A lesson in respect...
How can it be Wednesday again?! Time is going so fast these days...
This week I bring you an extract from a short I composed some time ago, but has not yet hit my publisher...
I love your feedback, so engage with me and tell me what you think!
"It’s true I had been pushing my luck all night. I had probably been petulant. Perhaps I hadn’t properly been paying attention when you were speaking to me? I was certainly cutting; sometimes I can’t stop my sarcastic tongue before it starts… but none of it had been meant with malice, and so I was a little surprised to see your dark expression as we left the restaurant ahead of our friends…
“What’s wrong?” I had asked you warily,
“Get in the taxi,” was the only response I received.
At that point I had suspected that I was in trouble. All of my self-preservation warnings had been triggered, as I assessed you silently in the shadows of the taxi. You never reached for me during the journey. You paid without a word to me. You never returned my cautious attempt at a smile as we made our way to the front door. I was worried; and rightly so…
Once inside, you poured yourself a glass of something strong, and headed upstairs; gesturing for me to follow you. In spite of nearly every instinct, I duly did so. My desire to please you was stronger than them all. More fool me.
And so that’s how I came to find myself secured to the bed, naked, face-down, and absurdly vulnerable. I dared not refuse any command you’d given me. Be it for me to strip, lie down, shut up, or spread-eagle myself for my binds. Your tone was unforgiving, and made me both nervous and horny – an intoxicating mix at the best of times – but made worse by the two glasses of red I had enjoyed over dinner.
So here I am – bound and ready for you to abuse. You’ve said very little so far, but I know you well enough to know what you’re thinking… you’re musing on every little thing I’ve done which has rankled you tonight, and you’re going to use them all against me; punishing me and fucking me – exactly as you wish. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop you, and what’s more, I probably wouldn’t even if there was…
The waiting can be the worst part though… I hear you pacing behind me. Possibly retrieving things from secret places? Things to torture me with no doubt… but I am not able to see much from this position, and too damn scared to try and manoeuvre myself so that I have a better view.
After some unquantifiable amount of time, you pause by the side of me, tracing a finger leisurely down my body; from the curve of my breast, squashed under my out-stretched arm, down along my side, past my waist, and up over the curve of my right arse cheek. I shiver impulsively. It’s a very tender sensation, but I know it won’t last…
“How am I going to teach you to be more respectful, Jenna?” you ask, almost rhetorically. I feel my body start to tremble under your finger as you retrace your invisible line along my porcelain skin.
“However you choose, sir” I mumble into the pillow, selecting contrition as my best approach.
I think I hear you chuckle under your breath.
“Good answer,” you say slowly, “and so true…”
You pause for a moment, and I briefly wonder what is happening, before your hand comes cracking down on my behind. It hurts, but in truth the sound is more startling than the sensation, and the gasp I hear from my lips is based more on the element of surprise than the pain inflicted. But now I know… and I know there’ll be far worse to come.
You spank me again, and again, and again, and again; your placement varied and your stroke gaining in intensity. I draw in a long breath between my teeth as I absorb the pain starting to spread across my cheeks and my lower back. You wait for me to release the air from my lungs before you continue.
Crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack –
Your strikes come hard and fast now.
Reflexively I squirm on the bed sheet, not really trying to get away – I feel the pool of moisture between my legs after all – but somehow, unable to keep still.
More strikes follow. I immerse myself in the warm intensity of them, losing myself to you and your desire. I enjoy the surrender... I am not counting your strikes, but after further rounds of punishment, you stop; caressing my behind as though you are assessing the heat now coming from it.
“That’s just how I like it Jenna… just as your arse should always be for me: a glorious, rosy red hue.”
You almost sound admiring of your handiwork, but it pleases me that you are now at least, enjoying me.
“Yes sir,” I reply, “and thank you sir…”
I don’t hear you pick up the paddle, but I feel the coolness of the leather as you place it on my ass, taunting me…
“Now for the real deal, sweetness. It’s time to pay for that smart mouth of yours… You’re going to count the strikes for me, and while you do – think about why you deserve to be punished. Are you ready?”
I have no time to respond. The paddle flies into my now tender cheeks with a level of force that takes the wind out of me. I gasp, it’s more painful than your usual technique, or maybe my behind is just more tender than usual…?
“One,” I whisper, “thank you sir...”
© Felicity Brandon, 2013
Be good now... or else!
