color for a plush carpet underfoot. A vague watercolor hung on the wall, depicting a sexual scene at odds with the spa-like décor.
The door opened to admit a large, matronly figure. The woman gave Macy a frank head to toe appraisal. Macy stared back at the woman, trying to match her attire to a wank story. If it matched, Macy couldn’t remember it. The woman wore comfortable shoes, loose linen pants and a t-shirt, fitting no particular stereotype.
“He said you weren’t modest,” the woman chuckled, “But I wasn’t expecting that sort of response.” The woman considered Macy for a moment longer, “Gorgeous natural material, dear. This should be simple and painless, if you’ll just come along.”
Macy followed the woman into a hallway. This was very unlike Colin. Ordinarily, he let the HoloDeck take care of the preparation. A change, though, could be good. Perhaps he wished to watch, the voyeuristic thrill of watching her primp for him. Or, Macy thought abruptly, he wants to ease me into this because it is going to be a difficult scene.
Macy pushed the thought aside. She would simply enjoy the pampering, come what may. She rolled her hips as she walked, just in case Colin was watching.
A team of women wearing little more than bikini’s descended upon Macy. They took her through a bath, rubbing lightly at her skin with foaming soaps. Several of them dried her with warm towels while others attacked her long hair. Lotions and oils were applied, her nails cleaned and polished, her hair tamed.
The matron reappeared to inspect Macy. She carried a set of silk-lined leather cuffs, anklets, and collar. These were rapidly set into place by the girls. The matron checked the fit of each, placing them perfectly. These fit as thought designed for Macy alone. Elegant craftsmanship made wearing them easy.
“Her Master will apply the rest of her jewelry, girls. You may go.” The matron continued to inspect Macy while the girls scattered. “He has billed you as the quiet, passionate sort, child. I might even pay to watch tonight.”
With theose cryptic words racing through Macy’s thoughts, she stepped through the doorway the matron indicated. Colin stood on the other side wearing dark, tight fitted pants that somehow allowed his erection to show. He had been watching, then. He wore stylish dress shoes and a dress-shirt styled in the BDSM fashion. He looked fantastic.
“Tonight you earn your keep, love. From here on out, the people you see? They are real. They are here because I’ve allowed them onto the HoloDeck with us. To watch. To participate.”
Macy looked at the crowd with new eyes. Their dungeon group, for the most part, decked out in the best fetish gear the HoloDeck could supply. Several recognized professionals, presenters and the like. Colin had carefully screened out the creepy people. Colin let her to the stage, into a spotlight that shone on a simple cross.
Colin hooked her wrists out, spreading her arms away from her body. He linked her ankles to the center pole. He traced the lines of her body with his hands, his fingertips soft as they teased her skin.
“You’re a horrible tease, Macy. All these people? They are here because you’ve offered them something, promised them something, but you always back away, don’t you? That changes now.”
Colin backed away, just to the edge of the light. He stayed within Macy’s line of sight. A crowd of people descended on Macy, their hands touching and prodding. Mouths teased her skin, licking and nipping. When Macy looked in one direction, unseen fingers pinched her attention back. The faces shifted rapidly, the crowd exchanging places peaceably enough. Colin watched with a little smile of satisfaction, this was one scene Macy would not soon forget. Doubtless their dungeon would discuss his successful negotiation for months.
Macy closed her eyes against the bewildering display of faces. Someone took this as a sign to slip a blindfold over her eyes. For once, Macy welcomed the sensation. The touching was overwhelming enough without visual stimulation. The prodding steadily increased. Pinches got harder. Caresses became slaps. Nips became bites. People fell away, leaving only a half-dozen or so in contact with her.
Suddenly, Colin pushed up hard against her. The thrust of his fully clothed body rough against her naked skin. He rubbed the ridge of his erection along her pussy.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you Macy?”
She said nothing, processing the abrupt shift in sensation and not sure what he wanted her to say. He tore off the blindfold and slapped her hard in one motion.
“You didn’t think this was simply a sensation fest, did you? That all these people came to touch you? To taste you? No, love, they came to see you beaten and fucked
“But a change of scenery first,” Colin said as he unhooked her from the cross. He pulled her hard against him, possessing her mouth with his. When he pulled away, the cross had been replaced by a single chain hanging down from the ceiling, two brackets set in the floor. He positioned her carefully, her legs spread wide, her arms stretched overhead.
“Now for the show. Lady Galla and her slave have a wager. Lady Galla intends to make you scream, Macy. And her slave intends to make you come. Here’s the catch, love: You haven’t my permission to do either one.”
Macy’s eyes flew open as Colin stepped away. Silence was easy; Lady Galla had long had the goal of making her scream during a scene. But her slave girl was attractive and doubtless talented, and Macy was a horny bundle of nerves after the first scene.
The pair approached. Lady Galla wore sheer, flowing pants and a loose top, no doubt to keep cool as she worked. She carried several canes. Her slave girl wore only what Macy wore – leather and silk collar, cuffs, and anklets. The girl was immaculately groomed, as always. The girl dropped to her knees beside Lady Galla when the pair reached Colin. Lady Galla nodded to Colin, received his nod of permission.
Then began an elaborate dance around Macy. Lady Galla awakened her skin by tapping lightly, striking every bit of Macy’s fine skin. Her girl continued the first scene – touching, pinching, licking, nibbling. The slave teased out Macy’s responses, always careful to keep out of her Lady’s way.
The strokes grew harder; the groping more focused. Macy moaned, enjoying the sensation but torn by Colin’s restrictions. Her eyes sought him, where he stood watching intently, and she mouthed, “Please, Colin?”
A smile quirked his lips. The HoloDeck carried his simple “No,” to her ears. But the pair had noticed. Lady Galla’s cane raised welts on Macy’s breasts, buttocks, and thighs. Her girl settled on her knees between Macy’s legs, her mouth busy, fingers fucking Macy relentlessly.
Macy fought against the sensations, her body bucking against the restraints. Macy wasn’t sure if she was more terrified of coming in public or defying Colin’s orders, but she fought to control herself. The pair simply worked harder, pulling every bit of sensation and reaction from Macy’s obliging body. The orgasm hit and Macy cried out simultaneously. Waves of pleasure washed over Macy. The pair withdrew slightly, their hands light on Macy, supporting her, pulling the last aftershocks from her. Smiling, they withdrew from the spotlight.
Colin stepped into the light, close enough that Macy could feel his breath but not touching her. Suddenly he slapped her, “Greedy, nasty little slut, aren’t you? You didn’t have my permission, little one.”
Macy struggled to focus, to catch her breath. Colin pinched a swollen nipple, rolling it painfully between his fingers and thumb, “Say it, little bit. Tell them all what you are.”
He slapped her again before she managed, “I’m a dirty little slut.”
“Who can’t follow directions,” he prompted, slapping her again.
“Who can’t follow directions,” she panted out.
“That’s right.” Colin unhooked her wrists, draping her arms around him. He held her close, “One more scene here, love?” he asked quietly, checking in with her.
She pressed herself hard against him, “Yes, please. If you’ll fuck me.”
“Oh, I will little one. But first, a punishment for your disobedience.”
Macy was naked again, standing barefoot in a warm room. She blinked the décor into focus, soft peach tones covered the walls, a slightly deeper color for a plush carpet underfoot. A vague watercolor hung on the wall, depicting a sexual scene at odds with the spa-like décor.
The door opened to admit a large, matronly figure. The woman gave Macy a frank head to toe appraisal. Macy stared back at the woman, trying to match her attire to a wank story. If it matched, Macy couldn’t remember it. The woman wore comfortable shoes, loose linen pants and a t-shirt, fitting no particular stereotype.
“He said you weren’t modest,” the woman chuckled, “But I wasn’t expecting that sort of response.” The woman considered Macy for a moment longer, “Gorgeous natural material, dear. This should be simple and painless, if you’ll just come along.”
Macy followed the woman into a hallway. This was very unlike Colin. Ordinarily, he let the HoloDeck take care of the preparation. A change, though, could be good. Perhaps he wished to watch, the voyeuristic thrill of watching her primp for him. Or, Macy thought abruptly, he wants to ease me into this because it is going to be a difficult scene.
Macy pushed the thought aside. She would simply enjoy the pampering, come what may. She rolled her hips as she walked, just in case Colin was watching.
A team of women wearing little more than bikini’s descended upon Macy. They took her through a bath, rubbing lightly at her skin with foaming soaps. Several of them dried her with warm towels while others attacked her long hair. Lotions and oils were applied, her nails cleaned and polished, her hair tamed.
The matron reappeared to inspect Macy. She carried a set of silk-lined leather cuffs, anklets, and collar. These were rapidly set into place by the girls. The matron checked the fit of each, placing them perfectly. These fit as thought designed for Macy alone. Elegant craftsmanship made wearing them easy.
“Her Master will apply the rest of her jewelry, girls. You may go.” The matron continued to inspect Macy while the girls scattered. “He has billed you as the quiet, passionate sort, child. I might even pay to watch tonight.”
With theose cryptic words racing through Macy’s thoughts, she stepped through the doorway the matron indicated. Colin stood on the other side wearing dark, tight fitted pants that somehow allowed his erection to show. He had been watching, then. He wore stylish dress shoes and a dress-shirt styled in the BDSM fashion. He looked fantastic.
“Tonight you earn your keep, love. From here on out, the people you see? They are real. They are here because I’ve allowed them onto the HoloDeck with us. To watch. To participate.”
