Posts Tagged ‘spanking’
House of Singing Wind
Chapter 1 - Now Comes a Wanderer It goes against my better judgment to talk to her, much less have her in this house. The decision is not mine, however. This is the work of Maelstrom. And as long as he is writing the checks that make my life possible here at Singing Wind, who am I to argue? It is a very good life. She is, young, perhaps late twenties, early thirties, blonde with perfect legs; feet on one end and ass on the other. The fact that her ass can only be considered a 9 ½ is only because I have never seen a true 10. Meeting her at the door to my study, I offer my arm to escort her in, the perfect gentleman. I purposely situate her body out of my line of sight. I want only to concentrate on her face. It is not a beautiful face. No, not beautiful, Beautiful is too bland an adjective. She is interesting, intelligent, and smooth. These adjectives work. . She is magnificent, utterly magnificent. Perhaps you think I exaggerate, but this is not the case. I have made a life study of women and fancy myself a connoisseur of feminine flesh and character. To put it in the vernacular of my trade, this is a five million dollar cunt. And this was the strangest recruitment interview I have ever conducted. “…and he told me I could count on you to fully acclimate me to the facility.” She told me in a flat tone, delivered with even a flatter look on her face. She was sizing me up and at the same time, trying to maintain her dignity. Dignity is a strange thing to women. This [...]
Could it Happen?
Spending most of the year away from your Wife is trying, but knowing when you will be seeing her again is welcome. I enjoy BDSM and my Wife occasionally indulges me. This is a fantasy I have started having, Enjoy. Two months before my next trip to my Wife’s she calls. We update on all the little things that have happened and then she asks do you want a spanking when you get here? My response was a definite always. How do you want it? I replied naked, bound and totally exposed. She laughed, nothing new there you always want it that way, I presume you want to be in the diaper position with your legs spread wide? Of course, that’s my favorite. My Wife then asks me if I have had any new fantasies? I said yes. Well are you going to tell me, she asks? It isn’t much, only your Mother catching me in a compromising position. How compromising? Well I’m always naked at least from the waist down, sometimes changing clothes but a few times I’m tied up naked. Your Mother makes me explain why. I tell her I leave the door open when I’m changing clothes because I enjoy the thrill of getting caught. What about being tied up? I confess that I like being helpless. Your Mother thinks a little and then asks what do you hope happens if you get caught and by whom? Who do I hope catches me my Wife but the risk of someone else catching is always present. What do I hope happens, first I hope my method of escape is removed and my bondage tightened. Then I hope to get spanked, [...]
Fulfilling Her Dreams
The first time we’d actually met in person, it was in a quiet, empty, coney island on a cool fall evening. We’d been chatting for quite a while, almost 6 months I guess. I knew so much about the girl, everything about her really; what she thought, her every fantasy, I knew things about her that she herself didn’t know, at least not yet. She’d sent me a message online, she’d been 18 at the time, a good girl, a dutiful girl who never even thought of doing anything wrong or openly rebelling against her family. But deep down she knew she wanted to explore, to be controlled, to be used. Her email to me was the opening shot, or salvo, the first real attempt to find what she needed, but couldn’t fully admit to herself quite yet. It was almost a month before she finally admitted to me that she wanted to be raped, not that it would really be rape, because it’s what she wanted, but more than anything she wanted to be treated like she was just an object, devoid of control, to be used completely for a man’s pleasure and nothing more than a rag doll to be fucked and abused. Her name was Allison, but she went by Allie most of the time. I thought it was a cute, and perfect, name for her. She was attending community college nearby, looking to eventually be a nurse, or school teacher, though I wondered, if she was honest with herself, if her goal really wasn’t to find a Master, somebody to own and use her without mercy. My heart started beating the instant [...]
Super Bowl Torment
My name is Allura and the following is a journal entry that i wrote almost a year ago. i am owned and have been with my Master for about 2 years now. i am required by contract to keep a detailed, written account of any activities or punishments that my Master deems significant and wishes to recall. Master will read my journal regularly and check it for spelling and grammatical errors when He is in a particularly vicious mood and is looking for reasons to punish me; not that He ever needs a reason at all. When He goes away on business trips, Master takes my journal along as comfort and for His sheer pleasure. There have even been times when i am made to stand at “attention” in the middle of the room while my Master reads my very personal journal entries to his friends in order to humiliate me. At times, Master will read old entries aloud while i masturbate when He is in the mood to “play.” With Master Bill’s permission, i am sharing this punishment with you. Anything that is in parenthesis was added solely for your benefit and was not originally in my journal entry. February 1, 2009 This morning began just like every other morning. i woke up at 6 am and began my daily ritual of quickly showering, getting myself presentable, making breakfast and serving You in bed. I knelt quietly beside Your bed in my “in house attire.” (When i am home alone with my Master i am completely naked wearing only my two black leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a thick black leather [...]
Miss Amy – M.B.A.
