Flirt

She will tease you. She will pretend that the things you say shock her, and some of them do. She will pretend not to notice that so much of her bottom shows when she wears her favorite panties and walks around doing household stuff, adding extra bends and shimmies because that makes stuff cleaner -- don't you know that?

"My bottom?" She will ask, eyes wide and unbelieving. "You want to spank me on my bottom?"

And, because you know her so well, you know that she wants that, too. Although your move will eventually be made, you choose to keep her in suspense until you've judged the perfect time; her shock is not feigned as you steer her toward the kitchen table, grasp a handful of hair near the scalp and, with your free hand, move her panties out of the way to cup and smack the cheeks she's teased you with.

You take her pleas and replace them with moans. No longer pretending indignance, she will rise on her toes to push against the denim of your hips, chafing her smooth bottom as she moves around and around against you, finally asking for it.

In secret

On the sweltering streets below, the cacophony of clock-watchers and number-pushers hurrying to meet schedules and priorities signals the arrival of another day. But here, in the quiet coolness of her room, time passes in a whisper and the date on the calendar holds little importance except to mark his impending arrival.

The hands of her old Technochrome steadily circle the hour when she will finally belong to the man on the other end of the phone, her anticipation of the moment growing greater with each mechanical tick.

Amber eyes study the one-room apartment, measuring the weight of each treasured object, ensuring that everything is in its place. Should have saved something for this morning, she contemplates, regretfully considering her clean space, some little task to distract me.

A blaring horn startles her from inactivity and motivates her toward the tiny bathroom, her hands desiring to seize on something other than the fluttering of the past hour. Glancing at those hands, she examines the ragged edges on her chewed thumbnail, and tsks at the compulsive habit. Ultimately grateful for something to do, she immerses herself in the act of filing her nails.

Minutes pass, and she finds herself staring at the blank wall, remembering their conversation before he boarded the plane.

"And when you think you can't take any more, when your bottom is blazing hot under my hand and you're writhing against my thigh," he paused then, letting her wonder, "I'll still give you more. Because you can and you will take it."

"But what if I can't? Take it?"


"You can. And you will," his confidence in her strength assuaged some of her doubts then. His next words made her drip. "And then I'm going to dip my finger between your legs and check how naughty my girl has been."

"I am very naughty," she sighed, "always naughty for you."

"Yes. You are my dirty girl, aren't you? Dirty only for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...," hesitating on the newness of the next word, she struggled to force it out, "Sir. Only for you."

"There's my good girl," he purred. "And soon, soon baby, I will own you with my hands and tongue and cock. You will be mine. Is that still what you want?"

"Oh, yes. I want that very much," she breathed, "more than you can know."

Closing her eyes now, she imagines the length of him pressing against her tummy as his fingers plunge her slick depths, her own finger simulating his. On a ragged breath, she turns her head and rubs her cheek against her shoulder, catching herself just before release.

Soon.

Soon the sound of palm meeting yielding flesh will drown out the horns and shouts from the city beneath as they discover their rhythm together. Her caged heart will beat for him, her name will escape his lips and cover the windows in condensation, evidence of their pent heat surpassing that of the air outside.

Resting her elbows on the windowsill, she wonders at the agendas below. There is nothing more important than this secret life at this very moment, nothing more crucial than that eventual knock on her door.


(Top photo served as inspiration and was found on Doonstartwo's blog.)

If...and...

If I was your man, you know what I'd do to you? Right this minute?

I'd have you sit on that very chair, the one you're propped on right now, and I'd have you turn it to face me. And then I'd stick my face in your pussy and make you orgasm all over me.

Well I would do that, for you...but mostly for me...because if I was your man, I'd want your cum all over my face. And not just one round. I'd want layers and layers of it -- ANDgasm, not ORgasm.

"And, and, and," you'd say, losing your train of thought.

"And what, honey?" I'd ask, as I raised my head periodically.

"And....and! andddddddddddd andd and....," you'd sputter.

