A Winter’s Tale

This is a story by one of our readers. A good one I thought.

A Winter’s Tale

A winter’s chill drifted deeply outside…. the wind low and whispering in its passing. Twilight came slowly, even the grayness of the day failing as darkness rose from the shadows. It was a mood that matched her own, a desperation made even more forlorn by the snow. Soft, fragile as angel wings, it danced lightly upon the window pane, wholly indifferent to her feelings.
Inside, a low fire glowed, quietly hissing a somber tune in reply… as if it too feared the coming night. Its embers, having given up their soul to the flame, now softly lit the room with their sacrifice. Upon the bed, she lay outstretched… in the stillness of the moment, more naughty-girl than grown woman. The remembrance of which gave no solace to the fears that bid her flee this waiting, of her own surrender.

Though the room was warm, a single chill appeared in the small of her back. Ears tormented anew as every crackle, every pop and sizzle of the shimmering coals became an unwelcome disguise of the sounds of his return. Cruel reminders even, of the sounds she had cause to take heed and knew all too well would be hers alone… when he did.

The thought of such things tormented the lass within, yet a woman’s body answered… betraying her once more. With each new imagining, a fine heat arose. In places a naughty girl wouldn’t speak of, couldn’t … to anyone. It was a simmering essence that would only grow sweeter still this night, though her bottom might surely disagree.

At the moment, it had no choice in the matter and lay upon the bed so vulnerably presented, just as he’d ordered.

Quivering ever so subtly, yet seemingly held fast… her bottom imprisoned as if held with unseen hands upon the pillows he’d placed so deliberately for her to lie over. As though shackled, the pale softness of her offering remaining obedient, upturned and so fully displayed for his attentions.

A soft shiver passed over her now, the night turned suddenly colder… an unbidden memory hers. Unkind in its passing, reminding her when he returned, just how fiery the heat the oiled old school strap he’d left to retrieve would soon, surely render her bottom into embers itself.  

It was an act of submission, atonement for her naughtiness… and a moment of honesty to the truth inside. An observer would note her prone on the bed as if upon an altar; arms outstretched, legs together… hands flat upon the covers.

Soon it would begin… soon. The sound of footsteps would lay waste to last vestiges of her resolve. Their approach giving rise to a panic felt so many times before, and in its birth, a rush of chills would trace their rising across her heart and o’er the flesh… as though a million butterflies were loosed upon her skin. 

A lifetime of need bottled up inside…

A naughty girl’s bottom soon to display a fire of its own as it twists upon the pillows in desperation…

Again and again, the leather will find her… finding the lass inside… freeing the woman within…

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