I met Amy in business school. We were in the same class and the same study group. It was an intense, pressure-filled two-year program. Adding to the pain was the fact that our class was 70% men. Needless to say, women were hot commodities. And Amy was the hottest commodity of all. The best way to summarize Amy was to say that she was a sophisticated and well-bred young woman. Everything about Amy was petite except her hips. Amy was just over five feet tall. She almost always wore high heels. Her body was quite slender and feminine. Everything about Amy was feminine. By that I mean her neck, her waist, her wrists and her ankles were all narrow. She had a pointy chin and a pointier nose. Her head was quite small, surrounded on both sides by beautiful, straight, long brown hair. It was obvious she spent a good amount of time on her hair; the highlights of lighter colors were flawless. She had long eyelashes and never, ever was seen at B-school without makeup on. Most girls with this sort of physique tend to be lacking in the breast department but Amy had a nice firm set of beautifully developed Cs. Amy had a snappy personality. I wouldn't say she was particularly vocal, but she wasn't quiet either. Her views on business weren't exactly brilliant, but she never said anything stupid. Her comments were usually well measured. She was the type of student who stayed within herself but projected confidence when forced to stand in front of [...]
Sweet Suzie’s Enslavement
I had managed to befriend her when, after she'd walked into the first day of art class late, and every guys head in the class turned to look and stayed that way far too long. In her white miniskirt, and blonde streaked hair, she was stunning, and she sat directly across from me in the big art room. I soon found myself with a bird's eye view of what every other guy in the room wanted to see, and given her sexiness, found myself, though knowing better, looking up her dress. I sensed she was aware of it, and slowly raised my eyes to meet her deep playful green ones, but instead of disdain, I saw the cutest knowing smile, and she never flinched or repositioned herself...as if to say; "Gotcha! Having fun?" That day we were doing a nude study rendering of the same ballerina/paid model I had drawn many times, and who most every other guy in the class wanted to nail, but whom I detested. Toward the end of the class, as the instructor walked around behind us, evaluating our progress, when he saw my rendering, he immediately walked over and snatched it up, and raised it for all to view. "It seems like some here weren't sure who the intended subject for the assignment was, and drew the wrong model." As the laughter became louder around the room, I sat with my eyes fixed on Suzie, who's eyes had widened, and whose face had turned a deep blush. "I drew the best model available in this room, as any decent artist would." I replied. The sketch was a fully naked, blond, rather precise [...]
Griselda
Discovery There can be few places as deceptive as Nether Slype. The churches are well attended and the all children say their prayers. Such presumably innocent pleasures as the fete, the sack race, and the village pantomime are milestones in its calendar. There are also summer and winter sports gatherings, though all these events, I later learned, are curiously unique to the village. There are two pubs, a school, two shops — one with a post office — a tea rooms where the old ladies gossip, and a Saturday market where you can buy anything from a home-made cake to an antique grandfather clock. The village garage takes forever to fix your car, the mobile bank comes once a week, and the small library boasts the 1974 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The few Saturday-night drunks are harmless; there is no vandalism and no rowdiness, which is as well, because Jack, the village bobby, couldn't handle more than the mildest altercation. Nether Slype nestles among wooded hills, and the woods encroach into it. It is a place of nooks and crannies, green shades, cool shadows, high hedges, privacy, and footways. There are bridleways where big-bottomed, bouncing-bosomed girls ride their ponies and other things besides — very vigorously. The long, curling, hedge-rowed lanes are overarched with heavy branches of wimpling leaves. The river murmurs under the mediaeval bridge, flowing fresh and clean, down from the higher hills on the Welsh borderland. [...]
Zsuzu
Chapter 1. The meeting "Suzie! Suzie stop! Suzie, you stop right there do you hear!!! SUZIE!! SUZIE!! SUZIE STOP!!! STOP!!! NNNOOOOOO!!!" A passing cyclist heard the screams coming from a portly black woman as she struggled to run after a little girl who, heedless of the heavy traffic thundering along the narrow road, was running dangerously close to the kerb. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the woman trip and fall heavily, spilling her shopping. The little girl of mixed race turned and laughingly cried out, "You can't catch me now Granny!" Oblivious to the danger, she suddenly she veered to the road. Taking in the situation the cyclist pushed the pedals harder to try and catch the infant. On the very edge of the kerb, Suzie paused and once more turned to call out to her grandmother. That call saved her life. The cyclist braked alongside her, preventing her further entry into the road. Suzie looked up, startled and saw the man leap off his bike and grab her around the waist. She screamed. To her he seemed awesome. Not just old like her granny but he had a long beard and wore baggy trousers and a woolly bobble hat. As she was about to scream again, the man's soft but forceful voice spoke to her, "Calm down, little one. You're not hurt but it seems your granny might be. I'm going to lift you on my bike and we're going to see how granny is doing. Okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he sat [...]
Paris in Prison
Life was just so stressful lately. Really mean people were so jealous of Paris that they had forced her to live in a tiny room and even dress in orange just because she had ignored a few silly laws. The darling diva had actually cried during the first days of her incarceration. She felt so misunderstood. She worked very hard at being a privileged pampered princess. Everyone liked to look at her and she did her best to give them a good show. The Sheriff had understood and after she flashed him with a taut pink nipple he had let her go home. Alas, there were still jealous meanies who raised a fuss and she was soon back in her little room. She was feeling quite despondent until the weekend rolled around and a new guard came on duty. Her name was Sandy. She had a cute face and short dark hair but, outside her new job, Sandy didn't have much of a life. She loved to look at pretty women and had many fantasies about them but never had the nerve to approach anyone and state her desires. On her bedroom wall were posters of Paris, Gwen, Fergie and several others that made her want to touch herself. She had figured that being a guard in a women's lockup would give her a chance to taste many a fine pussy. Sadly, most of the girls there were some really fucked up bitches so she just did her job and chilled out with wine and fantasies when she was off work. (more...)