Lizzie's Blog

Story

2012-02-07T21:27:00.001-06:00

This story ventures into BDSM and sex. If that's not your thing, skip it. (I think I need a better intro to this type of story, if you have ideas, leave them in the comments or email me.)

His hands wrapped around my wrists, squeezing tight. I felt the tension slip away; my thoughts and worries drifted off, leaving only his hands on me. He watched, holding me motionless.

"Strip," he said, releasing me suddenly.

I slipped out of my jacket, dropping it on the floor. I crossed my wrists in front of me to grab the bottom of my shirt and tug it over my head. I reached behind my back, unfastening my bra and dropping it on the growing pile of clothing. I toed off my shoes, unbuttoned my jeans and shimmied out of them. My panties and socks followed.

"Always a mess," he growled, as he took my wrists again. He held them just a moment this time, before his hands moved to hold my face. One soft caress of my cheek and then he slapped my face, hard.

"On your knees," he ordered. I sunk to my knees as he unbuttoned his jeans and withdrew his cock. I leaned forward eagerly. His hands tangled through my hair, forcing me to take him even deeper into my mouth.

He used me, his hands controlling me. He fucked my mouth, taking his pleasure from my submission. One of his hands eventually slid down to my breast. I shifted to give him better access.

He pulled away without a word. The hand on my breast tightened around my nipple, urging me to my feet. I stood and he took both nipples in his hands - squeezing them, pinching them, twisting them, torturing them. I took a deep breath, thrusting my breasts out to him - offering myself to him.

"Little pain slut, aren't you?"

I nodded.

He released on of my nipples to slap my face, "Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

"Yes," I stammered, uncertain.

"Tell me."

"I'm your little pain slut."

"I bet you're wet already, aren't you?"

I whimpered. He smacked me again and I managed a quiet, "Yes."

Unsatisfied with this answer, his hand dove between my legs. His fingers thrust roughly into my cunt. My body responded to him, lubricating his seeking fingers. He pushed two fingers into me, then three, spreading me wide, then he forced four fingers into my wet cunt.

I writhed on his hand, my breasts thrust out to him, seeking contact with him. He finger fucked me hard, pushing me to orgasm.

"Did you have my permission?" he growled, leaning in close to me.

My naked body pressed against the rough texture of his clothing. I sunk into the contrast for a moment, loving the vulnerability: I stood naked while he was fully clothed; I was flushed with an orgasm he had forced upon me; I was scattered while he remained in control.

"What happens when you come without permission, little one?"

"You punish me," I whispered. A fresh rush of moisture between my legs - he would punish me in the most delicious ways.

"Mmmm," he said, pushing me to the bed. He grabbed his crop and shoved me onto my back. He ordered me to spread my legs with sharp strikes to my thighs. Then he settled in, giving my pussy a solid pounding with his crop.

I lost all sense of time. His crop stung my cunt and my thighs. His sharp orders rang through the air, pushing me to spread myself further, to present, to stay in position, always something. And always, the crop striking me. Tears were running down my cheeks before he stopped. When he paused and took a step back, I asked him to hand me a tissue.

"You think we're through?" he demanded.

I swallowed hard and sniffled, but didn't answer. He threw a tissue at me.

"We've only just begun, pet. Get up and bend over the end of the bed."

I wiped my eyes quickly and blew my nose. Then I was up, bending over the bed. I heard him moving around behind me, collecting things. Then I heard the swish of his belt through his belt loops. I flinched, then arched my back, presenting for him.

Instead of the snap of leather, I felt cool lubricated glass pressing against my asshole. I took a deep breath as he pushed the plug into me, moaning and writhing a bit as he pushed it in and out.

Once the plug was settled deep in my ass, he ordered me to spread my legs. His belt snapped between my legs, striking my already tender pussy. I whimpered and cried and begged him to stop. He ignored me, except for the occasional demand that I get back into position.

His fingers roughly explored my throbbing and swollen pussy. He pinched my pussy lips, pulling them apart and spreading me. Finally, he ran his hard cock between my lips, teasing me. I shifted my hips, pushing, trying to get his cock inside of me. Now I was begging him to fuck me.

His cock slid into me. I accepted it with a moan of satisfaction. My hips pressed back to meet his. He fucked me hard, pushing me close to orgasm but denying me.

"Not yet," he ordered, "Don't you fucking dare come yet."

He withdrew, quickly pulling the plug from my ass as well. Just as quickly, he replaced the plug with his cock. With his huge cock in my ass and his balls slapping against my swollen pussy as he thrust into me, I could hold back no longer. I came hard, my ass clenching around him.

He reached around me to squeeze my nipples, still fucking me hard. When I came a final time, he came with me.

Random Searches

2012-02-03T22:32:00.000-06:00

No, I haven't gone so far into my studies that I've decided to bore you with a Fourth Amendment lecture. In fact, as a distraction to all that, I rather randomly decided to look at my blog stats. I stumbled upon the search terms that have brought visitors to my blog.

The most common term this week: [honeymoon blogs] - I can only imagine their surprise! I suppose it's the Brittanic Honeymoon series of stories that brought them here, but I cannot believe they were looking for a spanking blog...

A search I'm considering trying myself: ["his finger slid into her tight"] - I'm curious how many results that would have and if any of the other results are kinky. At least anyone making that search should expect adult content.

Other searchers have very specific tastes.

Take, for example, this one: ["tormenting * breasts" nipples -movies] - I do have several stories that might fit, and there are no movies here.

But for a specific search that fits my blog, this one is pretty good: ["supple leather belt" "her panties"] - there's another search I'd consider doing myself. And it has a higher likelihood that I would find something I'd enjoy.

Trio - part 3 (the end)

2011-12-30T19:22:00.000-06:00

The final chapter - again with BDSM and sex.

“My cane,” Franklin requested as he walked over to therestrained girl. Elle retrieved the cane and set it in his waiting palm. Hetapped the cane against Layla’s breast. He raised several welts across herbreasts before demanding his rubber crop. When Elle supplied the implement, heset into Layla’s inner thighs and wet pussy. It was a harsh punishment, but nota particularly long one.

Franklin turned suddenly to Elle, who was watchingbreathlessly. He smacked her face to catch her attention. “It’s your fault Ihad to punish her, you should make her feel better.”

Elle started on Layla’s breasts, kneeling on the side of thebench and pressing her lips against the welts there. She kissed them and lickedthem, playing with the girl’s nipples as well. Elle’s hands roamed Layla’s body,until the girl was moaning and arching her back for more.

Elle stood up and moved between Layla’s legs. Her hands onthe unmarked top of Layla’s thighs, she lowered herself to kiss the welts Franklinhad raised on the inside of her thighs. She kissed up one leg and down theother. She returned to the center, kissing Layla’s pussy and sinking down a bitfurther to slip her tongue between the girl’s pussy lips.

Franklin grabbed Elle by the hair and pulled her away, “Not*that* much better, slut. Get the dildo.” He unfastened Layla’s ankles, lettingher put her legs to the floor. He walked around to unfasten her wrists as well,grabbing the box Elle had knelt on to present her breasts earlier and moving itaround to support Layla’s feet.

Elle returned with the feeldoe, a double-ended dildo made tobe used as a strapless strap-on. Franklin took it from her and pushed thebulbous end into Layla’s pussy. For a few minutes, he fucked her with it, butstopped before she got close to a second orgasm. “Not yet,” he warned, “You don’tget to come again until Elle does.”

He left the dildo in place, the thick cock-like end standingready, and ordered Elle over. As he offered her a hand up, he growled, “And youdon’t get to come without my permission.”

Elle toed off her shoes, smiling shyly at his offer. Shetook his hand and stepped on the side of the bench, straddling Layla. Her freehand positioned the dildo as she sunk down, still holding Franklin’s hand forbalance. She gave his hand a squeeze as the dildo slid into place, her eyeslocked on his for a long moment.

Then she leaned forward, reaching her hand over Layla’s headto support her weight as she began to move back and forth on the dildo. Shepressed a nipple into the shorter girl’s mouth, insisting the girl tease andsuck on her breast. Franklin released her other hand, which found Layla’sbreast and did it’s own teasing and pinching.

Franklin took up his cane again, this time striking Elle’smoving ass. She arched her back to present her ass to him, even as shecontinued moving back and forth on the dildo, grinding her clit into Layla’sclit. Franklin timed his strokes and aimed carefully. Welts rose quickly on Elle’sunmarked skin. She did no more than moan once in protest against the lack of awarm up. Franklin moved to one side, laying welts down one cheek and thigh,before moving to the other side to do the same.

Suddenly he brought the cane down across Layla’s unmarkedupper thighs, growling, “Don’t you dare,” before returning to Elle’s ass. Soonboth girls were pleading with him, begging permission to come. Elle’s pleaswere broken by the blows to her bottom, Layla’s by Elle’s breasts being pressedinto her face, but Franklin knew what they were asking.

He pushed them both, making them wait. His cane raised weltsthat crossed one another on Elle’s bottom and a few parallel lines across Layla’sthighs. Still, he forced them to wait.

Finally, he dropped the cane to his side and walked to thegirls’ side. He grabbed Elle by the hair, pulling her to look at him. “Come forme,” he ordered, “Right now.” She shattered, the orgasm taking her in violentwaves of pleasure. He held her that way for a moment, watching her, enjoyingher.

“I’m not even close to done with you, beautiful.” He leanedin to kiss Elle hard on the mouth, before stepping over to collect a small jarfrom one of his kits. He positioned himself behind Elle, straddling Layla’slegs but standing between Elle’s spread legs. He released his cock from hispants, lubing it up generously before setting it against Elle’s asshole.

Elle lifted herself up a bit, putting both hands out tosupport herself, giving Layla the opportunity to move and shift a bitunderneath her. Franklin ran a hand down one girl’s leg and up the other’s. Heleaned over them both, so that he could see both of them.

“Come as many times as you like,” he offered wickedly,before straightening up and pushing his cock into Elle’s ass.

Trio - part 2

2011-12-28T19:19:00.000-06:00

Again, this story includes BDSM and sexual themes. If that isn't your thing, skip it.

Layla shrieked at the first strike of the cane. Franklinturned and growled to Elle, “Shut her up.”

Elle gave one quick glance at the bag and the items she hadset out, uncertain about what he wanted her to do. Franklin took two steps overto Elle, smacking her face to bring her attention back to him. Glaring at her,his hand slid from her face, down her neck and across her chest. He grabbed thelacey fabric of her bra and jerked it back, revealing one pert breast. Hesmacked the bare breast, hard. “Use these,” he ordered.

One of Elle’s hands flew behind her back, unfastening herbra. She shrugged out of it, dropping it into Franklin’s bag. One more look athim and she walked around in front of Layla. She fell to her knees, steadyingherself by working her fingers through the girl’s hair. Elle took a deepbreath, raising her breasts and thrusting one into Layla’s willing mouth. Ellearched her back and enjoyed the sensation while Franklin returned to hiscaning.

It wasn’t long before Franklin stopped caning to watch. Heset the cane aside and moved a chair so that he could sit and watch.

“Turn her over, Elle.”

Elle pushed herself to her feet and unfastened Layla’swrists and ankles. She offered a hand to the other girl, helping her to herfeet. Layla laid back on the bench on her back. At Franklin’s direction, Elleagain fastened Layla’s wrists above her head. The girl spread her legs, restingher feet where her knees had been and Elle clipped her ankles into place usingan extra carbineer.

“Nice,” Franklin muttered, enjoying the view granted by Layla’sspread legs. “Now Elle,” he ordered, “Get her off for me.”

Elle gave him a sly smile, kneeling on one side of the benchand taking Layla’s breast in her mouth. She teased the nipple clamp with hertongue until the girl was pleading with her. “Fast or slow?” she asked, blowingcool air on the wet nipple.

“Slow?” Layla answeredhesitantly.

Elle eased the clamp off before taking the nipple roughly inher mouth. Layla writhed beneath her, crying out at the rush of pain. Elleignored this, taking the girl’s breast in both hands, squeezing tightly as hermouth worked the nipple. Soon Layla was panting and begging. Elle eased back,running her nails over the sensitive breast before reaching for the other.

“Fast? Please?” Layla pleaded.

“Okay,” Elle said, teasing the nipple for just one momentbefore pulling the clamp off suddenly with her lips. This time, she ignored theagonized nipple in favor of squeezing her hands around the breast. Shealternated squeezing tightly with lightly teasing the other breast. Finally, shelowered her mouth to Layla’s nipple, teasing it with her tongue.

Now one of Elle’s hands slid down Layla’s body. Her handmoved slowly, exploring but intent on its destination. Elle’s fingers slid intoLayla’s slit, her middle finger searching for the girl’s clit while her firstand fourth fingers spread the girl’s pussy for her lover’s gaze. Her mouthstayed busy with Layla’s breasts, sucking and teasing, while her fingers playedin the girl’s wet pussy.

Franklin moaned softly. His hand discretely stroked thelength of his throbbing cock through his jeans.

Elle continued in this vein for bit – her mouth busy with Layla’sbreasts, her fingers spreading the girl’s pussy and lightly teasing the girl’sclit. Layla thrust her hips against Elle’s fingers, arching her back to pressher breasts into Elle’s mouth.

Elle kept Layla’s pussy spread wide, one finger playing withher clit. Elle’s other hand thrust into Layla’s dripping hole – first twofingers, then three. She fucked the girl hard, spreading her and pounding intoher at the same time. With a scream, Layla came and Elle eased back a bit,though she kept Layla’s pussy well spread for Franklin’s view.

