Becall has socks like this.
The corridor twisted and turned, and Hermione took quick steps to keep pace with Snape’s long fluid strides. He was well ahead of her, and rounded a corner, as she paused for just a moment to catch her breath. Her thoughts raced. Where were they going? What would he do? He’d already kissed her, and she’d felt the slow burn begin again in the pit of her stomach, the same burn that she’d tried desperately to forget during those nights when she slept alone in the rooms of the head girl. Well, she thought, I’ve been invited to get what I thought about so many times… It’s true what they say. Be careful what you ask for…
She scurried to catch up, and rounded the corner, almost running into the tall lean man holding open a door for her. A thin smile played about his lips. Severus Snape looked so different with a smile, even if it was the barest hint of one. Hermione concentrated on her toes, her fingers at her sides, anything but his tall form, his slender build… his..
Stop it! her inner voice hissed. You’re mooning like a schoolgirl! she almost rolled her eyes at herself. I WAS a schoolgirl, not so very long ago! shut up!
She looked up at him, noting with a bit of giddy alarm that he still towered over her, and he looked down, arms folded over his chest. “Well, then, Miss Granger. Are you truly following after the most hated teacher at Hogwarts? The vampire professor? Slytherin’s own greasy git?”
He sounded amused, and when she could find no words, he continued, pushing her ahead of him into the room, and shut the door behind them. One hand locked the door as the other began to snake its way up her back. “I am well aware of how the students speak of me. Vampire indeed. How unimaginative.”
Hermione managed a half-smile and a nervous laugh. “You should know sir, that.. um. I never called you… those things.” She blushed, pushing at her hair.
“I wouldn’t imagine you did. Considering the way you looked at me seventh year.” Hermione’s head jerked up, and Snape let out a deep rumbling laugh, placing a hand in the small of her back to usher her farther into the small antechamber. He began to circle her, and she felt very much like a swimmer in shark infested waters… except that if he bit her, ah… She blushed at her own thoughts and went silent. “I notice everything Miss Granger. I would think you would remember that… especially after that particular quiz seventh year…” His eyes roamed to the lower part of her, and Hermione blanched. Snape stopped his circuit of the trembling girl to stand still behind her, tracing his thin fingers over her shoulder blades.
“Oh, yes, little Miss… I noticed. You watched me in classes, during meals. You defended me to no end in front of your insufferable Gryffindor friends. Even after the.. incident. Why would a girl do these things for such a deplorable individual, hmm?”
She pressed her palms flat to her sides, closing her eyes as she felt his long fingers trace up her neck to twine in her thick hair, tipping her head back. “Why would you do those things, Miss Granger? Hmm?” Her heart pounded, and she gasped, almost crying out as he nipped her ear. “Could it be, little Miss, that the ever-perfect student fancies her cruel demanding professor?” He laughed deeply as her face went from white to red.
Snape let his fingers slip down her spine underneath the thick fall of her hair. Hermione stood still, stiff, and closed her eyes, her breath quickening. Snape slid his hands down along her sides, and over her hips. He pulled firmly, and let out a low chuckle at her gasp as her hips pressed back into him.
“Yes. I do believe that is the case…” His hands slid to cup her bottom, encased in the tight jeans, and then moved round to slide under the shirt. Strong fingers moved over her breasts, dipping into the top of her bra to flick at her nipples. She whimpered.
“Shhhh..” The sound was soft, and almost gentle, as he teased the tightening nubs. “If you want me stop, Miss Granger, at any time, then say so. Though, I may not believe you.” Snape let one hand slip down over the smooth skin of her belly, leaving the other to pinch gently at the rosy points. Fingers pushed past the waist of her jeans, inching their way down, down, to cup her pussy over her panties.
“Oh! Professor!” Hermione cried, blinking at the invasion. Snape ignored her, his fingers moving to rub at the cleft under the thin fabric. Hermione gasped, leaning back against him, smelling the spicy herbal scent of the potions room on him. She breathed deeply, to take in more of the scent of him as well as to try and still the frantic beating of her heart. She failed utterly at the latter as one finger dipped under the side of her panties to slide into the soft folds underneath. She bit her lip, her eyes closing tight. Her knees trembled as that solitary digit pressed into her, probing gently at the opening hidden deep within.
