Thursday, June 19, 2014

Spanking Story of the Week

What did you do?
I broke a rule.
Which one?
I forgot to call you back when you left the message this morning.
Indeed. I understand you can't always answer your phone, but I do expect you to call me back when you are free to do so.
Yes, Sir. I understand and take full responsibility. 

Sir sat down and pulled me over his lap. The only sound was that of his hand smacking against my bottom and of my sobs. This was the second time I had forgotten to return his call so I knew what was coming and fully accepted my correction. Ten minutes of his hand coming down relentlessly.  My  bottom was already on fire and I had no idea how much longer was left. My face was pointed down and would remain so. I had agreed to this correction and so I had no right to complain. My crying was useless but I couldn't stop myself. Besides, he enjoyed my tears. Without them, he told me, he had no notion that his correction was taking effect. Just when I thought I could take no more, he stopped. The first round was over. You see, each time I broke the same rule, my correction was added to. The first time I received ten minutes of a hard hand spanking. This time, I again receive that correction plus an additional five minutes with my the back of my wooden brush. I sobbed and, thankfully, Sir soothed my bottom a  bit.

Then, the first strike of the brush. I screamed, jerking my body. Five minutes of this? I couldn't stand it. But I would. Both he and I knew I would endure, that I would accept. Again and again the brush came down. Rhythmically striking low on one cheek, then the other. My sit spot, the back of my thighs, the fleshy curve of my already tender bottom. He spread the beating over my entire ass, being sure that no spot was left unattended. I sobbed, ears dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, I realized that the spanking had stopped and he was gently rubbing my punished flesh. Still I cried from both pain and shame. Really, was asking to return his call too much? Of course not. I had been careless. I slid from his face and released his cock. He smiled down at my tear streaked face and gave his approval. I opened my mouth and showed him my love. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I swallowed his rod, massaging gently his lovely balls until I felt them tighten. Throwing his head back and pressing my face down to the base, he gave me his full forgiveness and released his blessing down my throat.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Summer Roses

Summer is here and so are the roses. I love my roses and spend hours every day cultivating them, pruning them, weeding around them. My yard is fulled with roses - all neatly arranged in an English style garden. I love the feel of the velvety petals, the heady scent, the sturdy stems, the tortuous thorns. My Love enjoys all of this as well. He sits now, in the gazebo, watching me at my work. I wear a simple white cotton sundress and white Keds. I look up at him, sipping his wine, and smile. I see his eyes darken and know he is becoming aroused. He stands and inclines his head toward my Play House. This is a foolish name, but he chose it and so I go along with it. 
My Play House is a small cabin build on the back lot of our home. We live on the outskirts of a small town and own quite a bit of wooded and cultivated property. It's a lovely little structure. One room, really. Electricity for the air conditioner and hot water heater, but a Franklin stove for the winter heat and small amounts of cooking and oil lamps or candles for light. Two straight backed chairs, a tiny drop leaf table, a double bed and a bathtub, stool and sink. At the foot of the bed is a steamer trunk filled with supplies, on the wall one cabinet filled with towels and bed linens, on hooks by the door jackets and a few other articles of clothing.

Shaking my head a bit, I return to my task, now slightly altered simply by a look from him. I cut four roses, bright red this time, and leave the stems long. When I enter the Play House holding them, he is already seated on one of the chairs. I place the roses on the table and remove my clothing, hanging the dress on a hook. Here, I am nude. Always. I kneel and wait for his instructions.

He has tied my wrists to the headboard and blindfolded me. I love the blindfold. It and his silence force me to pay attention only to sensations. I hear a harsh clipping sound then, something hard and narrow inserted, just barely, into my cunt. No need to worry about wetness. The moment I enter the Play House I am ready for him. His finger on my clit, the object enters further. A rose stem. He has trimmed every thorn from it and is using it to fuck me. In and out. His fingers torturing my clit. I pant and come so very close. Then, he stops. He leaves the rose inside of me but stops moving it.

He climbs on top of me, still clothed. and whispers in my ear, "It's going to be a long afternoon for you. I want to see you squirm, beg, cry out from my treatment of you. But be sure of this, my love. You will cum only when I allow it."