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A Story from Way Back When

  • Posted on June 30, 2015 at 6:47 PM

I wrote this story many moons ago, probably something like fourteen or fifteen years ago.  I was still a fledgling kink writer at that point, and still exploring the outer reaches of my likes and dislikes.

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A Fantasy

I hear you put the key in the hotel room door, and I scramble to get into position, kneeling, eyes downcast. This is required whenever you come into the room. The only thing I wear is my collar, snug against my throat.

You step into the room, and seeing me kneeling there, you speak. “You may look up, slave.”

I do, and my breath intakes sharply. Standing next to you is a tall beautiful woman.

You notice my reaction. “What are you thinking, slave?”

“She’s beautiful, Master.” I can’t help but stare at her.

“Yes, she is. Come here.”

I crawl over to both of you, because I have not been given permission to stand. I kneel between you, at your feet. I continue to look at this beauty that you have chosen to bring to the room. She smiles down at me, and strokes my hair. I bend to kiss her foot.

“You will obey her as you obey me. You will call her Mistress,” you tell me.

“Yes, Master.” I see that you are pleased with me.

“Stand up now, slave.”

“Yes, Master.” I stand, feeling small next to this incredible woman. She is a good two or three inches taller than I am.

“Undress your Mistress. You may make love to her as you undress her.”

I look at you, not quite believing that you will allow me to make love to her. I immediately begin to undo the buttons on her blouse. I look at her as I do this.

“May I kiss you, Mistress,” I ask shyly.

“Yes, you may. Your Master has already given permission for you to make love to me, and I haven’t said that you may not.”

I lean in, slowly, and brush her lips with mine. She is soft and warm, and the feeling floods through me. I continue to undo the buttons, and I kiss her neck as it’s uncovered. I open her blouse and slide it off her shoulders, which I also kiss, gently. Then I undo her bra, which opens in the front, and my breath almost leaves me as I uncover her breasts. I put my lips to each nipple, unable to control myself, and I feel them harden under my touch. I reach to undo her slacks, and slide them down and off her legs. She stands, unashamed, in just her panties, which I also remove. I know you are watching everything I do, and I want to please you.

She walks to the bed, and you motion for me to follow. I do, and she lies down. I get up on the bed, but I don’t do anything else because I don’t have permission.

“Lie on top of her, slave. I’m going to whip you with my belt,” you say as you take your belt off.

I look at you, afraid that I have displeased you, and you see the uncertainty in my eyes.

“No,” you say, “You haven’t disobeyed me. You know the rules. I’m going to whip you because I can. You’re my slave, and that gives me the right to whip you for no reason other than my pleasure.”

I am reassured by this, and lie on top of my Mistress. She wraps her arms around me, and this is allowed as this isn’t a punishment spanking. I wouldn’t be allowed this comfort if it were. The first blow lands squarely on my bare, upturned bottom, and my body tenses, but I don’t cry out. The belt lands again and again in quick succession, with no real time in between to acclimate myself. My Mistress kisses my face softly, whispering to me, soft nothings that lull me even as I’m whipped hard. The heat builds to uncomfortable levels, but I know I must not show too much distress, because that isn’t fitting for a slave. I must stay in control. I bury my head in her neck, kissing it, nuzzling it. She strokes my hair as I struggle to maintain control over myself. I want both of you to be proud of me.

Finally the whipping ends, and she rubs my bottom with her lovely slow caresses. I know you are watching all of this with great interest, every detail carefully remembered.

“Slave, I want you to lick your Mistress’s pussy now. I want you to make her come. Lie down where she is now.”

I don’t understand, but I obey. My Mistress gets up from where she had been, and I lie down in the warmth she has left there. You proceed to tie me to the bed, spread eagle, so that I’m unable to move except to lift my head. The position is nothing new, but I don’t understand yet how I will make her come if I am tied up. My questions are answered as you lead her to kneel over my face. I stare up into her pussy, and reach up to kiss her inner thigh. Her pussy is bare, as mine is bare, and I brush my lips against her folds. I kiss her pussy, and then let my tongue dart out to taste her. I feel her wetness, and I know she is aroused. I start to lick her in earnest now, becoming more and more excited as I feel her hips move with my tongue thrusts. I fuck her with my tongue, lifting my head high to go as deep as I can inside her. She moans and gyrates above me, and I know you must be pleased with me. I sense your labored breathing next to the bed as you watch us. I feel her lift up slightly, and I know that you must be caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples. I find her clit and play with it until I feel her body tense. I know she’s close, so I tongue her clit very fast and hard, and she comes, screaming. I kiss her pussy and inner thighs, and then you help her down from her kneeling position.