“What have we here?” he murmured silkily. “You are aroused…” He bent lower, his lips brushing her ear. “You, my dear.. are positively soaking…” Hermione whimpered, blushing scarlet, but nodded and arched, pushing her hips forward onto his hand. Snape laughed again, and pushed his finger further, dipping into the tight hole now, moving slowly within it. Hermione bit her lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood as his fingers worked in her, now dipping deeper, now moving smoothly through the slickness to run over the tight bead at her core.
He felt her lean back heavily against him as her knees threatened to give way. “One thing more, Miss Granger. I am no longer your Professor, so when you address me, you will do so as ‘Sir’. Are we clear?”
When she nodded silently, his hand left her breast to place a sharp slap on the outside of her thigh. She squealed. He smiled. “Out loud, Miss Granger. Always out loud when I ask you a question. Am I understood?” She nodded again, heady with the mix of apprehension and pleasure. Snape sighed and moved to one side, pushing between her shoulder blades to bend her. He placed a quick spank on her right cheek. “Try again.”
Hermione yelped, and quickly added the verbal comment. “Yes, Professor…” Another smack joined the first as his other hand continued to manipulate her, stroking steadily.
“I tire of this, Miss Granger.” His voice was showing signs of amused annoyance, and a volley of quick spanks echoed in the small room. Hermione squealed and squirmed, trying to evade the sharp -but not yet hard- blows. Pausing briefly, he smoothed his hand firmly over her bottom and leaned low to growl in her ear. “Let’s try again, and this time, get it right. You WILL pay attention when I give you instructions!” He straightened, and stilled his caressing hand before speaking again. “Are… *smack!* we… *smack!* Clear?” *SMACK!*
Her head swam and she found the correct words as she bounced on her toes. “Oh.. oh, OH! Yes, Sir!” She gasped, eyes closed tight in concentration, trying to keep still and remember the proper phrasing. He ran his palm quickly over the seat of her jeans,and squeezed, delighting in her whimpers. The fingers in her jeans were teasing, touching then retreating. He pulled gently at her shoulder, pulling her upright against him again as strong thin fingers began to move more rhythmically. She opened her mouth in an O, tipping her head back against his chest.
He kept quiet as she let out a strangled cry, her hands crossed tightly over her chest, struggling to keep her feet. Snape pressed himself firmly to her and focused on the pearl at her center. He smiled in silence as her breathy moans and whimpers grew higher and more desperate and shifted his other hand to support her as she cried out in release. Holding her tightly as she trembled against him, he slowly withdrew his hand.
Only when she was breathing more slowly, head tipped to one side in the dreamy reverie of the aftermath, did he let out a soft deep chuckle. He held her close to him as she gained her balance, and finally turned her to face him, tipping her chin up to look into the liquid brown eyes.
She blushed beautifully. “Well done, Miss Granger. That was lovely.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Never be afraid of the sounds of passion. I find them quite, quite enchanting.” He smiled gently as he stepped back from her, coolly observing the flush of her cheeks, the still trembling hands held awkwardly at her sides, the slowing of her breath. She noted that the frequency of his smiles was a bit unnerving.
Snape moved fluidly to push a damp strand of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering on the curve of her cheek. “We will have to tie this back. Lovely as it is, I want to see your face next time.” He turned and strode to the other side of the small chamber, beckoning to her as he stepped into the next room.
Reminder – This was written before Hermione’s Blog was begun and is not intended to reflect on her desires or interests in any way.
Ready to follow Hermione a little farther down the submission path?
Damn, damn, double damn! Hermione cursed herself, but for what, she couldn’t remember. She only knew three things. One, her book was in her hand, and she was almost running. Two, the burning in the pit of her stomach was increasing and creeping downward… and Three, it was IMPERATIVE that she keep up with the tall dark man walking ahead of her.
He did not look back, did not pause, he kept up his ground skimming stride, so smooth it would not have surprised her if he was floating. At last he stopped. Hermione was out of breath when she approached his side, and stood still, almost panting as he pulled his wand from somewhere indeterminate. He tapped the wall, murmured something she couldn’t quite hear, and stepped smoothly through it.
