Friday, March 2, 2012
Vintage Spankings
Vintage Spanking photos are some of the loveliest I've seen. The black and white serves to make them extra delicious. And it doesn't hurt at all the the woman being spanked in this photo has a truly lovely ass!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Dominatrix and The Cheerleader
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 – Boy Discovers a Cheerleader
Chapter 2 – The Dominatrix and the Dean
Chapter 3 – Dominatrix, Cheerleader and Male Slaves
Chapter 4 – One More Lesson for the Cheerleader
The Dominatrix and the Cheerleader
Chapter 1 – Boy Discovers a Cheerleader
Darryl watched curiously as Amanda Forthright disappeared into the bushes near the building that housed the university's laboratory. Amanda was one of the hottest girls on campus, and didn't seem the type to do gardener's work. That she was sneaking into the tall shrubs and trees that surrounded the three-story brick building quickly got Darryl's attention.
He looked around to see whether anyone else noticed the blond cheerleader as she slipped into the greenery. Off to Darryl's left was the library, where a group of students were kicking around a small yellow sack filled with beans. They were too intent on their game to pay attention to Amanda's disappearing act. To his right was a long sidewalk, shaded by ancient oak trees. Classes were in session, so the sidewalk was largely empty of people. Only a few squirrels chattered at him from the safety of branches too high to reach. Straight ahead was the laboratory. To Darryl's back was a brick wall that had been painted white.
He looked back at the heavy wall of greenery surrounding the laboratory. Darryl knew from experience that there was a narrow pathway between the edge of the bushes and the building. The pathway was there so that the university’s maintenance crew could work on the building when necessary. Darryl had only seen maintenance people actually plow through the bushes on a couple of occasions, and that was when the pipes in the building had broken during an exceptionally harsh winter. He didn't think anyone had gone into the area since then, and that really piqued his curiosity: Why would Amanda be going into the bushes?
As he looked at the heavy stand of bushes and trees, Darryl knew that no one could see the cheerleader. If he hadn't been watching, Darryl would have walked by the spot and been none the wiser that Amanda was lurking somewhere within the bushes.
There was only a scattering of people around the campus and none seemed to be looking in his direction, so Darryl sidled up to the heavy growth and slipped between two huge bushes. He moved quietly, but quickly, stopping just short of the edge of the building. He stayed just within the bushes so that Amanda wouldn't see him.
But he could see her.
She was about 10 feet away from his position in the bushes and standing on what looked like a small wooden crate. Amanda had her fingers hooked on a window casing and was peering through the glass at something inside the laboratory. She was still wearing her cheerleader's uniform, indicating that she had probably come straight from practice on the college's football field.
The cheerleaders' uniforms were to cover only the essentials – a short, white skirt that just covered the girls' spankies, small undergarments worn to hide their asses when the cheerleaders were twisting and tumbling. A high leap by one of those girls would put a bulge in any man's pants. The outfit was complemented by a midriff-baring top, white socks and low, white sneakers. Amanda had the body to wear the uniform. She was sleek and tanned, with a small waist and big breasts. Amanda's top was strained across her chest even when she wasn't tumbling around the field. Amanda's legs were smooth, and she had a tiny diamond piercing her very visible navel. Shoulder-length blond hair capped her head, though Amanda typically kept her hair back in a tight ponytail that seemed to dance when she swung her head.
Darryl crouched low in the bushes and kept quiet while he watched to see what Amanda was up to. Something inside the laboratory had her attention, but Darryl couldn't see what she was watching.
But he could see the effect it was having on her. Darryl had an excellent side view of the young girl.
Still precarious on her perch, she unhooked her right hand from the window sill and pushed it down below her waist, and then pressed against her hand against her pubic mound. This caused Amanda's ass to push backward, and Darryl could see her butt cheeks clench. Amanda tottered for a moment on the wooden crate, but kept her grip on the window sill with her left hand and continued to push with her right hand.