Franklin stood; in two quick steps, he was beside the pair.First, he stroked Elle’s face, giving her a rare smile, “That’s my good girl, Elle.You’ll get your reward.” He turned his attention to Layla, “But you?” hesmacked her face, hard, “Did I say you could come?”

“But…” Layla began to argue.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, smacking her again. “I’ll dealwith you in a moment. But first…”

He took Elle by the hand and led her back to the chair. He unfastenedhis pants and freed his throbbing cock. As he sat in the chair, he pulled hertiny thong off. One hand hooked behind her knee, he pulled her into his lap.She straddled him, one hand between her legs to direct his cock into herdripping pussy. She slid down onto him, sighing as his cock pushed deep intoher cunt.

She moaned, arching her back to display her breasts to him.She didn’t push them into his face, though she offered them for his taking.Here, she would not be so bold as she might in the privacy of their bedroom.But this was her reward, so she rode him, bouncing up and down on his cock.

He took the offered nipples in his mouth, one after another.His hands alternated between teasing her breasts, stroking her clit, andsqueezing around her hips, controlling her rhythm. Soon she was begging for hispermission to come, but he denied her. She simply rode him harder and faster,pleading with him. Finally, he granted her permission and she came noisily –screaming out while her cunt clutched his cock.

He held her there for a moment before he helped her to herfeet. He hugged her tight for a moment, letting her shake against him. He whisperedquietly to her, reassuring her and planning the next part of their scene.

Work Startle - part 4

2011-12-24T17:00:00.000-06:00

Unable to get the image of my boss telling me he had been "a very naughty boy" out of my head, I relayed the story to J over lunch. As a result, this has become a running joke between us.

For example, one of the coworkers we play table tennis with over lunch got a new paddle from his wife as an early Christmas gift. J's email scheduling our next table tennis adventure said something like, "R is eager to show off the new paddle he got for Christmas. I guess he's been a very naughty boy..."

But to top it off, J included this card with one of my Christmas gifts:

Right, that's not a bit awkward. (Okay, I loved it!)

Trio - part 1

2011-12-23T17:00:00.000-06:00

This story goes beyond spanking, into BDSM with a very sexual scene. If that isn't your thing...read something else.

They entered the courtyard a laughing trio, having enjoyed aleisurely dinner full of banter and bratting. Franklin walked between thegirls, dressed in tight jeans and a black dress shirt with details that hintedat the climax of their evening. The girls that bookended him wore cute partydresses, but there the similarity ended. Elle, the taller of the pair, pulled arolling bag full of implements; Layla carried her change of clothes in amessenger bag slung across her fit body.

Franklin paid their entrance fee and drifted off to talk to friendswhile the girls slipped off in different directions. Elle assessed the scenesin progress, the equipment available, and the prevailing mood in each room. Franklinhad given her specific instructions. She picked a spot and laid open his bag onthe floor.

She pulled her dress over her head with a practiced motion,utterly unselfconscious about being nearly naked in a room full of people. Franklinand she were known here. And while she played with others, none would approachher while she was alone. The hand that curled around her bare waist could onlybelong to her lover; her body responded automatically, leaning back against himand curling around him.

Franklin spun her around and kissed her deeply. They spent amoment in a tight embrace, oblivious to the room and people around them.Finally, he slid his hands to her wrists, squeezed them tightly and pulled heraway enough to look at her.

She wore the ridiculously high-heeled black-and-purple shoesshe had fallen in love with when she’d seen the corset-like lacing up the back.Black seemed stockings lengthened her already long legs, held in place by ablack lace garter belt. Over that, she wore a tiny purple thong. A simple,gold, curved barbell graced her bellybutton. Her naturally perky breasts werelifted slightly by a push-up, black lace bra.

Around her neck, she wore the “collar” they had settled onfor everyday wear. It was styled after a “Return to Tiffany” bracelet they hadfound when they were first dating - a wide, but simple, gold chain that fitclosely just above her collarbone, with a smooth pendant that rested at thebase of her throat. The phrase engraved there – Return to Franklin – was asacceptable in the vanilla world as it was understandable in this world.

Franklin smiled, well pleased with the way his girl lookedtonight. He squeezed her wrists tight, almost painfully tight, smiling at theway she melted in front of him.

“Something is missing, littleone,” he said quietly.

She sunk down to her knees, turning quickly to his bag andremoving the black and purple wrist restraints Franklin had gotten custom madefor her. He fastened them around her wrists easily, though the process was notso simple as he made it look. These restraints closed with a purple lacingdetail similar to that on her shoes and many corsets, instead of the typicalbelt buckle closure. This pair was more decorative than functional, though theyserved a purpose.

“Beautiful,” he said approvingly as she rose again to herfeet. He cupped her cheek in his hand and after checking in with her once more,admonished her to finish her part of the preparations while he sought out thethird participant in their scene.

Elle found the cleaning supplies that were neatly hidden ina nook and wiped down the bench she had selected. She laid out a towel on thefloor and began to arrange Franklin’s implements. She tried differentarrangements – from stingy to thuddy, from large to small – before settling onone that pleased her eye. She rolled her dress neatly and tucked it into hisbag. She flipped out a smaller towel and opened one of his neat kits to unpacka range of items he used for nipple torture. On the third and final towel, sheplaced the other kits, unopened in case he wanted them.

By the time she finished, Franklin had returned with Layla.Their scene had clearly started in the other room, for he dropped into thechair closest to Elle and flung Layla over his lap. He rolled up her tightskirt immediately before laying into her backside with his hand. Elle movedaround to kneel where she had a better view.

“The nanny paddle,” Franklin snapped, pausing only long enoughto reach for the implement that Elle placed instantly in his hand. The loudsmacks of the paddle echoed through the room, causing at least one casualconversation to stop while the interested parties stared at the scene. It wasnothing elaborate yet, though, so conversations resumed around them as Franklinworked his way through different implements.

Elle knelt quietly where she could both watch the scene andreach the necessary implements to effect the exchanges that Franklin requested.At one point, she stood and removed the girl’s panties at his direction andunder his watchful eye.

“Is she wet?” he demanded beforeElle had the chance to retreat.

Elle slid cool fingers between Layla’slegs, and responded quietly, “A bit.”

Franklin slide his own fingers into the girl’s pussy as Ellesunk back to her knees, “Not as wet as you are, love?”

Elle had the grace to look down, though she smiled. Franklinreached out and smacked her face, “Don’t try to hide from me, pet. I know you.”

They returned to the easy flow of the scene. He would demandan implement. She would offer it up handle first. He would hold out his currentimplement, which she would take with one hand while placing the other in hispalm. He would resume spanking without more than a moment’s pause.

Although Layla was clearly enjoying the spanking, she foughtfrantically against some of the implements. Her panties had flown across theroom and her tiny top had slid up to reveal the tantalizing view of one breast.Franklin suddenly stood up, toppling her from his lap.

“Get her naked,” Franklin ordered. He moved to review hisimplements while Elle helped Layla out of what little clothing remained. Franklinflung a set of restraints over to the girls, and Elle scrambled to fasten themaround the other’s wrists and ankles.

“Here,” Franklin said, pointing to the lower portion of thespanking bench, indicating that Layla should sit there. She did as she was toldwithout further direction. Elle stood and moved to the other side of theimplement-laden towel. Before she could sink back to her knees, Franklin hadanother order, “Get her nipples hard.”

Elle caught her lower lip between her teeth, lookingsideways at Franklin for just a moment. When he stared evenly back at her, shewalked over to Layla, placed a hand on either knee and sunk to her knees beforethe other. She cupped the girl’s breasts in her hands, teasing them gentlybefore lowering her mouth to first one nipple, then the other. Her fingerspinched and twisted one nipple while her lips and tongue worked the other.

When one nipple was hard, Franklin pushed Elle away from itto attach a clamp while Elle focused on the other. Franklin pushed her away asecond time to attach the second clamp. He watched the reaction of one girlafter the other, enjoying the way one processed the pain while the other cravedit.

Suddenly, he turned to Elle and smacked her face severaltimes. “What are you doing? Sitting there staring? I want my cane.”

Elle scrambled after the requested implement, but when shehad it in hand, Franklin had turned his attention to securing Layla over thebench. Elle sunk back on her knees, watching, her eyes bright. Franklin reachedout without looking and Elle put the cane in his hand.

Work Startle - part 3

2011-12-21T18:26:00.000-06:00

As you’ll remember formy last post on this, my co-worker, J, had expressed his desire for a giftcertificate to “Paddle Palace” for Christmas.

I had an opportunity to talk to our boss after J had left theoffice. Our offices are interlinked, so discussing anything privately can be achallenge. I’ll leave you to imagine scheduling doctor’s visits – I think it’ssafe to say that we have few secrets between the three of us. Though I have managed to keep my kink to myself. Our conversationwent something like this:

Me: “J says, if we’re looking for a Christmas gift for him,he’d like a gift certificate to Paddle Palace.”

[stunned silence]

Me (laughing): “He assures me it isn’t as kinky as it sounds…”

Boss (also laughing): “Maybe the two of you should get *me* one of those. Or better yet, get one for[pet name for his wife].”

Then he stopslaughing, looks away and at the ground, and says, “I’ve been a very naughty boy…”

I took that as asign that it was time to leave, before things got any stranger.

Work Startle - part 2

2011-12-06T03:00:00.000-06:00

Continuing thestartle-at-work-saga, which started here. If you’re new to the story, I’m out to myfamily about my spanking interests, but not at all in my professional life, noteven to my friends. J is my closest co-worker, our offices adjoin, and we sharethe trials, tribulations, and hilarity of our boss (who is even more obviouslyADD than I am). We wander out to lunch together more days than not and talkabout nearly everything under the sun. We'll even talk about sexuality and kink, but not our own.

I had J and his wife over to my house for lunch a fewweekends back. Midway through the meal, J casually tells me that if our bossand I happen to be looking for a good Christmas gift, he would like a giftcertificate to “Paddle Palace.”

My first thought was – he has been collaborating with ourboss about my Christmas gift, so I should probably get on that. I can’tremember what we got for J last year, but the comment makes it obvious that hethought we needed some direction. He’s probably right, which must befrustrating because he always finds the perfect gifts for me.

My second thought was – wait, what? A gift certificate towhere? Of course I know it’s some store that sells table-tennis rackets andassorted equipment, because we’ve wasted plenty of time at work discussing allthe variations of custom-made rackets. But you can imagine where my mind went.

Seeing my expression, he quickly added, “It’s not as kinkyas it sounds.”

Oh dear.

“But I’ve seen the catalog, and there ARE lots of prettyAsian women in it,” his wife helpfully added.

As soon as they left, I had to look this place up. Unlessyou’re planning to take up professional table-tennis, don’t bother.

The Fight

2011-12-03T20:21:00.001-06:00

Just a short story...

It was an argument born of alcohol andexhaustion, the sort of fight that escalated unreasonably and would evaporatein an instant if they thought about it. But when they pulled into the parkinglot, they were both wrapped up in the fight, the anger, the hurt. She satperfectly still, lost in her head. He circled the car and opened the door.

She turned to look at him, but her eyes lookedthrough him - unfocused, locked on a distant, unseen point. His words washedover her like so many unrelated syllables, refusing to order themselves intowords with meaning. She might even have responded automatically, shaking herhead or even answering in a flat, unnatural voice.

He fought back anger and frustration, recognizingthe signs this time. She had shut down, in that odd way she had; seeminglyresponsive, she was on the verge of withdrawing into a ball of tears and sobs.He took several deep breaths. He leaned into the car, grabbing her wrist andsqueezing tight. It took a moment longer than usual - a hesitation as she wasdrawn out of the scary place in her head and back into this moment - but herbreath hissed out of her, deflating as she did in response to his touch.

"We are going inside," he growled,giving her wrist another squeeze to emphasize his command, "You can walkor..."

She was climbing out of the car before he couldcomplete the threat. In the room, his words washed over her again, meaninglesssounds. He laid his hand on her bare arm, her eyes snapped to his. "Youdon't even know what we were fighting about, do you?"

"Not..." the word stuttered out of hermouth, "Not really."

He made a frustrated sound and pushed her intothe corner, "Then you can stand there until you want to talk, or I'm readyto talk."

- - -

He sat on the sofa; she was curled up in his lap.They spoke quietly, the anger gone from the fight, evaporated as quickly asspilled vodka.

The Shoe - part 1

2011-12-01T18:01:00.001-06:00

During a brainstormingsession with Jada for story starters, I came up with this: An argument over ashoe…not a pair of shoes, but a single shoe. The story has been rattling aroundin my head for awhile, but I’ve finally written the first half. For this story,I return to Melanie and Sara.

Melanie opened the door to the apartment she shared withSara, juggling her purse, briefcase, and the bag of groceries she had picked upon her way home from work. Two steps into the entryway, she stumbled, thegrocery bag tumbling to the floor. Mel caught herself with a hand on the wall,her shin barking painfully against the bench.

“Fuck, Sara! How many time do I have to remind you to pickup your shoes?” Mel shouted into the living room, kicking the offending shoeout of her way and walking through towards the office to deposit her things.“Pick them up,” she demanded, “And pick up the groceries.”

“Not my shoe,” Sara said lazily from the sofa. She waswrapped in a quilt, lounging in front of a mindless home design show.

“I beg your pardon!” Mel paused to stare at her girlfriend,“Which of us leaves her shoes strewn about?”