"And what, honey?" I'd ask again, with a tap of the ruler on your inner thigh.

"Andddd...," you'd say again, arching your back, sliding your bum towards me.

And then I'd plunge my tongue in deep, thrusting it, letting my lips kiss yours for rounds and rounds until your gasm spasms were totally over, as if I had taken you to infinity: to the end of that mathematical curve, where it meets the x line. And as I got closer, and closer, and closer, I would skid on that rail, dragging sparks in my wake until the fireworks were so high and so big that the room would become filled with smoke, and you, high and delirious.

"And what?" I would whisper in your ear, my face still drenched. "And what?"

My finger would circle your worn out, poor, sore clit.

"And what?"

I would kiss you gently on your lips and tongue, so you could taste yourself.

"And thank you," I'd hear you say, a big smile stretching across your face.

"And you're welcome," I'd say, tapping you gently on the nose with the finger I had just placed inside your most precious chasm.


(Submitted via Yahoo Messenger by my good friend CutenSexxxy. Oh yeah, she definitely deserves the triple x.)

Decisions

This is how I imagine waiting for you.

My panties are resting just below my cheeks, thighs grinding slowly against one another, as I close my eyes and imagine the sight I'm creating for you: my pale, round bottom fighting for attention with my yearning pussy. I wonder which you'll go for first?

You pause when you enter and your breath catches. You feel your cock stir and your palm twitch as you contemplate my offering.

To spank or fuck? Which would you choose? Which do I want?

You cross the room and smooth your hand over my back and hold it there, my bottom rising upward to tempt you. Please touch me, it seems to say. I need you to touch me, and I can feel your deliberation that lasts the length of a breath....

I feel your hand move over the right cheek and lift it softly. Your fingers hook beneath and you feel my wetness beckoning. You push my thighs apart, lift your hand and...

Mid-afternoon delight

For a girl who loves men, I sure spend a lot of time looking at girl-on-girl spanking.

But isn't this picture lovely? It's pure fantasy in photographic perfection.

Look at that Domme, bending the crop while eyeing her target, a target who just might be wearing the sexiest heels and stockings I have ever seen. Seriously, I could conquer the world in those stockings.

I'm not sure which of these delicious outfits I'd feel more submissively at-home in: the simplicity of a sexy black garter and stockings, or the complicated musings of the sub's waist cincher. Either would be fitting; either is absolutely lick-worthy.

And the intensity of the Domme's gaze? Yeah, I've seen that look in my Dom's eyes just before feeling the crack of the crop. It's a look that has me trembling in excitement and just a bit of fear, a feeling tangible even now, from a black-and-white photograph. That gaze has power.

And don't think I didn't notice what's on the night-stand. Do you see? Is that a ridonkulous black plug, or just my wishful thinking? And don't miss the cuffs dangling from the drawer, or the slimline vibrator standing in wait.

Many, many pleasures to be had in this scene. And my imagination is off and running on this Thursday afternoon...

Friday Night

It is finally Friday evening after a long, stressful week for both of us. We have gone out to dinner, where I am more sarcastic than usual. This is the kind of sarcasm that borders on disrespect. I can feel myself reeling out of control and cannot seem to regain the proper tone with you. And you, while initially patient & maintaining a relatively good humor about it, have had enough. You have already given me a few very discreet "looks" to remind me and a whispered promise, but those have served to just annoy me...my mood is now defiant and growing.

On the way home, you address the situation calmly. You begin by asking me if there is something that is bothering me...and I just apologize quietly and explain that it has been a difficult week and that I am tired and stressed. You understand this: you've had a tough week, too. But you remind me that speaking disrespectfully to you at any time, especially after a warning, will not be tolerated and that I had crossed many lines tonight. You tell me that I need to go to the bedroom when we get home and think about my behavior, your expectations, and the consequences of my actions. You are going to spank me and you order me to get your paddle.