Darryl's eyes goggled wide for a moment as he realized what the cheerleader was doing: Amanda was masturbating! His mouth opened slightly, a soft gasp escaped his lips.
Amanda didn't hear him. She was too focused on whatever was going on inside the laboratory. She began pushing harder with her hand and clenching her butt cheeks tighter – massaging her pussy through the thin material of her spankies.
“Oooohhh.” Her groan was low and throaty, and Darryl didn't think anyone beyond the bushes could hear her. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned. “Give it to her. Yeah. Like that.” Amanda's voice was a furious whisper, and with each moan she pushed hard against her pussy. “More. Oh, fuck yeah. Give her more!”
Still crouched, Darryl almost fell over: There was someone fucking inside the laboratory, and Amanda was watching it!
“That's it,” Amanda crooned, oblivious to Darryl's presence. “Yeah,” she said. “Give her what she wants!” Amanda rubbed her crotch hard and tipped her head back. Slowly, she worked the material of her spankies to one side and played with her pussy lips. There was a soft mound of blond fuzz over Amanda's cunt. Darryl couldn't really tell from the angle, but it looked like she had shaved her the hair on her pubic mound into a landing strip. “More,” Amanda moaned. “Please give her more!” Amanda slid her middle finger into her cunt and gripped herself hard. Her ass was tight, and she pumped hard against her hand. “More,” she murmured. “Oh, fuck yeah!”
Darryl took a deep breath and put his own hand to his crotch. He had to adjust himself; his jeans were tight, and his cock was bulging against the material. Darryl's breath came in rasps, and rubbed furiously at the front of his blue jeans. He tried at first to time is rubbing to Amanda's slower strokes, but his cock demanded harder and more frequent attention.
“Damn!” Darryl muttered it lowly so Amanda wouldn't hear him. But he needn't have worried. The cheerleader was in a world of her own; she had eyes and ears only for whatever was happening on the other side of the window pane.
“More,” Amanda moaned. “Give her more!”
Darryl knew that Amanda wasn't talking to him, but his cock seemed convinced that every word was for its benefit – it was hard as a rock. Watching the cheerleader sway precariously on the wooden crate – sliding her fingers in and out of her pussy – got the better of Darryl and his good sense. He slowly stood up, pressing hard against his cock the whole time. Darryl stroked hard, scratching with his fingernails against the material that separated his hand from his cock. But that was beginning to make him ache. “Oh, fuck.” Darryl kept his words low and carefully unzipped his pants so that he could pull his cock free. “Yeahhhh.” He didn't have any clean underwear to put on that morning and had chosen to go commando. Now he was glad of that choice. Darryl's cock sprang forward – 9 inches of throbbing meat – and he gripped it tightly in his right hand.
“Oh shit, yeah!” The words slipped out of Darry's mouth as a soft mutter as he stroked his cock slowly. A drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and Darryl used that to moisten the head of his cock. “That's it,” he murmured. “Oh baby.”
Amanda continued her own show, standing on the wooden crate at the laboratory window. She had her spankies completely yanked to one side, and now she was thrusting her two middle fingers into her cunt. That left the index and pinkie fingers outside to slide back and forth. Amanda's head was tilted back, and she glanced only occasionally through the window. “Yes,” she moaned. “Oh, yes.” Her fingers were slippery with her pussy juices and slid easily in and out of her cunt. “More,” Amanda moaned. “Give me more.”
Darryl was memorized by the scene: A pretty, blond cheerleader, standing on a wooden crate with two fingers in her cunt – swaying back and forth, keeping time with her ass to her thrusting fingers. Before he knew what he was doing, Darryl closed the distance between himself and Amanda. He was quiet as he did so, keeping his cock wrapped firmly in his right hand.