Macy looked at the crowd with new eyes. Their dungeon group, for the most part, decked out in the best fetish gear the HoloDeck could supply. Several recognized professionals, presenters and the like. Colin had carefully screened out the creepy people. Colin let her to the stage, into a spotlight that shone on a simple cross.
Colin hooked her wrists out, spreading her arms away from her body. He linked her ankles to the center pole. He traced the lines of her body with his hands, his fingertips soft as they teased her skin.
“You’re a horrible tease, Macy. All these people? They are here because you’ve offered them something, promised them something, but you always back away, don’t you? That changes now.”
Colin backed away, just to the edge of the light. He stayed within Macy’s line of sight. A crowd of people descended on Macy, their hands touching and prodding. Mouths teased her skin, licking and nipping. When Macy looked in one direction, unseen fingers pinched her attention back. The faces shifted rapidly, the crowd exchanging places peaceably enough. Colin watched with a little smile of satisfaction, this was one scene Macy would not soon forget. Doubtless their dungeon would discuss his successful negotiation for months.
Macy closed her eyes against the bewildering display of faces. Someone took this as a sign to slip a blindfold over her eyes. For once, Macy welcomed the sensation. The touching was overwhelming enough without visual stimulation. The prodding steadily increased. Pinches got harder. Caresses became slaps. Nips became bites. People fell away, leaving only a half-dozen or so in contact with her.
Suddenly, Colin pushed up hard against her. The thrust of his fully clothed body rough against her naked skin. He rubbed the ridge of his erection along her pussy.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you Macy?”
She said nothing, processing the abrupt shift in sensation and not sure what he wanted her to say. He tore off the blindfold and slapped her hard in one motion.
“You didn’t think this was simply a sensation fest, did you? That all these people came to touch you? To taste you? No, love, they came to see you beaten and fucked
“But a change of scenery first,” Colin said as he unhooked her from the cross. He pulled her hard against him, possessing her mouth with his. When he pulled away, the cross had been replaced by a single chain hanging down from the ceiling, two brackets set in the floor. He positioned her carefully, her legs spread wide, her arms stretched overhead.
“Now for the show. Lady Galla and her slave have a wager. Lady Galla intends to make you scream, Macy. And her slave intends to make you come. Here’s the catch, love: You haven’t my permission to do either one.”
Macy’s eyes flew open as Colin stepped away. Silence was easy; Lady Galla had long had the goal of making her scream during a scene. But her slave girl was attractive and doubtless talented, and Macy was a horny bundle of nerves after the first scene.
The pair approached. Lady Galla wore sheer, flowing pants and a loose top, no doubt to keep cool as she worked. She carried several canes. Her slave girl wore only what Macy wore – leather and silk collar, cuffs, and anklets. The girl was immaculately groomed, as always. The girl dropped to her knees beside Lady Galla when the pair reached Colin. Lady Galla nodded to Colin, received his nod of permission.
Then began an elaborate dance around Macy. Lady Galla awakened her skin by tapping lightly, striking every bit of Macy’s fine skin. Her girl continued the first scene – touching, pinching, licking, nibbling. The slave teased out Macy’s responses, always careful to keep out of her Lady’s way.
The strokes grew harder; the groping more focused. Macy moaned, enjoying the sensation but torn by Colin’s restrictions. Her eyes sought him, where he stood watching intently, and she mouthed, “Please, Colin?”
A smile quirked his lips. The HoloDeck carried his simple “No,” to her ears. But the pair had noticed. Lady Galla’s cane raised welts on Macy’s breasts, buttocks, and thighs. Her girl settled on her knees between Macy’s legs, her mouth busy, fingers fucking Macy relentlessly.
Macy fought against the sensations, her body bucking against the restraints. Macy wasn’t sure if she was more terrified of coming in public or defying Colin’s orders, but she fought to control herself. The pair simply worked harder, pulling every bit of sensation and reaction from Macy’s obliging body. The orgasm hit and Macy cried out simultaneously. Waves of pleasure washed over Macy. The pair withdrew slightly, their hands light on Macy, supporting her, pulling the last aftershocks from her. Smiling, they withdrew from the spotlight.
Colin stepped into the light, close enough that Macy could feel his breath but not touching her. Suddenly he slapped her, “Greedy, nasty little slut, aren’t you? You didn’t have my permission, little one.”
Macy struggled to focus, to catch her breath. Colin pinched a swollen nipple, rolling it painfully between his fingers and thumb, “Say it, little bit. Tell them all what you are.”
He slapped her again before she managed, “I’m a dirty little slut.”
“Who can’t follow directions,” he prompted, slapping her again.
“Who can’t follow directions,” she panted out.
“That’s right.” Colin unhooked her wrists, draping her arms around him. He held her close, “One more scene here, love?” he asked quietly, checking in with her.
She pressed herself hard against him, “Yes, please. If you’ll fuck me.”
“Oh, I will little one. But first, a punishment for your disobedience.”
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A Poem (ish)
Just thinking tonight...
(Edited to fix the double spacing -- thanks Zelle!)
She wears her pain, for the world to see.
Fresh red lines, dotted with blood.
Shiny pink welts, from last weeks' hurts.
Fading white scars, from years gone past.
She wears her pain...and she wears it well.
(Edited to fix the double spacing -- thanks Zelle!)
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Story Disclaimers
If you've read much of my blog, you know that I write a variety of stories. Some fiction, some fantasy, some recountings of real life scenes. For the most part, the response has been good. As adults, we know that our fantasies often exceed our limits. We understand that the scenes we happily engage in with one individual would never be recreated with another.
There are those who misunderstand, of course. I've ranted about that some. I tried a disclaimer on one of my stories, but found that only encouraged the creeps to respond "cleverly" to my disclaimer. (I deleted those comments...I have no patience with fools.) But a concerned friend of mine thinks that every story should have a disclaimer. I'm torn.
It's possible that the majority of non-commenting readers are blithely thinking that I would consider doing something I've written about with them. A disclaimer might clarify that for them - the answer being a resounding "Hell no!"
Perhaps it is worth dealing with the occasional smart remark on my disclaimer to make sure that people don't get the wrong idea. Or...I can simply allow the idiots to weed themselves out when they approach me with suggestions based on my fiction.
Thoughts? Take my poll and leave a comment!
[polldaddy poll=3619613]
There are those who misunderstand, of course. I've ranted about that some. I tried a disclaimer on one of my stories, but found that only encouraged the creeps to respond "cleverly" to my disclaimer. (I deleted those comments...I have no patience with fools.) But a concerned friend of mine thinks that every story should have a disclaimer. I'm torn.
It's possible that the majority of non-commenting readers are blithely thinking that I would consider doing something I've written about with them. A disclaimer might clarify that for them - the answer being a resounding "Hell no!"
Perhaps it is worth dealing with the occasional smart remark on my disclaimer to make sure that people don't get the wrong idea. Or...I can simply allow the idiots to weed themselves out when they approach me with suggestions based on my fiction.
Thoughts? Take my poll and leave a comment!
[polldaddy poll=3619613]
Friday, August 13, 2010
Holodeck (part 2)
Again, this story contains more than spanking. To my love - I hope you get a thrill seeing the story I wrote for YOU posted in public. To all my other readers - Enjoy! And don't forget to leave a comment!
“A darker fantasy, now, love. Only a fantasy; you’re safe.” Colin whispered as the room dissolved into the next scenario.
Macy opened her eyes to a cold, dark space. Cold metal circled her wrists and ankles, the shackles rough on her skin. The floor beneath her naked body was rough hewn stone, cold and grimy. Her neck felt heavy. Exploring fingers found a metal collar, welded shut. The metal was warm from her body heat; her skin adjusted to its weight as though this collar was an integral part of her.
A slave, then. The shackles were padlocked, the metal rough and uncomfortable against her skin. A slave, shackled, in a cell; Macy’s thoughts stopped. This wasn’t a fantasy she would have chosen to play out, for all she had written it. Set in some ancient, semi-mystical time, she had imagined the flogging and birching of a runaway slave – the fanciful combination of two judicially sanctioned punishments. She broke out in a cold sweat.
Too soon, she heard footsteps down the corridor outside her cell. The door opened, torch-light burned her eyes, forcing her to close them. Two men took her arms, roughly pulling her to her feet. They were followed out by the torch-bearer.
Macy stumbled, hindered by the chain that bound her ankles together. The men pulled her on, heedless of her struggles. She forced her eyes open, attempting to keep her balance. She was taken to an open arena, where she blinked hard against the sunlight. A crowd was gathered around, watching other punishments and jeering at the hapless prisoners.
Macy began to tremble, a fine shuddering that she could not stop. The guards dragged her over to a magistrate – a man dressed in flowing robes, wearing magnificent jewels. Colin stood at the man’s right hand, dressed in loose linen pants similar to those the guards wore. Colin was gorgeous, bare-chested, with only heavy gold cuffs around his wrists.
“Runaway slave,” the magistrate intoned, appearing almost bored with the proceedings. “Second offense,” he looked up at her, “A simple birching didn’t teach you?”
“A flogging first, then. With the birching to follow,” the magistrate considered Macy for a moment before he turned to Colin, “A pleasure slave, her skin will be very soft. But she must be taught.”
“Of course, sir.” Colin said tonelessly, his eyes sparkling as he considered Macy.
In a loud, ringing voice, the magistrate formally announced her sentence. Macy caught the date, clinging to that and ignoring the rest. The guards pulled Macy over to a whipping post. One slid a hook through the rings on her wrist shackles, pulling the line sharply upwards. Another guard winched the line up further, raising Macy nearly off her feet. The guards stepped back, leering at her.