Maybe I'll plead with you...maybe I'll try to distract you with a murmured, "I'm sorry," and a kiss...or maybe I'll just hurry off to the bedroom as you've instructed. Regardless, your intentions are clear and unmoved: my ass is going to pay the price for my mouth.

I hurry to the bedroom & get the wooden paddle and the leather paddle, not knowing which you meant. I remove my shoes and wait for you, anxiously sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about my actions and your reactions. I fuss with my skirt and can't seem to get comfortable as I shift repeatedly on the bed. I can feel my stomach knotting and my pussy growing wet.

My thoughts are at once scattered and focused: what will he say? how much have I disappointed him? how much will this hurt? how much trouble am I really in?

Every moment spent waiting for you is filled with conflicted yearning: I want & need you to take me over your knee but doubt my strength to submit properly to you. I know I am safe, but there is still fear that I may further disappoint you.

After what seems like an hour, but is more likely 10 minutes, you come in and softly close the door behind you. You gaze at me tenderly as you slowly roll up your sleeves and approach. You push my hair from my forehead and press your lips there and then take a seat beside me on the bed. You softly express your disappointment in my behavior, and make me confess to my offenses: disrespect & defiance.

When we have understood each other, and I am regretful of my actions, you tell me to remove my skirt and get in position over your knee. I stand, holding your gaze, as my nervous fingers unzip and drop the skirt. A shiver runs up my legs as they are exposed to the air and your eyes. I lower myself over your strong thighs and wriggle into position.

I feel your cock respond to the soft press of my hip and tummy; a warmth spreads from my pussy to my toes and I feel a surge of wetness as your hand cups my bottom. You position me carefully, asking me to spread my legs a bit...I blush, knowing that I am vulnerable and exposed to you (even though I am still wearing my panties).

And you continue to scold as you rub my bottom and adjust my panties. I murmur "yes Sir" and "I'm sorry" appropriately after your pauses.

And then you begin my punishment. Slowly and gradually, your hand gains force and speed. I am fine at first, with no squirming and only soft reactions, but as you speed up I find it more difficult to remain stoic.

As my bottom heats up, so does my pussy. I cannot help it, my natural instinct is to rub against your thigh,to moan, to push closer to your hand...to meet you halfway and increase the force of your spanks.

You pause, and scold, and rub....and I feel your fingers hook into my panties. My hips rise from your thighs to allow you to pull them down to my knees. You push my legs back into position and your finger explores my slickness....you softly murmur in my ear, "you naughty girl...you are enjoying this!" after discovering my wet & throbbing pussy. I hold my breath as your thumb circles and flicks my clit...I am torn between wanting you to continue disciplining me or to fuck me.

You drag your finger deliberately through the line of my slit as your thumb moves to caress my asshole. Your other hand has slipped under the neckline of my shirt and your fingers have moved to my nipple, rolling and lightly pinching it. I am moaning and pushing against your hand at my bottom.

I am moving against you, desiring to be filled by you....but you abruptly change tactics and move your hand back to my bottom. Your spanks begin again, with more force and heat. I cry out with the change and manage to hold position by grasping the bedspread.

After a few minutes, I feel you stop to survey....nope, not quite warmed up enough. Not quite wet enough either....and you continue.

Another few minutes, and I am sufficiently warm and wet, actively crying out with every spank and nearly driven to orgasm over your lap from your spanking alone.

You pause to tease me again, your finger darting in and out with ease now and you pinch my throbbing clit just before you reach for the paddle. Lowering your lips to my ear, you continue to scold me in a soft whisper. I feel the leather of the paddle sting and slap...and I love it. It hurts and stings, I can barely maintain my position and am holding on to your leg, the bedspread, whatever I can grasp...and I love it.

You stop again...and caress. I am wild with pain & desire and your firm finger on my clit, all it needs is an exertion of pressure, and it makes me explode. I feel the waves and contractions roll over me as I grind harder on your thigh and against your finger. Afterwards, I am limp but very aware of the length of your cock against my hip....