Sara tore her eyes away from the television, glanced backinto the entryway and shook her head. “It’s not my shoe,” she announced,sinking back onto the sofa.

Mel dropped her things just inside the office, grabbing the leatherpaddle that hung beside the door, and stormed over to the television. Shestabbed the power button, the screen flickering off. She stomped around thecoffee table, yanked the quilt off Sara with one hand and grabbed Sara’s earwith her other hand.

Sara shrieked as she was pulled to her feet, “Melanie!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sara. You endanger both of us,leaving such stumbling hazards everywhere. This isn’t the first time! Get overthe sofa.”

“But Mel,” Sara began, but Mel cut her off by tightening herhold on Sara’s ear.

“Now,” Melanie demanded.

Sara reluctantly got into position, her legs spread wide andher bottom thrust out. Melanie laid into the presented backside with thepaddle, striking hard from the first swat. Paddling so hard, cold, quicklybrought Sara to tears.

Melanie reached forward, grabbing her girlfriend by the hairand pulling her to her feet again. “Pick up the fucking shoe,” she growled.

Sara sniffled, rubbing the back of her hand quickly acrossher streaming eyes before walking over to the offending shoe. She picked up theshoe by the heel, flipping the distinctive red sole at her girlfriend. “It’snot my fucking shoe,” she announced, vindicated.

Melanie stared at the Christian Louboutin pump she hadpurchased only the weekend before, a splurge for her birthday. She hadn’t eventaken the shoes out of the box yet. Melanie took a deep, steading breath beforeshe asked, “Sara, where is the other one?”

Work Startle - part 1

2011-11-29T20:11:00.000-06:00

I don’t usually writemuch about my vanilla life, but this has been building for awhile and getting progressivelystranger, so I have to share. Mind you, I’m out to my family but I am not outto anyone in my professional life, friends included. This particular “startle” has grown into amulti-part saga. I'm going to post this in parts as a Tuesday feature until I run out of material.

A bit of background: My co-worker, J, is an avidtable-tennis player. (I’d call the game ping-pong, but I understand that onestops doing that at a certain level.) He’s involved in a club, gives lessons,and plays in national tournaments. Occasionally, I’ll even hear him practicingin his office. Due to his frequent play and an old injury, he uses a custompaddle that he typically calls a “racket”. The grip is totally different froman ordinary racket.

Recently, a restaurant opened in town that has ping-pongtables (can you really call them table-tennis tables with a straight face?) inaddition to pool tables. With a couple other co-workers, we’ve started playingover lunch about once a week. I’m nowhere near J’s level, but I can easily beatanyone else we play with.

The last time we went, J came into my office still diggingthrough his gym bag. Giving up on his search, he looked up at me exasperated and said,“Darn it! I forgot my paddle. Now I won’t be able to beat you!”

Too bad he didn’t mean that the way any of my spanko friendswould have meant it.

Shadow Lane - Part 2 (and I'm back!)

2011-11-29T02:47:00.000-06:00

After taking nearly 3 months off from blogging, I feel compelled to finish my party report and give a brief explanation of my absence before I take up writing again. I am finally feeling well enough that, despite having far too many balls in the air, I feel like I can make writing a priority again.

I got a slow start Saturday, sleeping in and catching up with friends. I had special plans for the evening, so I spent the calmer hours of the day chatting and relaxing. Craig wrote about it briefly, but the big formal dinner on Saturday is always hard for me. Last year, I was an absolute disaster before the evening was over.

There is something about the Saturday night dinner that evokes all the worst memories of prom and junior high dances for me. I have a sister, who is ten years older, who loved having a "daughter" and living dress-up doll. She and my mother would select a dress, which was always reasonably flattering and fashionable (I was a child of the 80's, what can I say?). And my sister would apply makeup and do my hair. But I was a tomboy - utterly unsure what to do in a dress, bothered by makeup on my face, unable to play with my complicated up-do, and rendered uncomfortable in my own skin.

Although I've grown to love swirling skirts and beautiful dresses, learned to apply my own minimal makeup, and mastered a few hair-styles, I cannot be comfortable at a "prom". I do, however, love to dress up and go out to dinner and a show. So Craig and I did that instead, wandering down to the Strip for a night out.

Paradoxically, avoiding the main party Saturday evening put me in the party mood for the rest of the night. I had a great scene with Craig when we got back to the hotel. Exchanging rapid-fire texts with Katy-Lynn, I arranged to meet her in one of the party suites. But by the time I got to the suite, she had disappeared over someone's lap. Instead, I found her sweet husband, who she had so rudely abandoned. Before I knew what was happening, I was over his lap for a lovely, long spanking. Katy-Lynn joined us and soon took my place.

I had the great fortune to catch one of my "fantasy" tops, who was in the first spanking video I ever saw. Watching him spank Erica Scott (who may have set the standard for everything I wanted to BE as a bottom in the scene - smart, witty, gorgeous and fun) was a defining moment in my kink life. Getting to play with him was, as always, awesome! It isn't just the fantasy aspect of it, he's quite good too.

Soon after that, I got a text from Indy offering to "pimp me out" to her friend, Mr. A. Without exchanging much more than cursory greetings, he had me bent over a chair for a strapping. Or a caning. I'm absolutely sure he used both, more than one cane, in fact. And I remember marveling at his skill with both implements. But like any scene that gets me flying so high, the details are fuzzy. Add a couple months time, and I cannot begin to recreate the scene. Suffice it to say that the scene was amazing and I hope to get another opportunity to play with him.

I floated off to bed. I wasn't feeling well Sunday morning and I had to postpone, and eventually cancel, several scenes I had really been looking forward to all weekend. Thinking I run afoul of one of my food allergies, I expected to recover quickly. Instead, I would recover enough to eat and promptly get sick again for the rest of the weekend, and, unfortunately, the next six weeks or so. Doctor's visits, lab work, gastroenterologist appointments, and more invasive tests have filled the past few months. I am finally improving - I've managed to recover the weight lost and stabilize my weight. I'm not quite 100% and I still have far too many things going on in my vanilla life, but I'm making an effort to reconnect (if you've sent me an email or message on FetLife and I haven't responded - send me another one) and I'm making my writing a priority again. Here's hoping.

Shadow Lane - Part 1

2011-09-19T21:40:00.000-05:00

My party began with a lovely bit of déjà vu on Thursday afternoon. Even though I did not fly in the same time as Brad this year, he was kind enough to pick me up at the airport. Once again, Brad had promised me a spanking as soon as practicable – and as luck would have it, we have differing ideas of what that is. Upon arriving at the car in the parking garage at the airport, Brad insisted we both get in the backseat. He pulled me over his lap and delivered a brisk spanking over my jeans.

As I’ve said before, despite my love of public play at parties, I’m shy of true public play – and with good reason! As I scrambled out of the backseat and got into the front seat, I noticed a group of six adults packing their bags into the back of a minivan parked nearby. As you might imagine, most of these individuals found our interaction far more entertaining than the efforts of loading their bags into their vehicle! Their pointing and laughter had me blushing and wishing I could sink right through the seat of the car.

Brad and I caught up over lunch at the same lovely restaurant we had found last year. Lunch was pleasant as we caught up and I exchanged a few texts with other friends who had already arrived at the party. I insisted on paying for lunch, because Brad had been kind enough to return to the airport to pick me up, saving me the cost of a cab. That was great until the waitress returned with my expired debit card.

In my defense, it was the first of September. And I feel compelled to add that the stupid card had worked perfectly well that morning when I picked up a few odds and ends before I flew out (something about using the PIN, I guess?).

“We’ll discuss this later, young lady,” Brad said, giving me such a look that the waitress came to my defense! Unfortunately, we never got the chance. But it was a delightful way to start the weekend.

After unpacking, I met Beth and Craig at TGI Fridays for a “second lunch,” though it was bordering on an early dinner by that point. Afterwards, I think Craig and I had the first of many scenes over the weekend – something light and playful, as I recall. The most memorable thing about the scene was being interrupted by a knock on my hotel room door. A fellow party-goer I had never met was going door-to-door to introduce himself. I don’t get people, sometimes.

Dinner was another chance to catch up, as I met Brad, his wife C, Beth, CeeCee, and Craig at the Mexican restaurant in the hotel. I seem to remember my party weekends by the food eaten and the friends I spend time with, as much as by the play I engage in. Exhausted and out of sorts from travel, I called it an early night.

Friday seems to have been lost in a blur. I slept in late, then I got my soy chai tea latte – a party treat because I live more than 30 miles from a Starbucks (yes, Craig, it is possible to live so far from civilization). As the party got into full swing, it was impossible to wander through the casino or down the halls without running into several spanking friends. Greetings and hugs were exchanged, room numbers collected, and promises of further catching up and play were made. I seemed to be shaking off the stress of reality and moving into party mode.

I know I played with Craig that afternoon – it’s on my list and he blogged about it here. But the specifics of the scene are lost in the haze. I’m SO sorry! I do have vivid memories of him removing his belt (it’s a lovely trigger, what can I say?), but I’m not entirely convinced that happened Friday afternoon.

I caught up with Indy, who had just gotten in, for some fun girl-time. Her Twitter friend, Judy – a lovely woman enjoying her first large party – joined us. We ended up at dinner at the steakhouse, joined by a group I couldn’t begin to name. Then it was time to dress for the Vendor Fair. I was very excited about the outfit I’d put together.

No, 9 ¾ does not mean I think I’m very nearly a “perfect 10” – I cannot begin to tell you how many people asked me that. Perhaps if the shirt said “Platform 9 ¾”? For goodness sakes, people - look here. Despite the confusion, I still love the outfit.

First thing, I caught up with Craig and gave him the gift I’d brought just for him – a dastardly implement I heard several experienced Tops describe as “the most diabolical thing” they had ever seen. Right, I didn’t like it either. That’s why I gifted it to Craig, so that he could share the “joy” of it with others, provided he can talk anyone into trying it!

There were numerous vendors this year. I wasn’t looking to make any purchases, but I was able to serve as a test-bottom for a few friends considering new implements. Overall, I had a marvelous time at the Vendor Fair, another chance to greet friends, exchange hugs, catch up, and meet new people.

After the Vendor Fair wound down, I headed up to Joe’s suite party. He had a well-organized party – music, food, and drinks. Somehow I found myself over Miss Chris’s lap being spanked to the tune “YMCA” – thanks, Russ, for throwing me under that bus. She reads me so well and, damn, can she spank! I do not think I’ll ever hear that song the same way again!

I finished the night with a fun scene across Craig’s lap in one of the suite’s bedrooms, intermittently watching the show being put on by the spanking video stars next to us. I’m still not sure if that was a scene or a demo, but it was mildly entertaining. Craig was not nearly as entertained by my distraction, so he set about proving (or trying to prove) that he had not worn his hand out on Erica and Beth earlier. Even so, it was a pleasant way to end a wonderful day.

KC Spanks Club

2011-08-06T19:46:00.000-05:00

I haven't died, or even melted. This summer has been terribly busy, as summers tend to be. And I've found that the extreme heat triggers my migraines (lovely). But I'm making a renewed effort to blog. Feel free to pester me about posting more frequently.

[picture taken after the party by Hank]

I attended a great evening party hosted by KC Spanks Club a couple weeks ago (yes, I know it's taken me forever to write about it; I should be spanked...or something). Over forty people attended - such a wonderful, diverse group of people. Even though I always enjoy the parties when I go, the evening parties are a struggle for me.

I've developed a routine for a weekend party that begins months in advance getting airline tickets, hotel reservations, and exchanging emails and FetLife messages to get all my plans in place. About a week before the party, I'll go into a tizzy about clothing, more particularly my lack thereof. I typically threaten at least once to go without, before I finally settle down. Then there is a last minute flurry of packing, racing to the airport, and making all my connections that leaves me little time to contemplate what I'm about to do before I'm swept into the party.

For a single evening party, I'm lacking the transition. I'm at work, then I need to jump right into party-mode. That's a difficult jump for me. In all honesty, I probably would not have gone to this party except that I got a lovely note on FetLife that encouraged me to put aside my nerves and go. And I am SO glad I went!

Mr. and Mrs. Powertool put on a very nice demo. I was particularly impressed by Mrs. Powertool's response to a (somewhat snarky) question from the audience - she succinctly explained that her husband is a bottom, not a submissive. And she gave a really good lecture on the differences between the two. I wish I could remember exactly what her response was, because it was one of the best I've heard.

I have to thank Alicia Panettiere and Hank for helping me get into the party mood. I've met Alicia several times, but never had the chance to play with her before. She's an excellent top! Hank, who I met for the first time at this party, was instrumental in instigating that first scene and I thank him for that! There's nothing like a spanking to help me relax into a party. We enjoyed banter and continued play throughout the party - with both of them spanking me, what's not to love?

I also had the opportunity to play with Rich Spankman, who organizes the KC Spanks Club parties. As the event planner, he's always so busy that I hesitate to ask him to play. But I'd made up my mind at this party that I would ask him...then he beat me to it! That is, he asked me first. He also "beat" me, in the context of giving me a very good spanking; but that's the idea, isn't it? I've seen his variety of spanking methods in demos before, but it was even more fun to experience them!

I had a great scene with Joe. Despite both of us traveling to Atlantic City for Boardwalk Badness and attending parties in KC, we've never gotten the chance to play before. I do love a man with heavy hands who knows how to use them!