Closer now, Darryl stood almost directly behind the oblivious girl. Her ass was about face-level with Darryl's eyes, and she was clenching the muscles in her butt as she stroked her cunt. This time Darryl was able to match her pace, squeezing his cock each time Amanda pushed hard into herself with her own fingers. The cheerleader's skirt was short, and he could see the soft globes of her ass cheeks as her spankies were pulled deeper and deeper into the crack of her ass. The lack of tan lines let Darryl know that Amanda preferred to sunbathe in the nude.
That realization set his mind wandering, and he squeezed his cock harder as he took in the view of Amanda's long legs leading up to a firm ass. She arched her back with each thrust of her fingers. Darryl could smell the pussy juices ripe in the air surrounding them. It was a delicious aroma that swept his senses clean.
Darryl squeezed his cock harder. He didn't want to stroke it at this point, as that would make him cum too quickly. Instead, he gripped the shaft tightly, alternating between a tight squeeze and then relaxed hand. Even so, Darryl felt the stirrings of an orgasm deep in his balls. His hard-on throbbed painfully in his hand.
Darryl couldn't wait any longer. Still holding his cock in his right hand, Darryl reached out a tentative left hand. It was trembling, but he had to feel that smooth, white skin. Darryl had to touch her – had to touch Amanda's legs. They were spread slightly, and Darryl could see the soft fuzz of pubic hair. He put his fingers into the space between her legs then looked up. Above him, Amanda was still focused on her own orgasm. Her ponytail bobbed up and down as she continued stroking her cunt. Darryl watched her fingers slide in and out of her pussy, less than a couple of inches from his own fingers that were between her legs; she still didn't know that he was there. Closing the distance, Darryl let his fingers trail the silky smooth skin from between Amanda's thighs to just below her pussy. He grazed the skin lightly – a caress with just the tips of his fingers.
Amanda was startled and almost fell from her perch! “What? Oh! Oh!” She continued to hold onto the window sill with her left hand, but twisted her head and looked down at Darryl. “Oh!” Amanda's eyes were glazed. She was close to orgasm, and she bucked against her own hand. “Oh, fuck!” Amanda thrust against her hand, while at the same time, trying to focus on the young man below her. The cheerleader was dazed, almost delirious with the impending crash of orgasm.
And that's all it took for Amanda to lose her balance on the crate. Her fingers slipped from the window sill and the cheerleader fell backward against Darryl. He let go of his cock long enough to catch her, his arms around her waist and his face buried in her hair. But neither of them were ready for the short fall, and they ended up in a semi-nude tangle of sweaty arms and legs: Darryl's cock was loose, and Amanda's spankies were still yanked to one side, allowing his fingers easy access to her pussy.
“Oh my God!” Amanda's voice was still rough and throaty. She didn't scream the words out, but issued them almost as a command to Darryl. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
The two of them were on the ground now, with Amanda on top of Darryl. Her back was to him, and his cock was still free of his pants. The throbbing organ was pressed up against Amanda's ass, and she was grinding against him. Amanda's midriff was bare, and he pulled her tightly to his chest as she writhed in his arms and moaned out curses.
“Oh fuck, I need it so bad.” Amanda twisted in his grip, but instead of trying to get away, she was pushing her ass cheeks against his cock! Darryl's throbbing shaft was lodged between the cheerleader's butt cheeks, and Amanda used her ass to stroke the organ. Darryl's eyes widened. Amanda hadn't screamed. She hadn't called out, or yelled for a rescue. Instead, it seemed as though Amanda wanted his cock inside her!
“Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Amanda still had the fingers of her right hand in her pussy, and she was stroking hard as she pressed her ass against Darryl's throbbing organ. The movement was easy, as Amanda's ass was slick with pussy juice, and the head of Darryl's cock was oozing pre-cum. “Shit. Fuck. Oh fuck me!” But though Amanda was saying the words, she wasn't moving to face Darryl. Rather, she was writhing on top of him, masturbating her pussy with one hand and clutching her breasts with the other. The cheerleader's ass cheeks clenched and released his cock in time with her own sliding fingers.
