Good day my loyal minions.
My muse is misbehaving so I have yet to write the continuation of the Tara & Kensie story BUT I have something to tide you over for a bit *eg*
Enjoy
I sit on the bed waiting for my ‘punishment.’ I can hear you rifling through the trunk in the closet and I wonder what implements you’ll choose. I wish I could see you, watch you as you pick up each one, considering it, analyzing it; how much will it sting, how much will it burn, how long and how hard can you spank me with it before nearing the point of bruising. But all I can do is listen. The first thing you did after leading me into the bedroom was tie a blindfold securely over my eyes.
I start to squirm in anticipation. You pause. I hear your footsteps. Feel your arm gripping my bicep, pulling me up.
“What did I tell you, little girl?” you growl in my ear.
I shudder. “Too keep still,” I whisper.
You make a disapproving noise, a low growling deep in your throat as you unbutton my jeans and push them down to my knees. My panties quickly follow. You spin me around and push me roughly over the bed. My upper body supported by the mattress. You had the bed frame raised for just this purpose. It’s the perfect height to bend me over. I could stay comfortably in this position for hours, well, most of me would be comfortable.
I lay my cheek against the soft cotton duvet and wait for your palm to come down on my ass, correcting me for my naughty behaviour.
I start when I feel something cool press against my right butt cheek. I start to rise up but a firm hand between my shoulder blades presses me back down.
“This is what I had in my hand when you chose to disobey me.”
Shit! I know immediately what is. The strap. An evil well worn strap that you got from God only knows where to punish me when I’ve been really naughty. I hate that strap. It seems to cup my poor cheeks on impact, evenly distributing a burn so intense it takes my breath away.
I grip the duvet tightly and close my eyes. The first stroke comes down with a ‘crack’ on my left cheek. I gasp at the sting then sigh with relief as it fades to a mild burn. The stroke was light. Hard enough to sting but not hard enough to truly punish.
The second comes down on my right cheek and I groan quietly as the burn spreads lower.
Two more stokes, harder than the first come down quickly on my sit spots. I squeak at the increased intensity of the slap, the intense sting and not so mild burn. You try to suppress your amused chuckle but I still hear it.
“Hmm, perhaps I should leave you to wait in this position instead. I really do enjoy the view” you say thoughtfully as you run your palm along my still burning cheeks and I arch into you.
You pull away and head back to the closet. I keep perfectly still. You’re in a mood. A mood that could end with me desperate and wanting if I don’t behave.
~~~~
“Stand up,” you order.
I obey.
You pull my pants and panties down to my ankles.
“Step out,” you say.
I obey.
You pull my T-shirt up over my head, careful not to disturb the blindfold then reach around to unclasp by bra before sliding it down arms and letting it fall to the ground.
I stand before you completely naked. Yours to do with as you please.
“Hands on your head,” you order.
I obey.
You pause quietly. I know you’re observing me, admiring my body, your eyes wandering over me wantonly. I resist the urge to squirm.
You reach out with both hands and roll my nipples between your fingers. Pulling, pinching. I gasp in pleasure and arch into you. I love it when you play with my nipples. I can never get enough.
Then you lean down and take one pebbled nub into your hot mouth. Licking and sucking. Biting gently, then a little harder until I let out a little squeak. You twirl your tongue around it, suck it back into your mouth while flicking your tongue rapidly over the tip. I groan loudly twisting my hands in my hair and gripping hard to keep them in place. I rub my thighs together and you pull away to give me a hard slap to my bottom.
“Spread your legs,” you growl.
I groan inwardly, already desperate for release, but I obey.
You lean down to give the same treatment to my other nipple until I’m gasping and whimpering but not daring to beg. At least not yet.
“I think you’re ready now,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire. You lead me over to the window seat. It runs nearly the length of the room. Plenty of space for me to lay over your lap for a good long spanking.
I stand still as I wait for you to sit and pull me over your lap. I hear you shifting. Then a slight groan followed by a low vibrating sound. I strain to hear, to identify where it’s coming from but am distracted when you suddenly pull me over your lap; my body and legs stretched out, resting comfortably on the cushioned bench.
I still hear the noise and can feel a slight vibration against my hips.
You take a deep breath. “I’m going to spank you until I come,” you growl into my ear.
I gasp. That’s what it is! That sound. You inserted a vibrator into yourself. I swallow hard, wondering what setting it’s on. It sounds low. We could be here awhile.
You rub your palm briefly over my ass cheeks then bring your palm down firmly. I jump at the force of it. It’s harder than a warm up spanking but not quite punishing. I wince as more stinging spanks follow.
A mood indeed.
I force myself to take a few deep breaths, to relax and give in to the sensations; the sting, the burn. You spread my legs to gain access to my inner thighs.
You spank at a moderate pace. Measured, controlled. Spreading the burn all over my cheeks and thighs but focusing on my sit spots. You want me to feel this later, to watch me squirm.
I wriggle and squirm, gasping, trying to avoid the pain but at the same time I can’t help arching into your palm as it burns an endless pattern onto my ass.
Finally you stop. Breathing hard, squirming beneath me. “Are you nearing your climax?” I wonder.
No. You’re just moving the small footstool out from beneath the bench. You place your foot upon it, lifting your leg, causing my ass to be lifted and arched into the air. It’s only a few inches but I feel like my ass is a foot in the air, a target, exposed, begging to be spanked, long and hard.
You knead my cheeks roughly. I whimper. They’re on fire already and I know you’re nowhere near done with me. But the fire in my belly, in my lower lips, deep in my core will lead me to endure whatever you have in store for me.
You spread my cheeks and I jump when I feel something cold drop between them and slide slowly down. I turn to look over my shoulder but the blindfold is still in place. I tense when I feel something hard press against my nether entrance.
“Shh. Be a good girl. Just relax,” you soothe.
