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About Me
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
The Operation - a fictional story
The Operation
Mary Sullivan had been living with the pain of endometriosis for several years when the only option left open to her was a hysterectomy. The easy part about the surgery was the six weeks away from a job she didn't like. The hard part was giving up a lot of her independence for a while. Her favorite pastime was long hikes in the woods with her dogs. She also loved going to zoos and museums, especially when the weather was bad, as she hated crowds.
She had also just begun a dating relationship with Ivor Sobieski, who worked as an engineer for CSX. While he might be gone a day or two driving the engine, they were seldom apart when he was off duty. They shared a common interest in spanking of the fun and sensual kind. Mary's doctor warned her that she would have to lay off the spanking and sex for several weeks during her recovery. That would be the hardest part for her, even more than the reduced mobility, pain, and tiredness that come from surgery.
Nevertheless, she knew it was for her own good. After all, it seemed a week didn't go by in which she wasn't suffering from the endometriosis, which put a damper on her spanking games. Therefore, she weighed her options and chose to have the surgery.
She went in for the surgery and went home a couple days later. She was proud of overcoming her initial hesitation at walking the hospital halls. She hated being in the hospital and experienced the feelings of being trapped. Her only way out was to get up, walk, and keep food down so they would release her from this prison. She was overcome with joy at being reunited with her dogs. She slept like a rock her first night home, under the covers and snuggling with her dogs, who lay on top of the blankets.
After a few days home, she was well enough to take them on their twice-daily walks. They cooperated with her and didn't try to catch every squirrel and rabbit they smelled. Ivor came over to help when his schedule would allow. He did some of the dog walking and brought groceries for her.
"What else do you need me to do?" Ivor asked as he unclipped the dogs' leashes after their walk.
"Nothing, really. I'm doing fine," Mary answered. "Thanks for the lunchmeat and bread."
Ivor sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. She loved the feeling of warmth and security his presence gave her. Mary could hear his heartbeat slow as he settled in after the exercise with the dogs.
"Well," he began as he inhaled the aroma of her shampoo, "it seems to me you need someone to vacuum and do the dishes."
"Oh, that's not necessary!" Mary exclaimed.
"And why not?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"It's not that hard. I vacuumed the other day. And I have a dishwasher, which takes me only a few minutes to load and unload."
"I'll bet you were pretty tired after vacuuming, considering your surgery was only a couple weeks ago."
"Oh, um, yeah, sort of," Mary stammered, realizing that she had a tendency to overdo things. "I promise, Ivor, I took it really easy and took my time."
Ivor kissed her and said, "I think you need to take it easy. Remember you've had abdominal surgery and it takes a good while to heal."
"I know, I know," she replied. "But I hate sitting around and having other people do things for me."
He smiled and said, "I understand and I've been there with having surgery. But you don't do anyone any favors injuring yourself. So, take it easy, ok?" He asked the last emphasizing each word with a light pat to her leg.
Mary looked away silently. Ivor asked, "Do you understand? I don't want you hurting yourself."
Resigned, she answered, "Ok. I'll take it easy."
*****
A week later, Mary found herself out of dog food again. She had tried to be good to herself by buying only the four pound bags, but it was becoming expensive, and she was going to the store a couple times a week. At the supermarket, she found her favorite brand of dry food on sale, but only in the 40 pound bag. She looked up and down the aisle to see if anyone was watching.
Why would it matter if someone saw? Who in this megamarket would know she had a fresh five inch scar below her navel? Yet, she felt as if she were sneaking around, thinking the thought that she thought.
Keeping her back straight, she bent both knees, slipped both arms under the bag and stood. And nearly cried from the strain. She quickly dropped the bag into the shopping cart. She bought the dog food, along with a few human staples, and drove home, panting as she did so.
She hugged the bag to her and carried it very slowly up to her second floor apartment. Mary managed to get the food put away before sitting down to cry from the excruciating pain. She prayed to every god and goddess, asking them to spare her the horror of splitting open the inside sutures. She popped a couple Darvocet and went to bed.
*****
Ivor had some time off work and decided to surprise Mary by bringing over a 40 pound bag of dog food he'd seen on sale at the store. When Mary opened the door, she gaped at her strong and sweet boyfriend carrying the bag like it was filled with feathers. Ivor was in for quite a shock when he opened the can where dog food was kept. "What's this?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing."
"So this can full of food is just a figment of my imagination?" he asked a little more annoyed.
"Oh, um, that," Mary hemmed and hawed. "It doesn't hurt to get ahead on the food, does it?"
"Where'd you get it?"
"The other day at Giant Eagle," she blurted out before she'd been able to think of a lie. She hated how the women in the spanking stories she read and the videos she watched could think up a lie to get out of a bad situation. Lying was never something she was good at, dammit! If she'd at least given the name of a friend or even that her brother brought the food over, that would have been the end of the conversation. Instead, it was just the beginning.
Ivor took a deep breath. "Oh, I see. Maybe we should sit down and discuss this."
The two sat on the sofa facing each other. "Mary, you could have hurt yourself carrying that bag of food."
"But I ran out of dog food!" Marry cried.
"That's fine, but at least you could have picked up a bag you can carry without killing yourself, and I would have brought over a larger bag for you. I'm willing to do those things for you!" By now, Ivor was feeling frustrated and angry with his girlfriend.
"Well, I'm just tired of having to ask people for things! I'm tired of waiting and pulling people away just to bring me a bag of dog food!" Mary cried.
"You need to learn patience, young lady - "
"Uh, what's with this 'young lady' stuff? We don't have that kind of relationship. You said you liked my independence -"
"I do," answered Ivor.
"And my strength -"
"That, too."
"And having a good head on my shoulders -"
"Usually you do, but right now you're acting reckless. I think when you're well enough, we need to have a good long talk." Ivor looked directly into Mary's eyes, which had opened wide as saucers.
"What do you mean 'well enough'?" Mary asked suspiciously. "Why can't we talk now?"
"The discussion we're going to have will involve my hand and your bare bottom -" Ivor began.
"No! That's not fair! You don't need a reason to spank me!" Mary cried out. "You can spank me anytime, and you don't need to make up some lame excuse to 'punish' me." She rolled her eyes on the word "punish."
"You're absolutely right, honey, I don't need a reason. But when you behave with total disregard for your own wellbeing against doctor's orders, I believe you need a reminder. People care about you. They like you and will do more than you think they will. I care about you and like you too much to watch you hurt yourself."
Desperately, Mary pleaded, "But nothing bad happened! And I promise not to do it again!" She wanted nothing more than to leave the room and hide. She stood, but Ivor grabbed her arm and brought her sitting next to him once again.
"You said you weren't big into the whole discipline and punishment thing," Mary said quietly.
"I'm not," Ivor said, "but if I think there's a need to give a disciplinary spanking, I will. And I see a need here. I really don't want to do this -"
"Then don't!" Mary interjected.
Laughing, Ivor continued, "But I will because I care about you. Of course, not until you get the doctor's ok."
Resigned to her fate, Mary said, "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to scare you."
"I know that, sweetie," Ivor said softly. "You do see why I'm doing this, don't you?" He placed his hand under her chin and raised it. "If you're smart, this won't be something we have to do very often, now will it?"
"No, you're right," Mary said. She wondered how her sweet, easygoing boyfriend had suddenly turned into a Dom. Then again, he never even threatened to spank her before outside of the usual bratting and banter. When they talked about important things in their lives, he always gave his blessing. She would be glad to get this spanking over and done with.
*****
Mary knocked on Ivor's front door. He opened it, "Come in! What did the doctor say?"
"He says I'm healing brilliantly and I can have sex again."
"Does that mean you can be spanked again?" he asked with a sparkle in his eye.
"Um, yes, it does," Mary said, about as close to a blush as she came these days.
"Well, then, before the celebration, we have some unfinished business. Come and sit next to me."
Mary walked over to him and sat. "Um, what business?"
"You know damn well what business I'm talking about," Ivor said with a smile. "That little stunt of yours, carrying a 40 pound bag of food when the doctor told you no more than ten pounds."
"Oh, that business," Mary replied coyly.
"Yeah, that business. And don't think you're going to squirm or sweet talk your way out of it."
"Oh, Ivor! You don't think I'd do such a thing, do you? Why! You hurt my feelings!" Mary said, smiling in spite of herself.
"And now, my lovely Mary, it's time to hurt your bottom," Ivor said as he drew her across his lap. He adjusted her bottom so it rested over his right thigh and rested his hand on her bottom, using the left hand to draw her to his body.
Mary squirmed a little involuntarily. Ivor said, "Now, I realize you haven't done this for awhile, so I'm just going to use my hand. I promise you won't like this spanking, but I promise not to be too hard on you, ok?"
"Yes," Mary answered.
"Yes, what?" Ivor asked as he gave a light slap to her left cheek.
"Yes, Sir," Mary answered.
"Good. That's better."
And then the spanking began. Ivor did make one other concession and that was to warm Mary up thoroughly before giving a harder spanking. Mary squirmed and after a couple minutes began to cry. He stopped in the middle and rested his hand lightly on her bottom.
"I forgot to ask you, why are you getting spanked today?"
Mary sighed. She had been in a disciplinary relationship once before and hated answering that question. She always wanted to make some smart ass remark like, "Because you're a pervert!" But she always refrained, and smartly did so.
SMACK! "I asked you a question, young lady! Why are you getting spanked today?"
"Um, uh, because I didn't follow doctor's orders."
"And what else?" Ivor asked, punctuating the question with a resounding SMACK!
"I was impatient and hated asking for help when I know I needed it," Mary said breathlessly.
"Very good. As long as we're on the same page." Ivor began spanking again, with a little more intensity.
Mary whimpered and squirmed in the vain hope of avoiding the stinging palm. But Ivor was determined to make a strong impression on his usually sensible girlfriend. "I'm really really sorry! I promise not to do it again! Please no more!" she cried.
"I know you're sorry, but I'll decide when your punishment is over." He continued spanking for a couple more minutes and then it was over. It hadn't lasted more than about ten minutes, but because Mary had gone a couple months without spanking, Ivor knew it wouldn't take long to get to the bottom of this problem.
He helped her off his lap and then sitting onto his lap, where she cried into his shoulder. The spanking hadn't been brutal in the least, but Mary realized how much her wellbeing meant to Ivor and was truly contrite over her risky actions. He assured her, "There there. It's all over, and all is forgiven. Just make sure you take better care of yourself from now on, ok?"
"Yes, Sir, I will," Mary said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to do that."
"I'm sorry, too," Ivor said. "But I think you're generally an intelligent and thinking woman. Hopefully I won't have to do this again in the near future."