Despite her Wizarding knowledge, some things still surprised her, and she stared at the blank wall, much like she had when she’d first come to the station that day so long ago and had to walk at that wall there. She’d pretended all day to be brave and had walked boldly and straightforwardly at that intimidating tower of brick. She’d thought she would faint dead away when she reached the wall, but she had closed her eyes and walked through anyway, and her hands were trembling and her knuckles white when she emerged on the other side. Though she would never have let anyone see that.
Snape peeked back out again, almost as an afterthought, and fixed her with another of those oddly amused and wicked looks. “Ah. You’ve decided to come after all. How nice. Keep up. ” And with that he disappeared again. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, stepping sharply through.
It was dim on the other side, and Snape stood there, in the flickering torchlight of a long hallway, facing her. He was no longer in his jeans and smooth silk shirt, but once more in the flowing robes of the Potions Master. The only difference was that his hair was still drawn back into that sleek ponytail. His arms were folded, and his wand was in his hand.
Hermione froze. He was formidable, she had to give him that. Black eyes called beady by her friends were deep and soulful to her, and he stood as if not even a hurricane could move him from where he stood. And on his face was that same look. She tried hard to place it exactly. What WAS he thinking? The man was quite an enigma. She wondered if she would prefer it better if she DID know, or if his mystery was the better part of his charm. She let her gaze wander down his frame, her head bowing as she did.
She jumped when he spoke again, and looked up at him, her eyes moving from the shiny black of his shoes, up along the folds of the robes, to the strong shoulders, finally meeting the dark eyes.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, child, don’t look so stricken.” He slid the wand into his robes. “You are here precisely because you want to be.” He paused, and shifted, eyeing her. He thought to himself that he rather liked the glitter of apprehension in her liquid brown eyes. He took a slow step forward, and Hermione fought to keep from stepping a pace back.
“What do you imagine I will do with you?” he asked, advancing on her with a meter that would have made her bolt had he been anything but a human. Indeed, if he had been any other human, she might have bolted as well, but she stood, still, and firm, eyes growing wider. He reached, taking the book from her hands. She watched it disappear into the depths of his robes, leaving her hands empty.
He was in front of her now, leaning down slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. “What’s the matter, Miss Granger? Cat got your tongue?” She caught her breath and her mouth moved in a wordless opening and closing. Snape pressed a finger under her chin, closing her pretty mouth.
“That is singularly unattractive, Miss Granger,” he said, lips still curled gently into that almost grin that both chilled and exhilarated her. “If you are going to speak, do so. If not, then keep your mouth closed.” She bit her lip to keep from performing her imitation of a fish again, and balled her hands into fists at her sides, desperate to keep from trembling.
“You play games, Miss Granger, and you do not fool me. I see what you do, how you move. Do you think any of the looks you have thrown my way have escaped my attention?” She blushed hot, and looked down.
He took her chin in his hand and pulled it up sharply again. “Look at me when I speak to you.” His eyes were harder now, and he fixed her with a stare that let her know plainly what he was about. “Let me be perfectly clear, Miss Granger. If you continue with me, if you follow me, then you obey me, and you will do so completely, do you understand?”
She did tremble now, caught hard between what she so desperately wanted, and the urge to turn and run as fast and hard as she could. He stroked a fingertip down her cheek, and his voice softened. “Do you understand, Miss Granger?”
Hermione took a deep breath, and nodded, once, her eyes flickering downward for an instant before snapping back up to his. The obedience he had requested began instantly, almost without her consent.
Snape smiled and leaned in further, his lips meeting hers in a crushing kiss, and she opened to him, feeling him kissing her, moving his hand to press at the back of head. Her eyes remained wide open, she was unable to close them, and she could see his face, so close to hers, could smell the almost acrid scent of the herbs and potions on him, feel the surprising softness of his fingers pressing insistently at the back of her neck. His tongue searched, invading her, drawing fire from her core up to her throat. He broke the kiss, and stepped back, smiling wider now, and his eyes shone.
“You kiss well, girl. It pleases me.” Hermione beamed. “Now, please take you hair out of those ridiculous braids. You look like a farm child.” Hermione blinked, and her hands moved without her even thinking to undo the elastics and shake her hair free. It stood out a bit more than usual, the crimping left by the braids giving it a wave that was not usual, but, Snape noted, it was pretty. Perhaps he would have her braid it at night, and loose it in the mornings. Ah, but that was for later. First things first.