Colin walked around her, carrying a heavy flogger. No instrument of pleasure, this one, the ends were tied into hard knots. Colin paced around behind her, considering.
“Her hair will be in my way. Cut it.” He snapped the words out to the guards.
“But sir, her owner…she is a pleasure slave,” the guard stammered.
“Her owner lost ownership when she escaped him a second time. She will be auctioned. Cut it.”
Macy’s trembles increased. A slave auction was never good. And her hair! Rough hands pulled at her hair, dull knives hacked off the length of it. She could feel the uneven ends falling back against her head.
Colin stepped forward to inspect the cut, leaned forward and growled in her ear, “Perhaps now you’ll be cheap enough that I can purchase you.”
Macy jerked away, wrenching her arms painfully. Bought by a guard who made his living inflicting punishment? Owned by this sadistic man? A rush of heat passed over her, bringing a flush to her skin and wetness between her legs. She wouldn’t have run away a second time if she didn’t relish the pain.
The flogging began and Macy struggled not to cry out. But soon her screams joined those of the prisoners scattered throughout the arena. The crowd jeered. The bulk of the crowd had abandoned the other scenes to watch the gorgeous pleasure slave. Her skin marked so easily, broke so quickly. Her lithe body strained and twisted in seductive ways, making her far more interesting to watch.
Macy fainted once, was revived by cold water flung on her face. Colin stood close, watching her face. He offered her a dipper full of water from his own hand. But the flogging continued. Macy was certain the magistrate had pronounced a certain number of strokes, but she could neither remember the sentence nor guess how many strokes had been applied.
This was no fun, gentle, sexy flogging. It was torture and punishment. Her throat was raw from her cries. Her face wet with tears. And her gorgeous skin glistened with sweat.
Macy sagged with relief when the guards lowered her down, grateful that they caught her arms and kept her on her feet. They did not go immediately to the birching block. Instead, she was led over to the side of the arena and flung roughly onto a cot. A healer washed the wounds and applied a stinking salve that burned. Macy passed out again.
Cold water awakened her. She shivered now from the endorphins and the cold water that ran in streams across her skin. Colin watched her impassively, but Macy could see the twitch in his cheek that said he was worried. She managed a smile for him; then the guards were hustling her up and across the arena once more.
The birching block was set high, allowing perfect access for a man of Colin’s height. Macy was lifted across the block, her ankles secured and thick leather straps bound across the backs of her knees. Another thick leather band encircled her waist. Her arms were left comfortably in front of her, her wrists shackled into place.
Colin brought the birch rod in front of Macy to inspect it. He checked the suppleness of the switches and inspected the leather binding that held them together.
“A traditional birching requires figging as well. But you know that, don’t you?”
Macy nodded. She yelped when someone unseen shoved a peeled piece of ginger into her ass.
“We shall begin, then.” Colin said calmly, taking up his position beside her.
The birching that followed was every bit as painful as the one Macy had experienced in a play session long ago. She struggled against the block, but there was simply no movement allowed to her. She gave herself over to the pain, breathing through it. Her breath was harsh, rasping in her throat, and punctuated by low moans, but she did not dissolve into tears. Her internal fight carried her higher, away from the pain inflicted on her body. She soared, her body writhing in silent agony far below.
The healer had tended to her wounds and she had been placed in the auction line before she fully came back to herself. Her body ached, though not nearly as much as it ought to have done, given the tortures she had endured. She was shoved roughly onto the stage with a group of listless slaves. This crowd was all business, considering each slave as potential property. She saw other buyers roughly examining slaves around the outskirts of the crowd, perhaps private sales.
The bidding was fast and incomprehensible. Buyers shouted and guards pulled random slaves off the stage into the hands of their new owners. Macy was roughly pulled to the side and deposited nearly in Colin’s arms.
“I won’t need the shackles,” he growled at the guard, “Remove them.”
“But sir, she has escaped twice…”
Colin reached out and grabbed Macy firmly by a nipple, “She’ll not escape me.”
Macy gasped in pain, her eyes filling with tears at the unexpected assault. Her body was so raw, so sensitive. He played that, glaring at her as he released the nipple and took the other. Her body arched towards him, acting without her conscious thought.
“You see? The little bit can’t get enough of me. That’s why she escaped twice, to feel my lash again on that gorgeous skin.”
The guard hastily unlocked the shackles, thoroughly confused by the scene playing out before him. Colin ignored the man, his focus on Macy – the heat in her eyes, the raw desire. Ignoring the lead attached to her collar, he pulled her to the side of the room, his fingers tightening and twisting mercilessly.
He pushed her hard against the wall. The cool, smooth marble was a pleasant torture to her back and bottom. He pushed himself hard against her, pulling back to release his powerful erection from the confines of his pants.
“I’ll show them what they are missing, shall I?” he growled as he pushed hard against her. His hands grabbed her welted bottom, lifting her from her feet. He plunged hard into her wetness, shoving her hard against the wall.
Macy cried out, pain overridden by pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. Her hips bucked against him, taking him deeper, harder. She was lost again, mindless in the combination of pleasure and pain.
There were gasps of admiration and good natured cheers from the crowd, but Macy and Colin were lost in one another, performing for a crowd they no longer noticed.
The crowd dissolved in a haze as they floated down from their climax.
“Tell me what year that was, Macy, and I’ll take you to one of your lovely fantasies. If you’re wrong, the dungeon here will seem like a pleasant memory.”
Macy shuddered at the thought. They had exchanged plenty of dark fantasies and millions of pleasant ones. This one might even qualify as pleasant. Although she had missed some of the details of her sentencing, she had focused on the date. “April 15, 1692.”
“Good girl,” Colin said, stroking her cheek. But which pleasant fantasy would he choose?
“A darker fantasy, now, love. Only a fantasy; you’re safe.” Colin whispered as the room dissolved into the next scenario.
Macy opened her eyes to a cold, dark space. Cold metal circled her wrists and ankles, the shackles rough on her skin. The floor beneath her naked body was rough hewn stone, cold and grimy. Her neck felt heavy. Exploring fingers found a metal collar, welded shut. The metal was warm from her body heat; her skin adjusted to its weight as though this collar was an integral part of her.
A slave, then. The shackles were padlocked, the metal rough and uncomfortable against her skin. A slave, shackled, in a cell; Macy’s thoughts stopped. This wasn’t a fantasy she would have chosen to play out, for all she had written it. Set in some ancient, semi-mystical time, she had imagined the flogging and birching of a runaway slave – the fanciful combination of two judicially sanctioned punishments. She broke out in a cold sweat.
Too soon, she heard footsteps down the corridor outside her cell. The door opened, torch-light burned her eyes, forcing her to close them. Two men took her arms, roughly pulling her to her feet. They were followed out by the torch-bearer.
Macy stumbled, hindered by the chain that bound her ankles together. The men pulled her on, heedless of her struggles. She forced her eyes open, attempting to keep her balance. She was taken to an open arena, where she blinked hard against the sunlight. A crowd was gathered around, watching other punishments and jeering at the hapless prisoners.
Macy began to tremble, a fine shuddering that she could not stop. The guards dragged her over to a magistrate – a man dressed in flowing robes, wearing magnificent jewels. Colin stood at the man’s right hand, dressed in loose linen pants similar to those the guards wore. Colin was gorgeous, bare-chested, with only heavy gold cuffs around his wrists.
“Runaway slave,” the magistrate intoned, appearing almost bored with the proceedings. “Second offense,” he looked up at her, “A simple birching didn’t teach you?”
“A flogging first, then. With the birching to follow,” the magistrate considered Macy for a moment before he turned to Colin, “A pleasure slave, her skin will be very soft. But she must be taught.”
“Of course, sir.” Colin said tonelessly, his eyes sparkling as he considered Macy.
In a loud, ringing voice, the magistrate formally announced her sentence. Macy caught the date, clinging to that and ignoring the rest. The guards pulled Macy over to a whipping post. One slid a hook through the rings on her wrist shackles, pulling the line sharply upwards. Another guard winched the line up further, raising Macy nearly off her feet. The guards stepped back, leering at her.
Colin walked around her, carrying a heavy flogger. No instrument of pleasure, this one, the ends were tied into hard knots. Colin paced around behind her, considering.
“Her hair will be in my way. Cut it.” He snapped the words out to the guards.
“But sir, her owner…she is a pleasure slave,” the guard stammered.
“Her owner lost ownership when she escaped him a second time. She will be auctioned. Cut it.”
Macy’s trembles increased. A slave auction was never good. And her hair! Rough hands pulled at her hair, dull knives hacked off the length of it. She could feel the uneven ends falling back against her head.
Colin stepped forward to inspect the cut, leaned forward and growled in her ear, “Perhaps now you’ll be cheap enough that I can purchase you.”
Macy jerked away, wrenching her arms painfully. Bought by a guard who made his living inflicting punishment? Owned by this sadistic man? A rush of heat passed over her, bringing a flush to her skin and wetness between her legs. She wouldn’t have run away a second time if she didn’t relish the pain.
The flogging began and Macy struggled not to cry out. But soon her screams joined those of the prisoners scattered throughout the arena. The crowd jeered. The bulk of the crowd had abandoned the other scenes to watch the gorgeous pleasure slave. Her skin marked so easily, broke so quickly. Her lithe body strained and twisted in seductive ways, making her far more interesting to watch.
Macy fainted once, was revived by cold water flung on her face. Colin stood close, watching her face. He offered her a dipper full of water from his own hand. But the flogging continued. Macy was certain the magistrate had pronounced a certain number of strokes, but she could neither remember the sentence nor guess how many strokes had been applied.
