May 17, 2010

Needing it

She grips the pillow tightly in front of her and glances over her shoulder to watch his face. His mouth is a firm line of desire and intent, his eyes calculating. He takes this activity seriously, proud of his ability to paint a masterpiece on her canvas.

Gritting her teeth, she tries to remain stoic. It's a personal challenge: he won't make her break! But she needs to break, she needs it, but wants it to be complete. Making too much noise or protest might dissuade him from completing his task. She doesn't want him to stop, wishes she could have these moments extend throughout the entire day, if only her bottom and mind could take it.

He ups the tempo, the lines in his face changing to pure concentration. Her silence challenges him because he knows it is forced, can see by the color of her bottom that she must be feeling it. She must need to cry out, soon. He must make her cry out!

Soft gasps and moans escape her lips and she wonders how they managed freedom, so firmly set is her resolve. And then the lone noises are joined with more and more, equally as soft, as if hearing herself respond elicits a greater response. Her hands twist the pillowcase and her fingers knead the softness, clutching at the pillow to maintain a firm grasp on something as his hand spanks its punishing rhythm on her burning cheeks.

This can't end.

She stifles her cries, to egg him on. Keep going, she thinks. Almost there. I'm not there yet.

"Please don't stop," she gasps. "Don't stop, please." And he obliges, despite the burning in his palm he spanks harder, faster, more resolutely.

She needs it. She woke up needing it, as she does most every day.

And he continues, with occasional words of encouragement, "let go", he says, "give it to me", he encourages. She knows she will. She recognizes his need along with hers and finally allows herself the release of a deep sob, a sob held prisoner throughout each day. A loud sob followed by another and another.

There is a wetness on the pillow to match the wetness on his thigh as he brings her down, slowly. And in all of the moments of their day, this moment will be remembered and replayed. This was the moment of her surrender to him, when both of them had one clear purpose and together they achieved it.


  1. wow, fantastic, from both view points

  2. I enjoyed this. Nice closing paragraph.


  3. Sometimes we all need a climax and release, in order to open up the channels and keep things circulating. I'm glad you got to feel that heady loving feeling over his lap, and I'm also glad you found a way to provide yourself with that feeling, so you could allow your words to circulate too. We're all the better for it. Push, frustration, push harder, more frustration, push once more, climax, ecstasy, release, love and peace. And then freedom to start again. It's the cycle of life. Thanks. I get it now.


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