He turned again, striding easily down the darkened hallway, and beckoned with a single finger for her to follow. She did not even consider not doing so.
A little different. This was written before Hermione’s Blog was begun and is not intended to reflect on her or her interests in any way.
Hermione smiled and sighed to herself, holding her cup in both hands. The wizarding world was wonderful, but there were muggle comforts she could not bring herself to leave, and sitting at this particular cafe was one of them. The coffee here was second to none, and the rich, dark, almost oily smell of it permeated everything on this corner, despite the breeze that teased gently at her hair. She shifted in her chair, and turned the page of her book.
Flipping the page, she looked up as a figure moved fluidly through the crowded tables. There was something distinctly familiar about the lanky gentleman, in his black jeans and black shirt. Almost poetic, almost a beatnik look.. almost. His back was to her as he ordered his coffee, and she looked with admiration on the lean body, the pitch black hair pulled neatly into a low ponytail.
Hermione lost track of her book. She wondered idly what kind of coffee he was getting. Would he go for a dark French roast, or something with a milder flavor? Did he take it black to savor the natural bitterness, or with cream and sugar to sweeten the experience? He pulled a neatly folded bill from his pocket, paid the bored-looking cafe girl, and studied the change more than he should have, she thought.
She had yet to see his face. He was just turning, and Hermione let her face turn pointedly toward her book, though her eyes remained on the tall, slender gentleman. She recognized that she really was staring, and when she saw the other patron coming, out of the corner of her eye, she kept her mouth closed with some difficulty, to keep from giving herself away.
The stranger stepped back a pace, his arms raised smoothly away as the grungy college student rounded him, almost spilling his own cup. “Watch it, old man!” he muttered, and turned to face the tall stranger he’d almost bowled over. The grubby teenager in his pitiful excuse for a wardrobe hardly held a candle to the man, and Hermione would have stood up herself to defend, had the man not spoken at that second.
His free hand tangled tightly in the teenager’s greasy hair, tugging his head back sharply, never losing his feather light grip on the steaming cup of coffee. His voice cut through the air, though he barely spoke aloud at all, almost hissing into the boy’s ear. “You would do well to slow down, young man. Other people are not so… kind… as i.” Hermione fought hard to stop herself from gaping as she watched the man release the teen’s head with a snap and move like water around him as the startled boy slunk away, looking very much at that moment like a whipped dog. The voice that came from the stranger’s throat was deep, even, smooth, and carried an edge like a blade… a deadly one. She ripped her eyes away from the scene to look back to her book, but the words were a blur. She trembled, in spite of herself, and shifted uncomfortably in the wrought iron seat. He was here.
Severus turned to face the cluster of small tables, settling for one near the side of the cafe wall, and sat with his back to it, surveying everything, especially the girl in the second table over, with her hair parted in the middle and done up in two tight stiff braids, the ends curling gently from their elasticized enclosure. She looked like she was studying the slim volume held in front of her, but he recognized the way she held those shoulders. If he could have seen her face, he would bet galleons against bubblegum that her eyes were blank, and she was no more studying than roller-skating.
He’d seen her turn when he scared some manners into yet another disrespectful Gen X-er, had seen that braid flip stubbornly over her shoulder. The idiot college boy had been directly in his line of sight however, and when he glanced back up, she’d turned to her original position again.
Looking at his coffee, he stirred in two spoonfuls of raw sugar with more care than most. He’d almost heard her gasp when he spoke. Had he frightened her? Good. One less teenage know-it-all to bother him. He dragged the edge of the spoon silently across the rim of the cup, then put the spoon aside and picked up the warm cup. Then he looked up with a bit of surprise, rare as it was for him. The girl was heading his way. And he knew that particular stride like the back of his hand.
Oh god, oh god, I don’t believe I’m doing this. Hermione’s mind voice squalled in her ear, Stop, you stupid girl. This isn’t some stupid boy in the Gryffindor common room. This is Snape. What’s he got to say to you? Why are you going? Don’t go, sit here and be still and oh, Hell, never mind, we’re here now. Now what? Hermione stopped in front of him, and settled her mouth into some semblance of a smile, though her heart pounded heavily in her chest and she fought hard to keep still.