Darryl grunted underneath Amanda, and pushed hard against her ass. He wanted so badly to slide his cock inside her pussy. “Oh, baby,” moaned. “Yeah. Just keep doing that.” The spankies the cheerleader wore under her short skirt had slipped deep into Amanda's ass crack, but they were not a barrier to Darryl's probing cock. He pushed hard against the girl's butthole, trying to find an entry, but Amanda's ass was too tight, and she was squirming too hard for Darryl line his cock up correctly.
The two college students were so wrapped up in trying to fuck one another, that they didn't see the dark-haired woman peering at them as they writhed on the ground below the window.
Chapter 2 – The Dominatrix and the Dean
“Reginald! Take the gag out of your mouth and come here!” Professor Alicia Flowers snapped her fingers at a short, balding man who lay naked on the floor. Reginald had a ballgag in his mouth and one hand wrapped around his rigid cock. Only when she said his actual name was he to look up at his Mistress.
Deep down, Reginald knew that he was in love Alicia, though he would never dare say her name out loud. That was a strict rule: She was Domina, Dominatrix, Mistress or Professor. He had never uttered her first name in her presence.
In Command
by Anonymous
Andrea was a picture of seriousness, slowly applying mascara to her long beautiful lashes. Every now and then she would sigh, almost purr, in contentment. "Makeup is such fun," she said out loud. She smiled sweetly at the man beneath her.
Oh, did I leave that part out? Andrea was lying on her stomach, on the floor. Well, not exactly on the floor. In between her and the floor was a man lying on his back. He was naked, and tightly restrained at his wrists and ankles. Andrea was slowly rubbing her groin over his as she applied her mascara. Maybe this had something to do with why she was purring.
Andrea was teasing him on many levels simultaneously. Her face was very close to his, as she made him watch her do her makeup. She gently gyrated her lower body over his, getting just enough friction to keep her constantly wet, while being inches off the right stop from really giving him any satisfaction. Meanwhile Andrea was dressed in one of the most provocative outfits he had ever seen her in - a blue velvet floral halter top ending at midriff, with a matching skirt. The top tied around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. And the material appeared to be see-through, although it was not. But the feel of the velvet fabric rubbing against him was delightful, in a maddening sort of way.
As Andrea stroked pink blush on her cheeks, still enjoying the sensations of her lower body, she asked him, "Do you think this outfit is sensual?"
The man was being overwhelmed by the simultaneous sensations and answered, "Oh yes, you are very sexy in it!"
Andrea was in the middle of doing her lips in a lovely shade of burgundy, but on hearing his reply she resignedly put down her lip pencil with a sigh, looked the man squarely in the eye - and slapped his face.
"No, dear," she explained patiently. "Sensual - relating to the senses. I didn't ask if it was sensuous - meaning sexual."
She went back to doing her lips, calmly applying the dark red color to her perfectly shaped lips, knowing full well his face was inches from hers and the delirious effect she was having on him as she made him watch her. Then for she amusement painted his lips in the identical color, smiling at his helplessness as he tried to squirm away from the relentlessness of the lipstick with its deep color.
"What I want to know is whether this outfit is sensual. Does THIS outfit appeal to your sense of touch?," Andrea asked. Before the man could offer a reply, she continued. "Don't answer. I need an objective, a scientific, solution." Andrea's scientific mind was at work. "What I need is an experiment which will isolate the sense of touch from the sense of sight."
Andrea got off of the man and disappeared in another room for a while. It sounded like she was rummaging through some drawers. looking for something. The man was still tightly bound and could do nothing but wait for her return.
Andrea returned to the man with several objects: a clipboard with paper, a pen, a stopwatch, a ruler, and a black silk blindfold. She quickly tied the blindfold around his head, making sure he could not see. The man then had no idea what she intended to do with the other objects.
"I know you have many questions, dear," she said to him. "All will become apparent in due time. Just relax and enjoy my company."