I whimper. Unsure. I know you would never hurt me. I know you hold my pleasure greatly above your own. But I can’t see what you have planned for me and even though that excites me, it also makes me nervous. But I trust you
I take a deep breath and lay my head back down. Relaxing as the object presses harder against me. I feel it slowly pressing into me, my muscles burning slightly as it pushes past their resistance, then groan loudly with pleasure when it’s finally seated firmly inside me. You wriggle it about, tugging at it, pulling it slightly out then pressing back in until I’m groaning and writhing in pleasure.
Then suddenly you stop and I feel you press something cool against my right buttock. It’s a paddle. A leather paddle. We’ve played with this before. The sting is intense and the burn will last for hours after you’re through with. Maybe days considering your mood.
I arch my bottom up, submitting to you.
The first strike falls and I cry out unexpectedly. My ass is already tender from the thorough spanking you already bestowed upon me. I ball my hands into fists waiting for the next strike and jump, eyes wide, when a sudden intense vibration bursts forth from inside that forbidden entrance. I gasp and press into your thigh then quickly arch up when that only increases the sensation. I churn my hips back and forth and begin writhing over your lap. The sensation is intense, pleasurable but intense. I hear you chuckling above me, watching in amusement as I continue to gasp and squirm in your lap.
Deep pulses begin to invade the vibrations as beads of perspirations break out all over my body. I spread my legs wide and arch my ass into the air begging you to continue.
You wait a few moments. Enjoying the show. You love the sight of me writhing uncontrollably in your lap almost as much as you love to hear me scream your name as I come.
Finally the paddle comes down with a crack and I cry out again but this time it’s followed quickly by a lustful groan as the force of the paddle drives the vibrations deep into my core. Again and again the paddle comes down until tears begin to slide down my cheeks. Then suddenly you stop.
Your whole body tenses as you cry out your release. You quickly reach down to turn off the vibrator but leave it inside yourself.
You rest your hand on my scorched cheeks, breathing hard, watching as I continue to writhe desperately in your lap, begging for release.
“P-please,” I gasp. I’ll surely die if you don’t release me. I can’t take it anymore.
“Ungh oh ga-awd pleeeeease” I beg. Tears still slowly leaking from my eyes.
You quickly pull yourself out from under me and flip me onto my back, knees up, legs spread wide. Then you grip my thighs and lick me. Once, twice, three times. I arch up and you latch onto my clit sucking hard until I scream loudly as I climax. My whole body shaking with the force of it, bright flashes of light exploding behind my eyelids.
Then I go limp, gasping for air, completely spent. You turn off the little vibrator and slowly pull it out. I barely notice.
You remove the blindfold , brush away the hair stuck with sweat to my forehead and kiss me softly.
“Do you think you can be my good girl now?” you ask with a lascivious grin.
“Oh god yes,” I agree with a naughty grin of my own.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Story Time
*Sigh* Okay. Here's another story. I'm still not happy with it but I refuse to work on it anymore! *Throws story on the ground and kicks it* :p~~~
I'm not sure what bothers me about it so I don't know how to fix. I think I just have a difficult time writing in this ...tense? ...voice? It's hard to convey what I'm seeing in my head onto the page.
I'm not fishing for compliments here. Just wanted to warn people that it's not like the other 2 I wrote and doesn't quite flow as well.
I also want to thank Loki and Alyx for helping with the editing; especially Alyx for her endless patience as I repeatedly sent it back to her whining and sniveling that I still wasn't happy with it *sheepish grin*
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Kensie sighed as she glared at the dim red numbers: 5:37am. ‘Why did the sun have to come up so damn early in the summer?’ she thought. Kensie felt a pang of guilt as she looked over at her bedmate, Tara, and slowly extricated herself from the tangled sheets. She crept into the kitchen and started searching through cupboards looking for a tea cup. She flinched and paused, holding her breath when the hinges of the cupboard creaked loudly. Then, satisfied that she was still the only one awake at this ridiculous hour, she set about making her tea.
When it was done, Kensie wandered out into the backyard and plopped herself down in one of the lawn chairs. If she was going to be up with the sun, she might as well enjoy its company.
Tara’s brain stirred slightly when Kensie got out of the bed and her eyes fluttered open momentarily when she heard the cupboard creak. She noted the now empty spot in their bed and closed her eyes again, waiting for Kensie to return.
Twenty minutes later, Tara jerked back awake and frowned when she realized that Kensie still hadn’t returned. She decided to investigate, and after a quick stop in the washroom to brush her teeth, went looking for her missing partner.
She spotted Kensie sitting in the backyard, and she stood at the kitchen window, smiling to herself at the sight of her beautiful lover. After nearly a year of chatting and flirting online, they had finally met and had the opportunity to play out a few of their many shared fantasies. Tara had taken her time exploring Kensie’s long, lean body. Her soft pale skin lightly dusted with a freckle here and a freckle there. Her long legs and curvy hips, her small waist and perfect little breasts – just the right size to fit into Tara’s hands.
Tara loved that when she dragged her short nails across Kensie’s sensitive skin, faint red lines would follow in their wake. And when Kensie grew impatient with what she considered to be Tara’s teasing, and had tried to take control, Tara loved putting her back in her place with sharp stinging slaps which reddened her pert round bottom. Tara found the little yelps and whimpers that escaped Kensie's lips, and the way she wriggled her hips from side to side, extremely arousing.
Tara’s smile quickly faded and was replaced with a look of concern as she watched Kensie swipe at what looked like a tear running down her cheek. She opened the door and padded over, crouching down at Kensie’s side. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
Kensie shook her head. “Nothing,” she said.
Tara gently but firmly gripped Kensie’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned her face towards her. “If nothing was wrong, you wouldn’t be crying...” she began softly. “Don’t lie to me,” she finished more firmly.
Kensie tried to look away as her lower lip started to quiver and more tears leaked from her eyes without permission.
Tara held her chin firmly for a few moments longer before releasing it to wipe the tears from Kensie’s face. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her concern was growing quickly. She had very much fallen in love with the woman sitting before her and was terrified that Kensie was going to tell her this had all been a big mistake. “Honey, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”
Kensie looked up into Tara’s eyes, the concern she saw breaking her heart. “I lied,” Kensie choked out, her shoulders shaking as she finally lost control and started to sob.