I’m still lying tied up on the bed. I don’t mind though. I’m your slave, and what happens next isn’t up to me. I wonder, but I don’t ask. I hear my Mistress ask if she may, and I wonder what she means. She has asked you, not me. The next thing I feel is her mouth on my pussy, and I shudder at the sudden sensations. I’m being allowed to be pleasured, and I know then that I have pleased you. She kisses and licks my pussy, pushing me to new heights. I know I cannot come unless you say that I may, so I struggle not to. I can’t grind my pussy against her mouth because I can’t move enough, and I am frustrated by this.

Suddenly she stops, and I almost cry out. She starts again, pushing me close to the edge, and then she stops again. She has decided to play with me, tormenting me with her tongue, but stopping just short every time.

Finally, I hear your voice, as if from a distance. “You can come now, slave.”

She tongues my clit in earnest then, making my whole body strain desperately against my restraints. My whole body shakes with an explosive orgasm, and I lay utterly exhausted. I watch through a warm haze as you take her from behind. You standing next to the bed, she on the bed, bottom thrust high for you. I hear you groan with pent-up desire, and I wish that it was I who was receiving your cock inside me. You are my Master though, and it isn’t for me to question what you do.

You both come in a sweaty moaning shudder. After a few minutes you untie me, but only my legs; I’m still helpless. You kneel between my legs and lift my hips so that you can enter me. I thrust my hips against you, and your balls brush against my still sore bottom. It drives me over the edge, and you see that I can no longer control it.

“Come for me, my slaveslut. Come hard for your Master!”

And I do, my legs stiffening and shuddering, and I yell out my release. You come right after me, and then collapse against me. I feel my hands being untied, and I realize that it’s my Mistress. You lie on one side of me, and she on the other, and we sleep like that, wrapped around each other.

As Stubborn As They Come

  • Posted on September 30, 2014 at 6:54 PM

I was checking out Google Groups the other night, and I found a story I’d totally forgotten about.  It’s a very old story, and very short.

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“Come here,” Greg said.

“No,” Jen answered, defiantly.

“Come here NOW.  You’re just making it worse for yourself,” Greg said sternly, with that LOOK in his eye, as he moved toward her just a bit.

“I won’t.  You can’t make me!  So there!” Jen stuck her tongue out at him, immediately wondering what made her do it.

Greg grabbed Jen’s arm and pulled her to him.  “That’s it, you’re getting spanked, good and hard, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“No, no, no!  I won’t and you can’t, and I don’t care,” she exclaimed, wondering who had taken over her mouth.

Greg pulled her over to the bed and all but threw her over his lap.  He ripped her pants and panties down, revealing her naked, quivering, and for the moment, pale bottom.  Jen kicked, flailed, and yelled, making controlling her a real ordeal. Greg wondered what possessed her.  She usually wasn’t this defiant once a spanking was inevitable.

Greg started spanking Jen, hard, as she fought.  She squealed and thrashed, forcing him to put his leg over hers to keep her in position.  She fought with everything in her, not understanding why she was doing it, but feeling compelled.  She knew it would make the spanking much worse, but she couldn’t stop herself.

He spanked and spanked her.  He switched from hand to hairbrush, hoping that the much harder spanking would break through her defenses.  Her bottom was red and becoming darker with each smack.  He wondered how long she could hold out.

Jen wondered what forced her to fight him.  It wasn’t like her to be this way, but she felt this NEED to do it, to be very, very punished.  She could barely stand the resounding painful spanks, and knew that her bottom must be a never before seen shade of red.  She just couldn’t give up yet.

Greg picked up the paddle and started spanking her thighs.  Jen yowled at the new assault.  She thought the spanking would never end, and she’d be over his knee for eternity.  She was frustrated and felt so helpless.  She couldn’t escape his grasp, no matter how hard she fought. She pounded her fists on the bed in a fit of utter frustration, and let out an exasperated bellow.  She finally gave in, defeated, allowing him to spank her into complete submission.  She cried then, and was under control once again.

Greg spanked her for a while longer, wanting to make sure that she really was over her fit of obstinacy.  Then he helped her up, and held her in his arms as she cried.