I also got the chance to play with Joe's wife, Michelle. Hank warned me about her "Sunday" hairbrush - so named because she can't use it on anyone at a weekend party until Sunday, because it tends to finish the bottom for the weekend - but I simply had to try it. And, of course, I loved it! (ColoDom is right, if you looked up "pain slut" in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of me.)

[close-up taken of the lines from the "Sunday" brush, taken by Hank...thanks again!]

Thanks again to everyone I played with and talked to at the party! I had a wonderful time and I'm looking forward to the next event.

Dark Musing: FMS Report Stall Tactic: Time Travel to Boardwalk Badness

2011-06-07T21:43:00.000-05:00

Dark Musing: FMS Report Stall Tactic: Time Travel to Boardwalk Badness

I haven't posted pictures of myself on my blog, other than the background picture. But Craig has posted some lovely pictures of me on his. Click on the link above to see them. The pictures were taken after our last scene in Atlantic City, finishing off a wonderful weekend of spanking.

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 8)

2011-05-16T20:44:00.000-05:00

Craig has posted the next chapter of our collaborative work of fiction here. Kelsey and Alec are celebrating their honeymoon on a romantic space cruise, and we've finally gotten to the "wedding night." Enjoy!

The Longest 17 1/2 Minutes of My Life

2011-05-12T21:17:00.002-05:00

First, a disclaimer: This "scene" was part of an arrangement with Craig, the one person who truly sees me. I don't play D/s games lightly or casually. I enjoy playing and getting spanked for silly reasons, including timely bratting, but this deeper stuff isn't a dynamic I look for in most of my spanking encounters. We had the opportunity to play this out at Boardwalk Badness, but it was totally unlike my normal party play. This post is more about my feelings - before, during, and after - rather than a party report.

It has been a very long time since anyone has managed to tell me NO. I was a smart, precocious child with three significantly older siblings. My family jokes that I was a teenager at age three, and I might have acted like one. But I distinctly remember telling my mother, when I was eight, that she could pack her bags, but I wasn't going on that guilt trip. And I proceeded to explain exactly how she was trying to manipulate me into doing the dishes...and why that shit wasn't going to fly with me anymore.

So as I navigate the intricacies of D/s and play with a "disciplinarian" type relationship, there are issues. I can be manipulative and bratty. I cannot be beaten into submission - I like being spanked too much for that. Many iconic punishments get either an eye roll or a "yes, please" from me. We've had our moments, certainly - punishments that didn't work, mind-fucks that have gone horribly wrong. But we talk through them and work things out. This was the first "physical" punishment that worked. And that's a big deal for me.

He gets me.

This punishment was simple - 10 minutes of "special" corner time, he said. I hadn't any idea what that meant, but I can do anything for 10 minutes, right?

Ha.

Even when he described it, it sounded slightly ridiculous. Hold a quarter against the mirror with my nose and a credit card between my knees. By the time he settled on the bed to relax and watch me, he set the timer for 9 minutes.

As you might have guessed from the title, after 7 1/2 minutes, I lost it. I dropped the quarter. I don't know what happened, but the quarter fell to the floor.

Back in position, the timer started over. This time, he insisted I stop looking at him in the mirror "for comfort." How the hell did he know that's exactly what I was doing? Nevermind...he gets me.

With less than three minutes left, the quarter started to slip. I was sure I was going to drop it again. And equally sure that this wasn't going to get any easier. He talked me through it.

Seventeen and a half minutes. I was sobbing and shaking harder than I do after the harshest scene. He held me, reassured me. I was his good girl again - an incredibly powerful thing for me.

Would someone tell him to simply beat me next time? Please?

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Sunday/Monday)

2011-05-10T18:05:00.000-05:00

I woke up uncharacteristically early on Sunday morning, a good thing since I had agreed to meet Miss Chris for breakfast but forgotten to set an alarm. We were able to meet in the coffee shop in the hotel and catch up. We didn't have a chance to play this weekend, but sometimes talking is just as important. I caught up with Jada and Craig for a coffee (tea for me!) run before CP Court started.

As always, Strict Dave put on an awesome CP Court. It's so much fun to watch! The only charges I had thought to bring were against the Honorable Strict Dave - you can read about the incident here - and I'd decided that asking him to recuse might be too complicated. Or too hazardous to my backside, whichever. Instead, I was able to watch and enjoy the show.

We went in search of food again; this time ending up at the Rainforest Cafe. Craig, ever thoughtful (or giving in to my childish pleading) picked up the children's activity books and crayons for Jada and I. I spent the entire time coloring, and not finishing, a single picture. There is a bit of a repressed artist inside me and an OCD one at that. Jada was far more creative, completing a hilarious story about her healthy eating habits (which included lots of chocolate, ice cream, and everything she is allergic to) and frequent exercise (which included fighting with me).

Though Jada and I don't fight - I've mentioned before how we make such excellent roommates - we did discover (or rediscover, perhaps) a love of wrestling and resistance play. The weekend was sprinkled with such impromptu scenes with Criag. It's a change from typical party play, which tends to be along the lines of dive over a willing lap, but it added variety to the weekend. Of course, it's not something I would engage in with any random top, but with someone I know well and trust? Great fun.

After lunch, I caught up with ColoDom for a great scene. We have an awesome dynamic, as long as I plan ahead and remember not to wear pink panties! He doesn't put up with any of my bullshit logic, which really makes it fun. I do love a Top that I can't argue circles around!

Jada, Craig and I had opted out of the harbor cruise that evening. Instead we found dinner (I talked them into returning to the BBQ place with the amazing sweet potato fries) and enjoyed a quiet evening catching up with occasional wrestling matches. When the harbor cruise returned, we headed upstairs for one last night of suite parties.

I was lucky to catch second scene with both C and Glenn - Sunday night is the perfect time for such things. No longer worried about "saving my bottom for the weekend," I can simply play. I may have enjoyed the conversation and laughter with other bottoms on the bed just as much as the spanking (I really cannot be blamed for enjoying banter and discussion with ColoDom's delightful wife, can I?), something that Glenn in particular took exception to (I can't imagine why, though it may have had something to do with the fact that I was laughing through his spanking). He promised that I would have something to remember for my trip home and lit into my backside with a strap.

He was right. When Jada and I flopped into our seats on the first leg of our flights home, I sat on the seatbelt. Not a big deal, this happens all the time. But even after I had fastened the seatbelt about my waist ("low and tight around my hips"...I do follow directions occasionally), I still felt as though I was sitting on the uneven surface of the seatbelt. Ghost seatbelts...or the ghost of one heck of a strapping from Glenn.

Craig and I managed one last scene that night - the sort of short, intense scene that caps a weekend perfectly for me. It was the kind of scene I'm only comfortable engaging in with him - fast and harsh, but he reads me so well. I've a few scattered bruises from that adventure, but it's a wonderful reminder of a weekend well spent.

Overall, an awesome, incredible weekend. My apologies to anyone I've left out due to my failure to get permission to include you on my blog before the weekend was over. And a special thanks to everyone I had the opportunity to play with! So many amazing people attended, making this party the best yet!

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 7)

2011-05-09T22:20:00.000-05:00

This is an ongoing collaboration between myself and Craig. You can read Craig's summary and part 6 here, or you can find links to all the previous chapters on the Brittanic Honeymoon tab on my blog.

Kelsey quickly locked the door when Alec left. She pressed cool hands against her heated cheeks, frustrated with his ability to disconcert her. When her hands warmed, she rinsed them with cool water and repeated her efforts until her face returned to its natural shade. Eager as she was to return to the festivities, she took a few extra minutes putting herself together. This was certain to be a unique experience.

Alec was waiting patiently in the lobby, looking entirely at ease. Kelsey felt warmth rush to her cheeks at the sight of him and cursed her pale skin. He smiled at her, that secret expression that conveyed so much between them. He knew what she thought and felt, almost as though he could read her mind, and he loved her for it. He extended his arm to her, a courtesy she accepted naturally.

Again they made their way through the sparkling lights and glittering crowd. The group of kinksters had reformed after the first few dances completed, a few new couples joining them.

“Shall we take a walk in the gardens?” Ronald asked, his utterly polite suggestion conveying an unspoken command. “I’ve arranged for a somewhat private spot,” he continued, “So that we can get to know one another. No protocol tonight, just introductions.”

The Mardi-Gras couple led the others through the ballroom and across an area decorated as an outdoor terrace. Ronald continued down a short flight of steps into the gardens. As they wound through the grounds, Kelsey reached out curiously to touch the plants. A combination of live greenery and holographic additions created the spectacular gardens.

Eventually, they passed between enormous bushes and entered a curious clearing. Though it appeared to be merely a clearing in the midst of the gardens, Alec could see the special effects that created the mirage out of a small room. The walls used advanced holographic screens to extend the garden around them, including a bandstand in which projected musicians tuned their instruments. Having found the note, or after the computer noticed the presence of the group, the band started a classic song.

Ronald nodded politely to Alec and bowed to Kelsey, “Would you do me the honor?”

Kelsey glanced at Alec. At his nod, she took Ronald’s proffered arm and the pair spun into the center of the clearing. Alec approached another of the ladies and the group was soon engaged in the ancient formal dance, exchanging partners following the strict rules of the dance. Each swap of partners gave them a few minutes to assess one another, to exchange a few words of greeting or discussion with the easy opportunity to focus on the complicated steps if the conversation was uncomfortable.

Several dance sets later, the group scattered to the edges of the room for refreshments. The music switched from rousing dance music to quieter music that allowed easy conversation.

Alec and Kelsey found one another and drifted over to the hosting couple to chat. Ronald and Helena were interesting for more than just the potential zero-g play. The couple played gracious hosts, familiar with the intricacies of space-cruises and the kinksters who took such trips. They promised to keep Alec and Kelsey informed of upcoming events and possible excursions.

Alec led Kelsey over to a young woman who appeared to be nearly the same age as Kelsey, “This is Claire, love. Claire, my wife, Kelsey.”

Claire wore a striking red gown that complimented her smooth skin and elaborately decorated blond hair. Her hand clutched a bit tighter at her partner’s arm, just the tiniest show of shyness. “And this is my husband, Jaran.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” Kelsey said easily, though she bit her lip even as she smiled. There was always that moment of awkwardness, when couples met, with so many potential relationships and feelings to consider. She adjusted her grip on Alec’s hand, squeezing his thumb to tell him that her initial reaction was favorable.

They chatted for a few minutes. Claire and Jaran were new to the scene, but interested in trying new things. They exchanged contact information and drifted apart.

Alec and Kelsey made their way around the room, introducing one another to the more interesting individuals they had met dancing. They were able to express their initial reactions and a few other responses through the simple code they had developed, though they could tell one another’s responses fairly well from other body language. They would discuss the options in detail later, but it helped to meet everyone.

A few of the couples left, singly or in pairs. Kelsey looked longingly after one of the couples until Alec noticed. “Are you ready for our wedding night, love?” He whispered softly in her ear.

“Yes, please!” Kelsey said brightly, though Alec could hear the undertone of fatigue in her voice.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Saturday)

2011-05-08T19:37:00.000-05:00

Once again, going to bed early did not translate into waking up early. Sometimes looking back at a party I see a blur of talking, playing, eating and sleeping with very little downtime. But I suppose that's why I keep going back!

Jada and I had put together special costumes for Saturday morning. We weren't participating in the Tanner Reformatory scene this year, but we showed up in our school uniforms...just from a different magical school. We had created HP-themed costumes, complete with gray skirts, knee socks, button-down shirts, blue and silver ties, school sweaters, and robes. After the amusing Tanner Reformatory skit, we made the most of our outfits with an HP-themed roleplay that we had been planning for some time. The dashing Professor Strapp, with his matching blue and silver bow-tie, made certain we regretted our misbehavior in his class. Except, well...this student would probably do it all over again, including every last bit of sassy commentary regardless of the consequences.

Again we went in search of allergen friendly food options, but returned to the evening party in time to visit with friends while they ate dinner. Craig participated in the Talent Show - you can read his report here - with me as his sacrificial bottom. I got my first ever spanking from a spanking machine, which was enough to cure me of any spanking machine fantasies I might have had. Give me a wonderful, warm human being anytime! But the winner's comedy routine? Absolutely amazing! Totally deserving of the prize (whatever that was, I must admit I wasn't paying that much attention by that time).

One of the unique things about the SSNY party is the private play areas available at the evening parties. These curtained off cubicles allow for private play without leaving the ballroom, which is a really great option. I was able to catch up and play with several people, including Glenn, Craig, and Fineous, before heading up to the suite parties. And as you're beginning to guess by now - an early bedtime for this girl!

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Friday)

2011-05-07T19:46:00.001-05:00

If I thought going to bed somewhat early Thursday night would allow me to wake up early on Friday, I was wrong. (Why doesn't the time difference work both ways? I have to go to bed early AND wake up late?) I woke up anxiously awaiting the arrival of my roommate and good friend, Jada. She had flown all night to meet us in Atlantic City. That time between Shadowlane and Boardwalk Badness felt like an eternity this year! We caught up with Craig over lunch, meeting several friends along the way. It begins to feel like a party when you notice that you recognize several people walking down the Boardwalk or eating in a restaurant.

At the Happy Hour Registration, I was able to catch up with so many party friends that I cannot begin to list them for fear of leaving several people out. One of the best parts of Boardwalk Badness is the number of casual events with time to talk to old friends and meet new ones. I was especially glad to catch up with Brad and get the chance to sneak away to play, because he was cutting his party short due to other commitments. We always have such a wonderful time!