Andrea then made some notes on the clipboard and started the stopwatch. She laid down on him again, and started sensuously rubbing herself on him. Her crotch was meeting his lower body at a point several inches above his penis. His penis was getting some benefit from this, but not enough. Andrea slowly rubbed herself on him, allowing the velvet fabric of her top and skirt to do its work, alternating with the feeling of her bare midriff against him. Andrea enjoyed herself immensely, controlling the rhythm to a speed that was more relaxing than urgent. When the stopwatch reached ten minutes, she calmly got off the man, got the ruler, placed it next to the man's erect penis, and recorded the measurement on the clipboard. When she was done she gave the man a playful whack with the ruler against his penis and told him, "Calm down, dear. You will have to wait a few minutes until we start this up again."
The man, still bound and blindfolded, could only listen to whatever sounds Andrea was making. Andrea quietly removed the halter and skirt. Next she put on a full length, sleeveless, form fitting, velvet sheath dress with a big slit up the leg. This was an eye catching black, red and gold print, and Andrea admired herself in the mirror and how hot she looked in it, although she smiled as she realized the man could not see her in it. But that was part of the scientific experiment.
By now the man's erection had gone down. Andrea carefully lowered herself to the floor and laid down on top of the man. She resumed running her prone body all over the man. This was somewhat different than the previous time. The dress was tighter than the halter and skirt combination, and much more of her body was covered. This allowed her to do a longer, full body up and down stroking. Andrea was truly cat-like as she sensuously rubbed herself, doing this for her pleasure, not for his. The man was in his own ecstasy, but his penis was only touched for a small time with each up and down movement by Andrea, and although the sensation was delightful, it was not enough to get him off. Andrea, on the other hand, was having no such problem, and was in fact disaapointed when the stopwatch told her it was time to stop. But ever the dutiful scientist, Andrea got up to get the ruler, measured the man's erect penis, wrote down the measurement, and then gave the penis another little whack with the ruler for good measure. (Get it? - for good measure.)
Andrea got up, leaving the frustrated man panting, to change into her next outfit. This was another long dress, but with a V neck that just wouldn't quit. Andrea tried to rearrange her breasts in the bottom of the V of the neckline, wondering if she were too exposed. As she gently fondled her breasts through the velvet fabric, she imagined that men who saw her in this dress would be bumping into each other, not paying attention to where they were walking, because they would be so hypnotized with the way she looked in this dress. She sighed contently. Back to the experiment.
She laid down on top of the man again. While the velvet fabric had the same effect on him, and on her, as it had with the previous two outfits, the effect of the V neck was quite different. Andrea purposely rubbed the V neck over the man's blindfolded face, not giving him enough time to reach out with his lips and tongue to enjoy Andrea's breasts. He searched in vain with his tongue for her breasts, but she was too quick for him. Meanwhile she was using the rest of the velvet dress on him as she had with the previous two outfits. Andrea would maneuver her breasts and nipples as close to his lips as possible, and then move them away when he realized where they were, never giving him the satisfaction of even a lick at her glorious breasts. She was having so much fun frustrating the man, and she was enjoying that almost as much as she enjoyedthe gentle movement of her body against him.
As before, the stopwatch told her the ten minutes were up, and she stopped to record her measurement. Again a playful slap to his penis, and then he strained to listen for a clue of what would happen next.
A very long wait for the man, with nothing happening. Suddenly, Andrea removed his blindfold. She stood before him, a goddess in a strapless black dress, in a stretchy velvet material, long but with a huge slit up one thigh. She was also in heels and carried a black purse. The man blinked his eyes, riveted in her beauty, waiting for her to tease him some more by laying on him and rubbing her velvet covered body on his. He tensed at his bonds, but they were unyielding. Andrea, of course, was fully in command in the situation.
She was silent for a long time, just letting him drink her image in. Then she simply said to him, "I am going out for the evening." She opened her door, and she left.