"I hope not, too," Mary said, smiling. "I love you."
Ivor looked deep into her eyes, surprised at what he'd heard. He had thought he was the only one who felt that way. "Oh, Mary, I love you, too!"
With a devilish glint in her eye, Mary asked, "Can I have a good girl spanking?"
"Oh why not?" Ivor said. They went to the bedroom where Mary stripped to her birthday suit. She lay across his lap on the bed, as he lovingly caressed and lightly spanked - more like patting than spanking - his beloved. They made love and fell asleep.
The End
Mary Sullivan had been living with the pain of endometriosis for several years when the only option left open to her was a hysterectomy. The easy part about the surgery was the six weeks away from a job she didn't like. The hard part was giving up a lot of her independence for a while. Her favorite pastime was long hikes in the woods with her dogs. She also loved going to zoos and museums, especially when the weather was bad, as she hated crowds.
She had also just begun a dating relationship with Ivor Sobieski, who worked as an engineer for CSX. While he might be gone a day or two driving the engine, they were seldom apart when he was off duty. They shared a common interest in spanking of the fun and sensual kind. Mary's doctor warned her that she would have to lay off the spanking and sex for several weeks during her recovery. That would be the hardest part for her, even more than the reduced mobility, pain, and tiredness that come from surgery.
Nevertheless, she knew it was for her own good. After all, it seemed a week didn't go by in which she wasn't suffering from the endometriosis, which put a damper on her spanking games. Therefore, she weighed her options and chose to have the surgery.
She went in for the surgery and went home a couple days later. She was proud of overcoming her initial hesitation at walking the hospital halls. She hated being in the hospital and experienced the feelings of being trapped. Her only way out was to get up, walk, and keep food down so they would release her from this prison. She was overcome with joy at being reunited with her dogs. She slept like a rock her first night home, under the covers and snuggling with her dogs, who lay on top of the blankets.
After a few days home, she was well enough to take them on their twice-daily walks. They cooperated with her and didn't try to catch every squirrel and rabbit they smelled. Ivor came over to help when his schedule would allow. He did some of the dog walking and brought groceries for her.
"What else do you need me to do?" Ivor asked as he unclipped the dogs' leashes after their walk.
"Nothing, really. I'm doing fine," Mary answered. "Thanks for the lunchmeat and bread."
Ivor sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. She loved the feeling of warmth and security his presence gave her. Mary could hear his heartbeat slow as he settled in after the exercise with the dogs.
"Well," he began as he inhaled the aroma of her shampoo, "it seems to me you need someone to vacuum and do the dishes."
"Oh, that's not necessary!" Mary exclaimed.
"And why not?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"It's not that hard. I vacuumed the other day. And I have a dishwasher, which takes me only a few minutes to load and unload."
"I'll bet you were pretty tired after vacuuming, considering your surgery was only a couple weeks ago."
"Oh, um, yeah, sort of," Mary stammered, realizing that she had a tendency to overdo things. "I promise, Ivor, I took it really easy and took my time."
Ivor kissed her and said, "I think you need to take it easy. Remember you've had abdominal surgery and it takes a good while to heal."
"I know, I know," she replied. "But I hate sitting around and having other people do things for me."
He smiled and said, "I understand and I've been there with having surgery. But you don't do anyone any favors injuring yourself. So, take it easy, ok?" He asked the last emphasizing each word with a light pat to her leg.
Mary looked away silently. Ivor asked, "Do you understand? I don't want you hurting yourself."
Resigned, she answered, "Ok. I'll take it easy."
*****
A week later, Mary found herself out of dog food again. She had tried to be good to herself by buying only the four pound bags, but it was becoming expensive, and she was going to the store a couple times a week. At the supermarket, she found her favorite brand of dry food on sale, but only in the 40 pound bag. She looked up and down the aisle to see if anyone was watching.
Why would it matter if someone saw? Who in this megamarket would know she had a fresh five inch scar below her navel? Yet, she felt as if she were sneaking around, thinking the thought that she thought.
Keeping her back straight, she bent both knees, slipped both arms under the bag and stood. And nearly cried from the strain. She quickly dropped the bag into the shopping cart. She bought the dog food, along with a few human staples, and drove home, panting as she did so.
She hugged the bag to her and carried it very slowly up to her second floor apartment. Mary managed to get the food put away before sitting down to cry from the excruciating pain. She prayed to every god and goddess, asking them to spare her the horror of splitting open the inside sutures. She popped a couple Darvocet and went to bed.
*****
Ivor had some time off work and decided to surprise Mary by bringing over a 40 pound bag of dog food he'd seen on sale at the store. When Mary opened the door, she gaped at her strong and sweet boyfriend carrying the bag like it was filled with feathers. Ivor was in for quite a shock when he opened the can where dog food was kept. "What's this?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing."
"So this can full of food is just a figment of my imagination?" he asked a little more annoyed.
"Oh, um, that," Mary hemmed and hawed. "It doesn't hurt to get ahead on the food, does it?"
"Where'd you get it?"
"The other day at Giant Eagle," she blurted out before she'd been able to think of a lie. She hated how the women in the spanking stories she read and the videos she watched could think up a lie to get out of a bad situation. Lying was never something she was good at, dammit! If she'd at least given the name of a friend or even that her brother brought the food over, that would have been the end of the conversation. Instead, it was just the beginning.
Ivor took a deep breath. "Oh, I see. Maybe we should sit down and discuss this."
The two sat on the sofa facing each other. "Mary, you could have hurt yourself carrying that bag of food."
"But I ran out of dog food!" Marry cried.
"That's fine, but at least you could have picked up a bag you can carry without killing yourself, and I would have brought over a larger bag for you. I'm willing to do those things for you!" By now, Ivor was feeling frustrated and angry with his girlfriend.
"Well, I'm just tired of having to ask people for things! I'm tired of waiting and pulling people away just to bring me a bag of dog food!" Mary cried.
"You need to learn patience, young lady - "
"Uh, what's with this 'young lady' stuff? We don't have that kind of relationship. You said you liked my independence -"
"I do," answered Ivor.
"And my strength -"
"That, too."
"And having a good head on my shoulders -"
"Usually you do, but right now you're acting reckless. I think when you're well enough, we need to have a good long talk." Ivor looked directly into Mary's eyes, which had opened wide as saucers.
"What do you mean 'well enough'?" Mary asked suspiciously. "Why can't we talk now?"
"The discussion we're going to have will involve my hand and your bare bottom -" Ivor began.
"No! That's not fair! You don't need a reason to spank me!" Mary cried out. "You can spank me anytime, and you don't need to make up some lame excuse to 'punish' me." She rolled her eyes on the word "punish."
"You're absolutely right, honey, I don't need a reason. But when you behave with total disregard for your own wellbeing against doctor's orders, I believe you need a reminder. People care about you. They like you and will do more than you think they will. I care about you and like you too much to watch you hurt yourself."
Desperately, Mary pleaded, "But nothing bad happened! And I promise not to do it again!" She wanted nothing more than to leave the room and hide. She stood, but Ivor grabbed her arm and brought her sitting next to him once again.
"You said you weren't big into the whole discipline and punishment thing," Mary said quietly.
"I'm not," Ivor said, "but if I think there's a need to give a disciplinary spanking, I will. And I see a need here. I really don't want to do this -"
"Then don't!" Mary interjected.
Laughing, Ivor continued, "But I will because I care about you. Of course, not until you get the doctor's ok."
Resigned to her fate, Mary said, "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to scare you."
"I know that, sweetie," Ivor said softly. "You do see why I'm doing this, don't you?" He placed his hand under her chin and raised it. "If you're smart, this won't be something we have to do very often, now will it?"
"No, you're right," Mary said. She wondered how her sweet, easygoing boyfriend had suddenly turned into a Dom. Then again, he never even threatened to spank her before outside of the usual bratting and banter. When they talked about important things in their lives, he always gave his blessing. She would be glad to get this spanking over and done with.
*****
Mary knocked on Ivor's front door. He opened it, "Come in! What did the doctor say?"
"He says I'm healing brilliantly and I can have sex again."
"Does that mean you can be spanked again?" he asked with a sparkle in his eye.
"Um, yes, it does," Mary said, about as close to a blush as she came these days.
"Well, then, before the celebration, we have some unfinished business. Come and sit next to me."
Mary walked over to him and sat. "Um, what business?"
"You know damn well what business I'm talking about," Ivor said with a smile. "That little stunt of yours, carrying a 40 pound bag of food when the doctor told you no more than ten pounds."
"Oh, that business," Mary replied coyly.
"Yeah, that business. And don't think you're going to squirm or sweet talk your way out of it."
"Oh, Ivor! You don't think I'd do such a thing, do you? Why! You hurt my feelings!" Mary said, smiling in spite of herself.
"And now, my lovely Mary, it's time to hurt your bottom," Ivor said as he drew her across his lap. He adjusted her bottom so it rested over his right thigh and rested his hand on her bottom, using the left hand to draw her to his body.
Mary squirmed a little involuntarily. Ivor said, "Now, I realize you haven't done this for awhile, so I'm just going to use my hand. I promise you won't like this spanking, but I promise not to be too hard on you, ok?"
"Yes," Mary answered.
"Yes, what?" Ivor asked as he gave a light slap to her left cheek.
"Yes, Sir," Mary answered.
"Good. That's better."
And then the spanking began. Ivor did make one other concession and that was to warm Mary up thoroughly before giving a harder spanking. Mary squirmed and after a couple minutes began to cry. He stopped in the middle and rested his hand lightly on her bottom.
"I forgot to ask you, why are you getting spanked today?"
Mary sighed. She had been in a disciplinary relationship once before and hated answering that question. She always wanted to make some smart ass remark like, "Because you're a pervert!" But she always refrained, and smartly did so.
SMACK! "I asked you a question, young lady! Why are you getting spanked today?"
"Um, uh, because I didn't follow doctor's orders."
"And what else?" Ivor asked, punctuating the question with a resounding SMACK!
"I was impatient and hated asking for help when I know I needed it," Mary said breathlessly.
"Very good. As long as we're on the same page." Ivor began spanking again, with a little more intensity.
Mary whimpered and squirmed in the vain hope of avoiding the stinging palm. But Ivor was determined to make a strong impression on his usually sensible girlfriend. "I'm really really sorry! I promise not to do it again! Please no more!" she cried.
"I know you're sorry, but I'll decide when your punishment is over." He continued spanking for a couple more minutes and then it was over. It hadn't lasted more than about ten minutes, but because Mary had gone a couple months without spanking, Ivor knew it wouldn't take long to get to the bottom of this problem.