“What?” Tara responded, completely confused. “Lied about what? You’re not really single? Are you with someone?” Tara pulled back, watching, waiting, hoping for an answer that wouldn’t break her heart and breathed a huge sigh of relief when Kensie shook her head.
“I, I ...” Kensie ran the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffled hard as she tried to take a deep, shaky, calming breath. Tara knew she was in trouble when she realised that she even found Kensie’s sniffles endearing. Big trouble.
“I’ve never been in a relationship before,” she sniffled. “At least ... not with a woman,” she whispered.
Tara opened her mouth to respond but no words came out as her brain scrambled to process all they had done the night before. The way Kensie’s hands and lips and tongue hand explored her body ... she certainly seemed to know what she was doing.
“I had a couple, I don’t know ... flings, I guess, in college. Just some experimenting, exploring. Nothing serious. Nothing really ... emotional.” Kensie’s lower lip started to quiver as she tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Relationships should be built on trust, that much she knew and she had just completely blown this one. She hadn’t actually been ‘out of the closet’ long when she started chatting with Tara online, nor was she particularly experienced with women, but she pretended to be. She really liked Tara and was afraid that she wouldn’t be interested if she knew how inexperienced she really was. So she lied.
All the months of guilt over hiding the truth were finally too much for her, and Kensie decided to just lay it all on the line. She told Tara everything, all her fears and insecurities. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She even told her about the Grey’s Anatomy episode where Arizona turned Callie down for being a ‘newborn,’ which had only served to increase her insecurity.
Tara frowned as she listened to Kensie, confused at first, not understanding why she was so overwhelmingly upset over this. Yes, it was news to her and she wasn’t particularly impressed with Kensie for lying, but it certainly wasn’t the end of the world. But she listened intently, chuckling at the Grey’s Anatomy reference and pointing out that Callie and Arizona actually ended up getting together. And had a fabulously hot and sexy relationship!
“Yeah, but that’s just a TV show!” Kensie whined. Tara laughed out loud at the irony of that statement.
“At first I thought you wouldn’t like me if you knew and then you were always talking about trust and how important it is and stuff, and ... and then the longer I waited .. it, it just, I...” Kensie paused to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill over again. “I just wanted you to like me,” she finished. Saying it all out loud, Kensie just felt so utterly pathetic. Weak, whiney and pathetic. Then, as if to confirm her self-deprecating thoughts, she burst into tears yet again.
Tara quickly jumped up to sit beside Kensie and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into an embrace so tight she could feel the muscles in her arms protest. She hadn’t known about Kensie’s limited experience with women but she was aware that Kensie hadn’t been ‘out of the closet’ very long. She knew from what Kensie had told her that the experience had been painful, coming from a religious background. Most of her family and friends had been disgusted or insisted she was just confused, that she just needed to find the ‘right man.’ Tara understood her fears and the desire to just be accepted for who she was. To not be judged. But she was also upset at being lied to for so long and hurt that Kensie hadn't trusted her with the truth.
“I’m s-s-so sorry,” Kensie cried into Tara’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Tara replied automatically as she rocked slightly side to side, trying to comfort her. Then, after a beat, “Actually, it’s not okay,” she said sternly, squeezing a bit tighter when Kensie tried to pull away. “It’s not okay that you lied to me, it’s not okay that you kept this from me, and it’s not okay that you thought I would judge you.” She pulled back so she could look into Kensie’s eyes but still held her upper arms tightly. “Why would you think I would judge you?” she asked, the hurt evident in the way she choked up on the last word. “I know what it feels like to be judged. My parents disowned me when I came out, you know that. Why on earth would you think I would hurt you like that?”
Kensie shook her head, watching the tears that had begun to well up in her lover’s eyes. Her lover. She really did love Tara and it terrified her. So much pain could result from that. “I don’t know,” she replied, staring down at Tara’s shirt.
Kensie gasped at the slap to her cheek that followed. She stared, wide-eyed at Tara as she brought a hand up to cup her cheek.
Tara was shocked herself and was about to apologize but paused when Kensie didn’t react. She hadn’t slapped her back, yelled at her or stormed off. She just seemed to be waiting for Tara to make the next move. She would definitely apologize later, but for now ... “What did I tell you about lying to me?” She said sternly.
Kensie swallowed and tried to look down at her lap but Tara quickly grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. She moved Kensie’s hand and turned her face slightly to assess the damage done by the slap. Tara felt a pang of guilt at how red Kensie's cheek was, but knowing how sensitive her skin was, decided to address it later. She turned Kensie's face back to her. “Why?” she asked firmly, holding her gaze.
“I was scared,” Kensie whispered. “I wanted to tell you so many times, I was going to tell you when we finally met but I ... I was scared, I love you, I didn’t mean to, it just happened and I was scared."
Tara let out a small laugh. “You love me but you didn’t mean to?” Even under the circumstances she found Kensie's comment cute, but the scowl on her love’s face indicated she definitely didn’t see anything humorous about it. Tara immediately stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, it was just, it ... I’m sorry, Honey.”
There it was again, -- ‘Honey.’ Kensie didn’t usually like pet names, she thought they were corny. But coming from Tara it just seemed so sweet, so right.
Tara cupped Kensie’s face in her hands, “I care if you lie to me, I care if you don’t feel you can trust me and confide in me. I don’t care that you’re inexperienced. I don’t care that you’re new to this. I care about you. I care about how you feel, what you need, what you like, what you don’t like.” Tara smiled and pulled Kensie forward to kiss her forehead again. “Your inexperience just means I have more to teach you,” Tara began, lifting Kensie’s chin to ensure eye contact, continuing firmly, “and the first lesson you’re going to learn is about the consequences of lying.”
“Huh?” Kensie responded eloquently.
Tara raised an eyebrow. “You lied to me, Kensie. That’s not acceptable and it certainly isn’t going to go unpunished.”