Andrea was a picture of seriousness, slowly applying mascara to her long beautiful lashes. Every now and then she would sigh, almost purr, in contentment. "Makeup is such fun," she said out loud. She smiled sweetly at the man beneath her.
Oh, did I leave that part out? Andrea was lying on her stomach, on the floor. Well, not exactly on the floor. In between her and the floor was a man lying on his back. He was naked, and tightly restrained at his wrists and ankles. Andrea was slowly rubbing her groin over his as she applied her mascara. Maybe this had something to do with why she was purring.
Andrea was teasing him on many levels simultaneously. Her face was very close to his, as she made him watch her do her makeup. She gently gyrated her lower body over his, getting just enough friction to keep her constantly wet, while being inches off the right stop from really giving him any satisfaction. Meanwhile Andrea was dressed in one of the most provocative outfits he had ever seen her in - a blue velvet floral halter top ending at midriff, with a matching skirt. The top tied around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. And the material appeared to be see-through, although it was not. But the feel of the velvet fabric rubbing against him was delightful, in a maddening sort of way.
As Andrea stroked pink blush on her cheeks, still enjoying the sensations of her lower body, she asked him, "Do you think this outfit is sensual?"
The man was being overwhelmed by the simultaneous sensations and answered, "Oh yes, you are very sexy in it!"
Andrea was in the middle of doing her lips in a lovely shade of burgundy, but on hearing his reply she resignedly put down her lip pencil with a sigh, looked the man squarely in the eye - and slapped his face.
"No, dear," she explained patiently. "Sensual - relating to the senses. I didn't ask if it was sensuous - meaning sexual."
She went back to doing her lips, calmly applying the dark red color to her perfectly shaped lips, knowing full well his face was inches from hers and the delirious effect she was having on him as she made him watch her. Then for she amusement painted his lips in the identical color, smiling at his helplessness as he tried to squirm away from the relentlessness of the lipstick with its deep color.
"What I want to know is whether this outfit is sensual. Does THIS outfit appeal to your sense of touch?," Andrea asked. Before the man could offer a reply, she continued. "Don't answer. I need an objective, a scientific, solution." Andrea's scientific mind was at work. "What I need is an experiment which will isolate the sense of touch from the sense of sight."
Andrea got off of the man and disappeared in another room for a while. It sounded like she was rummaging through some drawers. looking for something. The man was still tightly bound and could do nothing but wait for her return.
Andrea returned to the man with several objects: a clipboard with paper, a pen, a stopwatch, a ruler, and a black silk blindfold. She quickly tied the blindfold around his head, making sure he could not see. The man then had no idea what she intended to do with the other objects.
"I know you have many questions, dear," she said to him. "All will become apparent in due time. Just relax and enjoy my company."
Andrea then made some notes on the clipboard and started the stopwatch. She laid down on him again, and started sensuously rubbing herself on him. Her crotch was meeting his lower body at a point several inches above his penis. His penis was getting some benefit from this, but not enough. Andrea slowly rubbed herself on him, allowing the velvet fabric of her top and skirt to do its work, alternating with the feeling of her bare midriff against him. Andrea enjoyed herself immensely, controlling the rhythm to a speed that was more relaxing than urgent. When the stopwatch reached ten minutes, she calmly got off the man, got the ruler, placed it next to the man's erect penis, and recorded the measurement on the clipboard. When she was done she gave the man a playful whack with the ruler against his penis and told him, "Calm down, dear. You will have to wait a few minutes until we start this up again."
The man, still bound and blindfolded, could only listen to whatever sounds Andrea was making. Andrea quietly removed the halter and skirt. Next she put on a full length, sleeveless, form fitting, velvet sheath dress with a big slit up the leg. This was an eye catching black, red and gold print, and Andrea admired herself in the mirror and how hot she looked in it, although she smiled as she realized the man could not see her in it. But that was part of the scientific experiment.