He helped her off his lap and then sitting onto his lap, where she cried into his shoulder. The spanking hadn't been brutal in the least, but Mary realized how much her wellbeing meant to Ivor and was truly contrite over her risky actions. He assured her, "There there. It's all over, and all is forgiven. Just make sure you take better care of yourself from now on, ok?"
"Yes, Sir, I will," Mary said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to do that."
"I'm sorry, too," Ivor said. "But I think you're generally an intelligent and thinking woman. Hopefully I won't have to do this again in the near future."
"I hope not, too," Mary said, smiling. "I love you."
Ivor looked deep into her eyes, surprised at what he'd heard. He had thought he was the only one who felt that way. "Oh, Mary, I love you, too!"
With a devilish glint in her eye, Mary asked, "Can I have a good girl spanking?"
"Oh why not?" Ivor said. They went to the bedroom where Mary stripped to her birthday suit. She lay across his lap on the bed, as he lovingly caressed and lightly spanked - more like patting than spanking - his beloved. They made love and fell asleep.
The End
Monday, March 26, 2007
An Excellent Web Site
I was referred by a friend to a wonderful site that explores real time submissiveness in a fresh (for me) smart, and sassy way, keeping in mind that they are submissive. It's called Submissive Women Speak. If you want to check out the site, just click on the title of this post.
What this site does for me is cut away at the myth that all Ds is the same. It's not. It's as unique as the individuals and each couple that practices it. There is no training manual, folks! Like most of life, it's learning by trial and error, along with deep examination and honest analysis.
I have been fortunate to have friends and friends of friends helping me to see myself in this journey. My life has been so chaotic that I have been clutching at straws and leaning too heavily upon other people. I mean this in the sense that my sense of self-worth comes from how many hits my blog gets or how filled my inbox is.
I've eliminated part of the problem as far as the email issue goes: I subscribe to different groups and participate to one degree or another, depending on my mood or the topic du jour. I also get lots of "forwarded messages" from friends. I even forward some of them on to others because I like them. So I basically rule those messages out as so much clutter. Getting the same cookie cutter message that's been sent a half-dozen times around the world doesn't do anything for my value as an individual, however well-intentioned the sender may be.
So I look at the emails I do get from people I consider friends, even if we have never or may never meet. A message, such as, "I haven't heard from you in awhile. How are you doing? Did you get over those side effects from your medication?" Or even "Things are pretty tough over here..." and the individual goes on to say what's up. Or even the happy happy joy joy of getting to know someone new and discussing likes/dislikes, etc. Those things make me feel good; that others care or need a shoulder to cry on, or whatever.
But I must learn not to count on such messages for self-worth. After all, this person may not have responded to an email because he has to go to work. Another one is spending time with her family. That one is doing his volunteer work and going to school. So I must not get upset when someone doesn't respond in a "timely" fashion, or at least what I consider to be timely.*smile*
It starts from within, something I've been reminded of recently. I may be submissive, willing to accept 100% total power exchange, or I may not. I must learn to become independent before choosing to be dependent upon another. I have part of that down...I live alone by choice because I don't want to drag someone else down with me. I pay the bills on time. I go to work. I make all the decisions on what to eat, whether to exercise, and how to proceed with my divorce.
The paradox is once I have figured out how to do that and regain my independence and self-worth from my accomplishments, THEN AND ONLY THEN can I begin to explore submissiveness within myself. I can't give away my power if I don't have it to begin with. I must take care of business at home because there isn't anyone else to do it for me.
Don't you love irony? I do. Go to Submissive Women Speak and see what I mean.
What this site does for me is cut away at the myth that all Ds is the same. It's not. It's as unique as the individuals and each couple that practices it. There is no training manual, folks! Like most of life, it's learning by trial and error, along with deep examination and honest analysis.
I have been fortunate to have friends and friends of friends helping me to see myself in this journey. My life has been so chaotic that I have been clutching at straws and leaning too heavily upon other people. I mean this in the sense that my sense of self-worth comes from how many hits my blog gets or how filled my inbox is.
I've eliminated part of the problem as far as the email issue goes: I subscribe to different groups and participate to one degree or another, depending on my mood or the topic du jour. I also get lots of "forwarded messages" from friends. I even forward some of them on to others because I like them. So I basically rule those messages out as so much clutter. Getting the same cookie cutter message that's been sent a half-dozen times around the world doesn't do anything for my value as an individual, however well-intentioned the sender may be.
So I look at the emails I do get from people I consider friends, even if we have never or may never meet. A message, such as, "I haven't heard from you in awhile. How are you doing? Did you get over those side effects from your medication?" Or even "Things are pretty tough over here..." and the individual goes on to say what's up. Or even the happy happy joy joy of getting to know someone new and discussing likes/dislikes, etc. Those things make me feel good; that others care or need a shoulder to cry on, or whatever.
But I must learn not to count on such messages for self-worth. After all, this person may not have responded to an email because he has to go to work. Another one is spending time with her family. That one is doing his volunteer work and going to school. So I must not get upset when someone doesn't respond in a "timely" fashion, or at least what I consider to be timely.*smile*
It starts from within, something I've been reminded of recently. I may be submissive, willing to accept 100% total power exchange, or I may not. I must learn to become independent before choosing to be dependent upon another. I have part of that down...I live alone by choice because I don't want to drag someone else down with me. I pay the bills on time. I go to work. I make all the decisions on what to eat, whether to exercise, and how to proceed with my divorce.
The paradox is once I have figured out how to do that and regain my independence and self-worth from my accomplishments, THEN AND ONLY THEN can I begin to explore submissiveness within myself. I can't give away my power if I don't have it to begin with. I must take care of business at home because there isn't anyone else to do it for me.
Don't you love irony? I do. Go to Submissive Women Speak and see what I mean.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
The Discovery Chapter II
Michael gently caressed the soft skin of Laura's bottom with his hand. It had been so long since a female bottom had been proffered to him he wondered how he had gone so long without. This lifestyle seemed to be either feast or famine for him in his many years as a dominant. He either had three women clamoring for his affections and guidance or he had none.
He gently caressed the bottom, pleased with its sexy softness. Laura lay confused, the storm of conflicting emotions and sensations dancing in her head. His touch was sweet and gentle; the soap tasted awful and tears formed in her eyes. She parted her lips, still keeping her teeth implanted in the Ivory, allowing the sticky solution of soap and saliva to come out of her mouth. The wretched taste had already worked its way into her tongue and insides of her cheeks; there would be no way of avoiding it. But she feared swallowing it. Ivory may be 99.44% pure, but pure "what" would be the question. She assumed it must mean pure unadulterated hell.
The soon to be penitent bottom wiggled reflexively to a particularly pleasing touch, and the owner of the hand making the move was brought out of his own reverie of admiration for the gift that was quite literally in his lap. It had been too long, indeed. "Young lady, you have been floundering for far too long," he lectured as he began final preparations for the bottom-smacking portion of the punishment. The soft gentle caresses progressed to deeper massage and kneading of the voluptuous cheeks. He measured his hand and curved it to her bottom to get the most impact with the least effort. "Your life is spinning out of control and you have come to me in the hope that you can regain your sanity after a horrible marriage." The accumulative effect of his pats raised the temperature in her seat, although it was not stinging…yet.
"You have asked me to take control and shoulder some of your burdens. I can do that for you, Laura, but first you must give up that control. You are trainable. Nod if you understand that." Michael looked at her nodding with the bar of soap in her mouth, her chin wet and sticky. He would keep this part of the punishment brief to avoid sensory overload. When he was much less experienced as a dominant, he didn't always realize the accumulative effect of the combination of mouth soaping and spanking on the submissive, especially because this was new for her. She had experienced many new sensations and playing with her mind that was at the heart of all Ds relationships; he wanted to ease her into it. He also didn't want her breaking the soap in her mouth and possibly swallowing it. He did understand that this punishment, however brief, would leave a lasting impression on her.
"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked. Laura nodded and tensed her body. "Relax," he commanded. He felt her body soften at his command and he gave her bottom one more pat. He swatted slowly and steadily, at first alternating cheeks, and then applied several stinging swats to her left cheek, followed by the same to her right cheek. Immediately Laura's bottom wiggled and squirmed in the vain attempt to avoid or mitigate the swats, but Michael's hand instinctively followed its target. The hardest part about accepting a spanking, Michael understood all too well and now Laura was beginning to understand, was that it would continue until he decided it was time to stop. His hand applied increasing pressure to her reddening bottom and he heard grunts and sobs coming from the wet and sticky faced woman receiving the punishment. After a moment of hard spanking, she sobbed, soap still firmly held in place in her mouth, and began to kick.
He stopped the spanking and commanded, "Laura. Go to the corner. Keep your hands on your head and your feet spread shoulder width apart." He helped her to a standing position and answered her unspoken question. "Yes, the soap stays in your mouth." She trotted to the corner and stayed put, while Michael rummaged through his drawer to pull out the hairbrush. If he had to use an implement on a new submissive, it would be the hairbrush. It could be used while OTK and was comfortable for the spanker, if not the spankee.
Michael watched, impressed with his handiwork, as Laura's shoulders shook with her sobs. Laura's mind was reeling. The spanking hurt more than anything she could have imagined. The soap was not only humiliating but made her feel slightly sick at the taste and foam. Any pretense she may have had towards being ladylike was shot as she frequently parted her lips to rid her mouth of the terrible foam and taste. The mess ran down her chin and onto her chest. She didn't care. She didn't even care that it no longer bothered her. Her only concern was when he would end this punishment. Her hopes for a quick spanking were dashed when she felt him tug on a lock of her hair to remove her from the corner.
He walked her thusly back to where she had been before and sat down, releasing her hair but grabbing her wrist. "Remove the soap," he said, which she gratefully did. "Now set it on the paper towel on the nightstand," which she did. He continued sternly, "This will be your punishment soap, young lady. I will use it not only in the event of your foul language, but also if you become sassy and argumentative with me. Do you understand?"
Laura spoke her first words since the soaping, "Yes, Sir, I understand. May I ask a question, Sir?"
"Yes, you may," Michael replied, hoping she wasn't stalling her punishment.
"You said sassy...Does that mean like when I brat you? Or joke around with you?"
"Absolutely not, my dear. You can go a little overboard on your bratting at times, but I will warn you to stop before punishing you. I won't take you by surprise on that count. I do mean in the event of a serious discussion. You are free to express your opinions, even when you disagree, but you must remain respectful of me at all times. As for your foul language, I will not hesitate to use the soap for any occurrence of it, whether in joking or serious. It's an excellent deterrent, don't you think?"
Laura smiled and nodded, "Yes, Sir, it is."