“Oh,” Kensie squeaked, realizing immediately what she meant.
“Come on.” Tara held out her hand and Kensie nervously took it as she stood. Even though Kensie’s relatives were very religious, they had been quite forward thinking when it came to discipline; utilizing time-outs, writing lines, and loss of privileges as consequences for naughty behaviour. So Kensie had never really been spanked as a punishment before and she was more than a little nervous.
Even though Tara was a couple inches shorter, she was the stronger of the two. Kensie kept herself in decent shape and she ate quite healthy, save for her sugar addiction. She went to yoga three days a week and loved to hike and surf but she didn’t really work out. Tara on the other hand went running every other day and spent at least 4 hours a week in the gym. She could drop and give you twenty pushups without even breaking a sweat, real pushups. She could do chin ups too, which Kensie found fascinating. Maybe Tara would just make her stand in the corner or something ... and maybe, just maybe, pigs really could fly!
“Oh,” Kensie swooned slightly as she got up and pressed her hand to her head.
Tara grabbed her arm, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah ... my head just hurts a little.”
Tara brushed her fingers through Kensie’s hair. “Yeah, a good cry’ll do that to you. Come on, I’ll get you some pain killers and we can have a little chat while it kicks in.”
Kensie whimpered and pouted. Tara smiled. “The kind of chat that actually involves talking.”
“Oh.” Kensie replied sheepishly as Tara directed her into the house with a pat to her bottom.
“Then we’ll have a talk,” Tara promised.
Kensie groaned as she walked into the house. She had a feeling their ‘talk’ wouldn’t involve a whole lot of talking.
To be continued... maybe.
I'm not sure what bothers me about it so I don't know how to fix. I think I just have a difficult time writing in this ...tense? ...voice? It's hard to convey what I'm seeing in my head onto the page.
I'm not fishing for compliments here. Just wanted to warn people that it's not like the other 2 I wrote and doesn't quite flow as well.
I also want to thank Loki and Alyx for helping with the editing; especially Alyx for her endless patience as I repeatedly sent it back to her whining and sniveling that I still wasn't happy with it *sheepish grin*
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Kensie sighed as she glared at the dim red numbers: 5:37am. ‘Why did the sun have to come up so damn early in the summer?’ she thought. Kensie felt a pang of guilt as she looked over at her bedmate, Tara, and slowly extricated herself from the tangled sheets. She crept into the kitchen and started searching through cupboards looking for a tea cup. She flinched and paused, holding her breath when the hinges of the cupboard creaked loudly. Then, satisfied that she was still the only one awake at this ridiculous hour, she set about making her tea.
When it was done, Kensie wandered out into the backyard and plopped herself down in one of the lawn chairs. If she was going to be up with the sun, she might as well enjoy its company.
Tara’s brain stirred slightly when Kensie got out of the bed and her eyes fluttered open momentarily when she heard the cupboard creak. She noted the now empty spot in their bed and closed her eyes again, waiting for Kensie to return.
Twenty minutes later, Tara jerked back awake and frowned when she realized that Kensie still hadn’t returned. She decided to investigate, and after a quick stop in the washroom to brush her teeth, went looking for her missing partner.
She spotted Kensie sitting in the backyard, and she stood at the kitchen window, smiling to herself at the sight of her beautiful lover. After nearly a year of chatting and flirting online, they had finally met and had the opportunity to play out a few of their many shared fantasies. Tara had taken her time exploring Kensie’s long, lean body. Her soft pale skin lightly dusted with a freckle here and a freckle there. Her long legs and curvy hips, her small waist and perfect little breasts – just the right size to fit into Tara’s hands.
Tara loved that when she dragged her short nails across Kensie’s sensitive skin, faint red lines would follow in their wake. And when Kensie grew impatient with what she considered to be Tara’s teasing, and had tried to take control, Tara loved putting her back in her place with sharp stinging slaps which reddened her pert round bottom. Tara found the little yelps and whimpers that escaped Kensie's lips, and the way she wriggled her hips from side to side, extremely arousing.
Tara’s smile quickly faded and was replaced with a look of concern as she watched Kensie swipe at what looked like a tear running down her cheek. She opened the door and padded over, crouching down at Kensie’s side. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
Kensie shook her head. “Nothing,” she said.
Tara gently but firmly gripped Kensie’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned her face towards her. “If nothing was wrong, you wouldn’t be crying...” she began softly. “Don’t lie to me,” she finished more firmly.
Kensie tried to look away as her lower lip started to quiver and more tears leaked from her eyes without permission.
Tara held her chin firmly for a few moments longer before releasing it to wipe the tears from Kensie’s face. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her concern was growing quickly. She had very much fallen in love with the woman sitting before her and was terrified that Kensie was going to tell her this had all been a big mistake. “Honey, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”
Kensie looked up into Tara’s eyes, the concern she saw breaking her heart. “I lied,” Kensie choked out, her shoulders shaking as she finally lost control and started to sob.
“What?” Tara responded, completely confused. “Lied about what? You’re not really single? Are you with someone?” Tara pulled back, watching, waiting, hoping for an answer that wouldn’t break her heart and breathed a huge sigh of relief when Kensie shook her head.
“I, I ...” Kensie ran the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffled hard as she tried to take a deep, shaky, calming breath. Tara knew she was in trouble when she realised that she even found Kensie’s sniffles endearing. Big trouble.
“I’ve never been in a relationship before,” she sniffled. “At least ... not with a woman,” she whispered.
Tara opened her mouth to respond but no words came out as her brain scrambled to process all they had done the night before. The way Kensie’s hands and lips and tongue hand explored her body ... she certainly seemed to know what she was doing.
“I had a couple, I don’t know ... flings, I guess, in college. Just some experimenting, exploring. Nothing serious. Nothing really ... emotional.” Kensie’s lower lip started to quiver as she tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Relationships should be built on trust, that much she knew and she had just completely blown this one. She hadn’t actually been ‘out of the closet’ long when she started chatting with Tara online, nor was she particularly experienced with women, but she pretended to be. She really liked Tara and was afraid that she wouldn’t be interested if she knew how inexperienced she really was. So she lied.