“I’m sorry,” Jen sniffled into his shirt.

“That’s okay, I think I took care of that little stubborn streak of yours.  You just tend to forget that I’m even more stubborn than you are, and I’ll keep spanking you until you decide to let go.”

“Promise,” Jen asked in a small voice.

“I promise.  I’ll ALWAYS be more stubborn than you,” Greg said with a big grin.

 

An Alternative Ending to the Public Spanking Fantasy

  • Posted on August 16, 2014 at 11:59 PM

Here’s a different ending for the public spanking fantasy that I wrote a year ago.  The story changes on the way out of the store……

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G. makes me walk, not run, to the car.  As I see more and more people in the parking lot, I start begging him to let me pull my pants up.

“No.  You misbehaved in public and you’re getting punished in public.  That means that however many people see your spanked bare bottom just adds to your punishment,” he says, “and because you insist on begging to get out of the rest of your punishment, you’re going to get extra.”

“You already spanked me in front of everybody,” I say, panicked.

“Well, not everybody.  There are a lot of people out here,” he says, with that gleeful sound in his voice again.

We get to the car, but he stops me before we can get to the doors, when we’re still behind the car.  He opens the trunk, and inside I can see one of the long wooden paddles.  My eyes go wide.

He picks up the paddle and closes the trunk.  “Bend over the trunk,” he says, pointing with the paddle.

The look on his face tells me that I don’t want to fight him on this.  I’ve seen that look before, and it’s never good.  I bend over the trunk, and I feel him pull my pants and panties back down to my knees.  My face burns with embarrassment, and I’m glad that I can’t see the people this time.  The next thing I know, the paddle smacks into my already very sore bare bottom, and I yell.  That obviously attracts attention, because I can hear people behind me, talking and laughing about my predicament.  As the paddling continues, my feet start involuntarily coming up, almost meeting my bottom.  G. pushes them back down and starts paddling me harder, which makes me squirm enough that I’m almost traveling across the trunk.  He puts his left hand on my back to keep me from moving, and keeps paddling.  I’m trapped and helpless, and I start crying.  I can tell that more and more people are coming over to the car to watch him spank me.  People are even coming over from the other side of the car, straight toward me,  to stand next to the car to get a better look.  G. knows what I’m thinking as this happens.

“Don’t close your eyes.  I want you to see all these people,” he says, paddle strokes emphasizing what he says.

I see the people’s faces as they watch him paddle me.  Nobody seems to be sympathetic to my plight, instead watching with smiles and looks of anticipation of what might happen next.  I can see it in their eyes.  They’re enthralled with the spectacle of the paddle smacking my bare bottom over and over.

“What did she do,” one of them asks G.

“She misbehaved in the store, and I had to spank her then, and she continued to misbehave as we left the store, so I decided not to wait until we get home to spank her again,” G. says, as if this was something normal.

“She’s going to have trouble sitting down,” another of them says.

“Yes, she is,”G. says, “Won’t you, Jen.”

I don’t want to answer, but I know that I have no choice if I don’t want to make things worse for myself.  “Yes, I will,” I say, barely audible.

“I couldn’t hear you.  Try that again,” G. says, enjoying my embarrassment.

“Yes, I will,” I say, louder, my voice cracking through my crying.

G. brings the paddle down hard across my bare bottom another ten times, and then he stops and takes his hand off my back.  I’m still crying hard, and even though he isn’t holding me down anymore, I don’t move for a few minutes.  As I try to stand up, he stops me.

“Don’t move.  You’re not done being punished.  You’re going to stay there for a little bit, until I tell you that you can get up,” he says.

All the people who had been standing in front of me move past me to stand behind the car, getting a full view of my very spanked, very red bare bottom.  Again I hear the sounds of appreciation, just like in the store, and again my face blazes hot.  I can feel the sun on my bottom, making it even hotter, the spanked skin very sensitive to the heat.  I know not to ask him how long I’ll be staying where I am, bending over, bare bottomed for everybody to see.  I can tell that there’s a real crowd behind me now, from all the voices that I can hear.  I don’t dare look back, because as bad as it is to hear all the voices, it would be much worse to see all the people attached to those voices.  My tears start to slow down, but they don’t stop completely, and I sniffle pathetically, hoping to gain some sympathy from at least some of the crowd.  It doesn’t work, and I put my head down, my left cheek against the warm trunk lid, feeling very sorry for myself.