"Have I answered your question to your satisfaction?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you," she replied.
"Very well, then," he said, pulling her over his lap again, startling Laura. This time to prevent her kicking, he trapped her legs between his thighs. He raised the hairbrush-laden hand and brought it down hard on the one plump cheek, then the other. Laura very quickly began sobbing in earnest and begging him to stop.
"Begging will get you nowhere, young lady, except possibly spanked more," he lectured, punctuating his words with hard cracks to her sitspot, that deliciously delicate area where the red bottom meets the pink thighs. She cried and howled, no longer begging, but vocalizing her bottom's discomfort.
Laura had reached her panic point; she wondered not when he would stop spanking her, but if. She'd never heard of anyone being spanked to death, but there was a first time for everything. During her time of panic she jostled and tried to squirm away. Michael felt her trying to kick and gripped her legs more tightly. She somehow managed to keep her hands clutching the bedding to prevent the burning desire to cover her bottom. She sobbed incoherent promises of being good. Her entire universe consisted of nothing but her sore and swollen bottom and the repeated strikes covering her bottom and thighs. Michael continued spanking her hard.
He knew he got through to her when her body went limp, indicating she was no longer fighting her punishment in any way, but truly submitting to it - body and soul. She lay across his knee and on the bed, sobbing in acceptance. The dreadful hairbrush continued its assault on her raw and sore ass. She was contrite and never wanted to experience the likes of a punishment spanking again.
Michael continued spanking for only a moment more. What had felt like hours to Laura was in reality only a few minutes. He set down the hairbrush and began to gently caress her bottom. He was pleased with how red she was and how warm to the touch she was. "Now, do you think you can be a good girl for me and follow rules from now on?" he asked.
Laura sobbed out a yes. "Stand up," he said, much more lovingly and gently than before. He helped her to a standing position, then to sitting on his lap. He held her close as she sobbed the last of her frustrations away. "It's all over. I forgive you. You took your punishment very well," he spoke softly in her ear, his soothing baritone voice gently buzzing through her body. He held her as she continued to cry.
She had never felt so much at peace in her life. She'd never felt forgiveness before. Her body felt relaxed. Oddly enough she felt aroused by this spanking. That wasn't supposed to happen, was it? she wondered. She was in love with this man who would give her what she needed, in this case a good sound spanking to teach her a lesson. She wanted him...now. She raised her tear and soapy face and kissed him. He returned the kiss with a gentle one of his own. She began to kiss him harder, opening her mouth. He pushed her away.
"I'm sorry," she said, tears returning to her eyes. She thought he really wanted her the way she wanted him at that moment.
"I don't believe in any kind of sexual activity after a punishment spanking, Laura," he said returning to his earlier stern tone. "It sends the wrong message. Now for fun spankings, definitely, but not punishment, ok?"
"Oh...all right," she replied, half-whining and half honestly sadly.
"Hmmm...you are getting a little bratty. Perhaps I didn't spank you hard enough?" he asked.
"No, Sir, you spanked me plenty hard," she quickly protested. "It's weird...I just feel...I don't know...kind of in the mood, you know? I can't believe it myself."
Michael hugged Laura. "It's perfectly understandable, my dear. Spanking is erotic, no doubt about it. But I have a hard and fast rule about not having sex after a punishment. In fact, I think since you want some sexual release, that part of your punishment is to deny it to you."
Laura's body slumped against his chest. "I'm feeling very tired now."
"Then I think you need a nap. I have some work to do on my computer." He helped her up, stood up, pulled down the covers, and tucked her into the bed. He kissed her.
"Michael, Sir?"
"Yes, Laura?"
"I love you," she said looking up at his sweet and gentle eyes.
"I love you, too, sweetie. Get some rest now, ok?" he said, giving her another soft kiss. Michael decided he was too tired to finish his business paperwork and lay on the top of the covers, holding Laura securely, as she drifted to sleep with a smile on her face.
To be continued...
He gently caressed the bottom, pleased with its sexy softness. Laura lay confused, the storm of conflicting emotions and sensations dancing in her head. His touch was sweet and gentle; the soap tasted awful and tears formed in her eyes. She parted her lips, still keeping her teeth implanted in the Ivory, allowing the sticky solution of soap and saliva to come out of her mouth. The wretched taste had already worked its way into her tongue and insides of her cheeks; there would be no way of avoiding it. But she feared swallowing it. Ivory may be 99.44% pure, but pure "what" would be the question. She assumed it must mean pure unadulterated hell.
The soon to be penitent bottom wiggled reflexively to a particularly pleasing touch, and the owner of the hand making the move was brought out of his own reverie of admiration for the gift that was quite literally in his lap. It had been too long, indeed. "Young lady, you have been floundering for far too long," he lectured as he began final preparations for the bottom-smacking portion of the punishment. The soft gentle caresses progressed to deeper massage and kneading of the voluptuous cheeks. He measured his hand and curved it to her bottom to get the most impact with the least effort. "Your life is spinning out of control and you have come to me in the hope that you can regain your sanity after a horrible marriage." The accumulative effect of his pats raised the temperature in her seat, although it was not stinging…yet.
"You have asked me to take control and shoulder some of your burdens. I can do that for you, Laura, but first you must give up that control. You are trainable. Nod if you understand that." Michael looked at her nodding with the bar of soap in her mouth, her chin wet and sticky. He would keep this part of the punishment brief to avoid sensory overload. When he was much less experienced as a dominant, he didn't always realize the accumulative effect of the combination of mouth soaping and spanking on the submissive, especially because this was new for her. She had experienced many new sensations and playing with her mind that was at the heart of all Ds relationships; he wanted to ease her into it. He also didn't want her breaking the soap in her mouth and possibly swallowing it. He did understand that this punishment, however brief, would leave a lasting impression on her.
"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked. Laura nodded and tensed her body. "Relax," he commanded. He felt her body soften at his command and he gave her bottom one more pat. He swatted slowly and steadily, at first alternating cheeks, and then applied several stinging swats to her left cheek, followed by the same to her right cheek. Immediately Laura's bottom wiggled and squirmed in the vain attempt to avoid or mitigate the swats, but Michael's hand instinctively followed its target. The hardest part about accepting a spanking, Michael understood all too well and now Laura was beginning to understand, was that it would continue until he decided it was time to stop. His hand applied increasing pressure to her reddening bottom and he heard grunts and sobs coming from the wet and sticky faced woman receiving the punishment. After a moment of hard spanking, she sobbed, soap still firmly held in place in her mouth, and began to kick.
He stopped the spanking and commanded, "Laura. Go to the corner. Keep your hands on your head and your feet spread shoulder width apart." He helped her to a standing position and answered her unspoken question. "Yes, the soap stays in your mouth." She trotted to the corner and stayed put, while Michael rummaged through his drawer to pull out the hairbrush. If he had to use an implement on a new submissive, it would be the hairbrush. It could be used while OTK and was comfortable for the spanker, if not the spankee.
Michael watched, impressed with his handiwork, as Laura's shoulders shook with her sobs. Laura's mind was reeling. The spanking hurt more than anything she could have imagined. The soap was not only humiliating but made her feel slightly sick at the taste and foam. Any pretense she may have had towards being ladylike was shot as she frequently parted her lips to rid her mouth of the terrible foam and taste. The mess ran down her chin and onto her chest. She didn't care. She didn't even care that it no longer bothered her. Her only concern was when he would end this punishment. Her hopes for a quick spanking were dashed when she felt him tug on a lock of her hair to remove her from the corner.
He walked her thusly back to where she had been before and sat down, releasing her hair but grabbing her wrist. "Remove the soap," he said, which she gratefully did. "Now set it on the paper towel on the nightstand," which she did. He continued sternly, "This will be your punishment soap, young lady. I will use it not only in the event of your foul language, but also if you become sassy and argumentative with me. Do you understand?"
Laura spoke her first words since the soaping, "Yes, Sir, I understand. May I ask a question, Sir?"
"Yes, you may," Michael replied, hoping she wasn't stalling her punishment.
"You said sassy...Does that mean like when I brat you? Or joke around with you?"
"Absolutely not, my dear. You can go a little overboard on your bratting at times, but I will warn you to stop before punishing you. I won't take you by surprise on that count. I do mean in the event of a serious discussion. You are free to express your opinions, even when you disagree, but you must remain respectful of me at all times. As for your foul language, I will not hesitate to use the soap for any occurrence of it, whether in joking or serious. It's an excellent deterrent, don't you think?"
Laura smiled and nodded, "Yes, Sir, it is."
"Have I answered your question to your satisfaction?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you," she replied.
"Very well, then," he said, pulling her over his lap again, startling Laura. This time to prevent her kicking, he trapped her legs between his thighs. He raised the hairbrush-laden hand and brought it down hard on the one plump cheek, then the other. Laura very quickly began sobbing in earnest and begging him to stop.
"Begging will get you nowhere, young lady, except possibly spanked more," he lectured, punctuating his words with hard cracks to her sitspot, that deliciously delicate area where the red bottom meets the pink thighs. She cried and howled, no longer begging, but vocalizing her bottom's discomfort.
Laura had reached her panic point; she wondered not when he would stop spanking her, but if. She'd never heard of anyone being spanked to death, but there was a first time for everything. During her time of panic she jostled and tried to squirm away. Michael felt her trying to kick and gripped her legs more tightly. She somehow managed to keep her hands clutching the bedding to prevent the burning desire to cover her bottom. She sobbed incoherent promises of being good. Her entire universe consisted of nothing but her sore and swollen bottom and the repeated strikes covering her bottom and thighs. Michael continued spanking her hard.
He knew he got through to her when her body went limp, indicating she was no longer fighting her punishment in any way, but truly submitting to it - body and soul. She lay across his knee and on the bed, sobbing in acceptance. The dreadful hairbrush continued its assault on her raw and sore ass. She was contrite and never wanted to experience the likes of a punishment spanking again.
Michael continued spanking for only a moment more. What had felt like hours to Laura was in reality only a few minutes. He set down the hairbrush and began to gently caress her bottom. He was pleased with how red she was and how warm to the touch she was. "Now, do you think you can be a good girl for me and follow rules from now on?" he asked.
Laura sobbed out a yes. "Stand up," he said, much more lovingly and gently than before. He helped her to a standing position, then to sitting on his lap. He held her close as she sobbed the last of her frustrations away. "It's all over. I forgive you. You took your punishment very well," he spoke softly in her ear, his soothing baritone voice gently buzzing through her body. He held her as she continued to cry.