All the months of guilt over hiding the truth were finally too much for her, and Kensie decided to just lay it all on the line. She told Tara everything, all her fears and insecurities. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She even told her about the Grey’s Anatomy episode where Arizona turned Callie down for being a ‘newborn,’ which had only served to increase her insecurity.
Tara frowned as she listened to Kensie, confused at first, not understanding why she was so overwhelmingly upset over this. Yes, it was news to her and she wasn’t particularly impressed with Kensie for lying, but it certainly wasn’t the end of the world. But she listened intently, chuckling at the Grey’s Anatomy reference and pointing out that Callie and Arizona actually ended up getting together. And had a fabulously hot and sexy relationship!
“Yeah, but that’s just a TV show!” Kensie whined. Tara laughed out loud at the irony of that statement.
“At first I thought you wouldn’t like me if you knew and then you were always talking about trust and how important it is and stuff, and ... and then the longer I waited .. it, it just, I...” Kensie paused to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill over again. “I just wanted you to like me,” she finished. Saying it all out loud, Kensie just felt so utterly pathetic. Weak, whiney and pathetic. Then, as if to confirm her self-deprecating thoughts, she burst into tears yet again.
Tara quickly jumped up to sit beside Kensie and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into an embrace so tight she could feel the muscles in her arms protest. She hadn’t known about Kensie’s limited experience with women but she was aware that Kensie hadn’t been ‘out of the closet’ very long. She knew from what Kensie had told her that the experience had been painful, coming from a religious background. Most of her family and friends had been disgusted or insisted she was just confused, that she just needed to find the ‘right man.’ Tara understood her fears and the desire to just be accepted for who she was. To not be judged. But she was also upset at being lied to for so long and hurt that Kensie hadn't trusted her with the truth.
“I’m s-s-so sorry,” Kensie cried into Tara’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Tara replied automatically as she rocked slightly side to side, trying to comfort her. Then, after a beat, “Actually, it’s not okay,” she said sternly, squeezing a bit tighter when Kensie tried to pull away. “It’s not okay that you lied to me, it’s not okay that you kept this from me, and it’s not okay that you thought I would judge you.” She pulled back so she could look into Kensie’s eyes but still held her upper arms tightly. “Why would you think I would judge you?” she asked, the hurt evident in the way she choked up on the last word. “I know what it feels like to be judged. My parents disowned me when I came out, you know that. Why on earth would you think I would hurt you like that?”
Kensie shook her head, watching the tears that had begun to well up in her lover’s eyes. Her lover. She really did love Tara and it terrified her. So much pain could result from that. “I don’t know,” she replied, staring down at Tara’s shirt.
Kensie gasped at the slap to her cheek that followed. She stared, wide-eyed at Tara as she brought a hand up to cup her cheek.
Tara was shocked herself and was about to apologize but paused when Kensie didn’t react. She hadn’t slapped her back, yelled at her or stormed off. She just seemed to be waiting for Tara to make the next move. She would definitely apologize later, but for now ... “What did I tell you about lying to me?” She said sternly.
Kensie swallowed and tried to look down at her lap but Tara quickly grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. She moved Kensie’s hand and turned her face slightly to assess the damage done by the slap. Tara felt a pang of guilt at how red Kensie's cheek was, but knowing how sensitive her skin was, decided to address it later. She turned Kensie's face back to her. “Why?” she asked firmly, holding her gaze.
“I was scared,” Kensie whispered. “I wanted to tell you so many times, I was going to tell you when we finally met but I ... I was scared, I love you, I didn’t mean to, it just happened and I was scared."
Tara let out a small laugh. “You love me but you didn’t mean to?” Even under the circumstances she found Kensie's comment cute, but the scowl on her love’s face indicated she definitely didn’t see anything humorous about it. Tara immediately stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, it was just, it ... I’m sorry, Honey.”
There it was again, -- ‘Honey.’ Kensie didn’t usually like pet names, she thought they were corny. But coming from Tara it just seemed so sweet, so right.
Tara cupped Kensie’s face in her hands, “I care if you lie to me, I care if you don’t feel you can trust me and confide in me. I don’t care that you’re inexperienced. I don’t care that you’re new to this. I care about you. I care about how you feel, what you need, what you like, what you don’t like.” Tara smiled and pulled Kensie forward to kiss her forehead again. “Your inexperience just means I have more to teach you,” Tara began, lifting Kensie’s chin to ensure eye contact, continuing firmly, “and the first lesson you’re going to learn is about the consequences of lying.”
“Huh?” Kensie responded eloquently.
Tara raised an eyebrow. “You lied to me, Kensie. That’s not acceptable and it certainly isn’t going to go unpunished.”
“Oh,” Kensie squeaked, realizing immediately what she meant.
“Come on.” Tara held out her hand and Kensie nervously took it as she stood. Even though Kensie’s relatives were very religious, they had been quite forward thinking when it came to discipline; utilizing time-outs, writing lines, and loss of privileges as consequences for naughty behaviour. So Kensie had never really been spanked as a punishment before and she was more than a little nervous.
Even though Tara was a couple inches shorter, she was the stronger of the two. Kensie kept herself in decent shape and she ate quite healthy, save for her sugar addiction. She went to yoga three days a week and loved to hike and surf but she didn’t really work out. Tara on the other hand went running every other day and spent at least 4 hours a week in the gym. She could drop and give you twenty pushups without even breaking a sweat, real pushups. She could do chin ups too, which Kensie found fascinating. Maybe Tara would just make her stand in the corner or something ... and maybe, just maybe, pigs really could fly!
“Oh,” Kensie swooned slightly as she got up and pressed her hand to her head.
Tara grabbed her arm, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah ... my head just hurts a little.”