Jada and I, with our myriad of food allergies, were forced to venture outside the party for dinner. SSNY provides excellent food, but we simply aren't able to enjoy it. Instead, we gathered a group and went to a BBQ place inside a neighboring casino. While most of the group stopped to shop at the taffy store, Ty and I slipped off for a scene before the evening spanking party. It was great to catch up over dinner and get the chance to play. The perfect prelude to the spanking party to follow.

Somehow, I'd gotten myself volunteered into the Vendor's Contest as one of the Tanner Reformatory Pajama Girls. I do not know how I get myself talked into such things - I'm totally the opposite of a natural salesperson. But some of the girls suggested offering to allow buyers to try out their new purchase on our bottoms...turns out I can ask someone to spank me. And whatever you've heard about the outfits, the pajamas were "cute" enough that I got several requests to wear them for later scenes - all of which I politely declined.

Despite my best efforts and those of my teammates, we lost. I think there are two explanations for this: (1) we were too busy actually selling things to get our sales counted, and (2) we didn't cheat as well as the other team. The losing team was spanked on stage for 30 seconds. I was "lucky" enough to get Strict Dave as my top. (I do consider myself lucky, even if the man's got an iron hand.) More luck followed when the timekeeper lost the stopwatch, or some such nonsense. It was fun to play with Dave, even for such a brief scene.

After the on-stage spanking, Mike Tanner lined the seven of us up for another spanking, this time with the Licking Stick. There was something about picking a number, but we didn't pick well as a team. Should have listened to Aurora on that one! That Licking Stick is painful!

Soon enough, the vendor's fair was closing down and we were headed up to the suites for more conversation, slipping away for a few scenes. But still being on CST, and being the sort who turns into a pumpkin early in the evening to begin with, I turned in early again.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Thursday)

2011-05-06T19:54:00.000-05:00

Thinking that I would write and post anything so soon after I got home was obviously over-ambitious on my part. Coming home, on a high from a party, I always forget how quickly drop will hit me...and hit hard.

Weather delays made travel on Thursday hectic at best. I made my connection in Nashville only due to luck. Although I was originally to remain on the plane for a 2 o'clock departure, we were kicked off the plane due to the length of the delay going into Philadelphia. When I got off the plane, the flight boards said that my flight was delayed until 4:15. I sat down to have lunch in a café. The music was loud enough that I couldn’t hear any flight announcements, a fact that I did not notice until later.

Just after getting my food, I noticed that the woman at the table next to me cursing at her iPhone. Usually, I would ignore such behavior but I looked over at her. She immediately explained that her flight was supposed to leave at 2, but had been delayed to 4:15, and she had just gotten a text saying that the flight was boarding. I asked if she was going to Philadelphia…of course she was. Suddenly, instead of having two hours to enjoy my lunch, I was scrambling to get my check, pay for my lunch, and get back to my gate.

I managed to get on the plane on time, but I was somewhat scattered. A vaguely familiar man sat next to me on the plane. He asked where I was headed and I answered, “Philadelphia.” He appeared startled, which seemed odd to me considering that the plane was headed there. But when he responded to my return question with “Atlantic City,” I began to wonder. Such curiosity did not keep me from falling asleep, however, and I spent the flight catching up on my sleep. (As usual, I had left my packing until the last minute and stayed up far too late the night before.)

Just before we landed, we began making small talk again. He mentioned that he had seen my frantic flight from the restaurant in Nashville, which made me wonder if I had really made a fool of myself. He again mentioned that he was going to Atlantic City. When I asked what was in Atlantic City he said, “Oh, I’m…getting together…with some...friends.”

Universal code, right? As you might have guessed, I ran into him the next day at the hotel. As it was, I hurried off the plane to make arrangements to get to Atlantic City. I got in too late for registration that night, but I was able to catch up with Craig over dinner. We played a bit and I turned into a pumpkin, as I am inclined to do entirely too early in the evening.

Delays and other excuses

2011-05-02T22:15:00.000-05:00

I've just gotten home from a wonderful weekend in Atlantic City, at Boardwalk Badness. I'll begin posting my party report tomorrow night...and I'll get the next chapter of Britannic Honeymoon posted next week.

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 6)

2011-04-25T18:26:00.000-05:00

Craig has posted the latest chapter of our collaborative fiction here. He's included a nice summary of the story thus far; you can find links to all of the chapters on the Brittanic Honeymoon page on my blog.

Darwin Wednesday

2011-04-20T18:12:00.000-05:00

This week, I'm going to cover a somewhat lengthy exchange of messages that began normally, but quickly turned, well, creepy. These messages were written on FetLife, but I've used an IM-style format below to make it more readable because the majority of the messages are short. This exchange took place over about a month.

Lovely pics!

Thanks!

Are they all of you? Who took them? How long ago?

They are all of them me, taken by a variety of friends.

Most taken within the last year or so.

Very nice. You have a lovely ass for spanking.

Were you spanked as a child? when did you

get your first?

Thank you.

I wasn't. I got my first spanking at 19...and
I've been enjoying it ever since!

That is still early on...who spanked you at 19?

Were you at college then?

I was. I met someone on adult-friend-finder, actually.

It went amazingly well, and we're still friends.

What about you? When did you get into it?

I discovered this in high school. I started spanking girls

back then and found they liked it too. SO I just continued

to explore and progress from there. I too am still in touch

with one of the first girls I spanked way back then.

What attracts you to BDSM at this point?

I started with spanking parties and continued to explore

from there. I'm kinda a "sensation-whore" - I love

the different sensations, the different experiences.

Are there many spanking parties near you now?

What kinds of sensations have you tried that youve

enjoyed? Which have you tried that you didnt like?

How do you feel about marks on your body?

There aren't many spanking parties near me, but I enjoy

traveling to the bigger ones. They can be so much fun!

I like most sensations, really. I haven't tried any that I didn't

like, at least not that I can think of right off hand.

I try to avoid marks, because I swim several times a

week. It's hard to hide marks in the locker room!

Where do you swim? Is it for a work out or as part

of a team or club? Im sure you are a clever girl...one

who could find a way to conceal her marks! They do

enable one to experience more sensations.

Do you live live alone? Where have you gone to attend a

spanking party? Who have you traveled with when you go to these parties?

I think you might be able to guess why I stopped writing him. The curious part of this is how normal it was until that last message. Did he go off his meds or something?

But let's see - I swim at a pool, as one might imagine from the locker room. And while I'm complimented that he thinks I'm clever, I'm also confident that I would not have mentioned it if I were in any way interested in allowing him to mark me. Come to that, what sensations can't I experience without marks? The range of spanking options on my profile can all be experienced without marks. In fact, the only things I can think of that cannot be experienced without marks are cutting, burning, and other similar things. Am I missing something here?

Is it ever okay to ask a woman if she lives alone? What possible good reason could be behind that question? Ever?

The last bit might be simple curiosity or networking - let's see if we are going to be in any of the same places or know any of the same people. But combined with all the other problems here, this (and the earlier question about who took the photos) becomes something more like - who is protecting you that I might have to avoid? and where could I possibly get my hands on you?

Right - well, that saves me having to turn down an invitation to meet this fellow at an undisclosed private location without establishing a safe-call or telling anyone where I am going. Thanks for that.

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 5)

2011-04-18T17:55:00.000-05:00

This is the fifth chapter in my collaboration with Craig. You can read the fourth chapter on his blog here, and you can find links to all the chapters on the Brittanic Honeymoon tab on my blog.

Kelsey raced into the bathroom the moment they entered their room. Alec noticed that their trunks had arrived and took a moment to consider the ingenuity that allowed them to travel with such a wide assortment of items. The base of their bed was only a steel frame that provided storage for their eight trunks. Along each side of the bed, trunks with two stacked drawers were locked into place, giving them four drawers on either side of the bed for accessible storage. These trunks had been packed as the dressers they would become, full of small clothing that needn’t be unpacked.

Under the bed, Alec knew, their four larger trunks were situated. Three of them would be empty, unpacked by staff into the wardrobe. The fourth, marked carefully to prevent such unpacking, was placed at the end of the bed so that he could unpack it himself. Naturally, all these trunks matched their other luggage, making one side and the foot of the bed navy and the other side a sparkling riot of purple, silver, and gold. Alec rolled his eyes at the sight, wishing he had insisted upon black luggage for both of them; but Kelsey could be as insistent as she was whimsical.

Alec heard the splash of water from the bathroom that told him Kelsey was cleaning her teeth. He joined her and they jostled playfully over the potable and grey water facets as they prepared for the Ball. Kelsey finished first and returned to the bedroom. Alec finished a few minutes later and followed Kelsey into the other room. A trail of discarded clothing led directly to Kelsey, who stood naked manipulating the Wall.

“For the love of…” Alec muttered. When that failed to rouse Kelsey from her distraction, he snapped out her name.

Kelsey jumped and looked at him, clearly startled. Her eyes fell from him to the trail of clothing and her cheeks heated. She bit her lower lip like a chastened child before offering, “You didn’t say if you wanted to do Steam Punk or traditional Victorian tonight.”

“Kelsey!” Alec waved at the Wall, causing the image to sink back into the screen and the screen to go dark.

She forced a wide smile as she hurriedly scooped up her clothing, “If we’re meeting someone, you’ve told them what to look for, right?”

“And you thought to see if you could figure out who we were meeting, so you would know what I’d told them we would be dressed as?” Alec shook his head at her ability to obfuscate the issue, not missing the delicate way she had limited his costume choices to two, although they undoubtedly had other options. “You might have simply asked, Kelsey.”

Kelsey scooped up the last article of clothing, the top she had removed just outside the bathroom, putting her within arms reach of Alec. Pushing the bundle of clothing under one arm, she leaned forward to kiss him. Alec allowed himself to be distracted for a moment, wrapping an arm around her naked body and pulling her deeper into the kiss.

“Victorian,” he said firmly, setting her aside, “Full Victorian style, I even brought your chastity belt.”

“Alec!” Kelsey’s outrage was tempered by anticipation.

“Start getting ready, little one. You’ve more to do than I have.” Alec laughed as he knelt at the end of the bed and pulled out the unpacked trunk. “Go on,” he ordered, when she would have peeked to see what else he had brought.

She skipped away, quickly sorting her clothing into that which needed to be laundered and hanging the other pieces. From the wardrobe, she began assembling her costume. The hoop skirt was not period, but it made the ensemble more wearable and more easily packable. The contrasting colors of the underskirt and the split overskirt were repeated in the tightly fitting, corset inspired bodice. These items had been hung with care by staff members who knew how to treat the rich fabrics so that no wrinkles or folds remained from the trip. She found her low-heeled, mid-calf, lace-up boots on a shoe rack in the bottom of the wardrobe. Silk stocking and lace-covered-silk gloves were rolled up neatly in the drawers on her side of the bed.

While Kelsey assembled her outfit, Alec had set out his own, prepared the chastity belt, and set out a number of evil things to play with later. Men’s formal wear being what it was, Alec’s outfits were far more versatile. Even so, he had several different shirts with slightly different collars and details to match any era. For tonight, he picked something that matched Kelsey’s outfit to mark them as clearly together.

Alec caught Kelsey before she could start dressing, asking lightly “Aren’t you forgetting something, love?”

Kelsey made a show of checking the costume she had laid out and shaking her head, “No, I’ve got everything.”

Alec held up the chastity belt, a smooth creation of neoprene-lined hard molded plastic that fitted perfectly to Kelsey’s curves. He had added a few of the optional attachments, a medium-sized dildo and a smaller butt-plug. She took in these items and caught her lip between her teeth, uncertain. But as he helped her into it, she made no verbal complaint. They both knew he had made “nice” choices, things that would make her squirm but not render her uncomfortable. And Kelsey was well aware of how quickly he could change his mind about such things.

Alec fastened the neoprene-backed leather straps around her waist, locking them into the front panel. He watched her carefully, seeing the mental adjustment she made. His arms slide around her bare waist and he pulled her to him. He kissed her nose lightly, murmuring, “That’s my good girl.” A hand under her jaw, he lifted her face to him and kissed her again. “Now get dressed, love. We’ve new friends to meet.”

Darwin Wednesdays

2011-04-13T19:06:00.001-05:00

Inspired by Erica's CHoS (Correspondence Hall of Shame) posts, you can read her most recent one here, I've decided to try making a weekly post of some of the more interesting or disturbing messages I've gotten.

I'll begin with the basics - those minor details that send an otherwise acceptable message into my "not worth responding to" pile. I will admit that my spelling is terrible and my grammar isn't always perfect. But when you're sending that first message to someone, I think it pays to make the effort. You can take a break from established English rules after you've developed a relationship.

Well you do have a nice ass to spank so what do u enjoy getting spanked with and how long do you enjoy each session to go how red you like

This is a classic example - one run-on sentence (there wasn't actually any punctuation so I suppose it is a run-on phrase) and random use of the letter "u" (that's not a word, even if spell-check doesn't catch it, but what makes it particularly strange is how he also uses the word "you"). On a content note, what is up with the phrase "well you do have a nice ass to spank"? Are you telling me that my only redeeming factor is a great backside or attempting to compliment me? And the rest...really? There is nothing there worth responding to!

This one message was sent with the title "can" - this is important because otherwise the message makes NO sense at all:

i spank you pleeeeze

There are three lessons here: (1) the lowercase letter "i" is not a word either, (2) the title of your message should not be an integral part of the communication, instead, it should give the recipient an idea of what your message is about; and (3) the answer is no, thank you for asking.