After a very long time G. speaks finally.  “Okay, stand up.”

I stand, reaching back to pull up my pants, but he puts his hand on mine to stop me.  “Please, let me at least have my pants up now,” I beg.

“No, your pants are going to stay down, now and for the rest of the day.  When we get back to the house you’re going to get another spanking, maybe even before we get inside, I haven’t decided.  It’s going to depend on your behavior,” he says.

My head drops, and my face gets gets redder, but I don’t argue.  I know that there’s no point.  I’m in big trouble, and the three spankings I’ve already had are just the beginning of what is going to be a very painful day for me.

“Now apologize to the nice people, for being such a bad girl that I had to spank you,” he says.

I look up at him, and I can tell he’s serious.  Again, I have no choice unless I want to make things much worse for my already very spanked bare bottom.  “I’m sorry,” I say.

“No, look at them, and apologize to them, not to me,” he says.

I look past him at all the people standing there, expectantly.  “I’m sorry that I was such a bad girl that he had to spank me on my bare bottom in front of all of you,” I say, my voice breaking from the embarrassment and humiliation I feel.

“Very good,” he says, and guides me over to the car door, which he opens and gestures for me to get in.

When I do, I almost lift straight up.  My bottom hurts so much that I wonder how I’ll make it the whole ride home.  I start to cry again.  He gets in, and the crowd parts as we back out of the space and we drive away, leaving them in the rearview mirror.  We drive back to the house, and my fate.

A Public Spanking

  • Posted on July 15, 2013 at 12:59 PM

This is a fantasy, but there’s a part of me that wishes that public spankings were legal.  It would ensure that I wouldn’t be tormented by having to wait for a spanking if I deserved it.

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We are at the store, and my attitude is bad.  I’m complaining and being a pain.  G. doesn’t suffer attitude problems for very long, and soon he turns to me and says,”That’s enough.  You know what’s going to happen now.”  My eyes go wide.  Public spankings haven’t been legal for very long, and I hadn’t thought that he’d actually do it, that it was just a threat to make me behave.

“Can’t we wait until we get home? Please,” I ask, pleading with him.

“No.”  G. is very definite when he’s made up his mind about something, especially punishments.

My fate sealed, G. reaches to undo my jeans right there in the store aisle.  My face starts to turn red as he unzips them, gets even redder when he reaches for the waistband, and I can feel waves of shame and embarrassment wash over me as he pulls them down, taking my panties down with them in one movement.  There are other people in the aisle, and some of them notice and stop to watch.  This makes those who hadn’t noticed at first stop and look too.  I close my eyes, hoping that if I don’t see them, they can’t see me.

“Open your eyes,” G. says.  “I want you to see all the people who are going to watch you get your bare bottom spanked.”

I open my eyes, but I avoid making eye contact with the other people.  My bottom clenches, and I know that very soon it will be as red as my face is.

“Turn around and bend over.  I want your bottom facing those people,” G. says.

I turn around.  At least I won’t have to look at them while I’m being spanked, I think.  I don’t want to bend over though, because then the spanking will happen for sure, and I won’t be able to stop it.  G. pushes me down so that I’m bending over, giving me no choice in the situation.  I feel something cold and hard against my bare bottom.

“What is that,” I ask him quietly.

“The hairbrush.  I’ve been carrying it in my jacket pocket since they made public spankings legal,” he said, with a small amount of sadistic glee in his voice.  I now knew that he had been waiting for the opportunity to do just what he was doing.

The first spank lands, and I jump up.  He pushes me back down to bend over, and gives me an even harder spank.  The sound rings through the store, and I know that people farther than just the aisle we’re in can hear me getting spanked.  He starts spanking faster, covering most of my bare bottom in short order.  My fears realized, I see people coming up to the aisle from the other side to see what’s happening, and staying to watch.  These people I can see clearly.

“Please let me close my eyes,” I whisper.

“No.” Followed by a very hard swat of the hairbrush.

I watch as more and more people arrive, crowding the aisle, and they come closer as they make room for more people.  I know that it must be happening behind me too, and my face burns with shame.

“Please stop.  I’ll behave.  I promise,” I whisper again.

“I will NOT stop.  You do not decide when a spanking is over.  I do!”