Tara brushed her fingers through Kensie’s hair. “Yeah, a good cry’ll do that to you. Come on, I’ll get you some pain killers and we can have a little chat while it kicks in.”
Kensie whimpered and pouted. Tara smiled. “The kind of chat that actually involves talking.”
“Oh.” Kensie replied sheepishly as Tara directed her into the house with a pat to her bottom.
“Then we’ll have a talk,” Tara promised.
Kensie groaned as she walked into the house. She had a feeling their ‘talk’ wouldn’t involve a whole lot of talking.
To be continued... maybe.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Top Move
Is this 'Top move' something lingering in the dark recesses of the Toppy mind. Something instinctive. Or is it a learned behaviour?
I had this move used on me once:
Someone, for reasons unknown, felt that I deserved to have my poor innocent bottom smacked. Disagreeing wholeheartedly, I was rather uncooperative and refused to simply lay myself over her lap. So, as she tried to pull me down, I tried just as hard to pull back, keeping my bottom out of harms way. She eventually won out and managed to pull me towards her and over her lap but I didn't land in a prime spanking position. I was too far towards her right, with my stomach and upper body across her thighs while I continued to try to pull away.
Here's where the not so cool move comes in ...
More determine than ever to have at me; she gripped my hips and quickly bounced her right leg up and towards the left somehow which caused my entire body to bounce up off her thighs and forward. Landing, much to my dismay, with my poor bottom high up over her right thigh in prime smacking position.
I must admit that at the time I really didn't appreciate this move. Now, however, I think it's quite brilliant! Well, okay, maybe brilliant is a bit much. But it was delivered so effortlessly and with such precision that I can't help but admire it.
So again I ask; Instinct or learned behaviour?
I had this move used on me once:
Someone, for reasons unknown, felt that I deserved to have my poor innocent bottom smacked. Disagreeing wholeheartedly, I was rather uncooperative and refused to simply lay myself over her lap. So, as she tried to pull me down, I tried just as hard to pull back, keeping my bottom out of harms way. She eventually won out and managed to pull me towards her and over her lap but I didn't land in a prime spanking position. I was too far towards her right, with my stomach and upper body across her thighs while I continued to try to pull away.
Here's where the not so cool move comes in ...
More determine than ever to have at me; she gripped my hips and quickly bounced her right leg up and towards the left somehow which caused my entire body to bounce up off her thighs and forward. Landing, much to my dismay, with my poor bottom high up over her right thigh in prime smacking position.
I must admit that at the time I really didn't appreciate this move. Now, however, I think it's quite brilliant! Well, okay, maybe brilliant is a bit much. But it was delivered so effortlessly and with such precision that I can't help but admire it.
So again I ask; Instinct or learned behaviour?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Lil' Spanker
A while back there was an interesting conversation about whether or not a tiny spanker could really deliver an effective spanking.
I attempted the argument that I am too big to spank.
This was the result...
I attempted the argument that I am too big to spank.
This was the result...
Friday, August 20, 2010
An alternate ending
Okay, here's an alternate ending to my last 'story', which I just now realized doesn't even have a name ... oh well.
If you're new here, read the last post first for this to make sense.
I bring the spatula down hard on the sensitive flesh of your upper right inner thigh and you cry out into the pillow. I don’t want to draw this out so the next spank follows quickly, just above the first. Two more on the inside of the left and I decide it’s done. You’re crying hard now. I know you’re in pain but you’re also releasing your guilt. You’ve been punished.
You turn around to look at me, wiping away the last of your tears. You take in my flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, uneven breaths, and you know. You know. Despite your pain you can’t help the slow smile that spreads across your lips.
“Are you lying to me, little girl?” you growl. And I freeze. You’re back. My Top is back. You may be the one red bottomed and over my lap but you’re still the one in charge.
“Yes ma’am. A little. I’m sorry!” I whimper.
I look at you from under my lashes wondering if it’s really okay. You nod and give me an encouraging smile.
I bite my lip and slowly trail my finger up your inner thigh. You wince slightly; your flesh is still burning. When I reach my destination you groan and arch your back as I lightly run my finger along your outer lips. Slowly, teasing, tracing a pattern through your soft curls.
You turn and grab the spatula that I foolishly left within your reach and raise a brow as you growl out, “If you don’t move along, little girl, I’m not going to be the only making an acquaintance with this thing tonight!”
I bite my lip nervously; I do not want to be spanked with that thing but can’t help the naughty grin playing at the edges of my mouth.
I press into you ever so slightly, then run my finger up along your inner lips, then slowly around your little bud and back down to circle your entrance.
Your breath comes in gasps, your movements more frantic as you near the edge. I press in harder, faster, until you scream into the pillow once again. This time in pleasure and ecstasy. Not pain.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Story type thing
Ok peeps. Here's a story type deal. It's more of a glimpse into one long moment of someone's life.
I don't really write stories. I write scenes, moments. So don't expect this one to continue ... although I'm working on more *ahem* happy ending :D
Thanks go to Alyx for helping with the editing :)
You stand before me ashamed and contrite. I reach forward to undo the button and zipper of your shorts then let them fall to the ground. Your panties quickly follow. I pull you down across my lap and adjust you so your legs and upper body are comfortably resting along the couch. You’re going to be here for awhile. I pat your bottom lightly and adjust you slightly to allow for a comfortable and effective swing of my arm.
Once I’m satisfied, my palm comes down hard on your naked cheeks. You jump at the impact, I jump at the sound. It’s not often I find myself in this position. It’s usually me who is over your lap being spanked for one misdeed or another but what you’ve done is unacceptable and you need to be punished.
My hand comes down again and again. Hard and fast. You ball your hands into fists and press your forehead into the couch cushion but you don’t squirm and wriggle, you don’t whine and plead. You’re setting a fine example of how a good girl takes her punishment but I know you don’t expect the same from me. We both know better.