Snape quirked an eyebrow, and it wasn’t until that second that she realized she’d spoken those words aloud. “Now what, indeed, Miss Granger.” He leaned forward a bit now, moving in a manner less snakelike than catlike, and looked up at her. The almost wicked smile toying about his thin lips was… amused. Granger, the ineffable know-it-all, the one with an answer for everything, was now standing before him utterly speechless, and she’d come to him of her own accord. This was going to be interesting.
“What are you doing here at my table this despicably bright day, Miss Granger? I see you have a book. Why isn’t your prying nose poked into it?”
She would have been offended, but the usual acid tone was not here. This time, it was replaced by a liquid smoothness, like melted butter. Not a taunt. He was teasing. He was… playing with her! She felt a spark travel through her, ending in a pit that was altogether inappropriate.
“Well, Professor,” she began boldly, “I saw you, and in your.. um current wardrobe, I thought I might come complement you on your choice of fashion.” She smiled brightly, and almost braved a wink, but faltered. Coward, her inner Gryffindor sneered. She winced inwardly, and pressed on.
“Perhaps you should dress like this in your classes? I rather think you’d have a much better response from your students… ” She paused, then pushed reason aside, giving over completely to her damned Gryffindor impulses. “Especially your female students…”
Snape didn’t blink, didn’t move, his mouth turned gently up at the corners in the vaguest hint of a devious grin. “Well, I think first order of business should be for you to procure a seat, Miss Granger. You are beginning to draw attention. I doubt I need to draw any MORE attention.” He gestured towards the chair beside him with long slender finger, and almost numbly, she sat. “Very good, Miss Granger. You follow instructions like you’ve been trained.” He lifted his cup to his lips, looking into its depths and away from her as he did so. Let her make sense of THAT!
Hermione stifled the gasp as she flushed deeply. What had he meant, trained? His tone was still smooth and rich, lacking the bitter quality she had been so used to. She shook her head a bit, clearing the fog. “Um. I .. it’s um.. ” Stupid girl, her inner voice said. You know exactly what he means. And you like it. She stopped before making any more of a fool of herself, and placed her book on the table, burying her face in her coffee cup to buy her a moment to settle her tightening stomach and regain control of her baser impulses which were now threatening to dampen her jeans in a manner that made her blush to even think of it.
Snape let his hand move across the table to turn the book face up. “Ah.. Advanced Potions Working. Interesting.” He flipped through until he found her place, and studied the page with a practiced eye. “This is extremely difficult subject matter, Miss Granger. Have you been attempting this level of work alone?”
“I.. um. No?” she offered lamely, shifting in the chair.
“Ah, good.” Hermione blinked, still staring at her cup. Was that concern in his voice? He continued. “Even as intelligent as you are, Miss Granger, this level of study should always be supervised by someone experienced with it. It is extremely dangerous if even the slightest mistake occurs. You do not want to do this type of work alone.” She put her cup down, letting her hands fall to hold tightly to the edge of the chair. She breathed slowly, shallowly, and felt as if she might faint, and then, she made a fatal mistake. She looked at him.
The Potions Master’s black eyes caught hers, and she could not could not could NOT look away from the inky depths of them. She gasped when he moved again, his hand leaving the book to trace a line of fire up the outside of her thigh. “One should always have an experienced person around when doing dangerous things…”
It seemed to her he was looking into her soul. He leaned closer to her, almost touching her cheek with his lips as he spoke in a low, deep, rumbling whisper. “You, Miss Granger, are doing VERY dangerous things at present…”
She trembled, in spite of herself, and lowered her head, eyes falling to her lap as she blushed hot. Looking down as she was, she watched in wonder and almost fear as his hand moved slowly, languidly across the top of her jean-clad thigh to trace smooth circles on the inside of that thigh. Her breath caught hard in her throat when he closed his fingers in a deep soft pinch, and he smiled. She wondered idly how he managed to be so utterly silent in his movements when he leaned back a few inches, moving his hand slowly up her body, tracing the zipper of her pullover, finally tipping her chin up to look again at him.