This is followed by a volley of spanks so hard and so fast that I can’t take it, and I start to cry.  Soon I’m crying hard and I can’t stop.  I know that all those people are watching me cry while being spanked, and there’s nothing I can do about it, which makes me cry even more.  The spanking continues, and the pain is taking over my mind, partially blocking the embarrassment, but not completely.  My bottom burns and stings.  It feels like it’s on fire, and I can’t reach back to put it out unless I want an even harder spanking.  Eventually it hurts so much that the embarrassment is completely overcome and I do reach back to try to rub the fire out of my burning bottom.  The spanking stops, and I hear people gasp.  I know that G. is doing something, but I can’t see what it is.  Then I hear the jingle of his belt buckle, and I know that I’ve made a very serious mistake.  He grabs both of my hands, holds them behind my back and starts whipping my bottom with the doubled up belt so hard that I can’t stand still.  I start dancing around, trying to escape this further punishment and embarrassment.

“Stand still!”

G. doesn’t get angry often, because he’s very in control of himself, so when he does raise his voice I feel compelled to do whatever he says.  I stop dancing around and stand still while he paints wide stripes on my exposed bottom with his belt.  I know that I will get worse when we get home, but at least nobody will see those spankings.  This present situation seems far worse than the very hard spankings I will receive once we’re home.  I’m blazing red on both ends, my face as hot as my bottom.  Looking down while I danced around to escape the belt, now I look up, and accidentally make eye contact with some of the people watching me get spanked.  I can tell that they think I deserve what I’m getting, they know I’m a bad girl who should be spanked on her bare bottom.

It takes a minute to realize that G. has stopped whipping my bottom.  The crowd stays, waiting to see what will happen next.  G. stands me up, and taking me by the shoulders, turns me around so that the people I’d been facing can see my very red bottom.  There are sounds of appreciation from the crowd, mixed with a scant few sounds of concern for my poor spanked bottom.  He moves me closer to the shelves where we’re standing, so that I am facing them.

“You’re going to stand here for a while so that all these people can get a good look at what happens to bad girls,” G. says.

People start coming down the aisle, and I can hear them behind me, scrutinizing G.’s handiwork up close.  My embarrassment is renewed, and I can feel my face turn redder, the heat from my face matching my hot tears of shame.  My bottom hurts so much that I find it difficult not to reach back, and G. notices my hands twitching at my sides.  The hairbrush smacks my bottom hard, and I stop.  Somebody in the crowd of people laughs, obviously enjoying my pain and humiliation.  It seems like I’ve been standing there for ages, and that everybody in the store has seen my red bare bottom.  Eventually though, G. allows me to face away from the shelves, and I see people still streaming through the aisle.

He reaches down to pull my pants up, but he stops when they’re up just under my bottom.  He adjusts my shirt so that it stays up around my waist and won’t cover my bottom.  I look at him, and my eyes plead with him to pull them up the rest of the way, but he doesn’t fix them.

“We’re going to continue shopping, and you are going to walk through the store just like that,” he tells me.

My face burns with embarrassment again, but I do what he says.  Now the people who work in the store who couldn’t see what was going on before, see me and my spanked bottom.  Some of the men give G. a thumbs up, along with some of the older women.  I keep my eyes cast down so that they can’t make eye contact with me.  We hadn’t been in the store for very long before my spanking, so I know that we still have a lot of shopping to do.  I dread having to stand in line to check out, and I assume that I have no choice, but G. has one more trick up his sleeve.  He takes me up to the front of the store, in front of the check out lanes, and makes me stand there with my bottom facing those lanes.  Everybody who checks out can see how red my bottom is, even though not all of them had watched my spanking.  I can hear them talking, to each other and the cashiers about me, saying that I must be a very bad girl to have been spanked so hard.  As they walk out of the store they have to pass by me, and I know that they’re looking my bottom again.  Finally, when I don’t think it’s possible, G. is done checking out, and comes to get me.  He still doesn’t let me pull my pants up though, and makes me walk to the car with my bottom on display.  People in the parking lot, who hadn’t been in the store ask him questions, and he tells them that I had been a bad girl in the store, and that he had spanked me.  We can’t get to the car fast enough for me, but I’m not allowed to run to it.  I have to walk normally, and not fast at all.  When I’m finally allowed to be in the car away from people, I cry both from the pain in my bottom making contact with the seat, and the embarrassment I’ve felt since my ordeal started.  My bottom is still bare.  G. says it’s going to stay that way for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

Two very short things

  • Posted on March 26, 2013 at 2:13 AM

There are more years of the old SSC in online archives now, and I found a couple things I’d forgotten that I’d written from 2002.  They added a poetry category and a mini saga category.  Mini saga was a challenge: Write a story in 50 words or less.  Of course I had to try it!  For the poetry category I wrote a haiku.  There are longer things I wrote that year too, which I’ll post soon.