She had never felt so much at peace in her life. She'd never felt forgiveness before. Her body felt relaxed. Oddly enough she felt aroused by this spanking. That wasn't supposed to happen, was it? she wondered. She was in love with this man who would give her what she needed, in this case a good sound spanking to teach her a lesson. She wanted him...now. She raised her tear and soapy face and kissed him. He returned the kiss with a gentle one of his own. She began to kiss him harder, opening her mouth. He pushed her away.
"I'm sorry," she said, tears returning to her eyes. She thought he really wanted her the way she wanted him at that moment.
"I don't believe in any kind of sexual activity after a punishment spanking, Laura," he said returning to his earlier stern tone. "It sends the wrong message. Now for fun spankings, definitely, but not punishment, ok?"
"Oh...all right," she replied, half-whining and half honestly sadly.
"Hmmm...you are getting a little bratty. Perhaps I didn't spank you hard enough?" he asked.
"No, Sir, you spanked me plenty hard," she quickly protested. "It's weird...I just feel...I don't know...kind of in the mood, you know? I can't believe it myself."
Michael hugged Laura. "It's perfectly understandable, my dear. Spanking is erotic, no doubt about it. But I have a hard and fast rule about not having sex after a punishment. In fact, I think since you want some sexual release, that part of your punishment is to deny it to you."
Laura's body slumped against his chest. "I'm feeling very tired now."
"Then I think you need a nap. I have some work to do on my computer." He helped her up, stood up, pulled down the covers, and tucked her into the bed. He kissed her.
"Michael, Sir?"
"Yes, Laura?"
"I love you," she said looking up at his sweet and gentle eyes.
"I love you, too, sweetie. Get some rest now, ok?" he said, giving her another soft kiss. Michael decided he was too tired to finish his business paperwork and lay on the top of the covers, holding Laura securely, as she drifted to sleep with a smile on her face.
To be continued...
Beannachtai na Feile Padraig oraibh!
My score on The Are You Irish? Test:
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A true descendant
(You are 75% Irish!)
"Your parents or grandparents are probably Irish, and you consider yourself Irish too. Congratulations, coz people in Ireland will accept you as one of our distant brothers..."
**************************************
Take it by clicking on the title, which is Irish for Happy St. Patrick's Day!
**************************************
A true descendant
(You are 75% Irish!)
"Your parents or grandparents are probably Irish, and you consider yourself Irish too. Congratulations, coz people in Ireland will accept you as one of our distant brothers..."
**************************************
Take it by clicking on the title, which is Irish for Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Friday, March 16, 2007
The Discovery Chapter I (exploring D/s)
Laura walked into the room, looking like a million dollars, but feeling anything but. She nervously searched for the man whose ad she had answered looking for a woman to submit to her master's wishes. She hoped she was that woman. Life had become nearly intolerable and chaotic since her divorce, where she was forced to sink or swim on her own.
She had never done well on her own; she'd always needed that reassurance that someone was there, even if it was an abusive husband. The straw that broke the camel's back was the punch that broke her jaw. The jaw took several months to heal; but her heart was shattered and ripped apart by a bully who belittled her for ten years, there was no cure for her broken heart.
Until now. She had spoken to Michael Fitzgerald several times on the phone and instant messenger. She had dared to share her innermost secret desires—she wanted to be spanked. And not just a few playful swats while making love, but the burning, stinging sensations she'd read and fantasized about the past year since the divorce. They were the kind of sensations that could tell a woman that a man cared about her as more than a quick fuck.
Michael felt himself to be the man to make Laura's dreams come true, along with his own of a submissive to serve him. He knew her naughtiness and bratty comments on the phone and instant messenger were a façade, which covered pain and humiliation of years of abuse. He found a yearning submissiveness in her manner that she succeeded in keeping hidden from others. She had told him how she wanted "to be made" to follow his orders. He would see to it that her wish was granted.
She found the man wearing the black carnation in his lapel. She headed straight to the table, where he stood and pulled a chair out for her. Laura awkwardly accepted the proffered chair, hoping she wouldn't fall into it before it had been tucked under the table appropriately.
His hair was gray, mixed with charcoal tones with a well-trimmed beard. He stood about a foot taller than her and carried himself with a quiet confidence in himself. He was a dozen years older than she; a mere carton of eggs difference she giggled to him once on the telephone. Her mind flashed back to that memory as she smiled at him. He had told her that making fun of his age would result in an on-the-spot spanking, which she filed conveniently away in her mind for future reference.
As they sat Michael asked, "Why are you laughing, my dear? Is my appearance humorous?"
Nervously she answered, "No, you just look so dommish, dressed all in black. Do you think Johnny Cash was a Dom?" He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, and she quickly retracted her answer. "No, Sir, I was remembering a humorous moment on the phone."
"It appears that you are just as much of a naughty girl in person as you are when safely out of harm's way."
"I'm sorry, Sir. I guess I am," she begged plaintively.
"All is forgiven, Laura dear. But remember the time will come to pay the piper, and you have been bratting me since we first started talking." This time it was Michael's turn to smile as Laura sat flabbergasted.
"Well, I, uh, you see…" she stammered. "You must be fucking nuts!" she laughed.
"Found your voice, I see," Michael responded. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever tasted a bar of soap? I believe there is a bar of Ivory soap with your name on it."
Laura blushed. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said. "I guess I'm just nervous."
"That's understandable, but you've already earned a spanking and a mouth soaping and we haven't ordered the wine yet. This isn't starting very well, is it?" Laura's eyes turned downcast and her fingers fumbled nervously in her lap. This is what she wanted, at least in her fantasies, but the reality was a little scarier. Michael refused to follow her script, which was at turns exciting and frustrating for her.
Michael's voice broke into her reverie. "I asked you a question, Laura. I expect an answer. Is this or is this not starting well for you?"
Feeling jolted back to reality, a reality that felt somehow more surreal than the reality of the outside she had left behind mere moments earlier, she hurriedly replied, "I'm sorry, Sir. This is not starting well for me." She looked away again, hoping he hadn't given up on her this quickly.
"I'm not the kind of man who will give up on a lovely and intelligent woman just because of a couple early slip ups," he reassured her. "If we go through with this relationship, it will take time to grow and for us to learn about each other's needs and how I may best enhance the experience for you."
The wine waiter took Michael's order for a bottle of chardonnay. "It will take time for you to learn how to please me. Although I am stern, I am also fair and patient. Early in this relationship you may find yourself being punished frequently, but that is only until you learn to please me and I learn how to motivate you without requiring punishment."
Laura sat and considered his words. This wasn't what she had expected. She had imagined their earlier witty repartee, the delightful lovers' banter back and forth, which would result in a naughty girl spanking given in fun and delight. He was being very serious instead. "Laura, did you bring me the list as I asked?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied happily, glad to have done something right. She removed the paper and unfolded it, handing it to him.
"Read it, please," he said calmly.
"Here? In front of the restaurant? What if others hear?" she gasped excitedly.
"I'll let your impertinence slide this time but this is your only warning. If you do not wish to be heard, I suggest you speak in a moderate tone, young lady. Now read me what you wrote."
Laura took a deep breath, looked at the nearby diners, hoping they wouldn't overhear her, and read:
"Dear Michael Sir,
I come to you as a submissive seeking a dominant who will tend to my needs for discipline given with love. You ordered me to write three things I wish to change about myself. I have done this as you have requested.
Number one is to curb my language." Laura paused for a moment as she remembered her choice word a few minutes earlier. "I have a tendency to speak before realizing what I am saying…" She stopped and bit her lip.
"Go on," Michael said evenly. He knew what was coming next because he had told her what to write.
"And I need you to punish me for that behavior," she said, trying to stifle a nervous giggle.
"Number two is to control my tendency to procrastinate. I was called Eleventh-Hour Laura in school and college because I usually waited until the night before a paper was due to start it. There was no internet in those days."
"And…" Michael encouraged.
"And I need you to punish me for that behavior," she replied. This was the hardest part of all, and he knew it. Nobody liked to admit to needing a punishment. Michael wanted Laura to be aware that she was asking for this change in her life; that it would not be forced upon her.
"Number three is to attend my counseling sessions without fail. I always have an excuse not to go, and I really need it since the divorce. And…I…need you…to punish…me…for that behavior." She took another deep breath before continuing, "I am coming to you, Michael Sir, of my own free will. Although you will always choose the punishment, I have the freedom to walk away. But I do not want to walk away. I need your loving discipline and I hope you allow me to be your submissive. Signed Laura Navis."
"Now you may hand it to me, my dear," Michael said with a smile. He took her hands in his and added, "You have done well. I know that was very hard for you to do. I am very proud that you have taken this first step." He kissed her hands and took the paper, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.
Laura heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn't resist adding, "You should be proud of me! After all, who else would do this for a man of advanced years as yourself?"
Michael broke out into a broad tooth-filled grin and chuckled. "My dear, I will so enjoy turning your sexy and spankable bottom a deep shade of crimson. With your quick wit, I might have the pleasure of enjoying giving you a good spanking quite frequently. At least I hope so." He did like a brat to tame, and he felt he'd found it in Laura.
They ate dinner, drank wine, enjoyed each other's company, engaged in a little verbal sparring, and went back to his place.
After dinner and conversation Michael walked Laura out to her car and unlocked the door. He opened the driver's side door and bade her step in. As she did so she felt a light pat and squeeze on her bottom, which brought a smile to her face.
After ensuring that she was safe and sound in her own car, Michael walked over to his car and entered it. He turned the ignition, watching as she did the same, and she followed him out of the parking lot.
Laura was not normally a woman who would go home with a man the first time, but they were not in one of the larger cities, so it turned out Michael had at one point been her friend's partner. Her friend had only been looking for casual spanking relationships, which is why his tendency to dominate did not work, and they parted friends. In a midsize city, everyone in this alternative lifestyle would know each other. She had, in fact, met the husband of a woman she worked with. The coworker did not play, but her husband did. For the simple reason Laura had already been friends with his wife, she could not play even casually with the husband. It would have been different had the wife accepted or approved.
The annoyingly tinny sound of the song, It's a Small World, After All, kept running through her mind as she followed Michael's car to his home a ten minute drive away. She turned on the classic rock station loud in a vain attempt to rid her brain of possibly the worst song ever to appear in a Disney movie. The radio blasted out some wretched garbage from one of the 1980's hair bands, never Laura's favorite subgenre, and she quickly turned off the radio and cursed the DJ.
One thing was certain and that was the trip was short enough she found herself pulling into Michael's driveway behind him before she could scout for better music. She stepped out of the car and locked it with the remote. She put the keys into her purse when she felt a sharp stinging smack on her rear.
"What was that for?" she asked, jumping and smiling at the attention she had craved for so long.