This one is a bit better, but it still did not inspire an answer:

I read your entire profile... I'd love to chat.

Let me get this straight - you've read my ENTIRE profile, and the only thing you have to say is that you would like to chat? There was nothing in my carefully drafted description that inspired your comment or question? Nothing you would like to tell me about yourself?

Next week, I'll cover an exchange that began alright, but soon turned creepy.

Collaborative Fiction - Brittanic Honeymoon part 4

2011-04-11T18:22:00.000-05:00

Craig has posted the fourth installment of our collaborative fiction, Brittanic Honeymoon, here. You can find links to all four chapters of the story on my Brittanic Honeymoon page (click the tab above).

Paradox Play - part 3

2011-04-09T19:32:00.001-05:00

Warning: Rated X - this story goes well beyond simple spanking. If you're easily squicked, skip this one! Otherwise, enjoy and remember that it is fantasy, not a script or a suggestion.

I posted the first parts of the story quite some time ago. In reviewing some of my writing, I discovered that I had another two chapters already written and unposted. If you enjoy this story, you might also like the first two chapters, found here and here.

When he felt her muscles tightening across her tummy, he pulled back, freeing the blindfold as he went. He took a hand full of her hair and pulled her head back, looking his gaze with hers. "Not yet," he growled, "Turn over."

She grimaced at him, her eyes pleading and he relented. "Fine, but you had better keep a civil tongue in your head. You know better than to tell me what to do." She nodded urgently and he removed the gag.

"Flat on your back, now. I know it hurts, beautiful, that's the idea. Legs together and hands at your sides. Wait, spread your legs for a moment."

He slid something inside her and pushed her legs closed again, positioning the control where he could reach it. He sat beside her, cupping her breasts in his hands. After squeezing and manipulating them, enjoying her gasps and squirms as he did so, he considered the pale flesh. The initial welts had faded, but he was determined to replace them, and more.

He began with a flogger, occasionally changing his aim to let the leather fall on her pussy, but primarily waking up the skin on her breasts. When the leather struck the clamps, she gasped. Occasionally, the leather would catch on the clasp, pulling and causing her to moan.
He switched to a light cane, quickly replacing the welts. So quickly, she only had time to draw in a sharp breath, but she bit down on the scream. He considered her, tapping the cane impatiently on her breasts. Then another quick movement added another set of welts. Her breath came quick and heavy. He tapped thoughtfully on the clamps, before leaning down to release them. While she was struggling with the rush of pain, he struck again, drawing a long wordless complaint from her.

Her hand clenched the quilt, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He took the moment to switch on the vibrating egg. She lifted her hips, but he struck her breasts again, raising additional welts. Obligingly, he struck between her legs, forcing her hips back to the mattress. Then he returned to her breasts, laying on criss-crossing welts.

"Please," she whispered.

"Please what, beautiful?" He traced her breasts with the tip of the cane. "Please stop?" he taunted, striking each breast again. "Please let me come?" he struck between her legs.

"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded, "And say it for me."

"I can't," she breathed.

He slapped her breasts, "You can't? Or you won't?"

"Please," she shuddered, her body straining for his touch.

"You can do better than that," he taunted, pinching her nipple hard, then pulling on her breast, squeezing and manipulating the tender, welted flesh.

"Please let me come," she whispered.

Growling and tormenting her breasts harder, he knelt down to whisper in her ear, "I think someone lied to me." He nibbled at her neck, "Do you know what happens to liars?"

Her eyes enormous, she shook her head.

He bit her again, then pulled back to hold her face in his hands. "Liars need punishing, don't they, little one?"

At her hesitant nod, he grinned at her. He patted her pussy familiarly as he stood up, "Spread those legs for me, beautiful."

He returned with a wicked rubber crop. Her breathing raced, her eyes wide. That was on her "no" list, implements she actually disliked. But she had lied to him. She forced her breathing to settle, watching him.

"Going to be good for me now?" he tapped the triangle shaped head against her wet pussy, making wet slapping noises.

"Yeah."

"Good." He lifted the evil thing for a full swing, but his hand struck her instead. Then he settled his fingers in to rub.

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 3)

2011-04-04T14:00:00.001-05:00

This is the third chapter in my collaboration with Craig. You can read the first chapter here, and the second chapter here.

Alec turned slightly to watch the Port pulling away from the cruise ship, or vice versa, he firmly reminded himself. The Port kept a geosynchronous orbit above Earth; it was the cruise ship that was moving. His hands roamed Kelsey’s pert bottom absently as he took in the view. It would be a fantastic sight from the observation deck.

He was about to suggest that she put her pants back on so that they could move to the observation deck when his fingers encountered the welts on her thighs. They were more pronounced than he had expected, even knowing the intensity of their play the night before. He tipped her further forward so that he could inspect one of the welts more closely, eliciting a startled protest from her.

“These had to have hurt during the trip up here, Kelsey. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She kicked one leg in protest, “It’s supposed to hurt. And it hurts now more now when you, hey! That hurts, I said!”

He was poking and prodding the welts, curious about how the high-g trip up to the cruise ship had effected the bruising. “You should have said something.”

She pushed herself around to give him a skeptical look, “I’m fine.”

He slapped one of the welts, hard. “Fine, is it?” He smacked another welt on her other thigh, “Fine?”

“No, ow. Alec, that hurts!”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he said, deliberately mimicking her earlier statement. For good measure, he gave each of the welts a healthy smack. Conventional spanko wisdom said that it helped to ‘break up the bruises’, not that he had given the matter much thought before. Kelsey usually did not bruise as much as one might expect, especially considering the level they played at. But they had not found time to play as often just before the wedding, as there were so many details that demanded attention.

Satisfied that she would suffer no lasting harm, Alec helped her to her feet. He watched, his eyes narrowed possessively, as she wiggled back into her pants. He pulled her into a spontaneous hug, kissing her soundly. Pulling away, he gave her a huge smile as he held out a hand, “Let’s find the observation deck, shall we?”

She nodded once, beaming at him. Hand in hand, they made their way through the halls of the cruise ship to an enormous glass enclosed room. From the observation deck, they could see Earth shrinking in the distance.

The room was crowded with people; couples and families come to watch as the ship pulled away from the planet. The large room was dotted with simple benches, providing a place to sit, or on a less crowded day lie flat, and look out the windows. They found a spot near a window and stood for some time, staring out the window. The crowd was beginning to disperse, especially families with small children going to seek more active entertainment. A bench cleared and Alec pulled Kelsey over to the open spot. Kelsey took one look at the solid bench and shook her head.

“I’m fine, but you should sit down.” Kelsey said, leaving unsaid any mention of why she might not want to sit on the hard bench.

Alec wrapped an arm around her waist as he sat, pulling her easily onto his lap. She looked at him sideways, with one eye closed speculatively. But when he made no move to do anything untoward, she leaned against his shoulder, satisfied.

“Look!” Kelsey pointed to another cruise ship that was passing nearby. She leaned forward to look, hissing a little at the pressure of his legs against her welts.

“I hope they have good air traffic control,” Alec said, only half joking, for the other large ship seemed uncomfortably close in the vastness of space. As a bit of an experiment, he bounced his legs up and down, as if entertaining a small child on his lap.

Kelsey hissed, then glared at him. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “Alec! That hurts! The welts…”

“I thought it might,” Alec smirked at her, jouncing his legs up and down.

She made an odd sound, a mixture of laughter and whimpering. After a moment of enduring this, she popped off his lap and all but skipped across the room to a display of pamphlets. She returned with half a dozen shiny folded papers and plopped right back onto his lap, eschewing the empty bench beside him. Kelsey fanned out the brochures, bouncing a little bit on his lap until he took the hint and took over.

“These are the shore excursions available this week,” Kelsey offered, smiling brightly at him for reading her not so subtle body language.

Alec laughed at her unabashed delight in sensation, any sensation. But they opened the pamphlets and began to debate the possibilities.

Brittanic Honeymoon (Part 2)

2011-03-28T18:31:00.000-05:00

Craig has posted the second part of our collaborative fiction - Brittanic Honeymoon - here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Note: We might, at some point, even decide how we are spelling the ship name. But I wouldn't count on it, considering that my spelling method involves frequent use of the editorial comment: "but spelled properly."

Brittanic Honeymoon

2011-03-21T18:02:00.002-05:00

This is the first chapter in my collaborative story with Craig. You can expect to read the next installment on his blog in about a week. The usual disclaimers apply to this fictional story.

Alec swung his carryall into the shuttle’s overhead storage with an ease that came from frequent travel, locking his bag into place with a practiced jerk. His eyes slid from his bag to the open spot beside it, then dropped to the floor where his new wife had left her bag. Rolling his eyes, he heaved her bag into place. Unlike the overhead compartment of an atmosphere airplane, the shuttle accepted only standard bags that latched into the open storage area. Positioned side-by-side, the bags were as much of a contrast as the couple themselves. Kelsey’s bag was brand new, a vivid deep purple with sparkling silver and gold flecks. Alec’s bag was well traveled, a businessman’s solid navy blue.

Kelsey gave him a bright smile and a quiet, “Thank you, love.” Despite her frequent travels, she bounced about her seat like a child taking her first flight off-planet, leaning forward to inspect the safety card and playing with every button she could reach. Alec gave her an indulgent smile as he settled in next to her. Her excitement was understandable; they had settled for a simple wedding, indulging in a lengthy space-cruise for their honeymoon. Although the pair traveled extensively, together and singly, neither had found time for a cruise before.

He fastened the safety harness into place and picked up the Sky Mall magazine, a tradition that had followed from atmospheric flight to shuttles. Sensing the shift of his attention, Kelsey folded a knee beneath her and pushed up to look around the small cabin. No other passengers had boarded their section yet, so as Kelsey slid back into her seat, she pushed up the armrest that separated them. One hand slipped innocently down to his thigh, her other hand easily guided his finger into her mouth. Her eyes locked on him, she slowly began fellating his finger.

The sensation of her mouth around his finger caused him to freeze. He closed the magazine deliberately and replaced it in the seatback pocket, his eyes never leaving hers. He performed the same quick check of their cabin. Finding it empty, he leaned closer to her and growled, “What do you think you’re doing, little one?”

Her lips curved into a smile around his finger. She withdrew, her teeth grazing his finger. He took over then, sliding a second finger into her mouth and exploring briefly while his other hand unlatched his safety harness. Then he pulled his fingers back, catching her lower lip between his two fingers and his thumb, squeezing just to the point of discomfort.

“You want to have a scene right here? Is that it?” He demanded, wrapping his hand around her jaw. His knuckles traced her jawline; her head fell back relaxed, her eyes nearly closing as she lost herself in the sensation. He took her chin, forcing her to look at him.

She drew in a shaky breath, the air between them practically shimmering with the force of their quiet power exchange. When she failed to answer, he pulled his hand back and gave her face the lightest slap. She reacted as though the blow had been much harder, her eyes flying open, the muscles in her face slackening, but the muscles in her back and neck tensing.

He leaned in close to her, his teeth closing in something between a bite and a kiss on her neck, her jaw, her chin, and finally her mouth. His hand slid between her legs, skipping any pretense of playing and simply taking a firm hold of her. He ground his hand into her as he kissed her, hard. When he pushed himself away from her, falling back into his seat, he left her breathless and disheveled. She gave a little moan of distress at his abandonment, her swollen lips settling into a pout.

“Settle down,” he said, glaring at her. “And stop pouting, Kelsey. You really don’t want another spanking right now. The welts you have from last night are going to make takeoff interesting enough, I think.”

Her mischievous smile returned at his reminder of their scene the night before. It had been intended as a light-hearted scene to begin their wedding night, but it had spontaneously intensified. The hard play was a hallmark of their relationship, as was the passionate lovemaking that followed. Even if the welts were painful when high g-forces pushed her into her seat during takeoff, she would enjoy the memory. She leaned forward to give him a quick, light kiss.

“Buckle-up,” he said, nodding to the safety harness, “We’ll be on the Brittanic before you know it. There will be plenty of time on our honeymoon to play.”

Upcoming Collaboration

2011-03-20T16:57:00.000-05:00

Craig and I have decided to try writing a collaborative spanking story. You can read his description of it here.

I'll post the first chapter tomorrow, and he'll post the next installment in about a week.

Honorifics

2011-03-12T14:39:00.000-06:00

Inspired by Lunargirl's post - What's Really in a Name? - I've been thinking about honorific titles (things like sir, ma'am, master, and so forth), both in the scene and in my vanilla life.

I wasn't raised to say "sir" or "ma'am"; no such honorific was ever required of me. The difference between Miss/Ms./Mrs. was forced upon me by an influential teacher. To this day, I'm amused by Miss (it makes me feel innocent and young), annoyed by Ms. (from anyone who knows my marital status), and tolerant of Mrs. In all cases, I'd rather the person used my first name anyway. Somewhat embarrassingly, I've even introduced myself by first name only in a professional context (an interview...and no, I didn't get that job).

I have a tendency, in my vanilla life, to use "sir" to deflect anger and disappointment. Perhaps because I live in the conservative midwest, where such curtesy is neither expected nor demanded...the occasional "sir" has always served me well. I was the sort of child who drove my teachers (primarily female) to annoyance, but could talk any principal (all male) down just as quickly. The simple addition of "sir" works just as well as an adult. As well as it works, I'm a little self-concious about it now as a result of the scene because I don't want anyone in my vanilla, professional life to think I'm submissive.