By now the man's erection had gone down. Andrea carefully lowered herself to the floor and laid down on top of the man. She resumed running her prone body all over the man. This was somewhat different than the previous time. The dress was tighter than the halter and skirt combination, and much more of her body was covered. This allowed her to do a longer, full body up and down stroking. Andrea was truly cat-like as she sensuously rubbed herself, doing this for her pleasure, not for his. The man was in his own ecstasy, but his penis was only touched for a small time with each up and down movement by Andrea, and although the sensation was delightful, it was not enough to get him off. Andrea, on the other hand, was having no such problem, and was in fact disaapointed when the stopwatch told her it was time to stop. But ever the dutiful scientist, Andrea got up to get the ruler, measured the man's erect penis, wrote down the measurement, and then gave the penis another little whack with the ruler for good measure. (Get it? - for good measure.)
Andrea got up, leaving the frustrated man panting, to change into her next outfit. This was another long dress, but with a V neck that just wouldn't quit. Andrea tried to rearrange her breasts in the bottom of the V of the neckline, wondering if she were too exposed. As she gently fondled her breasts through the velvet fabric, she imagined that men who saw her in this dress would be bumping into each other, not paying attention to where they were walking, because they would be so hypnotized with the way she looked in this dress. She sighed contently. Back to the experiment.
She laid down on top of the man again. While the velvet fabric had the same effect on him, and on her, as it had with the previous two outfits, the effect of the V neck was quite different. Andrea purposely rubbed the V neck over the man's blindfolded face, not giving him enough time to reach out with his lips and tongue to enjoy Andrea's breasts. He searched in vain with his tongue for her breasts, but she was too quick for him. Meanwhile she was using the rest of the velvet dress on him as she had with the previous two outfits. Andrea would maneuver her breasts and nipples as close to his lips as possible, and then move them away when he realized where they were, never giving him the satisfaction of even a lick at her glorious breasts. She was having so much fun frustrating the man, and she was enjoying that almost as much as she enjoyedthe gentle movement of her body against him.
As before, the stopwatch told her the ten minutes were up, and she stopped to record her measurement. Again a playful slap to his penis, and then he strained to listen for a clue of what would happen next.
A very long wait for the man, with nothing happening. Suddenly, Andrea removed his blindfold. She stood before him, a goddess in a strapless black dress, in a stretchy velvet material, long but with a huge slit up one thigh. She was also in heels and carried a black purse. The man blinked his eyes, riveted in her beauty, waiting for her to tease him some more by laying on him and rubbing her velvet covered body on his. He tensed at his bonds, but they were unyielding. Andrea, of course, was fully in command in the situation.
She was silent for a long time, just letting him drink her image in. Then she simply said to him, "I am going out for the evening." She opened her door, and she left.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Caning the Girl
by Anonymous
She stood and watched as he moved the equipment, her heart pounding. He pulled the padded bar under the light, repositioning it several times.
"Stand on it now."
She did, stepping onto the little platform, resting her elbows on the bar.
He stood behind her, moving her a bit, placing her hands on the bar the way he wanted them, pulling her skirt up and tucking it into her waist.
"Perfect," he said as he stepped back and admired her.
She was already beginning to float a bit from the anticipation of what was about to happen.
He began to lay out his canes on the table. She peeked over her shoulder to watch without moving from where he had placed her. She watched him as he picked up each cane and laid them in order on the table. It was a ritual, take a cane out of the tube, slash it through the air a few times and lay it on the table in order of its use. When he had finished, there were eight canes of various lengths and thickness all lined up, waiting.
She was beginning to get wet.
He turned back to her, slid her panties down to her ankles, then stepped back just to look at her. Her skirt tucked up and her thigh high stockings made a perfect frame for her bare bottom.
He went up to her once more, pressed his body tight against her back and whispered to her.
"Are you ready my pet? This is going to hurt."
She shivered and mumbled, "yes Sir."