This was no fun, gentle, sexy flogging. It was torture and punishment. Her throat was raw from her cries. Her face wet with tears. And her gorgeous skin glistened with sweat.
Macy sagged with relief when the guards lowered her down, grateful that they caught her arms and kept her on her feet. They did not go immediately to the birching block. Instead, she was led over to the side of the arena and flung roughly onto a cot. A healer washed the wounds and applied a stinking salve that burned. Macy passed out again.
Cold water awakened her. She shivered now from the endorphins and the cold water that ran in streams across her skin. Colin watched her impassively, but Macy could see the twitch in his cheek that said he was worried. She managed a smile for him; then the guards were hustling her up and across the arena once more.
The birching block was set high, allowing perfect access for a man of Colin’s height. Macy was lifted across the block, her ankles secured and thick leather straps bound across the backs of her knees. Another thick leather band encircled her waist. Her arms were left comfortably in front of her, her wrists shackled into place.
Colin brought the birch rod in front of Macy to inspect it. He checked the suppleness of the switches and inspected the leather binding that held them together.
“A traditional birching requires figging as well. But you know that, don’t you?”
Macy nodded. She yelped when someone unseen shoved a peeled piece of ginger into her ass.
“We shall begin, then.” Colin said calmly, taking up his position beside her.
The birching that followed was every bit as painful as the one Macy had experienced in a play session long ago. She struggled against the block, but there was simply no movement allowed to her. She gave herself over to the pain, breathing through it. Her breath was harsh, rasping in her throat, and punctuated by low moans, but she did not dissolve into tears. Her internal fight carried her higher, away from the pain inflicted on her body. She soared, her body writhing in silent agony far below.
The healer had tended to her wounds and she had been placed in the auction line before she fully came back to herself. Her body ached, though not nearly as much as it ought to have done, given the tortures she had endured. She was shoved roughly onto the stage with a group of listless slaves. This crowd was all business, considering each slave as potential property. She saw other buyers roughly examining slaves around the outskirts of the crowd, perhaps private sales.
The bidding was fast and incomprehensible. Buyers shouted and guards pulled random slaves off the stage into the hands of their new owners. Macy was roughly pulled to the side and deposited nearly in Colin’s arms.
“I won’t need the shackles,” he growled at the guard, “Remove them.”
“But sir, she has escaped twice…”
Colin reached out and grabbed Macy firmly by a nipple, “She’ll not escape me.”
Macy gasped in pain, her eyes filling with tears at the unexpected assault. Her body was so raw, so sensitive. He played that, glaring at her as he released the nipple and took the other. Her body arched towards him, acting without her conscious thought.
“You see? The little bit can’t get enough of me. That’s why she escaped twice, to feel my lash again on that gorgeous skin.”
The guard hastily unlocked the shackles, thoroughly confused by the scene playing out before him. Colin ignored the man, his focus on Macy – the heat in her eyes, the raw desire. Ignoring the lead attached to her collar, he pulled her to the side of the room, his fingers tightening and twisting mercilessly.
He pushed her hard against the wall. The cool, smooth marble was a pleasant torture to her back and bottom. He pushed himself hard against her, pulling back to release his powerful erection from the confines of his pants.
“I’ll show them what they are missing, shall I?” he growled as he pushed hard against her. His hands grabbed her welted bottom, lifting her from her feet. He plunged hard into her wetness, shoving her hard against the wall.
Macy cried out, pain overridden by pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. Her hips bucked against him, taking him deeper, harder. She was lost again, mindless in the combination of pleasure and pain.
There were gasps of admiration and good natured cheers from the crowd, but Macy and Colin were lost in one another, performing for a crowd they no longer noticed.
The crowd dissolved in a haze as they floated down from their climax.
“Tell me what year that was, Macy, and I’ll take you to one of your lovely fantasies. If you’re wrong, the dungeon here will seem like a pleasant memory.”
Macy shuddered at the thought. They had exchanged plenty of dark fantasies and millions of pleasant ones. This one might even qualify as pleasant. Although she had missed some of the details of her sentencing, she had focused on the date. “April 15, 1692.”
“Good girl,” Colin said, stroking her cheek. But which pleasant fantasy would he choose?
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Holodeck (part 1)
This story goes beyond spanking, a trend in my writing of late.
The message light blinked on her desktop console. A slow smile stole across Macy’s lips. A message at this time of night could come from only one person – her lover, Colin. She touched the screen, pulling up the brief message.
HoloDeck 4AA
Next Off-Shift
Our Standard Rules
Macy’s heart raced. Their standard rules were an override to holodeck protocols, allowing him to control every aspect of the programs. It had taken months to perfect their “standards,” but every scenario since had been incredible. Macy closed her eyes against the sudden rush of heat. Her body ached, needing him.
He hadn’t given her any hints as to the scene they would play out. Her mind raced with questions. She tapped the respond icon and listed off a string of questions. She paused, considering the list. Several taps later, she sent only the expected response:
Confirmed.
* * *
His next message hit her comm-unit just as she finished her last shift of the week.
A tour of history. Hope you’re good with dates.
Macy came to an abrupt halt in the corridor. Heedless of the people jostling by her, leaving their shifts, she stared at the message in horror. History classes had been a struggle for her, primarily because she was incapable of remembering names and dates. Colin knew that.
Her fingers flexed to write a stinging response, but instead she hooked her comm-unit back on her belt. She could spend a delightful evening reviewing the wank stories they had exchanged. The written fantasies had served as negotiation when they first started playing, teasing out the things they wanted to try. If Macy remembered correctly, many of them were set in different time periods. Colin always included a date in the setup, so she had as well.
* * *
Macy arrived at the designated HoloDeck well ahead of schedule. One late appearance had been plenty for her! Colin had little mercy for her when she obeyed him, but things were worse when she did not. The door opened to her palmprint, the computer recognizing her as an authorized user.
Macy stepped to the room’s console and completed the formalities. She noted that Colin had reserved the room for the entire six hour shift. A tiny shiver raced down her back; this would be a long scene. She called up their standard rules and provided her thumbprint as consent. She submitted to the quick body scan that checked she was sober and in good health, validating her consent. She stripped her one-piece spacesuit and hung it neatly in the provided locker. As the door latched, the simulation began.
Macy found herself in an Earth-style office. A window office, she noted the view from the windows curiously. The office looked out over a courtyard, the windows of several other offices easily visible. She wondered if those office workers could see into this office as easily as she could look into theirs. The tree branches outside were bare, the ground covered with a light dusting of snow, but the office was warm.
She wore a women’s power-suit – a straight A-line skirt, classic button down shirt, tailored jacket, and classy high heeled shoes. She reached a hand to check her leg – yup, nylons covered her smooth skin. She followed the stockings up, finding garters securing the nylons. A bit more self-exploration found sheer black panties and a matching bra.
She stepped over to the desk. Her name graced the multiple framed diplomas hanging behind the desk. It was her office, she thought. A professional, though the field was not immediately apparent. She glanced out the window again, enjoying the view that was so different from her space ship existence.
“Daydreaming, love? Colin closed the door behind him with a loud bang. He also wore a suit, impeccably tailored. He pulled her into a kiss before she could respond. His hand twisted through her hair, he controlled the kiss. Their bodies pressed hard together, grinding against one another.
“Happy to see me?” he pulled away enough to ask. Simple shock, as much as the hand still tangled in her hair, kept her from moving as his other hand slipped down to check. His hand slipped up her skirt, pushed her panties aside, and dove into her.
“Yes, love. Please,” she moaned, thrusting herself against his fingers.
“Dirty little whore,” he growled, withdrawing from her. He pulled her jacket off and tossed it across the room. He tore her shirt open, heedless of the buttons. “Only a dirty little girl would wear something this provocative to work.” He fingered the sheer bra, teasing her nipples. “What happens to naughty little girls, Macy?”
“They get spanked?” she asked hopefully, arching her back to thrust her breasts towards him, offering herself to him.
Colin pushed her over to the window, her hips level with the window-sill. He shoved her skirt up and tore her panties right off, tossing the shredded fabric to the floor. He began smacking her bottom, hard and fast, without warmup. His other hand rose to her neck, grabbing her firmly. She melted against him, giving herself over to him.
He took advantage, pushing her hard against the window. Her nipples pressed against the cold glass, tightening painfully. He shoved her legs wider apart.
“Don’t move, little one.” He opened his jacket and removed his belt. He lined up the folded leather with her bottom. “What will they think, over there, if they see you? Hot little breasts pressed up against the window, getting a good spanking?”
She moaned but only offered her bottom up to him, arching her pack, pressing her nipples firmly against the window. He laid into her with the supple leather belt, the crash of it against her ass causing him to mutter an occasional “Nice!” as a counterpart to her moans and whimpers.
He dropped the belt and his fingers plunged into her. She rocked back against him. His other hand slide between her and the window, pinching her taunt nipple painfully.
“Dirty little slut,” Colin pushed into her, “What would your boss think if he saw you, huh?”
Fingers still deep inside her, he pushed her over to the desk, kicking her feet further apart. He reached over the desk and picked up a handful of binder clips. He bent them carefully, ensuring they wouldn’t close fully. He pinched her nipples before clipping them with his modified binder clips. He knelt between her legs and repeated the process with larger modified binder clips.
“Fuck,” she ground out, clenching her teeth against the pain.