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Hand on bare bottom
Anticipating the strike
You give, I receive

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The Chase

“Get back here for your spanking!”
She bolts, trying to stay one step ahead. She gets to the bathroom, grasps the door, closing it, as…………
“Now you’re going to get it,” he says, barging in.
“Damn, I gotta take up track,” she laughs, as the wooden spoon imprints her butt.

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An explanation for the mini saga.  G. came here to visit in 2001, and we found ourselves alone in the apartment at one point.  I don’t remember what I said to instigate things, but the next thing I knew he was chasing me with the wooden spoon!  I TRIED to run into the bathroom because it’s the only room with a door that locks. : )  The mini saga was actually what happened.

Story: What the Hell! (F/M)

  • Posted on March 24, 2013 at 1:57 AM

This is an OLD story, from the SSC on the old newsgroup.  I wrote it in 2001, and hadn’t seen it in years.  Some of the old stories are in a new archive, and this was one of them, so I grabbed it.  It’s F/M, which I don’t do too much of actually, but this one seemed to work well.
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What the Hell!

After decades he still didn’t understand this need in his head. Something was always telling him he needed to be spanked.  Not a voice, he wasn’t that far gone, but there was something else, a feeling.  Most of him thought the idea was ridiculous, knew that he was sick to want it, but there was that little part that screamed the desire from down deep.  Told him that being over a woman’s lap getting his bare ass spanked till he went limp from pain and hard from lust was the only way to go.  He just never had the guts to go through with it.

The opportunity to make it all come true came as a shock to his system. She told him he was a bad boy and needed to be spanked and he almost choked.  What the hell?!  That was for kids!  There was no way he was actually going to let her spank him!  No way, no how!  She was buggy to think so, and he almost told her so, but that little part made him stifle his snappy comeback and just stare at the floor.  She asked if he agreed, but he couldn’t make himself answer.  He just couldn’t!  NO! Yes, damn it, you know you want it, always have!  Go for it!  No, I can’t, there’s no way!  He stood mute as his mind battled with itself.

He knew she expected an answer.  What should he say?  Should he tell her no, and wonder what could’ve been, or should he say yes and risk having the fantasy destroyed, or even scarier, fulfilled beyond imagining. What the hell?!  Why was he even considering it?  It was crazy, twisted! Nobody wanted that, did they?  What made her say it?  Why would she want to spank him anyway?  Maybe she sees the need in your eyes, that little part of himself said.  What would be so bad if you said yes!  It’s silly, I can’t do it!  Geeeeeez, I have my pride, ya know!  I can’t let her do this!  Why not, you silly fool!  You’ve wanted it your whole life!  Don’t hide behind that stupid pride!  It’ll just keep you from getting what you want!  No, no, no!  I can’t, I won’t!

He looked at her, as she waited to hear his decision.  She sat down, sensing it would be a while.  He heard his heart beating loudly in his ears, deafening him.  Fear reached for him.  Fear of getting it, and fear of not getting it.  AAAGGGHHH!  He couldn’t decide!

That little part of himself grew bigger suddenly, taking control, forcing him to do what he must.  Oh, what the hell!  He moved to her side and put himself across her lap, falling into the unknown.

Acceptance

  • Posted on March 9, 2013 at 1:25 AM
I wrote this ten years ago, after I watched Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.  The end of the movie made me realize that life doesn’t work that way, that things don’t just fix because of a few words.  I was going to put it on my LiveJournal page, but I realized that it mentions kink, so the only place I can put it is on here.  This is my safe place, along with Twitter.  I can be who I am.  This is a little dark, but it needed to be written.
 —————————————–
 Acceptance 
 2003
There comes a time when you give up on what could’ve been, and accept what was. When you realize that wishing won’t change the past, and that even if you had the chance now, nothing would change. Real life doesn’t have a happy Hollywood ending, where everyone makes peace and there’s a plausible explanation for the hell you lived. The gentle giant you hoped was inside there somewhere never was, and the raging psychotic pedophile was all too real. What could’ve been never would’ve been, no matter what. Handing your innocence over to evil was the only other option, it would have given you what you wanted, the coveted “Daddy’s girl” status, but even in your naivete you couldn’t manage that. You had it, fleetingly, but then it was gone, stripped from you by your own innocent words, not knowing they would breed hate. The brutality was all you really remember, the short span of adoration obliterated by the years of emotional isolation, and the belt. You learned to sexualize the belt, only changing your inclination, not creating it. You are what you are, and the belt didn’t force it into being, it just changed its direction. You know that now, that there’s nothing wrong with what you have become, no matter what “they” say. You have taken back the power that was ripped from you so long ago. There was just a time when you would’ve done anything to have “what could’ve been”, but now you know better, and you accept what is.