“Miss Granger, I had a choice, and now you have one… So…” He let his finger leave her chin as he quickly moved closer, lips brushing her ear. “If you wish to continue in this vein… ” Here he paused, letting his now frustratingly gentle touch trace up her hand, into the edge of her sleeve, pressing firmly at the pulse on her wrist. “Then follow me.” With that, he stood, and moved away, threading through the maze of tables to disappear down the narrow alleyway beside the cafe.
You would think I would either run out of pictures or tire of the effort. Nope, I have more to share. Paddling partially clothed women versus nude is a lot more fun for me. Short skirts are tailor-made for the task.
You have seen this lass before and you will again. In this picture she has on a dark plaid skirt and has pulled it up to show off her assets for my camera.
Moments later she was bent over and my paddle was turning her white cheeks red.
BTW, while she might appear young, she is 51.
on submission – F/M
The last post, the female submission story, got one comment. I thought it was hot and well crafted. Oh well. This one is more basic. Comparing the two, likely reflects the complexity of females and the simplicity of males?
He had been eagerly waiting for this day, for a long time, yet he was
apprehensive about it. For years he had fantasized about being paddled by a woman – to be made to submit to his own desires. He had long ago given up wondering why the thought of being paddled so appealed to him, why it was such a powerful sexual stimulant. He could see part of his desire to spank woman as a power exchange. It dumfounded him that he wanted to turn the tables. Yet the need was strong,
There had been little else on his mind for the weeks leading up to this. He had tried his best to give her what she needed to fill her role. Self doubts that he had failed to give her the right key lingered in his mind. He was ever the perfectionist. It was difficult for him to lower his standards or expectations. He told himself, it would go fine, she was capable, had a fine mind and most important – the desire. In many ways, they were alike.
He pulled in the driveway, got out and put the strap of his bag over
his shoulder and walked with a sense of purpose to door. He reflected for a second on how many times this had happened when he was young the many times he had been summoned to paddle punishment. How the butterflies had broken formation in his stomach, how weak his knees had felt when he had reported to be paddled. He had never wanted to be paddled then. Why was it different now?
His knock on the door was quickly answered. She stood in the opening looking him in the eye. “Why are you here”? “For you to paddle me”. With a slight smile, she stood aside for him to enter.
“Did you bring the paddle like I asked you”?
“Yes Ma’am, I did.”
“Well, let’s see it.”
He took the case off his shoulder, unzipped it, removed the paddle and handed it to her.
“No, that’s YOUR end of the paddle. Give me my end, the end I am going to hold.”
He quickly corrected his mistake.
She turned the paddle over in her hands examining it, slapping her
palm with it. She seemed pleased with it. She should be. It was
formidable, round to fit the bottom and 3/4 inch thick, more than
enough to sting him through and through.
“I think this will do quite nicely. I think your bottom is going to be
quite red in short order with this paddle. I don’t think I will need
to exert myself one bit with this paddle. It will get the job done
quite nicely”. She looked at him to see his reaction.
“Why don’t we get started? Take off your pants and shorts and lets
talk about the paddling I am going to give you”. He was surprised to
start so soon. He figured there would be some time until she paddled him. His hands followed her instructions and he undid his belt and removed his pants. “The shorts too”, she prompted. He pulled them down revealing his already semi-rigid state. He felt 100% foolish. She held his dick and looked him in the eyes, “I love it that you get excited by a paddling. I am going to paddle and rub you. And if you take your licks well, I will let you cum. Would you like that”? He managed a weak “yes”. She worked her hand back and forth his shaft until it was rigid. “You know I am going to paddle you hard don’t you? You know I will make the licks really sting don’t you? You know I will enjoy watching you recoil from the pain don’t you”? “Yes Ma’am, I understand”.
“Very well then let’s get started then”. She released his dick. “Bend
over and grab your knees”. He assumed the position and she stood
beside him. The first lick burned like fire and he sucked in his
breath. The second was the same. Somehow he managed to stay in
position until she had applied 10 licks. She pulled on his shoulder to
indicate that he should stand up. His rigid member was more relaxed, so she started stroking him, teasing him. In no time, he was hard again and she smiled ” I want you to take another 10 licks, will you do that for me”?
“I will try.”
“Very well, bend over”
The second set somehow were harder than the first.