“You want me to fuck you, Macy?” he growled in her ear. “Insatiable slut like you, I bet you keep something in your desk. What do you think?”
A bit of rummaging produced a lovely glass dildo, carefully stored in a velvet case. “In your office, Macy? My, my, whatever do you do with this?” He plunged it into her wet pussy, the textured glass sliding in effortlessly. Macy bucked her hips, working the dildo deeper inside her.
“No,” Colin said thoughtfully, withdrawing the dildo, “That might be how you’d use it. But I’m not nearly so nice.” He set the wet glass against her tiny bottom-hole, adding a bit of lube around the head of it. Slowly, he worked it into her. Steadily, he fucked her ass while his fingers played with her slit, occasionally brushing against the binder clips.
“Tell me what year it is, Macy, and I’ll indulge you. Guess wrong and we’ll skip ahead to my next fantasy.”
Macy’s mind raced, distracted by the sensations he was causing. The clothing style suggested late twentieth century. The dates on the diplomas confirmed that guess. But what year was it now? She scanned the office, the orange and brown décor suggested late 1970s, but the diplomas were dated later. She searched the desk, found a calendar, and said, “1985.”
“Smart girl, Macy. We’ll finish this, then. Come for me now.”
Macy knew that coming now would make the next scene harder, more intense. No help for it, though, her body responded to his skilled torture.
With a wave of his hand, the binder clips and other props disappeared and the room dissolved. She cuddled against him, her head buried in his shoulder. Where would he take her next?
The message light blinked on her desktop console. A slow smile stole across Macy’s lips. A message at this time of night could come from only one person – her lover, Colin. She touched the screen, pulling up the brief message.
HoloDeck 4AA
Next Off-Shift
Our Standard Rules
Macy’s heart raced. Their standard rules were an override to holodeck protocols, allowing him to control every aspect of the programs. It had taken months to perfect their “standards,” but every scenario since had been incredible. Macy closed her eyes against the sudden rush of heat. Her body ached, needing him.
He hadn’t given her any hints as to the scene they would play out. Her mind raced with questions. She tapped the respond icon and listed off a string of questions. She paused, considering the list. Several taps later, she sent only the expected response:
Confirmed.
* * *
His next message hit her comm-unit just as she finished her last shift of the week.
A tour of history. Hope you’re good with dates.
Macy came to an abrupt halt in the corridor. Heedless of the people jostling by her, leaving their shifts, she stared at the message in horror. History classes had been a struggle for her, primarily because she was incapable of remembering names and dates. Colin knew that.
Her fingers flexed to write a stinging response, but instead she hooked her comm-unit back on her belt. She could spend a delightful evening reviewing the wank stories they had exchanged. The written fantasies had served as negotiation when they first started playing, teasing out the things they wanted to try. If Macy remembered correctly, many of them were set in different time periods. Colin always included a date in the setup, so she had as well.
* * *
Macy arrived at the designated HoloDeck well ahead of schedule. One late appearance had been plenty for her! Colin had little mercy for her when she obeyed him, but things were worse when she did not. The door opened to her palmprint, the computer recognizing her as an authorized user.
Macy stepped to the room’s console and completed the formalities. She noted that Colin had reserved the room for the entire six hour shift. A tiny shiver raced down her back; this would be a long scene. She called up their standard rules and provided her thumbprint as consent. She submitted to the quick body scan that checked she was sober and in good health, validating her consent. She stripped her one-piece spacesuit and hung it neatly in the provided locker. As the door latched, the simulation began.
Macy found herself in an Earth-style office. A window office, she noted the view from the windows curiously. The office looked out over a courtyard, the windows of several other offices easily visible. She wondered if those office workers could see into this office as easily as she could look into theirs. The tree branches outside were bare, the ground covered with a light dusting of snow, but the office was warm.
She wore a women’s power-suit – a straight A-line skirt, classic button down shirt, tailored jacket, and classy high heeled shoes. She reached a hand to check her leg – yup, nylons covered her smooth skin. She followed the stockings up, finding garters securing the nylons. A bit more self-exploration found sheer black panties and a matching bra.
She stepped over to the desk. Her name graced the multiple framed diplomas hanging behind the desk. It was her office, she thought. A professional, though the field was not immediately apparent. She glanced out the window again, enjoying the view that was so different from her space ship existence.
“Daydreaming, love? Colin closed the door behind him with a loud bang. He also wore a suit, impeccably tailored. He pulled her into a kiss before she could respond. His hand twisted through her hair, he controlled the kiss. Their bodies pressed hard together, grinding against one another.
“Happy to see me?” he pulled away enough to ask. Simple shock, as much as the hand still tangled in her hair, kept her from moving as his other hand slipped down to check. His hand slipped up her skirt, pushed her panties aside, and dove into her.
“Yes, love. Please,” she moaned, thrusting herself against his fingers.
“Dirty little whore,” he growled, withdrawing from her. He pulled her jacket off and tossed it across the room. He tore her shirt open, heedless of the buttons. “Only a dirty little girl would wear something this provocative to work.” He fingered the sheer bra, teasing her nipples. “What happens to naughty little girls, Macy?”
“They get spanked?” she asked hopefully, arching her back to thrust her breasts towards him, offering herself to him.
Colin pushed her over to the window, her hips level with the window-sill. He shoved her skirt up and tore her panties right off, tossing the shredded fabric to the floor. He began smacking her bottom, hard and fast, without warmup. His other hand rose to her neck, grabbing her firmly. She melted against him, giving herself over to him.
He took advantage, pushing her hard against the window. Her nipples pressed against the cold glass, tightening painfully. He shoved her legs wider apart.
“Don’t move, little one.” He opened his jacket and removed his belt. He lined up the folded leather with her bottom. “What will they think, over there, if they see you? Hot little breasts pressed up against the window, getting a good spanking?”
She moaned but only offered her bottom up to him, arching her pack, pressing her nipples firmly against the window. He laid into her with the supple leather belt, the crash of it against her ass causing him to mutter an occasional “Nice!” as a counterpart to her moans and whimpers.
He dropped the belt and his fingers plunged into her. She rocked back against him. His other hand slide between her and the window, pinching her taunt nipple painfully.
“Dirty little slut,” Colin pushed into her, “What would your boss think if he saw you, huh?”
Fingers still deep inside her, he pushed her over to the desk, kicking her feet further apart. He reached over the desk and picked up a handful of binder clips. He bent them carefully, ensuring they wouldn’t close fully. He pinched her nipples before clipping them with his modified binder clips. He knelt between her legs and repeated the process with larger modified binder clips.
“Fuck,” she ground out, clenching her teeth against the pain.
“You want me to fuck you, Macy?” he growled in her ear. “Insatiable slut like you, I bet you keep something in your desk. What do you think?”
A bit of rummaging produced a lovely glass dildo, carefully stored in a velvet case. “In your office, Macy? My, my, whatever do you do with this?” He plunged it into her wet pussy, the textured glass sliding in effortlessly. Macy bucked her hips, working the dildo deeper inside her.
“No,” Colin said thoughtfully, withdrawing the dildo, “That might be how you’d use it. But I’m not nearly so nice.” He set the wet glass against her tiny bottom-hole, adding a bit of lube around the head of it. Slowly, he worked it into her. Steadily, he fucked her ass while his fingers played with her slit, occasionally brushing against the binder clips.
“Tell me what year it is, Macy, and I’ll indulge you. Guess wrong and we’ll skip ahead to my next fantasy.”
Macy’s mind raced, distracted by the sensations he was causing. The clothing style suggested late twentieth century. The dates on the diplomas confirmed that guess. But what year was it now? She scanned the office, the orange and brown décor suggested late 1970s, but the diplomas were dated later. She searched the desk, found a calendar, and said, “1985.”
“Smart girl, Macy. We’ll finish this, then. Come for me now.”
Macy knew that coming now would make the next scene harder, more intense. No help for it, though, her body responded to his skilled torture.
With a wave of his hand, the binder clips and other props disappeared and the room dissolved. She cuddled against him, her head buried in his shoulder. Where would he take her next?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Paradox Play (part 2)
Rated X: This story goes beyond a simple spanking story. If you're easily squicked, skip this one! Otherwise, enjoy and remember that it is fantasy, not a script or a suggestion.
This story is dedicated to [the man my husband calls] my "boyfriend"..."the object of my limerence"...or whatever we're calling it this week, love. Thank you for all your encouragement and support.
"I'm doing all the work here, Beautiful. You turn, I think." He set the cane aside and knelt beside her on the bed. His nails scraped against the fresh welts on her thighs, causing her to squirm. He froze and glared at her until she stilled. His fingers wandered to her hips, tracing the lines, he closed his eyes for a moment. But he pulled one hand and away and thrust first one finger, then two, deep inside her.
"Squeeze me," he commanded.
"But...the ginger."
"Did you think I'd forgotten?" his thumb tapped the base of the ginger still in place. "Do as you are told or I'll replace it with something you really won't like. "
Her eyes flicked immediately to the enormous glass plug he left out after showing her earlier. Double bulbed, it was larger than anything she had tried before. She forced herself to obey him.
"That's right. Again. "
With his free hand, he retrieved his wartenberg wheel and traced designs on her flat stomach. Her breathing grew ragged as she forced herself to squeeze his fingers while her senses were teased by the rolling wheel. When she approached the brink of orgasm, he withdrew his fingers and slapped her pussy hard.
"Not yet, little one. " He leaned over and licked one clamped nipple, then blew on it, giving her a cold sensation. She whimpered in response and he did then same to the other side.