"In the future, you will sit in the car and wait for me to open your door for you. You do not get out of your car until that time. Is that understood?" Michael smiled as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo as it played on his nostrils.
"Well, you know, you have to tell me these things," Laura remarked with a sparkle in her eyes that even the late night darkness could not hide. She had a fairly good idea what was on his mind as he gestured for her to walk in front of him to the door.
"I just did," he replied with a sharper smack to her rump, which looked so tantalizing under the thin fabric of dress and ladies undergarments. While the dress showed off her soft and smooth curves, swaying as she took each step, it hid enough of her treasures to bid Michael to want to see more.
Laura's hand reached back to prevent any more assault to her bottom, as she laughed, "I mean before the spanking begins."
"Rule one," Michael began as he turned the key in the lock and opened the front door to his house, "Don't ever cover your bottom. It is there for my amusement and I will not be denied access to it. Besides when we play or I have to punish you, it can be dangerous to place your hands in the line of fire, so I find it best to simply forbid it."
A very sharp reminder swat landed across the divide as Laura entered the living room. Her hand almost shot back but Michael's "Unh-unh" warned it away. While his tone for the most part had been light and airy throughout the evening, the last statement felt darker and more real for Laura. The thought that her bottom could be a toy for Michael to play with at his whim both terrified and electrified her at once.
Michael flipped a switch that softly illuminated the living room. "I'll take these," he offered as he removed her blazer and purse. His eyes drank in the nearly bare shoulders and the dress's loving hugs of Laura's curves of both her breasts and her bottom. Soft and sensuous woman was she.
"Just stand there," he answered her unspoken question. "Allow me the pleasure to gaze at your body." He stepped back a pace and slowly circled Laura, whose hands began to fumble in front of her. "No, keep them at your sides," he gently admonished her, placing her hands thusly. Thus far he was pleased with her efforts to please him. He was not the kind of Dom to be harsh on his sub, at least at first. He preferred a slower and more sensual method of training, especially for a newbie such as the woman standing in front of him.
Laura felt her face turn red hot as he first stood, then sat on the sofa, behind her. She felt Michael's eyes burning into her back. She wanted to turn around and look him in the eye, but she understood instinctively that he would decide if and when she could do that. "You are so sexy. Unwrapping you will be a feast for my eyes."
Without thinking of her words or their consequences, Laura blurted out, "Your eyes need glasses, I think."
Without hesitation his tone changed sharply. "Rule two: You will be punished for putting yourself down. I had hoped that tendency of yours to criticize your body in the name of self-deprecation would have appeared on your list, but I have the option of adding to that list as I see fit. That is a serious rule you've been breaking."
Laura shifted uneasily from side to side and Michael was amused by the sudden tensing of her cheeks when he reprimanded her verbally. "Have I made myself perfectly clear, young lady?" he asked in a commanding tone.
"Yes, Sir, you have," Laura answered meekly. She wondered how she could have got it so wrong so quickly. They had agreed that there would be a punishment during their first meeting. It would clean the slate so both could start fresh. She began to wonder when it would begin because she really wanted it over and done with. What she had failed to consider, however, was that the punishment had already begun, along with her training. She would learn that the punishment consisted of more than spanking her bare bottom, although that would certainly be the primary focus.
After a few more minutes of his staring at her back, he said more gently than before, "Now remove your dress." He saw her whole body tense at his words. While she understood her bottom would have to be bared for her punishment, naturally enough, she didn't expect to be undressed for it, certainly not this first time. What kind of a devil had she struck a bargain with?
"I can't," she barely whispered.
"Of course you can, and you shall," he reiterated. "You expressed your need to live by rules and to obey me without question. Now I am telling you for the last time to remove your dress."
Her fingers nervously found the hem and began the daunting task of slipping the silky fabric up her body and over her head. "You may drop it on the floor beside you," Michael said, his voice containing both the necessary sternness and desire for her body. She did so and felt embarrassment at being displayed like a mannequin in the clothing store. She stood and felt the cool air circulate around the freshly exposed skin. Nothing remained save for her bra, panties, and thigh high stockings, along with the high-heeled shoes she still wore.
"Hmmm…what a beautiful and sexy body you have, Laura," Michael said as he poured himself a glass of wine.
"Thank you, Sir," she replied, hoping she hadn't spoken out of turn.
"You didn't speak out of turn, Laura. It is perfectly acceptable for you to thank me for a compliment."
Laura chose to remain silent, which was exactly the response Michael wanted. After another minute or two, he walked to where she stood. He brushed her brown hair off her neck and shoulders and ran his fingers through the silky softness. The sensation of being touched so gently brought shivers of pleasure throughout her body.
He stood behind her, his breath tingled the back of her neck. She continued standing as still as possible, avoiding the temptation of looking at him or taking him hungrily in her mouth. He kissed the back of her neck, his lips like feathers barely touching the delicate skin. She involuntarily clamped her thighs tightly to contain the rising tide of pleasure. He commanded, "Spread your feet apart," as he gently nudged her feet apart with the toe of his shoe. She blushed, hoping he wouldn't see the wet spot on her pink nylon panties.
Her feet placed shoulder width apart, she felt even more vulnerable to whatever pleasures he had in store for her. She was scared but nothing was holding her in this room with this man other than her own lustful desires. She wanted to do this; in fact, she needed to do this just like she needed air to breathe and water to drink, she needed to feel Michael consume her.
His hand glided gently down her back and rested on first one cheek, which he squeezed and pinched, then the other, repeating the pinch and squeeze. Fingers drifted forward between her spread thighs. He smiled when he felt the wet spot on the panties; Laura cringed inwardly. Her entire body tensed noticeably when his fingers lightly brushed her pussy lips, which were still encased inside a sheer thin fabric. "Relax, sweetie, let what happens happen," he cooed softly in her ear.
"I can't. I'm trying," Laura told him, unsure of herself. The men from her past--and there had been a few including her ex-husband--were more straightforward and expected her mutual participation. She now felt confused because she felt she would serve him, but it seemed to be the opposite that was happening. She wanted so badly to reciprocate.
"You can, but you're not trying hard enough," he gently reprimanded her. He stepped in front of her and dragged his fingernails lazily up and down her exposed abdomen. She smiled at the warm ticklish sensation but did not resist save for some nearly imperceptible swaying from side to side.
"Hold your arms out in front of you," he said abruptly. She immediately complied. He unhooked the back of her bra and stared intently into her brown pleading eyes while he removed the garment from her breasts, down her arms, and off her hands. Reflexively her arms began to cross in front of her to preserve what little modesty remained. "No! Put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers," he said sternly, placing her hands the way he wanted them.
"Please, no," she begged softly.
He smacked her bottom…hard. She jumped slightly but maintained the spread feet and hands on head position. "Laura, I will not have you arguing with me. You have just added to your punishment."
"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered.
"You will be," he replied.
She bit back the tears which threatened to betray her weakness. He understood she would be crying by the end of the evening but this session needed a little more training before the bottom smacking would begin.
His hands glided effortlessly over her entire body including her breasts. He tweaked her nipples which gave her quick spasms of pain, but left her feeling excited and anxious for more. She moaned in response assuming that his silence on the subject left her free to do so.
She was right. Michael so loved a vocal response from his subs. He worked hard at reducing the newbie's inhibitions and was pleased with his work only when she screamed during an orgasm.
He walked to a cabinet and pulled something out. He brought the object back to Laura who blushed at the sight of the small egg vibrator. He knelt in front of her, chiding her to keep in position—feet spread and hands on head—and slipped one hand with the vibrator inside her panties and began to rub it against her already throbbing clit when he turned on the power button.
She just knew her knees would buckle. Michael teased her nipples with his teeth, biting and sucking on the hardened red knobs. A hand moved the vibrator alongside and inside her soaking wet pussy and only stopped when she gasped, indicating the vibrator was now on her clit. He held it in place, occasionally applying pressure to her little nubbin and other times letting it just buzz and graze the clit without really touching it.
Laura was going mad from the desire and knew she would explode. She involuntarily lifted one foot off the floor and Michael warned her to keep both feet on the floor, shoulder width apart. When her body was wracked by a powerful orgasm mere minutes later, she didn't scream but she called out, "Oh God!" and grunted other such phrases. He pressed the vibrator hard into her spasming pussy and clit and put it on its highest setting—nuclear explosion, she thought—as she rocked back and forth from the explosion.
When all was said and done, beads of perspiration had broken out on her forehead and chest. She panted for several seconds until her breath caught up with her. "Thank you, Sir," she said, "That was wonderful."
"Glad I could be of assistance," he replied with a wicked grin. He brought her hands down and held her close for a few minutes. They kissed passionately, his tongue piercing her parted lips. "Now, my dear, it is time for your spanking." Without another word from either, he led her by the hand to his bedroom. "Wait here for me. I'll be right back."
With that he disappeared. Laura wondered where he had taken off to and when he would return. A few minutes later he returned with a freshly opened bar of white Ivory soap. Ivory soap, 99.44% pure, would be the perfect cure for an impure mouth that used profanity. He stepped beside her and cupped his free hand on the back of her head. "Open up," he said. Her eyes pleaded silently for him not to do this; he cocked an eyebrow at her. She opened her mouth and he set the bar of nasty tasting soap inside her mouth.
"If you so much as attempt to remove it during your spanking, I will tie your hands and gag your mouth with the soap inside. Nod if you understand me, young lady." Laura nodded. Her saliva was already beginning to make the Ivory melt in her mouth, creating soft foam. She swore mentally that she would never so much as even think a curse word ever again.
Michael brought an armless chair to the side of the bed and sat on it. He patted his lap and guided Laura over it. Her legs rested easily on the floor and the upper half of her body was supported by the mattress. She resisted the temptation to spit out the soap or to pull it out of her mouth.
His hand gently lowered the panties which were good and wet from his earlier ministrations. Laura felt cold and damp, but knew that wouldn't last for long.
To be continued...
She had never done well on her own; she'd always needed that reassurance that someone was there, even if it was an abusive husband. The straw that broke the camel's back was the punch that broke her jaw. The jaw took several months to heal; but her heart was shattered and ripped apart by a bully who belittled her for ten years, there was no cure for her broken heart.
Until now. She had spoken to Michael Fitzgerald several times on the phone and instant messenger. She had dared to share her innermost secret desires—she wanted to be spanked. And not just a few playful swats while making love, but the burning, stinging sensations she'd read and fantasized about the past year since the divorce. They were the kind of sensations that could tell a woman that a man cared about her as more than a quick fuck.