"Ma'am," on the other hand, is hard for me in a scene. I don't use it in my vanilla life...not ever. And being required to do so in a scene can heighten the impact of the power play for me; provided, of course, I have the sort of relationship with the Top which would support such a thing.

Oddly enough, I can get the same power-exchange response, if you will, from a male Top who hates being called "sir" as from a female Top who requires me to call her "ma'am". I suppose it is simply the internal effort of doing something that does not come naturally to me.

That said, so-called honorific titles like "master" or "mistress" rub me the wrong way. I not only won't use them, I'll write off anyone who insists upon them.

Impatience (Xavier and Maddie)

2011-03-09T18:29:00.000-06:00

This story is part of a new series - Xavier and Maddie are lovers who engage in all sorts of spanking play. This story is dedicated to my lover, who provides endless inspiration and support. The normal disclaimers apply.

“Can we go yet?”

Xavier looked up from his MacBook to find Maddie all but jumping with impatience. Standing beside his desk, she was wearing a scoop-necked t-shirt with the words It’s a good thing I’m into you, because otherwise it would be awkward printed across her chest, tight jeans, and her scuffed Sketchers. He rolled his eyes, “You’re acting like an impatient four-year old.”

“I am not!” She crossed her arms and pouted ineffectually at him.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, glaring at her as she proved his point. She sighed theatrically, attempting to distract him with her heaving chest, but this worked no better than her previous ploys.

“You can stand in the corner until you’re ready to act like an adult.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, considering him for a moment before she answered, “No.”

He was up in an instant, taking two long strides to her side and catching up her wrists in his hands. But he caught the triumph that flashed in her eyes, so they stood motionless for a long moment.

“You will stand in the corner, beautiful,” Xavier said, squeezing her wrists to emphasize his point, “Until I’m ready to deal with you. Then,” he paused again, “we can run our errands after your punishment.”

Maddie watched him cautiously; the mischief fled from her when he squeezed her wrists, as he must have expected it to do. Her lower lip trembled as she offered, “I can…”

He released one wrist to silence her with a fingertip on her lips. Her lips trembled under his finger as he traced them. “No, love. You’ll stand in the corner for me now…naked.”

He released her other wrist and stepped back to watch her. Maddie crossed her arms in front of her and took hold of the hem of her babydoll t-shirt. She peeled the material up and over her head, revealing a trim waist and full breasts. She shook the shirt right side out and tossed it onto her chair at the desk opposite his. Her bra quickly followed. She stepped over to her chair and toed off her shoes without untying them. Unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans took a moment, but he delighted in watching her wiggle out of them. She gave the jeans a rather sketchy fold and tossed them on top of the rest of her clothes. Brightly colored boy-shorts followed a moment later.

She bit her lip as she looked at him, silently asking for a last-minute reprieve. He simply nodded toward the corner of the office and watched in silence until she put herself there.

“Hands behind your head. Stand up straight.” Xavier nodded to himself as she positioned herself in accordance with his directions. She could be biddable, if she put her mind to it. With a little smile, he returned to his work.

After several minutes of silence, Maddie’s voice had just a trace of a whine, “Xavier, I…”

“No,” he answered simply, glancing up to make sure that she kept her position. He knew she was uncomfortable, even wanted her to be. Even so, he clicked rapidly through the remainder of his work email. He wanted to push her, but he was always conscious of her possible distress. He finished with a sigh and closed his laptop.

Maddie reacted to the quiet snick of his laptop closing, tensing and straightening. A shiver raced down her back, visible just as a slight tremor. She knew he was serious today, but she had no idea what she was in for here.

He stood and paced behind her, in no hurry to approach her. Let her imagination run wild for a moment. But only a moment, lest she truly panic. He took her wrist again, using that subtle trigger to keep her in the headspace. He led her out of their shared office, into the living room of their loft. With only the grip on her wrist, he pulled her over the back of the large leather sofa in the middle of the room. In quieter moments, the two of them would lay on the sofa, watching television or cuddling quietly in front of the fireplace. But this was not one of those sweet, intimate moments. She had been asking for a serious punishment for some time now, but he only just now had the time to deliver one.

Xavier spent only a figurative moment with his hand, delivering the barest warm-up she would need to get through this ordeal. She loved his hand under any circumstances. It was impossible to ignore the way she squirmed under his application, arching her back and offering her bottom to him.

“Don’t you dare move,” he admonished as he stepped away, removing the hand he had wrapped around her waist. He needed both hands to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather slowly through the loops of his pants. He wanted Maddie to anticipate it. He relished in seeing the effect the sound had on her, the little shivers, the slight tensing of muscle.

Xavier did not bother to snap the leather against itself; he knew she was aware of what was coming. He only doubled the belt and silently took measure of his position. Adjusting just slightly, he struck. The perfect snap of sound predicted the well-placed welt that appeared on her backside. With a little grunt of satisfaction, he struck again just below that first welt.

He worked carefully, each strike precisely aimed for symmetry. He worked his way down her bottom, concentrating on the sweet-spot for a moment, and finally struck down her thighs. She kept very still, her moans and whimpers the only evidence of the intense pain he was delivering.

Xavier knew her well, though, and could interpret these tiny sounds and minute shifts in position. He stepped back, running a bare hand over her welted skin. He flipped his hand over and traced his nails back up the sensitive skin. She whimpered and spread her legs a bit further.

“Not yet. I’m not nearly finished with you, Maddie.” He dropped his belt over the back of the sofa, before admonishing, “Don’t move. And don’t you dare look!”

He left her to go into their bedroom in search of another implement. This one a thick, leather paddle that she loved to hate. But it was his use of it, he thought as he returned to her, that she simply hated.

He positioned himself against her hip, his free hand wrapping around her waist. He stood ready to fling a leg behind hers, if she was in the mood to kick. He set the cool paddle against her bottom, knowing she would recognize it by the feel. Indeed, she tensed, then relaxed and pushed her bottom out to him.

“One hundred, Maddie. And you’ll count nicely for me.” He gave the order knowing she would protest, knowing she hated counting, but checking her headspace.

“Xavier, I can’t…”

Xavier nodded to himself, her protest answering his question. “Double, then. If you don’t count, I won’t.”

When he struck, Maddie reluctantly counted. When he struck exactly the same place a second time and a third, she gritted her teeth and continued to count. It was a battle of their not diminishable wills – her hatred of this method and her equal tenacity in accepting anything he delivered, his knowledge of her and use of that knowledge to push her. His strikes built steadily in intensity, until the fortieth swat, where he leveled off. She fought mostly within herself, remaining still and keeping the count to fifty, expecting the ordeal to end there.

When he struck the same spot the fifty-first time, Maddie actually screamed. She had decided he was only teasing about doubling the penalty, as that was the only way she could accept his sentence. But she also knew his love of symmetry; she knew he would repeat the strikes on the other cheek, which put the total over one hundred. He paused for a moment, giving her the time to count, before continuing on to sixty. Her relief when he moved to the other cheek was tempered by the knowledge that he would repeat the torment. But she counted steadily, determined to outmatch him.

She made it through those symmetry swats, painful as they were. And the lighter swats he spread over her bottom, evening the color, were easy to manage. But the last thirty concentrated on her thighs, left her sobbing.

Xavier dropped the paddle to the floor. He helped her up and around the sofa in one smooth motion, dropping onto the sofa and pulling her into his lap. Maddie curled up on him, her face buried in his shoulder. He held her until she calmed. When she gave him a tentative smile, he returned the smile with a kiss.

“Put your clothes back on, Maddie. We’ve errands to run.”

She gave him an incredulous look. He slid his fingers into her wet pussy and smirked at her, “That’s part of your punishment, love. You’ll wait. That, and those delightfully tight jeans of yours should make an interesting afternoon, don’t you think?”

Obadiah's Journey (chapter 3)

2011-02-13T03:20:00.000-06:00

The appearance of two figures on one of the temporary screens startled Obadiah, but he wasted no time clicking his computer program into action. Despite his failure to identify the mystery pair, Obadiah felt some satisfaction that his final computer project worked seamlessly. The other guard on duty failed to notice the single flicker as the screen changed from a current display to one Obadiah had recorded previously, the current activity transferred to a video file on his laptop.

Thanks to Obadiah’s search for the “notorious Senator”, he had heard the gossip about the construction area the pair had selected for this nighttime adventure. The year’s elections had caused major upheaval, requiring that office spaces be totally reassigned. The Senate minority had been assigned this area in the basement, which was still under construction.

Earlier attempts to paint the sandstone foundation had gone poorly; the living stone rejected the paint in many of the earlier reconstructions. Instead, the Senate Minority Leader had decided to embrace the dungeon like appearance of the basement quarters the party had been given. The room this pair had selected even had eye-bolts screwed into the sandstone in various locations. The cameras had only been installed temporarily in the offices due to various allegations of fraud in the construction. Obadiah had a wealth of gossipy information, but he was no closer to identifying the Senator.

- - -

Jordan threw the extra latch on the external door before making his way to the room where Violet waited. There, he closed another latch, ensuring their privacy for the evening. The party may have suffered in the elections, but they did not skimp during their construction project – these offices would be secure once completed. But once completed, it would be more difficult to find them empty.

Violet had already prepared for Jordan’s arrival, a leap of faith even in the deserted construction area. She had taken off her suit, hanging it neatly in the doorless closet. In place of her daytime clothing, she wore only leather cuffs around her ankles and wrists. The cuffs were black with purple trim, the silver fittings matching the only other item she wore – a white-gold engagement torc he had given her earlier that week, because she refused to consider a second wedding ring.

He took several long steps over to her, gathering her in his arms and kissing her soundly. Her naked body pressed against his suit, a little shiver racing down her back. Violet closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation. It was a very innocent power exchange, being naked while he remained in his office attire, but one she loved.

After several minutes, he pulled away from her to remove his suit coat. He hung it neatly beside her suit. Stretching a bit, he plucked several items off the back of the shelf in the closet and carried them back to her. He set his cane, crop, and flogger on a table that was pushed against the wall. Beside them, he set a small bag. He unzipped the little bag and removed a few more items accompanied by the sound of metal clicking against metal.

With a few words and sharp slaps, he positioned Violet in the center of the room. Her arms were raised above her head, her wrists secured to eye-bolts in the ceiling by carabiners. Her legs were spread wide, but unsecured. Jordan began with the flogger, circling Violet, wakening her skin. After several minutes of that, he took up the crop, turning her pink skin a darker shade of red.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing harsh before he set aside the crop. He spent an eternal moment touching her, exploring her bare skin with his hands, his nails, his lips and his teeth. She whimpered when he pulled away, knowing that the last bit of the scene would be the hardest to take.

He set the cane against her breast. Her eyes opened slightly, her gaze locking with his.

“Something you want to say, little one?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head quickly, never taking her eyes from his. He brought the cane down hard, raising a red welt. He repositioned himself and struck again. Several strikes to each breast left a brilliant starburst pattern. He set the cane aside and took her breasts in his hands, squeezing them hard. She writhed against the sensation, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his hands. He ducked his head, taking first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth.

“You did very well,” he murmured, retrieving his cane, “I was going to put clamps on, but if you’re very good, I won’t.”

She nodded sharply, her lip caught between her teeth. She moaned when he stepped behind her, and hissed when the cane struck hard against her thigh. But she held tightly to her position, breathing in the pain of each strike, accepting it and loving it.

New Additions

2011-01-03T17:18:00.000-06:00

I've added a few pages to my blog, most of them with links to groups of stories I've posted here. Because the majority of my posts ARE stories, I hope this will make my stories easier to find and follow. Of course, if you've read them already, I encourage you to comment on your favorites - as that might help entice me back to writing on a series I've abandoned.

Do tell me what you think of the layout - if it's helpful or what would make it more helpful. I'm still finding my way around this blogging thing.

I'll do my best to update the pages when I add new stories. Speaking of which, I must get back to Obadiah.

Obadiah's Journey (chapter 2)

2010-12-28T14:03:00.000-06:00

“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.

-           -           -

Violet paused at the top of the stairs, looking about the large open area between the interior glass dome and the exterior copper dome. Numerous windows let in enough light that the area was gloomy, but not dark. Jordan smiled at her from near one of the larger windows.

“Too bad an elevator isn’t included in the renovation plans,” Violet said, breathing deeply.

“You ought to work out more, Vi,” Jordan said, half-teasing.

Violet glared at him, “It’s not just the stairs. The dome is still closed. I had to be quiet!”

Jordan took several quick steps to her side, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and pulling her to him, “Is that really the attitude you want to take with me?”

“Um…no?” Violet offered quietly.

“Strip,” Jordan ordered.

Violet removed her suit jacket first, laying it neatly over the railing on the stairs. Her skirt and blouse followed. She hadn’t dressed for this scene, because the location was secluded enough to give them sufficient time to pull themselves together. Still, her fingers trembled a bit as she unfastened her bra. For some reason, it was more unnerving to remove her underthings than not wear them at all. Her bra and panties joined the neat stack of clothing.

“You can leave that,” Jordan said, nodding to her garter belt and stockings. “I want you over there, shoulders against the window.”

Violet stepped over to the indicated window.   A deep window well had her leaning far back to rest her shoulders against the mullion. The window sill was level with her hips, keeping her pelvis forward. Moonlight shone through the window, leaving her face in shadow but highlighting the length of her body.

“Hands out, here,” Jordan directed. Violet spread her arms towards the corners of the window, her hands grasping the window frame where he indicated.