He stood up, gathered a few things, and returned to her side, not allowing her to see what he had brought. He attached weights to the clamps and urged her to turn over. He arranged her on all fours, her legs spread wide, and forced her head down to the mattress. Once she was positioned, he reached around to check that the weights hung freely, pulling the clamped flesh.
With his hand in a plastic bag, he removed the ginger, deftly rolling the bag around it for disposal. Gloved fingers spread lubricant on a metal plug. He set the tip of it against her.
"No!" her head flew up and she turned partway around to look at him.
He glared at her, setting the plug down out of her line of sight. He stepped to her side, removing the glove. A bare hand cradled her face, "What did you say?"
"I..." her mouth worked silently, "I'm sorry?"
His other hand slapped her cheek, "Try again."
"I didn't mean it!"
"Hmmm," he stroked her cheek thoughtfully. "I think I've something to keep you from saying things you don't mean," he started to stand.
"Please, I...". A second slap silenced her. And the simple gag he tied in place maintained that silence.
"And did I say you could look?" Despite her frantic head shake, he secured a blindfold over her eyes before pushing her head back down. With a new glove, he resumed his task. She followed his quiet commands, spreading her legs further still and accepting the plug with only a moan.
He took up the cane again, starting on her spread thighs, working up her bottom and back to her shoulders. She gave herself over to the sensation, moaning and whimpering at the strikes. He worked his way back down, pausing to position himself to carefully lay welts down between her spread cheeks. Moving back behind her, he tapped the cane between her thighs, working up and down with varying intensity until she was panting and arching her back.
With a moan, he set the cane aside and took her bottom in his hands, squeezing hard. He pulled away, leaving one hand resting on her back as he reached for his heavy leather paddle. Returning to her, he knelt beside her on the bed, wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching to cup her wet pussy in his hand. Then he began paddling, hard even strokes. She ground against his hand, melding the pleasure with the pain until it wasn't clear where one ended and the other began.
This story is dedicated to [the man my husband calls] my "boyfriend"..."the object of my limerence"...or whatever we're calling it this week, love. Thank you for all your encouragement and support.
- - -
"I'm doing all the work here, Beautiful. You turn, I think." He set the cane aside and knelt beside her on the bed. His nails scraped against the fresh welts on her thighs, causing her to squirm. He froze and glared at her until she stilled. His fingers wandered to her hips, tracing the lines, he closed his eyes for a moment. But he pulled one hand and away and thrust first one finger, then two, deep inside her.
"Squeeze me," he commanded.
"But...the ginger."
"Did you think I'd forgotten?" his thumb tapped the base of the ginger still in place. "Do as you are told or I'll replace it with something you really won't like. "
Her eyes flicked immediately to the enormous glass plug he left out after showing her earlier. Double bulbed, it was larger than anything she had tried before. She forced herself to obey him.
"That's right. Again. "
With his free hand, he retrieved his wartenberg wheel and traced designs on her flat stomach. Her breathing grew ragged as she forced herself to squeeze his fingers while her senses were teased by the rolling wheel. When she approached the brink of orgasm, he withdrew his fingers and slapped her pussy hard.
"Not yet, little one. " He leaned over and licked one clamped nipple, then blew on it, giving her a cold sensation. She whimpered in response and he did then same to the other side.
He stood up, gathered a few things, and returned to her side, not allowing her to see what he had brought. He attached weights to the clamps and urged her to turn over. He arranged her on all fours, her legs spread wide, and forced her head down to the mattress. Once she was positioned, he reached around to check that the weights hung freely, pulling the clamped flesh.
With his hand in a plastic bag, he removed the ginger, deftly rolling the bag around it for disposal. Gloved fingers spread lubricant on a metal plug. He set the tip of it against her.
"No!" her head flew up and she turned partway around to look at him.
He glared at her, setting the plug down out of her line of sight. He stepped to her side, removing the glove. A bare hand cradled her face, "What did you say?"
"I..." her mouth worked silently, "I'm sorry?"
His other hand slapped her cheek, "Try again."
"I didn't mean it!"
"Hmmm," he stroked her cheek thoughtfully. "I think I've something to keep you from saying things you don't mean," he started to stand.
"Please, I...". A second slap silenced her. And the simple gag he tied in place maintained that silence.
"And did I say you could look?" Despite her frantic head shake, he secured a blindfold over her eyes before pushing her head back down. With a new glove, he resumed his task. She followed his quiet commands, spreading her legs further still and accepting the plug with only a moan.
He took up the cane again, starting on her spread thighs, working up her bottom and back to her shoulders. She gave herself over to the sensation, moaning and whimpering at the strikes. He worked his way back down, pausing to position himself to carefully lay welts down between her spread cheeks. Moving back behind her, he tapped the cane between her thighs, working up and down with varying intensity until she was panting and arching her back.
With a moan, he set the cane aside and took her bottom in his hands, squeezing hard. He pulled away, leaving one hand resting on her back as he reached for his heavy leather paddle. Returning to her, he knelt beside her on the bed, wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching to cup her wet pussy in his hand. Then he began paddling, hard even strokes. She ground against his hand, melding the pleasure with the pain until it wasn't clear where one ended and the other began.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Party Play
After a weekend at Thunder in the Mountains, I'm returning to a simple spanking story while I process things. This fantasy was written for a spanking-party setting. Names have been changed to protect the guilty...you'll notice my name isn't changed, because we all know how innocent I am!
The gentle hand on my shoulder was little warning for the whispered, "I thought we discussed this, Lizzie." Instantly, my attention transferred from the group I stood with to the man who stood just behind me.
"What? Luke...I...what?" With no reason coming to mind, I could not even frame a defense.
Luke tapped the side of the wineglass in my hand and gave me a significant look.
"But it's my first glass..."
"Don't compound your trouble by lying to me, young lady."
Caught, I pouted hopefully at him, "But it's Friday night."
"Hush," he set a gentle finger against my lips, "You should learn to stop while you're ahead."
I could only catch my breath. I would push until I was over someone's knee and even then I would be hard pressed to stop. Of those few things that brought my mind to a complete stop, Luke had employed one of the less obvious ones - the gentle caress of a hand on my face. Cupping a hand on my cheek or directing my gaze by grasping my chin has a similar effect of narrowing my focus to a single person. It was less dramatic than my response to some other things, but this could be employed much more casually. It is the very casual touches that have the power to undo me. I may allow many people to raise my skirt and spank me...because I enjoy it. But with those I trust, a simple touch can be powerful.
But now another touch, his hand encircling my arm, puts all the control in his hands.
"Excuse us. Lizzie and I have something to discuss."
From the laughter and teasing remarks of my friends, it is obvious that none of them expect us to have a verbal discussion. Time and space collapse, the next thing I am aware of is his hotel room. I've lost my wine glass in the transition, but my attitude has returned.
"It's not like I'm drunk and disorderly, you know. Or driving!"
"That's hardly the point."
"So what is?" I challenge, only to find the challenge ignored as he pulls me over his knee. He lays a few swats on my skirt and I giggle.
"You're wearing Ms. Blue, aren't you?" His remark is rhetorical as he flips up my skirt to look for himself.
"I knew you only wanted to see what I've got on under there."
"And can you blame me?" His hand trances intricate designs on my girdle-covered bottom.
"I suppose not," I admit. "After all, I wore it hoping you would...ow. Don't hurt your hand."
"Get me the Kent brush, then." He laughs as he helps me off his lap.
I pout at him, "You don't have to be mean!"
"If I have to get it myself, the hairbrush isn't the only thing I'm getting."
Even with that threat, I wait until he starts to get up before I scamper over and grab the brush. He settles himself back into the chair, pulling me easily across his lap.
"Don't think you've gotten away with anything. I've set aside plenty of time tonight."
The gentle hand on my shoulder was little warning for the whispered, "I thought we discussed this, Lizzie." Instantly, my attention transferred from the group I stood with to the man who stood just behind me.
"What? Luke...I...what?" With no reason coming to mind, I could not even frame a defense.
Luke tapped the side of the wineglass in my hand and gave me a significant look.
"But it's my first glass..."
"Don't compound your trouble by lying to me, young lady."
Caught, I pouted hopefully at him, "But it's Friday night."
"Hush," he set a gentle finger against my lips, "You should learn to stop while you're ahead."
I could only catch my breath. I would push until I was over someone's knee and even then I would be hard pressed to stop. Of those few things that brought my mind to a complete stop, Luke had employed one of the less obvious ones - the gentle caress of a hand on my face. Cupping a hand on my cheek or directing my gaze by grasping my chin has a similar effect of narrowing my focus to a single person. It was less dramatic than my response to some other things, but this could be employed much more casually. It is the very casual touches that have the power to undo me. I may allow many people to raise my skirt and spank me...because I enjoy it. But with those I trust, a simple touch can be powerful.
But now another touch, his hand encircling my arm, puts all the control in his hands.
"Excuse us. Lizzie and I have something to discuss."
From the laughter and teasing remarks of my friends, it is obvious that none of them expect us to have a verbal discussion. Time and space collapse, the next thing I am aware of is his hotel room. I've lost my wine glass in the transition, but my attitude has returned.
"It's not like I'm drunk and disorderly, you know. Or driving!"
"That's hardly the point."
"So what is?" I challenge, only to find the challenge ignored as he pulls me over his knee. He lays a few swats on my skirt and I giggle.
"You're wearing Ms. Blue, aren't you?" His remark is rhetorical as he flips up my skirt to look for himself.
"I knew you only wanted to see what I've got on under there."
"And can you blame me?" His hand trances intricate designs on my girdle-covered bottom.