Michael felt himself to be the man to make Laura's dreams come true, along with his own of a submissive to serve him. He knew her naughtiness and bratty comments on the phone and instant messenger were a façade, which covered pain and humiliation of years of abuse. He found a yearning submissiveness in her manner that she succeeded in keeping hidden from others. She had told him how she wanted "to be made" to follow his orders. He would see to it that her wish was granted.
She found the man wearing the black carnation in his lapel. She headed straight to the table, where he stood and pulled a chair out for her. Laura awkwardly accepted the proffered chair, hoping she wouldn't fall into it before it had been tucked under the table appropriately.
His hair was gray, mixed with charcoal tones with a well-trimmed beard. He stood about a foot taller than her and carried himself with a quiet confidence in himself. He was a dozen years older than she; a mere carton of eggs difference she giggled to him once on the telephone. Her mind flashed back to that memory as she smiled at him. He had told her that making fun of his age would result in an on-the-spot spanking, which she filed conveniently away in her mind for future reference.
As they sat Michael asked, "Why are you laughing, my dear? Is my appearance humorous?"
Nervously she answered, "No, you just look so dommish, dressed all in black. Do you think Johnny Cash was a Dom?" He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, and she quickly retracted her answer. "No, Sir, I was remembering a humorous moment on the phone."
"It appears that you are just as much of a naughty girl in person as you are when safely out of harm's way."
"I'm sorry, Sir. I guess I am," she begged plaintively.
"All is forgiven, Laura dear. But remember the time will come to pay the piper, and you have been bratting me since we first started talking." This time it was Michael's turn to smile as Laura sat flabbergasted.
"Well, I, uh, you see…" she stammered. "You must be fucking nuts!" she laughed.
"Found your voice, I see," Michael responded. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever tasted a bar of soap? I believe there is a bar of Ivory soap with your name on it."
Laura blushed. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said. "I guess I'm just nervous."
"That's understandable, but you've already earned a spanking and a mouth soaping and we haven't ordered the wine yet. This isn't starting very well, is it?" Laura's eyes turned downcast and her fingers fumbled nervously in her lap. This is what she wanted, at least in her fantasies, but the reality was a little scarier. Michael refused to follow her script, which was at turns exciting and frustrating for her.
Michael's voice broke into her reverie. "I asked you a question, Laura. I expect an answer. Is this or is this not starting well for you?"
Feeling jolted back to reality, a reality that felt somehow more surreal than the reality of the outside she had left behind mere moments earlier, she hurriedly replied, "I'm sorry, Sir. This is not starting well for me." She looked away again, hoping he hadn't given up on her this quickly.
"I'm not the kind of man who will give up on a lovely and intelligent woman just because of a couple early slip ups," he reassured her. "If we go through with this relationship, it will take time to grow and for us to learn about each other's needs and how I may best enhance the experience for you."
The wine waiter took Michael's order for a bottle of chardonnay. "It will take time for you to learn how to please me. Although I am stern, I am also fair and patient. Early in this relationship you may find yourself being punished frequently, but that is only until you learn to please me and I learn how to motivate you without requiring punishment."
Laura sat and considered his words. This wasn't what she had expected. She had imagined their earlier witty repartee, the delightful lovers' banter back and forth, which would result in a naughty girl spanking given in fun and delight. He was being very serious instead. "Laura, did you bring me the list as I asked?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied happily, glad to have done something right. She removed the paper and unfolded it, handing it to him.
"Read it, please," he said calmly.
"Here? In front of the restaurant? What if others hear?" she gasped excitedly.
"I'll let your impertinence slide this time but this is your only warning. If you do not wish to be heard, I suggest you speak in a moderate tone, young lady. Now read me what you wrote."
Laura took a deep breath, looked at the nearby diners, hoping they wouldn't overhear her, and read:
"Dear Michael Sir,
I come to you as a submissive seeking a dominant who will tend to my needs for discipline given with love. You ordered me to write three things I wish to change about myself. I have done this as you have requested.
Number one is to curb my language." Laura paused for a moment as she remembered her choice word a few minutes earlier. "I have a tendency to speak before realizing what I am saying…" She stopped and bit her lip.
"Go on," Michael said evenly. He knew what was coming next because he had told her what to write.
"And I need you to punish me for that behavior," she said, trying to stifle a nervous giggle.
"Number two is to control my tendency to procrastinate. I was called Eleventh-Hour Laura in school and college because I usually waited until the night before a paper was due to start it. There was no internet in those days."
"And…" Michael encouraged.
"And I need you to punish me for that behavior," she replied. This was the hardest part of all, and he knew it. Nobody liked to admit to needing a punishment. Michael wanted Laura to be aware that she was asking for this change in her life; that it would not be forced upon her.
"Number three is to attend my counseling sessions without fail. I always have an excuse not to go, and I really need it since the divorce. And…I…need you…to punish…me…for that behavior." She took another deep breath before continuing, "I am coming to you, Michael Sir, of my own free will. Although you will always choose the punishment, I have the freedom to walk away. But I do not want to walk away. I need your loving discipline and I hope you allow me to be your submissive. Signed Laura Navis."
"Now you may hand it to me, my dear," Michael said with a smile. He took her hands in his and added, "You have done well. I know that was very hard for you to do. I am very proud that you have taken this first step." He kissed her hands and took the paper, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.
Laura heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn't resist adding, "You should be proud of me! After all, who else would do this for a man of advanced years as yourself?"
Michael broke out into a broad tooth-filled grin and chuckled. "My dear, I will so enjoy turning your sexy and spankable bottom a deep shade of crimson. With your quick wit, I might have the pleasure of enjoying giving you a good spanking quite frequently. At least I hope so." He did like a brat to tame, and he felt he'd found it in Laura.
They ate dinner, drank wine, enjoyed each other's company, engaged in a little verbal sparring, and went back to his place.
After dinner and conversation Michael walked Laura out to her car and unlocked the door. He opened the driver's side door and bade her step in. As she did so she felt a light pat and squeeze on her bottom, which brought a smile to her face.
After ensuring that she was safe and sound in her own car, Michael walked over to his car and entered it. He turned the ignition, watching as she did the same, and she followed him out of the parking lot.
Laura was not normally a woman who would go home with a man the first time, but they were not in one of the larger cities, so it turned out Michael had at one point been her friend's partner. Her friend had only been looking for casual spanking relationships, which is why his tendency to dominate did not work, and they parted friends. In a midsize city, everyone in this alternative lifestyle would know each other. She had, in fact, met the husband of a woman she worked with. The coworker did not play, but her husband did. For the simple reason Laura had already been friends with his wife, she could not play even casually with the husband. It would have been different had the wife accepted or approved.
The annoyingly tinny sound of the song, It's a Small World, After All, kept running through her mind as she followed Michael's car to his home a ten minute drive away. She turned on the classic rock station loud in a vain attempt to rid her brain of possibly the worst song ever to appear in a Disney movie. The radio blasted out some wretched garbage from one of the 1980's hair bands, never Laura's favorite subgenre, and she quickly turned off the radio and cursed the DJ.
One thing was certain and that was the trip was short enough she found herself pulling into Michael's driveway behind him before she could scout for better music. She stepped out of the car and locked it with the remote. She put the keys into her purse when she felt a sharp stinging smack on her rear.
"What was that for?" she asked, jumping and smiling at the attention she had craved for so long.
"In the future, you will sit in the car and wait for me to open your door for you. You do not get out of your car until that time. Is that understood?" Michael smiled as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo as it played on his nostrils.
"Well, you know, you have to tell me these things," Laura remarked with a sparkle in her eyes that even the late night darkness could not hide. She had a fairly good idea what was on his mind as he gestured for her to walk in front of him to the door.
"I just did," he replied with a sharper smack to her rump, which looked so tantalizing under the thin fabric of dress and ladies undergarments. While the dress showed off her soft and smooth curves, swaying as she took each step, it hid enough of her treasures to bid Michael to want to see more.
Laura's hand reached back to prevent any more assault to her bottom, as she laughed, "I mean before the spanking begins."
"Rule one," Michael began as he turned the key in the lock and opened the front door to his house, "Don't ever cover your bottom. It is there for my amusement and I will not be denied access to it. Besides when we play or I have to punish you, it can be dangerous to place your hands in the line of fire, so I find it best to simply forbid it."
A very sharp reminder swat landed across the divide as Laura entered the living room. Her hand almost shot back but Michael's "Unh-unh" warned it away. While his tone for the most part had been light and airy throughout the evening, the last statement felt darker and more real for Laura. The thought that her bottom could be a toy for Michael to play with at his whim both terrified and electrified her at once.
Michael flipped a switch that softly illuminated the living room. "I'll take these," he offered as he removed her blazer and purse. His eyes drank in the nearly bare shoulders and the dress's loving hugs of Laura's curves of both her breasts and her bottom. Soft and sensuous woman was she.
"Just stand there," he answered her unspoken question. "Allow me the pleasure to gaze at your body." He stepped back a pace and slowly circled Laura, whose hands began to fumble in front of her. "No, keep them at your sides," he gently admonished her, placing her hands thusly. Thus far he was pleased with her efforts to please him. He was not the kind of Dom to be harsh on his sub, at least at first. He preferred a slower and more sensual method of training, especially for a newbie such as the woman standing in front of him.
Laura felt her face turn red hot as he first stood, then sat on the sofa, behind her. She felt Michael's eyes burning into her back. She wanted to turn around and look him in the eye, but she understood instinctively that he would decide if and when she could do that. "You are so sexy. Unwrapping you will be a feast for my eyes."
Without thinking of her words or their consequences, Laura blurted out, "Your eyes need glasses, I think."
Without hesitation his tone changed sharply. "Rule two: You will be punished for putting yourself down. I had hoped that tendency of yours to criticize your body in the name of self-deprecation would have appeared on your list, but I have the option of adding to that list as I see fit. That is a serious rule you've been breaking."
Laura shifted uneasily from side to side and Michael was amused by the sudden tensing of her cheeks when he reprimanded her verbally. "Have I made myself perfectly clear, young lady?" he asked in a commanding tone.
"Yes, Sir, you have," Laura answered meekly. She wondered how she could have got it so wrong so quickly. They had agreed that there would be a punishment during their first meeting. It would clean the slate so both could start fresh. She began to wonder when it would begin because she really wanted it over and done with. What she had failed to consider, however, was that the punishment had already begun, along with her training. She would learn that the punishment consisted of more than spanking her bare bottom, although that would certainly be the primary focus.
After a few more minutes of his staring at her back, he said more gently than before, "Now remove your dress." He saw her whole body tense at his words. While she understood her bottom would have to be bared for her punishment, naturally enough, she didn't expect to be undressed for it, certainly not this first time. What kind of a devil had she struck a bargain with?