Felicity Brandon
Fx
This week I bring you an extract from a short I composed some time ago, but has not yet hit my publisher...
I love your feedback, so engage with me and tell me what you think!
"It’s true I had been pushing my luck all night. I had probably been petulant. Perhaps I hadn’t properly been paying attention when you were speaking to me? I was certainly cutting; sometimes I can’t stop my sarcastic tongue before it starts… but none of it had been meant with malice, and so I was a little surprised to see your dark expression as we left the restaurant ahead of our friends…
“What’s wrong?” I had asked you warily,
“Get in the taxi,” was the only response I received.
At that point I had suspected that I was in trouble. All of my self-preservation warnings had been triggered, as I assessed you silently in the shadows of the taxi. You never reached for me during the journey. You paid without a word to me. You never returned my cautious attempt at a smile as we made our way to the front door. I was worried; and rightly so…
Once inside, you poured yourself a glass of something strong, and headed upstairs; gesturing for me to follow you. In spite of nearly every instinct, I duly did so. My desire to please you was stronger than them all. More fool me.
And so that’s how I came to find myself secured to the bed, naked, face-down, and absurdly vulnerable. I dared not refuse any command you’d given me. Be it for me to strip, lie down, shut up, or spread-eagle myself for my binds. Your tone was unforgiving, and made me both nervous and horny – an intoxicating mix at the best of times – but made worse by the two glasses of red I had enjoyed over dinner.
So here I am – bound and ready for you to abuse. You’ve said very little so far, but I know you well enough to know what you’re thinking… you’re musing on every little thing I’ve done which has rankled you tonight, and you’re going to use them all against me; punishing me and fucking me – exactly as you wish. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop you, and what’s more, I probably wouldn’t even if there was…
The waiting can be the worst part though… I hear you pacing behind me. Possibly retrieving things from secret places? Things to torture me with no doubt… but I am not able to see much from this position, and too damn scared to try and manoeuvre myself so that I have a better view.
After some unquantifiable amount of time, you pause by the side of me, tracing a finger leisurely down my body; from the curve of my breast, squashed under my out-stretched arm, down along my side, past my waist, and up over the curve of my right arse cheek. I shiver impulsively. It’s a very tender sensation, but I know it won’t last…
“How am I going to teach you to be more respectful, Jenna?” you ask, almost rhetorically. I feel my body start to tremble under your finger as you retrace your invisible line along my porcelain skin.
“However you choose, sir” I mumble into the pillow, selecting contrition as my best approach.
I think I hear you chuckle under your breath.
“Good answer,” you say slowly, “and so true…”
You pause for a moment, and I briefly wonder what is happening, before your hand comes cracking down on my behind. It hurts, but in truth the sound is more startling than the sensation, and the gasp I hear from my lips is based more on the element of surprise than the pain inflicted. But now I know… and I know there’ll be far worse to come.
You spank me again, and again, and again, and again; your placement varied and your stroke gaining in intensity. I draw in a long breath between my teeth as I absorb the pain starting to spread across my cheeks and my lower back. You wait for me to release the air from my lungs before you continue.
Crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack – crack –
Your strikes come hard and fast now.
Reflexively I squirm on the bed sheet, not really trying to get away – I feel the pool of moisture between my legs after all – but somehow, unable to keep still.
More strikes follow. I immerse myself in the warm intensity of them, losing myself to you and your desire. I enjoy the surrender... I am not counting your strikes, but after further rounds of punishment, you stop; caressing my behind as though you are assessing the heat now coming from it.
“That’s just how I like it Jenna… just as your arse should always be for me: a glorious, rosy red hue.”
You almost sound admiring of your handiwork, but it pleases me that you are now at least, enjoying me.
“Yes sir,” I reply, “and thank you sir…”
I don’t hear you pick up the paddle, but I feel the coolness of the leather as you place it on my ass, taunting me…
“Now for the real deal, sweetness. It’s time to pay for that smart mouth of yours… You’re going to count the strikes for me, and while you do – think about why you deserve to be punished. Are you ready?”
I have no time to respond. The paddle flies into my now tender cheeks with a level of force that takes the wind out of me. I gasp, it’s more painful than your usual technique, or maybe my behind is just more tender than usual…?
“One,” I whisper, “thank you sir...”
© Felicity Brandon, 2013
Be good now... or else!
Felicity Brandon
Fx
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