"I suppose not," I admit. "After all, I wore it hoping you would...ow. Don't hurt your hand."
"Get me the Kent brush, then." He laughs as he helps me off his lap.
I pout at him, "You don't have to be mean!"
"If I have to get it myself, the hairbrush isn't the only thing I'm getting."
Even with that threat, I wait until he starts to get up before I scamper over and grab the brush. He settles himself back into the chair, pulling me easily across his lap.
"Don't think you've gotten away with anything. I've set aside plenty of time tonight."
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Relationships Required
I've been posting a number of fiction and fantasy pieces lately. I love getting feedback - leave me comments, send me an email, or message me on FetLife. Whether you love it or hate it, I want to hear your opinions. I want to know what works, what turns you on/off, what you especially liked, what you would like to read more of.
<rant>
But if you think I've written a script I'd like to play out with an anonymous person...full stop. I am non-monogamous, but intense play requires a relationship and a great deal of trust. My version of non-monogamy is not random encounters; it is relationship based. In fact, I've discovered that the best thing about the scene is the relationships that develop.
A relationship does not begin with "I'd like to play out the deepest, most intense scene you've written about on your blog."
</rant>
<rant>
But if you think I've written a script I'd like to play out with an anonymous person...full stop. I am non-monogamous, but intense play requires a relationship and a great deal of trust. My version of non-monogamy is not random encounters; it is relationship based. In fact, I've discovered that the best thing about the scene is the relationships that develop.
A relationship does not begin with "I'd like to play out the deepest, most intense scene you've written about on your blog."
</rant>
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Paradox Play
This fantasy goes a bit beyond simple spanking play - consensual play between adults with sexual themes. If this isn't your thing...go away! (I'm horny and unapologetic tonight.)
"Paradox play, huh?" his question was more of a statement as he considered her, "I'll start with something you know you like, and perhaps we'll try some other things. First, though, strip."
She stepped out of her shorts and smoothly pulled her shirt over her head. In that quick motion, she stood naked before him.
"Your bra and panties were supposed to send me a message," he considered the lack of both, "What message are you sending me?"
"I'm hiding nothing from you."
"Nice. Very nice." His hands rand lightly over her breasts and down her sides, tracing the lines of her hips, "But I'm still going to beat you."
"I'd be rather disappointed if you didn't."
"Pile pillows on the bed and make yourself comfortable."
She followed his direction. The snap of rubber gloves and the sharp scent of fresh ginger left no doubt as to how the scene would begin. The ginger slid in with the help of cool water and he made a few changes to her position before beginning with the cane. A variety of strokes woke her skin - thudding taps across her back and shoulders, stinging cuts across thighs and calves, the ringing of perfectly laid lines across her lower bottom.
"It's hard, isn't it?" he asked as he focused a series of stripes across the base of her bottom, "You want to clench because it hurts, but if you clench, it hurts."
"Mmmmm...yeah," was all she managed to say, struggling with the paradox he described.
Watching her, reading the changes in her breathing and the tension in her skin, he finally set the cane aside, exchanging it for the sensation of his fingernails. His nails swept from her shoulder to her ankle before switching sides. He drug his fingernails up her body to the other shoulder, fine white lines marking her pink flesh. Reaching her neck, he squeezed for a moment before tangling his finger into her hair and pulling her head back. Her eyes were glazed and her smile one of pure delight.
"Turn over for me, beautiful." He pulled pillows out of the way as he helped her over. His hands ran down her arms and he pulled her hands to her head, "Hands behind your head." Her eyes focused on him, following him as he moved down the side of the bed.
"Knees apart, feet together." She positioned herself and he reached between her legs to settle the ginger more deeply. She moaned and wiggled against him.
"No, beautiful. Stay sill for me now. Can you do that?"
"Yeah," her voice was quiet, as though it traveled some distance from subspace to him.
Vampire gloves made her skin shudder, but she managed to stay mostly still for him. He rolled down her arms, one finger at a time, beginning at her wrists and tapping his way down across her chest. Reaching her breasts he took them in his hands and squeezed. At that, she jerked a bit and he pulled back.
"Stay still, got it?"
"Yeah," her breath quickened as he made his way down her stomach and down her inner thighs. He worked his way back upwards, ignoring her moan as he skipped the area between her legs.
"Later, beautiful. I've plans for that later. Hold very still for me now." His hands returned to her breasts.
He squeezed again. This time, she held still for him. She took a deep breath when he squeezed harder and another when he abruptly released her. Slipping the gloves off, he took up the cane again. Light aiming taps against her breasts brought her eyes back to him. Instead of taking the threatened swing, he took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed, pulling upwards. Moaning, she arched her back.
"Did I give you permission to move?"
"No..."
"Down." His eyes locked with hers as she forced herself flat. His fingers tightened and cruelly twisted as her body pulled away. Her breath came in fast, hard gulps by the time she resumed her original position. He lined up the cane with her extended breast.
"Hold.
"Still.
"Now."
Three red welts raised on the underside of her breast, a stroke following each word, but she held perfectly still. She whimpered when he took the other nipple and pulled. Her body trembled with the effort of remaining still.
"That's,
"My,
"Girl."
Matching stripes appeared on the other side, one following each word. He set the cane aside and took her breasts in his hands, lowering his moth to one sensitive nipple.
"Awww," she complained when he pulled away.
"You like that, did you?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
"I should do it again?" he offered, tracing the red lines with a finger while reaching for the cane.
"No...no. I'm good."
"Hmmm," he fingered the welts a bit more, "Yes, I've other things to do. But this," he pinched a nipple, "I can keep this up."
Nipple clamps affixed, he moved his attention south. Her inner thighs got the most of the cane's attention, but a few swings reddened more sensitive spots. As though they were one, their breathing grew ragged, harsh gasps punctuated by the sound of the cane landing.
(To be continued...)
"Paradox play, huh?" his question was more of a statement as he considered her, "I'll start with something you know you like, and perhaps we'll try some other things. First, though, strip."
She stepped out of her shorts and smoothly pulled her shirt over her head. In that quick motion, she stood naked before him.
"Your bra and panties were supposed to send me a message," he considered the lack of both, "What message are you sending me?"
"I'm hiding nothing from you."
"Nice. Very nice." His hands rand lightly over her breasts and down her sides, tracing the lines of her hips, "But I'm still going to beat you."
"I'd be rather disappointed if you didn't."
"Pile pillows on the bed and make yourself comfortable."
She followed his direction. The snap of rubber gloves and the sharp scent of fresh ginger left no doubt as to how the scene would begin. The ginger slid in with the help of cool water and he made a few changes to her position before beginning with the cane. A variety of strokes woke her skin - thudding taps across her back and shoulders, stinging cuts across thighs and calves, the ringing of perfectly laid lines across her lower bottom.
"It's hard, isn't it?" he asked as he focused a series of stripes across the base of her bottom, "You want to clench because it hurts, but if you clench, it hurts."
"Mmmmm...yeah," was all she managed to say, struggling with the paradox he described.
Watching her, reading the changes in her breathing and the tension in her skin, he finally set the cane aside, exchanging it for the sensation of his fingernails. His nails swept from her shoulder to her ankle before switching sides. He drug his fingernails up her body to the other shoulder, fine white lines marking her pink flesh. Reaching her neck, he squeezed for a moment before tangling his finger into her hair and pulling her head back. Her eyes were glazed and her smile one of pure delight.
"Turn over for me, beautiful." He pulled pillows out of the way as he helped her over. His hands ran down her arms and he pulled her hands to her head, "Hands behind your head." Her eyes focused on him, following him as he moved down the side of the bed.
"Knees apart, feet together." She positioned herself and he reached between her legs to settle the ginger more deeply. She moaned and wiggled against him.
"No, beautiful. Stay sill for me now. Can you do that?"
"Yeah," her voice was quiet, as though it traveled some distance from subspace to him.
Vampire gloves made her skin shudder, but she managed to stay mostly still for him. He rolled down her arms, one finger at a time, beginning at her wrists and tapping his way down across her chest. Reaching her breasts he took them in his hands and squeezed. At that, she jerked a bit and he pulled back.
"Stay still, got it?"
"Yeah," her breath quickened as he made his way down her stomach and down her inner thighs. He worked his way back upwards, ignoring her moan as he skipped the area between her legs.
"Later, beautiful. I've plans for that later. Hold very still for me now." His hands returned to her breasts.
He squeezed again. This time, she held still for him. She took a deep breath when he squeezed harder and another when he abruptly released her. Slipping the gloves off, he took up the cane again. Light aiming taps against her breasts brought her eyes back to him. Instead of taking the threatened swing, he took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed, pulling upwards. Moaning, she arched her back.
"Did I give you permission to move?"
"No..."
"Down." His eyes locked with hers as she forced herself flat. His fingers tightened and cruelly twisted as her body pulled away. Her breath came in fast, hard gulps by the time she resumed her original position. He lined up the cane with her extended breast.
"Hold.
"Still.
"Now."
Three red welts raised on the underside of her breast, a stroke following each word, but she held perfectly still. She whimpered when he took the other nipple and pulled. Her body trembled with the effort of remaining still.
"That's,
"My,
"Girl."
Matching stripes appeared on the other side, one following each word. He set the cane aside and took her breasts in his hands, lowering his moth to one sensitive nipple.
"Awww," she complained when he pulled away.
"You like that, did you?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
"I should do it again?" he offered, tracing the red lines with a finger while reaching for the cane.
"No...no. I'm good."