When he stood up, she again stroked him, making him hard. She
continued to rub him. He pulled close to her. He fondled her breasts,
he rubbed her ass, he kissed her – deeply as his breath was getting
short. When she had him close to coming, she pulled back. “I am not
done with you yet. “Will you take more licks from me? Will you submit to me”?
“Yes, if you want me to, I will take them. I will try to take them
She was enjoying toying with him. She owned him. He was so hot he was about to explode. She intended to keep pushing him until he melted.
perhaps you want to finish it?
This story is out of theme for this Blog. But, I have many interests. I have not read a really good M/F submission story in a long time. I hope you will enjoy this one. It’s about one woman’s journey to find what she had wanted since she was a young girl.
“It’s not fair,” I suddenly cry out breaking the calm intensity I had in my voice only moments ago. “Why do you torment me this way?” He smiled at my quick change of attitude.
I closed my eyes. I wanted his strong commanding hands to fondle and touch me, to play with my soul, to play with my mind that was his alone in this darkness. Soon I felt the back of his hand stroke my face and then felt his lips brush softly against my cheek. His hand was slowly edging down towards my treasures, rubbing his hand all over my stomach, sending electric charges through me as he did so. Then his hand nudged between my slightly parted legs. He caressed the hairs and the outside folds of my pussy. He slid a finger gently and slowly within me, a sensation I loved. As much as I wanted to fight it, I held my position still and proud for him. Moving or shivering might well bring swift punishment to my bottom – his bottom right now, his to punish as he saw fit.
The moment passed and I felt his hand move away from my body. I stood even more still now, trying to concentrate and think of nothing, for fear that if I thought of the wrong thing, I might find myself aroused to such an extent that I could not keep still at all. Suddenly, I felt a small cold object touch my stomach. The object was soft and stingy. “It’s his crop,” I thought, “it has to be.”
The object tickled and stroked my soft naked body, flicking and giving rise to chills that went through my body as it did so. Soon, it was there between my legs. I hated no loved it, but the hate came from my knowledge of what he intended to do with it. He flicked it suddenly against my inner thigh. A motion he made; a motion for me to carry out. I spread my legs and he tapped the fine leather tip upwards against my pussy. The stinging sensation was intensified by the moisture that was now accumulating between my lips.
I swallowed, realizing my mistake. I felt him run a finger through my damp curls and almost sobbed. He was discovering the deepest secret I had. My arousal from the thought of giving up control. My arousal at the thought of being forced to submit.and allowing myself to submit. I gave an involuntary cry when the crop made sharp contact with the smooth sensitive skin of my thigh.
He walked around me until he was positioned directly behind me. His hands lay gently on my hips and he kissed my neck. His lips were soft and warm. As his lips left my neck, I felt his hot breath in my ear as he whispered, “Very good, my little one. Now let me tell you what I intend to do.”
The words echoed in my brain and sent a shiver down my back. It could just have been the whisper of a draft I felt or the way his gaze had fixed into a cold hard frozen stare. I did not know what he had intended to do. For months I had been sending him e-mails, stories about what lay hidden in the recesses of my mind and soul. Dark pockets of mystery I longed to share with someone.
But to expose myself in that way would make me feel more vulnerable than any spanking could ever. He saw me watching him and reprimanded me for my curiosity.
“No my dear, mustn’t know more than I choose to reveal to you.”
“Isn’t that the game you’ve been playing with me all this time?”
“No,” I tried to explain, ” I mean, I have always been afraid to reveal myself to you or anyone. When the physical body gets hurt, it heals. Pierce my heart, open my soul, get me to reveal secrets, then I have nothing left to offer. The physical is nothing; the spiritual is everything. My spirit would never heal from the hurt if someone rejected what I needed. And if it did heal, it would leave scars so unbearable.”
“Close your eyes and look inward, little one,” and he stepped behind me and wrapped something around my head and in front of my eyes. The luminescent candlelight disappeared and I saw the darkness totally – a world void of all light.
“See the darkness, feel the darkness let it take you in. you feel safest in the dark little one?”
“Yes ” I had always felt safe in the dark. I never understood why, but as my heart has started to reveal secrets to my mind, it has all begun to make sense.