The spanking continues until your bottom is uniformly red and hot, then I focus on your sit spots and upper thighs. Now you start to squirm. Squirm and gasp in pain. You begin to kick your legs. Not much though, just a little, drumming them into the cushion. The pain in the palm of my hand becomes too much and I pause to open and close it trying to work out some of the sting. That’s when I hear you sniffle. You’re not crying but there’s definitely a tear or two that has escaped.
I look at my red and slightly swollen palm and realize it’s time.
I reach behind me and pull out a wooden spatula. I rest it on your cheeks and watch as your entire body tenses. I lift the spatula up high and you hold your breath waiting for the impact, but it doesn’t come. I hesitate and rest it back on your scorched cheeks. I know how painful this implement is. You’ve used it to spank me to tears and beyond on more occasions than I care to remember.
It’s very sturdy, made from bamboo. It’s light weight and doesn’t feel very menacing but it imparts a fearsome sting. Especially when it’s wielded by someone who knows how to snap their wrist just right at the point of impact. I would rather have the fires of Hell dancing across my ass than be spanked with this thing! But we both know you deserve this.
I lift my arm again and bring it down hard. You arch your back, lifting your head as you cry out at the pain. I bring it down again and again. You grip the cushion desperately as you cry and buck your hips trying to avoid the unbearable burning pain that this implement imparts on your already sore, red cheeks. I’m careful to cover your entire bottom but I focus on your sit spots, carefully watching for bruising. I know from experience that a very long, hard, painful spanking can be endured with this thing and result in little or none but I worry about hurting you.
I pause again. You’re crying now and breathing hard. I want this to be over now but I know it’s not finished. I look down at the painful scarlet colour painted across your ass and the tops of your thighs. I take a deep, calming breath and give the order “spread your legs.” You want to refuse, to shake your head and say no but you’ve punished me for such behaviour many times and you refuse to be a hypocrite. You slowly spread your legs apart but it’s not enough.
“Farther,” I order.
You take a deep breath then obey. Spreading you legs far enough that I have complete access to your inner thighs. You’ve only punished me this way once before and you had to hold me down to do it. I wonder if I’ll have to do the same to you. I decide it would be merciful as I know how excruciating this will be, so I pull my right leg out from under you and press it down firmly across the backs of your legs. I then twist my body around so I’m at a better angle.
You would have my wrist pinned to my lower back at this point. I’m not very good at keeping my hands out of the way. I wonder if I should order you to give me your hand but I decide to let you be in control of that. I grab a small throw pillow and pass it to you. You give me a small tearful smile, letting me know you’re not angry, you know you deserve this. You grip the pillow with all your strength and bury your face in it. You know you won’t be able to hold it in.
I bring the spatula down hard on the sensitive flesh of your upper right inner thigh and you cry out into the pillow. I don’t want to draw this out so the next spank follows quickly, just above the first. Two more on the inside of the left and I decide it’s done. You’re crying hard now. I know you’re in pain but you’re also releasing your guilt. You’ve been punished. I wriggle out from under you and curl up at your side, wrapping my arm around you and burying my face in your neck.
Now you’re forgiven.
I don't really write stories. I write scenes, moments. So don't expect this one to continue ... although I'm working on more *ahem* happy ending :D
Thanks go to Alyx for helping with the editing :)
You stand before me ashamed and contrite. I reach forward to undo the button and zipper of your shorts then let them fall to the ground. Your panties quickly follow. I pull you down across my lap and adjust you so your legs and upper body are comfortably resting along the couch. You’re going to be here for awhile. I pat your bottom lightly and adjust you slightly to allow for a comfortable and effective swing of my arm.
Once I’m satisfied, my palm comes down hard on your naked cheeks. You jump at the impact, I jump at the sound. It’s not often I find myself in this position. It’s usually me who is over your lap being spanked for one misdeed or another but what you’ve done is unacceptable and you need to be punished.
My hand comes down again and again. Hard and fast. You ball your hands into fists and press your forehead into the couch cushion but you don’t squirm and wriggle, you don’t whine and plead. You’re setting a fine example of how a good girl takes her punishment but I know you don’t expect the same from me. We both know better.
The spanking continues until your bottom is uniformly red and hot, then I focus on your sit spots and upper thighs. Now you start to squirm. Squirm and gasp in pain. You begin to kick your legs. Not much though, just a little, drumming them into the cushion. The pain in the palm of my hand becomes too much and I pause to open and close it trying to work out some of the sting. That’s when I hear you sniffle. You’re not crying but there’s definitely a tear or two that has escaped.
I look at my red and slightly swollen palm and realize it’s time.
I reach behind me and pull out a wooden spatula. I rest it on your cheeks and watch as your entire body tenses. I lift the spatula up high and you hold your breath waiting for the impact, but it doesn’t come. I hesitate and rest it back on your scorched cheeks. I know how painful this implement is. You’ve used it to spank me to tears and beyond on more occasions than I care to remember.
It’s very sturdy, made from bamboo. It’s light weight and doesn’t feel very menacing but it imparts a fearsome sting. Especially when it’s wielded by someone who knows how to snap their wrist just right at the point of impact. I would rather have the fires of Hell dancing across my ass than be spanked with this thing! But we both know you deserve this.
I lift my arm again and bring it down hard. You arch your back, lifting your head as you cry out at the pain. I bring it down again and again. You grip the cushion desperately as you cry and buck your hips trying to avoid the unbearable burning pain that this implement imparts on your already sore, red cheeks. I’m careful to cover your entire bottom but I focus on your sit spots, carefully watching for bruising. I know from experience that a very long, hard, painful spanking can be endured with this thing and result in little or none but I worry about hurting you.
I pause again. You’re crying now and breathing hard. I want this to be over now but I know it’s not finished. I look down at the painful scarlet colour painted across your ass and the tops of your thighs. I take a deep, calming breath and give the order “spread your legs.” You want to refuse, to shake your head and say no but you’ve punished me for such behaviour many times and you refuse to be a hypocrite. You slowly spread your legs apart but it’s not enough.
“Farther,” I order.