"Hmmm," he fingered the welts a bit more, "Yes, I've other things to do. But this," he pinched a nipple, "I can keep this up."
Nipple clamps affixed, he moved his attention south. Her inner thighs got the most of the cane's attention, but a few swings reddened more sensitive spots. As though they were one, their breathing grew ragged, harsh gasps punctuated by the sound of the cane landing.
(To be continued...)
Friday, July 9, 2010
Changing the Rules
A fantasy that combines the recent discussions of nonmonogomy and my serious need for whacking...
The smell of work followed Sara home - smoke thick in her hair, spilled beer on her clothes. Her makeup was heavy, she hadn't taken the time to remove it before heading home from the club. But her heart was heavier, the pain there outweighing all other concerns.
"Hey baby," Melanie called from the couch, her voice quickly changing with concern, "What's the matter?"
"I don't wanna have an open relationship anymore," Sara said the words quickly, as if she had rehearsed them in her head.
Melanie's heart skipped a beat, then settled. Sara was inclined to bold gestures, a discussion usually resolved the problem with a much milder change. Melanie held out her arms and Sara settled into her lap, Sara's head against Mel's shoulder. Mel wrapped her arms around Sara before saying, "Just tell me what's the matter, baby."
The story spilled out in broken bits and pieces. As Melanie had expected, it wasn't their relationship that was the problem. The problem was external pressure; the situations Sara got into working as a stripper. Sara's inability to say no when she had no rules to guide her.
"What if I had to approve your external relationships? Would that help? Then you wouldn't have to say no yourself." Melanie offered after a moment of contemplation.
"Like you do at parties? I say I have to ask you for permission so you can tell them no?"
"Exactly like that, precious."
Sara snuggled in closer, "Yeah, I think that would work. But you're not gonna make me approve yours, right?"
Melanie chuckled, she couldn't imagine anything that would put Sara further out of her comfort zone. Their version of nonmonogomy had never been identical on both sides, but it served their needs. "Of course not. You still have a veto, but you don't have to approve them."
"Play with me?" Sara whispered.
"Not tonight, love. We're both tired and you need a shower. We'll do a scene tomorrow, when we've got the whole day. Come on, let me take a shower with you."
* * *
"Not punishment," Melanie said after breakfast, "Because you haven't broken our rules. But affirmation, this is the right change to protect my baby. And nobody gets to hurt my baby, even her."
Sara nodded, "But I need it to hurt."
"I know," Melanie whispered, pressing her lips to Sara's forehead before taking her to the bedroom.
Melanie took out a tawse first, she wanted to put Sara into a submissive headspace quickly. Taking Sara's hands, she arranged them one atop the other. Then she lined up the tawse, taking one light stroke for aim.
"You've been using these hands for naughty things, haven't you?"
Sara nodded, eyes on the tawse. Her eyes shut tightly when Melanie brought the impliment down full force on her palm.
"Give me the other. You'll think about what you're doing in the future, won't you?"
Sara nodded again and they fell into a rhythm. Sara changed hands automatically as Melanie's lecture rolled over her.
Melanie inspected Sara's reddened palms, "Enough. Take down your pants."
Sara's pajama pants dropped to the floor. Automatically, she picked them up and folded them before setting them aside.
"On the corner of the bed, I want your legs spread wide and your hands behind your head." Melanie directed as she exchanged the tawse for a bathbrush. She considered Sara's position with narrowed eyes, "You've opened your legs for how many meaningless guys? Open them wider for me."
Sara moaned but followed the directions.
Melanie traced Sara's inner thighs with her fingernails, "Now, how many guys that you regret, precious?"
Sara eyed the bathbrush and bit her lip. "Six?"
"Is that an answer or a question?"
"An answer. Six."
Melanie patted Sara's thigh, then scrapped it with her fingernails again, "What was the first one's name?"
"Mark." The moment the name crossed Sara's lips, Melanie struck Sara's inner thigh with the bathbrush, raising a red oval. Sara drew in a sharp breath.
"The next one?" Melanie tapped the brush against a matching spot on Sara's other leg.
"Matt," Sara closed her eyes as she said the name. A matching red oval appeard on her other thigh.
"Greg," another red oval joined the first.
"Cody," a fourth red mark made matching pairs.
"Keep your legs well apart," Melanie instructed, running the bristles of the brush up Sara's tender thighs, "Who was the next one?"
Sara gave Melanie a pained look, "I don't know his name."
Melanie turned the brush, tapping the wooden side against Sara's private bits. "You shared this with someone whose name you don't even know?"
Sara bit her lip nervously, before she whispered, "Yeah."
Melanie shook her head, "Someone really needs to protect you from yourself, love." Even knowing that person was her, Melanie smacked the brush against Sara's most sensitive spot - once, twice, a third time. She watched Sara's muscles tighten against the pain, then relax into it. A fourth time elicited a wordless cry, but the fifth and sixth were simply sharp intakes of breath.
"For the nameless one," Melanie said, adding a fifth red oval to the inside of Sara's thighs. "And the sixth one," the final oval appeared on the other thigh.
(To be continued...)
The smell of work followed Sara home - smoke thick in her hair, spilled beer on her clothes. Her makeup was heavy, she hadn't taken the time to remove it before heading home from the club. But her heart was heavier, the pain there outweighing all other concerns.
"Hey baby," Melanie called from the couch, her voice quickly changing with concern, "What's the matter?"
"I don't wanna have an open relationship anymore," Sara said the words quickly, as if she had rehearsed them in her head.
Melanie's heart skipped a beat, then settled. Sara was inclined to bold gestures, a discussion usually resolved the problem with a much milder change. Melanie held out her arms and Sara settled into her lap, Sara's head against Mel's shoulder. Mel wrapped her arms around Sara before saying, "Just tell me what's the matter, baby."
The story spilled out in broken bits and pieces. As Melanie had expected, it wasn't their relationship that was the problem. The problem was external pressure; the situations Sara got into working as a stripper. Sara's inability to say no when she had no rules to guide her.
"What if I had to approve your external relationships? Would that help? Then you wouldn't have to say no yourself." Melanie offered after a moment of contemplation.
"Like you do at parties? I say I have to ask you for permission so you can tell them no?"
"Exactly like that, precious."
Sara snuggled in closer, "Yeah, I think that would work. But you're not gonna make me approve yours, right?"
Melanie chuckled, she couldn't imagine anything that would put Sara further out of her comfort zone. Their version of nonmonogomy had never been identical on both sides, but it served their needs. "Of course not. You still have a veto, but you don't have to approve them."
"Play with me?" Sara whispered.
"Not tonight, love. We're both tired and you need a shower. We'll do a scene tomorrow, when we've got the whole day. Come on, let me take a shower with you."
* * *
"Not punishment," Melanie said after breakfast, "Because you haven't broken our rules. But affirmation, this is the right change to protect my baby. And nobody gets to hurt my baby, even her."
Sara nodded, "But I need it to hurt."
"I know," Melanie whispered, pressing her lips to Sara's forehead before taking her to the bedroom.
Melanie took out a tawse first, she wanted to put Sara into a submissive headspace quickly. Taking Sara's hands, she arranged them one atop the other. Then she lined up the tawse, taking one light stroke for aim.
"You've been using these hands for naughty things, haven't you?"
Sara nodded, eyes on the tawse. Her eyes shut tightly when Melanie brought the impliment down full force on her palm.
"Give me the other. You'll think about what you're doing in the future, won't you?"
Sara nodded again and they fell into a rhythm. Sara changed hands automatically as Melanie's lecture rolled over her.
Melanie inspected Sara's reddened palms, "Enough. Take down your pants."
Sara's pajama pants dropped to the floor. Automatically, she picked them up and folded them before setting them aside.
"On the corner of the bed, I want your legs spread wide and your hands behind your head." Melanie directed as she exchanged the tawse for a bathbrush. She considered Sara's position with narrowed eyes, "You've opened your legs for how many meaningless guys? Open them wider for me."
Sara moaned but followed the directions.
Melanie traced Sara's inner thighs with her fingernails, "Now, how many guys that you regret, precious?"
Sara eyed the bathbrush and bit her lip. "Six?"
"Is that an answer or a question?"
"An answer. Six."
Melanie patted Sara's thigh, then scrapped it with her fingernails again, "What was the first one's name?"
"Mark." The moment the name crossed Sara's lips, Melanie struck Sara's inner thigh with the bathbrush, raising a red oval. Sara drew in a sharp breath.
"The next one?" Melanie tapped the brush against a matching spot on Sara's other leg.
"Matt," Sara closed her eyes as she said the name. A matching red oval appeard on her other thigh.
"Greg," another red oval joined the first.
"Cody," a fourth red mark made matching pairs.
"Keep your legs well apart," Melanie instructed, running the bristles of the brush up Sara's tender thighs, "Who was the next one?"
Sara gave Melanie a pained look, "I don't know his name."
Melanie turned the brush, tapping the wooden side against Sara's private bits. "You shared this with someone whose name you don't even know?"
Sara bit her lip nervously, before she whispered, "Yeah."
Melanie shook her head, "Someone really needs to protect you from yourself, love." Even knowing that person was her, Melanie smacked the brush against Sara's most sensitive spot - once, twice, a third time. She watched Sara's muscles tighten against the pain, then relax into it. A fourth time elicited a wordless cry, but the fifth and sixth were simply sharp intakes of breath.
"For the nameless one," Melanie said, adding a fifth red oval to the inside of Sara's thighs. "And the sixth one," the final oval appeared on the other thigh.
(To be continued...)
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