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.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)