Story-The Price He Paid

  • Posted on August 14, 2012 at 2:24 AM

This story is VERY dark, even darker than the one I posted a few days ago.  I wrote this a long time before the other one, for the SSC, but I forget which year.  If dark scenes upset you or trigger you, don’t go any further

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The Price He Paid

The white hot pain surrounds her, blotting out all else.  It’s the only thing that awakens her soul now.  She feels dead unless the whip is at her back or the cane is welting her mercilessly.  She knows that he doesn’t like to do these things, to take her so far, but he does it because she needs it.  No matter that her body is permanently marked from the times when she pushed him to beat her harder.  The envelope is beyond being pushed, it’s ripped wide open, and there is nothing she can’t handle these days.
——————————————–
He hates what he does to her, but he can’t stand the look in her eyes when she begs him to help her, to take her beyond the edge.  She’s her old self for a while afterwards, so he accepts what he has to do as a way to bring her back.  He hopes that one day he can drive her demons out so he can have her back for good, whole again, but it’s been months already and he doesn’t see an end to it.  He has tried forcing her to agree to a safeword, but her obstinacy on the subject is of monumental proportions.  He also knows she’d find someone else to do this to her if he doesn’t, and he wouldn’t trust anyone else to have her best interests at heart. He’d never “hurt” her.
——————————————-
The endorphins are at such a high level that she doesn’t realize that it’s gone too far.  She doesn’t notice her heart speeding before it stops or her mind becoming jumbled.  Her last lucid thought is that she’s finally “there”.  She feels such immense peace that she thinks she can allow him to back down now.  She tries to safeword, but there’s no sound, and she panics, but only for the briefest moment.  Her heart stops and her mind fades to black.  The peace she once longed for is eternal now.
——————————————-
He sits in the dark apartment, not moving, not really seeing.  Even after a year the image of her still body prone on the bed is burned into the insides of his eyelids and into his brain.  His guilt is as eternal as her peace.  He knows in his heart that he killed her, though the exhaustive investigation exonerated him.  He no longer tries to kill himself, but he no longer tries to live either.  He won’t allow himself the comfort of being around people.  He won’t become involved with a woman again, because he’s afraid he’ll kill her too.  He had just wanted to help her, but now he sees how wrong he was. He should’ve tried to get her help.  She told him her way would work, and he had believed her.  Now she was gone forever and he is left here to be haunted by his mistakes for the rest of his life.  He hopes that it wouldn’t be a long life.

Story-Ping Pong Paddled

  • Posted on August 12, 2012 at 6:51 PM

I’ve left the author names on it this time, because this one was a collaboration.  In 2000 I wrote a lot of stories for the SSC, and one of the categories was Collaborations.  Quester hadn’t been on SSS for a while by then, but he said he’d write a story with me.  If I remember right, he didn’t do any of the actual writing, but he came up with the idea, and the trap the girl uses.

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Ping Pong Paddled  (f/m, nc)

by Jen and Quester     © 2000

We met in English, and I’d always lusted after her.  I’m a typical
teenage boy after all, and she’s gorgeous.  And stacked.  I noticed.

We sat next to each other, and that led to talking about school, which
led to talking about what we wanted to do instead.  That led to planning
our first get-together.  Ping pong, her house.  I couldn’t wait.

————-

I got home fast that day.  I liked Jimmy, and had admired his body for
months, especially his butt.  What can I say?  I’m a typical girl, and I
noticed!

When he got there we went downstairs to the rec room.  He started
getting grabby with me.  He kept brushing against my breasts, and
“accidentally” resting his hands on them.  I knew I had to do something,
and fast.

—————–

I figured I was doing okay with Jessica, and was feeling good about
possibly doing more than playing ping pong.  Until she scooted around
the pole in the middle of the room.  I turned to grab for her instead of
going around the pole, and the next thing I knew I was trapped!  She’d
sneaked one of those Chinese finger cuffs onto me, with my arms around the
pole.