"I can't," she barely whispered.
"Of course you can, and you shall," he reiterated. "You expressed your need to live by rules and to obey me without question. Now I am telling you for the last time to remove your dress."
Her fingers nervously found the hem and began the daunting task of slipping the silky fabric up her body and over her head. "You may drop it on the floor beside you," Michael said, his voice containing both the necessary sternness and desire for her body. She did so and felt embarrassment at being displayed like a mannequin in the clothing store. She stood and felt the cool air circulate around the freshly exposed skin. Nothing remained save for her bra, panties, and thigh high stockings, along with the high-heeled shoes she still wore.
"Hmmm…what a beautiful and sexy body you have, Laura," Michael said as he poured himself a glass of wine.
"Thank you, Sir," she replied, hoping she hadn't spoken out of turn.
"You didn't speak out of turn, Laura. It is perfectly acceptable for you to thank me for a compliment."
Laura chose to remain silent, which was exactly the response Michael wanted. After another minute or two, he walked to where she stood. He brushed her brown hair off her neck and shoulders and ran his fingers through the silky softness. The sensation of being touched so gently brought shivers of pleasure throughout her body.
He stood behind her, his breath tingled the back of her neck. She continued standing as still as possible, avoiding the temptation of looking at him or taking him hungrily in her mouth. He kissed the back of her neck, his lips like feathers barely touching the delicate skin. She involuntarily clamped her thighs tightly to contain the rising tide of pleasure. He commanded, "Spread your feet apart," as he gently nudged her feet apart with the toe of his shoe. She blushed, hoping he wouldn't see the wet spot on her pink nylon panties.
Her feet placed shoulder width apart, she felt even more vulnerable to whatever pleasures he had in store for her. She was scared but nothing was holding her in this room with this man other than her own lustful desires. She wanted to do this; in fact, she needed to do this just like she needed air to breathe and water to drink, she needed to feel Michael consume her.
His hand glided gently down her back and rested on first one cheek, which he squeezed and pinched, then the other, repeating the pinch and squeeze. Fingers drifted forward between her spread thighs. He smiled when he felt the wet spot on the panties; Laura cringed inwardly. Her entire body tensed noticeably when his fingers lightly brushed her pussy lips, which were still encased inside a sheer thin fabric. "Relax, sweetie, let what happens happen," he cooed softly in her ear.
"I can't. I'm trying," Laura told him, unsure of herself. The men from her past--and there had been a few including her ex-husband--were more straightforward and expected her mutual participation. She now felt confused because she felt she would serve him, but it seemed to be the opposite that was happening. She wanted so badly to reciprocate.
"You can, but you're not trying hard enough," he gently reprimanded her. He stepped in front of her and dragged his fingernails lazily up and down her exposed abdomen. She smiled at the warm ticklish sensation but did not resist save for some nearly imperceptible swaying from side to side.
"Hold your arms out in front of you," he said abruptly. She immediately complied. He unhooked the back of her bra and stared intently into her brown pleading eyes while he removed the garment from her breasts, down her arms, and off her hands. Reflexively her arms began to cross in front of her to preserve what little modesty remained. "No! Put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers," he said sternly, placing her hands the way he wanted them.
"Please, no," she begged softly.
He smacked her bottom…hard. She jumped slightly but maintained the spread feet and hands on head position. "Laura, I will not have you arguing with me. You have just added to your punishment."
"I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered.
"You will be," he replied.
She bit back the tears which threatened to betray her weakness. He understood she would be crying by the end of the evening but this session needed a little more training before the bottom smacking would begin.
His hands glided effortlessly over her entire body including her breasts. He tweaked her nipples which gave her quick spasms of pain, but left her feeling excited and anxious for more. She moaned in response assuming that his silence on the subject left her free to do so.
She was right. Michael so loved a vocal response from his subs. He worked hard at reducing the newbie's inhibitions and was pleased with his work only when she screamed during an orgasm.
He walked to a cabinet and pulled something out. He brought the object back to Laura who blushed at the sight of the small egg vibrator. He knelt in front of her, chiding her to keep in position—feet spread and hands on head—and slipped one hand with the vibrator inside her panties and began to rub it against her already throbbing clit when he turned on the power button.
She just knew her knees would buckle. Michael teased her nipples with his teeth, biting and sucking on the hardened red knobs. A hand moved the vibrator alongside and inside her soaking wet pussy and only stopped when she gasped, indicating the vibrator was now on her clit. He held it in place, occasionally applying pressure to her little nubbin and other times letting it just buzz and graze the clit without really touching it.
Laura was going mad from the desire and knew she would explode. She involuntarily lifted one foot off the floor and Michael warned her to keep both feet on the floor, shoulder width apart. When her body was wracked by a powerful orgasm mere minutes later, she didn't scream but she called out, "Oh God!" and grunted other such phrases. He pressed the vibrator hard into her spasming pussy and clit and put it on its highest setting—nuclear explosion, she thought—as she rocked back and forth from the explosion.
When all was said and done, beads of perspiration had broken out on her forehead and chest. She panted for several seconds until her breath caught up with her. "Thank you, Sir," she said, "That was wonderful."
"Glad I could be of assistance," he replied with a wicked grin. He brought her hands down and held her close for a few minutes. They kissed passionately, his tongue piercing her parted lips. "Now, my dear, it is time for your spanking." Without another word from either, he led her by the hand to his bedroom. "Wait here for me. I'll be right back."
With that he disappeared. Laura wondered where he had taken off to and when he would return. A few minutes later he returned with a freshly opened bar of white Ivory soap. Ivory soap, 99.44% pure, would be the perfect cure for an impure mouth that used profanity. He stepped beside her and cupped his free hand on the back of her head. "Open up," he said. Her eyes pleaded silently for him not to do this; he cocked an eyebrow at her. She opened her mouth and he set the bar of nasty tasting soap inside her mouth.
"If you so much as attempt to remove it during your spanking, I will tie your hands and gag your mouth with the soap inside. Nod if you understand me, young lady." Laura nodded. Her saliva was already beginning to make the Ivory melt in her mouth, creating soft foam. She swore mentally that she would never so much as even think a curse word ever again.
Michael brought an armless chair to the side of the bed and sat on it. He patted his lap and guided Laura over it. Her legs rested easily on the floor and the upper half of her body was supported by the mattress. She resisted the temptation to spit out the soap or to pull it out of her mouth.
His hand gently lowered the panties which were good and wet from his earlier ministrations. Laura felt cold and damp, but knew that wouldn't last for long.
To be continued...
Sensual Junkie
When I went to the Borders bookstore a few days ago to buy Different Loving, I went over to the DVD's and CD's to see what they had. The Who has always been one of my favorite bands...ok, perhaps ALWAYS is too strong a word. I was 15 when I discovered them thanks to my friend CM. She was always good at turning me on to good music and The Who were no exception.
I bought several CD's including Live at Leeds a live performance as the title implies. I'd only had the LP (if you don't know what that is, ask your parents) with its half-hour playing time and no chatter between numbers. The CD is the entire concert, including banter and chatter. Several of my favorite "live" numbers were in there, such as "Heaven and Hell" penned by bassist John Entwistle, and "Amazing Journey/Sparks."
I was feeling pretty good as I stepped out into the early evening sunshine and headed to my car. I unwrapped the CD and slipped it inside its compartment. I rolled down the windows and let the still cooler air circulate around my body. Driving down the road with the windows open for the first time in a few months, listening to the world's greatest live band, looking forward to reading this exciting book that would teach me so much about who I am...well, if you're a Who fan, you know I had to test the volume control, especially for powerful driving melodies like "Heaven and Hell."
I didn't want to just hear the music, I wanted to feel it in my chest. There's nothing like John's melodic bass and Keith's drumming pounding into my chest to make me feel alive and ready for the world. I love the feel of it.
I used to ride on the back of my husband's 1950 Panhead. There is no automobile experience that even comes close. I remember this one stretch of road in the country that was only a slight dip, but I always felt this cold chill as we rode those few seconds. If it was a hot summer night, the cold air felt pleasant against my skin. If it was a cold and blustery day, that shot of extra cold air made me shiver.
If the temperature is 50 and sunny, I drive with the windows down, rather than hunker down with the heat turned on. I love the contrasts between the sensations. The Scandinavians like to strip and swim briefly in ice cold water, then run back to the steam room, where it was 100 degrees. A Norwegian-American friend of mine told me about it; since then, it is something I wanted to experience but never have.
I have always been a tactile person. I love sensual contrasts. Hot and cold. Wet and dry. Smooth and rough. The very light caresses and scratches after a hard spanking. These are the kinds of things that make me warm all over and squirm in the most delicious way.
Yes, I'm a SENSUAL JUNKIE. How many others are out there?
I bought several CD's including Live at Leeds a live performance as the title implies. I'd only had the LP (if you don't know what that is, ask your parents) with its half-hour playing time and no chatter between numbers. The CD is the entire concert, including banter and chatter. Several of my favorite "live" numbers were in there, such as "Heaven and Hell" penned by bassist John Entwistle, and "Amazing Journey/Sparks."
I was feeling pretty good as I stepped out into the early evening sunshine and headed to my car. I unwrapped the CD and slipped it inside its compartment. I rolled down the windows and let the still cooler air circulate around my body. Driving down the road with the windows open for the first time in a few months, listening to the world's greatest live band, looking forward to reading this exciting book that would teach me so much about who I am...well, if you're a Who fan, you know I had to test the volume control, especially for powerful driving melodies like "Heaven and Hell."
I didn't want to just hear the music, I wanted to feel it in my chest. There's nothing like John's melodic bass and Keith's drumming pounding into my chest to make me feel alive and ready for the world. I love the feel of it.
I used to ride on the back of my husband's 1950 Panhead. There is no automobile experience that even comes close. I remember this one stretch of road in the country that was only a slight dip, but I always felt this cold chill as we rode those few seconds. If it was a hot summer night, the cold air felt pleasant against my skin. If it was a cold and blustery day, that shot of extra cold air made me shiver.
If the temperature is 50 and sunny, I drive with the windows down, rather than hunker down with the heat turned on. I love the contrasts between the sensations. The Scandinavians like to strip and swim briefly in ice cold water, then run back to the steam room, where it was 100 degrees. A Norwegian-American friend of mine told me about it; since then, it is something I wanted to experience but never have.
I have always been a tactile person. I love sensual contrasts. Hot and cold. Wet and dry. Smooth and rough. The very light caresses and scratches after a hard spanking. These are the kinds of things that make me warm all over and squirm in the most delicious way.
Yes, I'm a SENSUAL JUNKIE. How many others are out there?
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