“Raise your hands over your head.” Why I agreed to do this, still astounds me. But his deep calm voice reassured me. I took a deep breath and slowly raised my arms until they were overhead. He wrapped something loosely around my wrists and then pulled. I felt my arms strain as they were pulled together. I felt the metal cuffs being locked around my ankles and knew there was a cold steel bar that would keep my legs apart. Blindfolded and bound, I felt a loss of all control. No one knew I was there and yet for some reason I felt at peace letting this man control my. Why? I hadn’t known him that long and yet, for some reason I trusted him. My senses had become extremely heightened. I listened to his presence. I could sense his body moving and could hear his shallow breathing. I heard his feet walking and brushing against the hardwood floor. I heard him pick something up and flail it through the air and hit the bed. It wasn’t the cane. The cane WHOOSHED, but only the crop had the accompanying WHAP! Why would he pick up the crop again? My breathing became heavier and deeper as I realized my complete nakedness and at his mercy.
He walked around behind me and rubbed the leather tip up and down my thigh again and then struck it in the inner middle. I clenched my teeth and almost lost my balance. “Stay in position, m’lady “
I heard the WHOOSH again but the resounding and accompanying WHAP didn’t come from the chair, but from my bottom. The stinging after effect was almost unbearable and I could feel the tears building up under my blindfold. He took his hand and rubbed my bottom. Then he took the crop and rubbed it up and down the middle of my back. From the top of my shoulder blades to the tip of my tailbone. Up and down methodically. He started flicking the crop against my back increasing intensity with each lick.
I felt my whole body beginning to ache from the love and pleasure he was giving me as well as from the pain from the rigid stance I had to maintain. Abruptly, the command to turn around came in his quiet firm voice. I turned stiffly and slowly in the spreader bar, as he liked me to do, so that he could see each angle of my body. I could sense that he had his eyes locked on me as though they were guiding me around. Then, without warning, I was pushed over the edge of the bed.
When he deemed me ready, he went to fetch the whip. I wanted his whip; the whip that was quite firm yet soft, that would burn and punish me as I longed to be punished. His whip could make me feel his dominating power as he whipped me, causing me to be compliant to his every command. My body was beginning to tense up as I remembered back to the days I only fantasized about when I was a little girl. Abruptly my memories dissolved, as I was brought back to reality with a short sharp sting to my bottom as he left the whip snake down. The fire began to spread from my bottom to my nether region.
Standing silently, I could hear the swishing sound as the whip came down again and again on each cheek. Then the rush of it as he propelled it in an upward movement, snaking between my legs to sting my secret spot and make it tingle. Slicing through the silence, the whip then struck my back and all over my bowed and stretched body, my legs obediently open to the whip.
This was not as severe a whipping as he could have given me, but one that pushed me to my limits all the same. Hard, then soft, then quick strokes all over my body, as he left the whip spin. Sometimes, only the very tips of the whip caught me; other times I felt the entire leather strand of lashes. All I could feel was a stinging everywhere all over my body. So quick was the speed with which he applied the whipping that I was almost melting. It stung between my bottom cheeks and into my most intimate spots. He continued to speak in low, hushed tones; repeating over and over that this was something he needed to do. Something to get me compliant. That this punishment was intended to make me feel his love and concern, as expressed by the lash that was relentlessly coming down.
The final lash landed with such force it pushed me hard against the bed and it shifted slightly on the hardwood floor. I wailed as I broke into sobbing , begging for forgiveness, brokenly promising, over and over that I would be good. I hung there, limp and shivering as he put down the whip and bent to unlock my feet. He walked softly around to untie my hands and returned to stand behind me, rubbing my back gently as I wept. Strong hands grasped my waist, lifting me gently to my feet and steering me, once again, to an upright position in front of the bed. He sat down next to me, smiling at me and holding out his arms. I collapsed into his lap, curling up tightly and crying against his chest, his arms enfolding me lovingly. I clung to him, telling him over and over how sorry I was, how I would never break his rules again. I would never treat him with such disrespect again. He smiled, kissing me softly and stroking my face tenderly. He would never understand how deep this session had touched my soul. Perhaps he will never know…..
The RV is in a parking lot and we are surfing the web while waiting on a prescription to be transferred to where we are. I found this. It has little to do with spanking, other than some one needs to paddle her bottom.
I am not much of a fan of such shoes, but she does have a talent not falling down in them.
Japan I suppose?