I panicked.  “Hey, let me go,” I said.

“Eventually,” she said, “but first you’re going to learn some manners.”

She grabbed a ping pong paddle off the table, and started to paddle my
butt.  HARD.

“Hey, that hurts!  Cut it out!”

“You haven’t felt anything yet, but that’s going to change,” she said.

She pulled my shorts and underwear down.  I wanted to crawl into a hole.
She kept paddling, and it hurt like hell.  I couldn’t help yelling.  I
was helpless, getting paddled, and worst of all, she could see my butt!

———————–

I was really enjoying paddling Jimmy.  I’d never thought about doing
anything like it before, but now that it was happening, it was like it
was a natural thing to do.  I liked the way his butt wiggled, trying to
get away from the paddle.  I liked knowing that I was in charge.  The
paddle was making his butt red, and I really liked that.  Maybe I could
get him to agree to do this again.  Without the Chinese finger cuff.

I’d been spanking him for a while, and my arm was getting tired.  Just
about then, he quit yelling and just took the paddling.  I had a feeling
he’d learned his lesson, so I went around to see his face.  Of course,
facing him like that, I also couldn’t help seeing that he was actually
aroused by the whole thing!

“Are you going to stop groping me now, or do you want more?”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.  I promise.”

I released his fingers from the cuff, and he quickly pulled up his
shorts.

“How about we just start as friends, okay,” I asked.

“You got it.  I know not to try anything like “that” again,” he said,
rubbing his butt.

We laughed, ended up playing ping pong and had a great time.

 

Story-Bad Girl

  • Posted on August 11, 2012 at 1:29 AM

I’m posting this, but I’m adding this warning to it.  If extreme or edgy stories tend to freak you out, because of past experience or some other reason, don’t read this story.  If you like dark or edgy stories, if some or all of your own fantasies go the extreme, then have at it!
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Bad Girl

She wasn’t just a naughty girl, she was a bad girl.  She was lazy,
stupid, inconsiderate, and deserved to be beaten.  Not spanked.  Naughty
girls got spanked.  She didn’t deserve that.  So she made sure she got
what she deserved.  She pushed and needled and tormented him until he
pushed her down on the bed and beat her with his belt.  So much more
than hard, it was brutal.  But she needed it.  Had to be purged so she
wasn’t the bad girl anymore.  After the belt he pulled her roughly up
off the bed by her hair and screamed at her until her ears were ringing.
Good, she thought, she didn’t deserve kind words, sweet whispers.  She
wasn’t worthy of special treatment.  She should be treated like the dirt
she was.

She needed the pain he was so willing to give her.  She needed to be
clean again, and needed the heat of the pain to burn away the bad part
of her.  All the guilt and anger and hurt. So she pushed harder, cursed
him as if she hated him, to get him to hurt her.  He pushed her against
the wall, pinning her there with his body as he told her through
gritting teeth how he’d make her suffer for what she was doing.  He
backhanded her across her face, and it stunned her for a second.  Her
mind reeled.  This is what bad girls get, she kept thinking.  She let
the thought fill her mind until it was her only thought.  It was right
this way, right that she be treated so awfully.

He held her there against the wall, holding her arms above her head with
one hand, beating her mercilessly with the riding crop with the other,
all over her body.  Vicious cuts across her breasts and thighs, arms,
legs, everything he could reach.  He whipped her till she screamed, beat
her till she could barely breathe.  Soon there were no thoughts in her
head, just the pain, crowding out the guilt and the hurt, overriding the
anger.  She screamed till she was hoarse, and then the tears came.  Hot
stinging tears, as hot as the cuts from the crop.  Tears that burned
away the bad girl, and left the good girl in her place.  She collapsed
against him, and he carried her to the bed, laying her down, and lying
next to her.

As he cradled her, the heavy sobs turned to whimpers and she fell asleep
in his arms.  I’ll never understand why she needs this inhuman treatment
sometimes, he thought to himself as he kissed her forehead.  He just
knew that she did, and not getting it was worse, because it seemed to be
the only way to get it out of her system.  She’d be fine when she woke
up later, be his sweet love again.  She hurt somewhere deep inside, and
only the extreme pain was able to reach in there to calm her again.

He wrapped his arms around her, protecting her, and fell asleep,
exhausted from the ordeal.