“Simply beautiful,” Jordan said with a satisfied smile. He picked up his crop, tracing the black leather over her ivory skin. She took a shuddery breath, arching her back and offering her breasts to him. He started there, raising red patches on her pale skin.

The crop moved down her body, coloring her tummy, her sides, her arms, her hips, and even between her legs. She bit back a cry, managing only to whimper occasionally. Her eyes closed tight, she gave her body over to him.

-           -           -

Obadiah pointed casually to the two suited figures captured by one of the capital hallway cameras, “Wonder who is working so late.”

Bill glanced at the screen, “Couple of suits, probably legislative staff. Nothing to worry about there.”

“Wasn’t worried,” Obadiah shot back, “Simply curious.”

Bill took a closer look at the screen and chuckled, “Oh, the notorious senator and staff.”

“Notorious?”

“Don’t you follow politics at all, boy? Ran on a ‘consenting adults’ campaign in the face of all those smear ads about their affair,” Bill nodded to the pair on screen. “Gutsy, that one,” he added.

Obadiah took a longer look at the screen. The gentleman wore an expensively tailored suit, the charcoal gray complimenting his dark hair. He carried himself like a man used to being watched, a man with power. The lady wore an immaculate skirt-suit, hers a lighter gray that would suit her dark hair and ivory skin. She was in no manner submissive now, for all her face remained turned from the cameras.

Obadiah did not follow politics, so it was no great surprise that he recognized neither the individuals nor the campaign Bill thought so memorable. But Bill found Obadiah’s curiosity amusing and refused to tell him anything more. Obadiah spent the rest of a frustrating shift flipping through the legislative directory.

Obadiah's Journey (chapter 1)

2010-12-23T14:45:00.000-06:00

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.

His dark form separated from the column as Jordan pushed away from the spot where he had been awaiting her arrival. His arms wrapped around her, easing her slight tremors.

“Look, Vi,” he murmered quietly in her ear. He kept her in his arms as he turned her to look out the window. The sheers dimmed the glow of the brightly lit capital building, but the window framed the picture perfectly.

“It’s as beautiful as you though,” he continued, “The perfect place for our scene tonight.”

Violet leaned her head back against Jordan’s shoulder, her body molding to his. She soaked in his warmth, breathing deeply of his scene. As much as she looked forward to this scene, she found nearly equal joy in spending a quiet moment with him.

His hands slid down her body, his fingers teasing the bare skin below the hem of her skirt for a moment before curling around the fabric and drawing the dress over her head. She had worn a simply slip dress, the fabric thick enough to conceal the fact that she wore nothing beneath. Jordan shook the dress right-side-out and draped it over one of the chairs. Violet stepped out of her shoes, placing them neatly below her dress. The building should be empty, but they took no chances. Her outfit had been selected purely for ease of jumping bck into it, should the need arise.

Jordan pulled a chair away from the table, turning it to face the window. Perhaps out of respect for the library, he silently guided her over the chair. He ran his fingernails down her bare arms, raising goosebumps as he went, spreading her hands to either corner of the seat. His nails traced back up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. With gentle nudges, he pulled her legs apart, positioning her feet just outside the chair legs.

His hands traced every inch of bare skin, the erotic and neglected alike. She soaked it in, arching slightly to his touch. He stepped back, one hand remaining on her back while the other searched the bookshelf for the cane he’d hidden there.

Jordan held the cane just away from her bottom, measuring the distance without the typical light taps. He pulled the cane back silently, but the cane whistled through the air when he brought it back.

Violet drew in a sharp gasp, holding her breath against the sudden pain. He struck again and again, leaving neat parallel welts down her bottom, while she struggled to remain silent.

- - -

Down the street, in stark contrast to the silent, dark library, two officers sat in a brightly lit room buzzing with television monitors and monitoring equipment. Obadiah stared open-mouthed at the scene for a moment before managing, “Karl, should we, uh?”

Karl picked up his bag of chips and stepped over to look over Obadiah’s shoulder. “No,” he said, hooking his foot around his chair and pulling it over, “We should watch.”

HD - Tour (part 4)

2010-11-19T16:06:00.000-06:00

HD - Tour (part 3)

2010-11-12T15:59:00.000-06:00

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.

HD - Tour (part 2)

2010-11-05T15:00:00.000-05:00

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.

HD - Tour (part 1)

2010-10-28T12:47:00.000-05:00

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.

Love Our Lurker Day (a day late)

2010-10-22T01:24:00.000-05:00

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.

A quiet evening

2010-10-03T20:05:00.000-05:00

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.

HD - A short story

2010-09-29T14:59:00.000-05:00

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.

SL Party Report - Monday/Tuesday

2010-09-24T17:36:00.000-05:00

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:

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...

SL Party Report - Sunday

2010-09-23T15:26:00.000-05:00

It's a good thing I caught up on my sleep Saturday night, because Sunday was my busiest day. Waking up fairly early, Jada and I decided to hit the pool. Having learned from my experience Friday morning, we did not even attempt the water. We simply sat on the side and enjoyed the sun (or in my case, the shade), talking and catching up on things. Different friends would wander by to chat; it was a wonderful way to spend the morning.

When we returned to our room, we ran into a bit of trouble. I thought I would wear the t-shirt I had changed into the night before, because I had worn it for less than 15 minutes before deciding that bed was a better plan. But I couldn't find the darn thing! To make matters worse, I couldn't find anything else I had been wearing the night before...no jeans, no socks, no underthings...nothing. Jada jumped in to help me look. We've been roommates enough times now that she's familiar with my habits. I was very frustrated, as I had gone to bed early and entirely sober, so I couldn't figure out what had happened. I'm not sure which of us eventually found my clothes, neatly folded in a pile, which is something I don't do. Craig, stopping by the night before to make sure I was alright, had (rather obsessively, to my mind) neatly folded the clothes I had left strewn about the room. I suppose both of us assumed any FOLDED clothes weren't mine!

We ate brunch with a group of friends at the Cafe, in a disaster that lasted far too long and was beyond frustrating. You can read Craig's account here, but I'm not reliving that horror of bad service myself. I guess it was my day to search for lost items. Instead of going to CP Court myself, I answered the text of a friend and helped search his room for a set of lost rental car keys. Unfortunately, we had no luck finding the missing keys and he was forced to spend the rest of the day dealing with locksmiths and such. I was sorry to miss CP Court, because that is always hilarious. But helping friends is more important sometimes.

Katy-Lynn and I had arranged to do a roleplay with Rad that afternoon. After some rapid texting and phone calls, KL came up with a scenario. She decided we had stolen Rad's Diner's Club* card for a night of gambling. I don't gamble, so KL admitted we might also have been drinking and picking up guys. Rad was in character the moment we knocked on the door and he wasn't pleased with our antics! I let KL do most of the talking, because it takes me a minute to get into a roleplay. Bad idea. Before I knew it, she had admitted that we'd spent $500, only $200 of which she had lost gambling. To make up the shortfall, she decided I had not only been drinking with random guys at the bar, but I'd gotten a room** with one. Rad demanded the guy's name. Caught off guard, I shrugged it off. I didn't know, didn't care, it was perfectly normal to get a room with some guy whose name I didn't know, right? Yeah, not so much. He rightly decided I was a sociopath, but that didn't stop him from spanking both of us! Great scene, all around.

We shared many laughs afterward, once we got out of our roleplay headspace. It was nearly as nice to catch up with Rad as it was to play with him. The social aspect of parties, just getting the chance to talk to friends that are scattered across the country, is one of the less discussed pleasures of these events.

I returned with KL to her room. We talked with her boyfriend, R, for a bit before we launched into a fun, lighthearted scene. KL and I can play off one another, just verbally baiting whomever has the dubious pleasure of spanking us together. We hadn't done this in the scene with Rad, as we were in plenty of trouble without saying anything stupid. So we practiced on R instead. I think all three of us had a good time.

I raced off to meet another group of friends for dinner at the Mexican restaurant. In contrast to our brunch experience, the service was exceptional. M&D were heading home early, so there were plenty of tearful goodbyes.

After dinner, Craig and I managed to fit in a "standing scene" - our new favorite position discovered in Atlantic City. He says my backside looks amazing that way, and who am I to argue with that? Plus, he has impeccable aim, even in this position (which cannot be said for every top who has attempted to spank me this way)...another quality I won't argue with.

We made our way to a suite party, were Tony caught up with me and delivered a set of cane strokes. We've been trying to connect for several parties, but our schedules haven't matched up. I'm not sure how many I ended up with, we started with 6...but when he checked in, I was like, sure, more is good. After that, I escaped to my room for a very wonderful and relaxing flogging and spanking from F. I was glad to catch up with him after the great conversation we had at the SSNY suite party on Saturday. I guess it was my night for catching up with people I've missed at past parties, because I finished the night with M, with whom I'd been unable to schedule with at FMS in June.

Catching up with everyone can be a challenge, but it's SO worth it!

* For the record, I do know what a Diner's Club card is...I'm not as young as I look. But I've never actually seen one. So maybe I am.

** Let me assure you, if I "got a room" with some guy I just met (and whose name I didn't know)...he'd have paid for the damn room! But when it comes to an entire baseball team...all bets are off.

SL Party Report - Saturday

2010-09-22T15:06:00.000-05:00

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

SL Party Report - Friday

2010-09-13T16:21:00.000-05:00

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.

SL Party Report - Wednesday/Thursday

2010-09-10T17:13:00.000-05:00

I'm a little delayed in posting my party report. Does that mean it's more forgivable if I leave something out? Ah well, I'm certain I will regardless of when I write, so I may as well dive in.

This year's Shadowlane was spectacular, of course. It is always such fun to see old friends, make new friends, and spend a weekend surrounded by fellow kinksters. Like Rad, I really hope there will be another party next year.

I started my party early, arriving late Wednesday night. Brad met me at the gate, a surprise I nearly missed as I was texting him to arrange a meeting location. Without undue hassle, we collected his bags (I prefer to carry-on, which can make airport security interesting) and his rental car.

Brad had picked a restaurant for dinner based on pictures of wooden seats. Actually, he had found a place we could both eat, which considering my food allergies, might be saying something. He was convinced I would need a quick warm-up in the backseat of the car before dinner, and the wooden seats would help me remember to behave. I was convinced he was teasing.

I was wrong.

Despite that unique experience, dinner was nice. We caught up even as we texted other friends. Craig had misdirected a text to me, which you can read about here, and we shared much laughter over that.

Inspired by the "Root Beer" concoction Brad had before dinner (a drink that I am certain contained no root beer at all, much like a Long Island Ice Tea contains no tea), I got another quick spanking bent over the trunk of the car in the parking lot after dinner. While I don't mind public play at parties, I am shy of true public play. These two sessions, while brief, were certainly memorable!

Arriving at the hotel, we discovered our rooms were only a door apart. After unpacking and settling into our rooms, we finished the evening in true party style - with a bedtime spanking.

After a good night's sleep, Brad and I met up again for breakfast at the Cafe in the casino. The service was decent and the food was good, although I preferred what Brad ordered over what I had ordered. Wonderful man that he is, he let me eat my fill of his meal and he finished mine as well.

Armed with shopping requests from many of our later-arriving friends, we embarked on an epic shopping trip. I am a picky eater with food allergies, so it is important that I keep food in my room. We made a number of stops, picking up all the necessities - food, water, Coke (for Jada, who got to come at the last minute!), wine (for Craig and others), sake (for Gia), Dark & Stormy ingredients, Brad's tux, and several pairs of socks for me. Yes - I forgot to pack any socks. Any at all!

After making three trips to carry all our purchases into the hotel, I had planned to take a nap. I was too excited to fall asleep easily, despite Craig's promise to text and call when he got to the hotel. I finally fell asleep and he didn't wake me up! But I got over being cranky the moment he arrived at my door...

My notes about the scene that followed are simply "several hours disappeared." I remember the bit in front of the windows, my breasts pressed against the cold glass in tribute to Holodeck (part 1), which was in turn inspired by a phone scene with Craig. I remember getting one of the three bruises on my arm (we discussed them after the scene and neither of us knew where the other two came from). We tried several new things, most of which I liked...in part because I'm crazy like that, but mostly because Craig and I have talked about these things and developed a real trust. We certainly did things I would not attempt with anyone else, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

Afterwards, we met my "sis" Katy-Lynn for a late dinner. I hung out with her in another friend's suite after dinner, then made my way to another suite party. I finished the night relatively early with another short scene with Craig, the details of which are completely blurred by time and exhaustion.

Party Reports Coming Soon

2010-09-07T15:23:00.000-05:00

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!

Holodeck (part 4)

2010-08-26T00:30:00.000-05:00

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.

Playing Hard

2010-08-22T04:27:00.000-05:00

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.

HoloDeck (part 3)

2010-08-20T15:01:00.000-05:00

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.”

A Poem (ish)

2010-08-17T16:16:00.000-05:00

Just thinking tonight...

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!)

Story Disclaimers

2010-08-14T02:50:00.000-05:00

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]

Holodeck (part 2)

2010-08-13T04:32:00.000-05:00

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?

Holodeck (part 1)

2010-08-04T12:31:00.000-05:00

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?

Paradox Play (part 2)

2010-07-29T11:28:00.000-05:00

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.

Party Play

2010-07-25T06:37:00.000-05:00

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."

Relationships Required

2010-07-14T05:28:00.000-05:00

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>

Paradox Play

2010-07-11T18:31:00.000-05:00

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...)