You take a deep breath then obey. Spreading you legs far enough that I have complete access to your inner thighs. You’ve only punished me this way once before and you had to hold me down to do it. I wonder if I’ll have to do the same to you. I decide it would be merciful as I know how excruciating this will be, so I pull my right leg out from under you and press it down firmly across the backs of your legs. I then twist my body around so I’m at a better angle.
You would have my wrist pinned to my lower back at this point. I’m not very good at keeping my hands out of the way. I wonder if I should order you to give me your hand but I decide to let you be in control of that. I grab a small throw pillow and pass it to you. You give me a small tearful smile, letting me know you’re not angry, you know you deserve this. You grip the pillow with all your strength and bury your face in it. You know you won’t be able to hold it in.
I bring the spatula down hard on the sensitive flesh of your upper right inner thigh and you cry out into the pillow. I don’t want to draw this out so the next spank follows quickly, just above the first. Two more on the inside of the left and I decide it’s done. You’re crying hard now. I know you’re in pain but you’re also releasing your guilt. You’ve been punished. I wriggle out from under you and curl up at your side, wrapping my arm around you and burying my face in your neck.
Now you’re forgiven.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Experiment gone wrong
Warning: This blog post contains the use of profanity. If this offends you, I suggest you take your little bottom elsewhere.
How many of you have been spanked with a wooden hairbrush? And I mean really spanked, not just for fun. Well I never had (wood is kind of scary). And I was curious, really curious. So what did I do? Well I went out and bought myself a nice wooden hairbrush and decided to give it a whirl.
As I live in an apartment and can hear my neighbor sneeze I couldn't exactly go about walloping myself with this damn thing (yes I did it myself, sad but true) but I really wanted to know how it would feel as a punishment. So I decided to just give myself one good hard whack before I hopped in the shower this morning.
I got all naked, as I usually do before getting in the shower, took aim, took a deep breathe, and ... nothing. I couldn't do it. My brain said "What the fuck do you think you're doing, dumbass?!" and refused to move my arm. Kinda like when you're waxing your bikini line and you have to count to three, four or five times before you actually manage to pull the damn strip off.
Anyway, my brain and I argued for a bit and eventually agreed that I truly was the one in charge here! So I took aim again, brought my arm up nice and high, brought the brush down hard and Jesus fucking Murphy that thing hurts. I mean really hurts. I jumped away from the brush, and my own arm which was really awkward and none to graceful, and held my breath for a few seconds as the pain actually increased as the seconds passed. Bloody Hell!
I looked in the mirror and there was a very angry red mark on my ass in the shape of a hairbrush, go figure. It was mostly red with a white splotch in the centre (the damn brush isn't completely flat).
After my shower the mark was still there and I could still feel the exact spot where the brush had landed. I wandered about getting ready and doing chores for a couple hours then flopped down on the couch and immediately jumped up! It still bloody hurt! I went back to look in the mirror and the mark was still there, just as dark as ever and I had dinner and a show to go to. Both of these activities require sitting by the way.
Thankfully the sore spot calmed down a bit and the seats at the show weren't to hard but I still spent most of my time sitting on one cheek >:(
It's now late at night, the mark is finally fading, and although I can still feel the spot that was attacked by the evil hairbrush, I can sit in reasonable comfort again, finally.
What's the moral of this story? Curiosity gets your ass burned comes to mind.
Mackenzie
How many of you have been spanked with a wooden hairbrush? And I mean really spanked, not just for fun. Well I never had (wood is kind of scary). And I was curious, really curious. So what did I do? Well I went out and bought myself a nice wooden hairbrush and decided to give it a whirl.
As I live in an apartment and can hear my neighbor sneeze I couldn't exactly go about walloping myself with this damn thing (yes I did it myself, sad but true) but I really wanted to know how it would feel as a punishment. So I decided to just give myself one good hard whack before I hopped in the shower this morning.
I got all naked, as I usually do before getting in the shower, took aim, took a deep breathe, and ... nothing. I couldn't do it. My brain said "What the fuck do you think you're doing, dumbass?!" and refused to move my arm. Kinda like when you're waxing your bikini line and you have to count to three, four or five times before you actually manage to pull the damn strip off.
Anyway, my brain and I argued for a bit and eventually agreed that I truly was the one in charge here! So I took aim again, brought my arm up nice and high, brought the brush down hard and Jesus fucking Murphy that thing hurts. I mean really hurts. I jumped away from the brush, and my own arm which was really awkward and none to graceful, and held my breath for a few seconds as the pain actually increased as the seconds passed. Bloody Hell!
I looked in the mirror and there was a very angry red mark on my ass in the shape of a hairbrush, go figure. It was mostly red with a white splotch in the centre (the damn brush isn't completely flat).
After my shower the mark was still there and I could still feel the exact spot where the brush had landed. I wandered about getting ready and doing chores for a couple hours then flopped down on the couch and immediately jumped up! It still bloody hurt! I went back to look in the mirror and the mark was still there, just as dark as ever and I had dinner and a show to go to. Both of these activities require sitting by the way.
Thankfully the sore spot calmed down a bit and the seats at the show weren't to hard but I still spent most of my time sitting on one cheek >:(
It's now late at night, the mark is finally fading, and although I can still feel the spot that was attacked by the evil hairbrush, I can sit in reasonable comfort again, finally.
What's the moral of this story? Curiosity gets your ass burned comes to mind.
Mackenzie
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Someone's gonna get it
One young lady, obviously in need of a well smacked bottom has been pestering me to start my own blog. So, here it is. I have no idea what it will morph into but the way I see it, I can do pretty much whatever I want. Therefore this blog will have no specific theme, no direction and I make no promises of regular updates.
There will be pictures, random thoughts, stories of whatever antics I happen to get up to (and decide to share) and perhaps a few stories, not necessarily my own.
I figured I'd start with this sketch.
There will be pictures, random thoughts, stories of whatever antics I happen to get up to (and decide to share) and perhaps a few stories, not necessarily my own.
I figured I'd start with this sketch.
 | ||||
| Waiting |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)