He gently rubbed his hand across her unprotected bottom.
"Shall we put clothespins on the welts when we are finished, my pet?"
She giggled at him.
He picked up the first cane, swished it though the air a few times for her to hear. She closed her eyes.
"Breathe" he said.
She took a breath just as the cane sliced through the air and exploded against her skin.
She let the pain envelop her; it traveled in waves causing her to rise to her tiptoes. She did not let go of the bar or move from her position. She did not make a sound.
He touched the bright red welt with his fingertips, smiled, and stepped back again.
She stood and watched as he moved the equipment, her heart pounding. He pulled the padded bar under the light, repositioning it several times.
"Stand on it now."
She did, stepping onto the little platform, resting her elbows on the bar.
He stood behind her, moving her a bit, placing her hands on the bar the way he wanted them, pulling her skirt up and tucking it into her waist.
"Perfect," he said as he stepped back and admired her.
She was already beginning to float a bit from the anticipation of what was about to happen.
He began to lay out his canes on the table. She peeked over her shoulder to watch without moving from where he had placed her. She watched him as he picked up each cane and laid them in order on the table. It was a ritual, take a cane out of the tube, slash it through the air a few times and lay it on the table in order of its use. When he had finished, there were eight canes of various lengths and thickness all lined up, waiting.
She was beginning to get wet.
He turned back to her, slid her panties down to her ankles, then stepped back just to look at her. Her skirt tucked up and her thigh high stockings made a perfect frame for her bare bottom.
He went up to her once more, pressed his body tight against her back and whispered to her.
"Are you ready my pet? This is going to hurt."
She shivered and mumbled, "yes Sir."
He gently rubbed his hand across her unprotected bottom.
"Shall we put clothespins on the welts when we are finished, my pet?"
She giggled at him.
He picked up the first cane, swished it though the air a few times for her to hear. She closed her eyes.
"Breathe" he said.
She took a breath just as the cane sliced through the air and exploded against her skin.
She let the pain envelop her; it traveled in waves causing her to rise to her tiptoes. She did not let go of the bar or move from her position. She did not make a sound.
He touched the bright red welt with his fingertips, smiled, and stepped back again.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Domination (excerpt)
by Anonymous
... Mistress' words from the night before suddenly echoed through my mind: "A good sub trusts his Domme to know what she's doing, not cry 'Safeword' when his dirty little fantasies get all too real." Well, reality was crashing in around me. i was now a prisoner, helpless; the only things between me and grievous harm a mere word, and the conscience of a self-proclaimed sadist.
She didn't even notice the onset of my panic; just went right on to the next item which happened to be a pair of six-inch spike heels. She began to painfully smash my size twelve feet into the size eight shoes. They were narrow where my feet were widest, and impossibly narrow where my feet were thin. If it weren't for the buckles and snaps, they would've shot right off my agonized feet.
Lastly, She took off the gag, kissed the bright red ball, and popped it into my mouth, pulling the strap tight.
She ordered me to my feet, and i experienced a whole new wave of pain as the entire weight of my body pushed my feet further down into the shoes; my metatarsal arch smashed deeper into the unyielding point of the toe. With my center of gravity even higher up than usual thanks to the heels, my six-foot frame wobbled uncontrollably as i took tiny, baby steps to follow Her. To add to my worries, the shoes had negligible surface area, and zero traction on the slick linoleum. i had terrifying visions of breaking my ankles.
She ordered me to stop and hold still while She dragged a small stepladder next to me. She'd also gotten a coil of thin, silk rope. She started twining the rope around my balls, separating each testicle and tying them off with a sharp, quick jerk. Then She closed a tight loop around the base of my scrotum and another around the base of my cock.
Mistress took the other end and climbed up on the stepladder, feeding it through one of the eyebolts set in the overhead beams. She pulled it taut and secured it like that with a complex knot.
my whole body was trembling as She climbed back down. i began to whimper behind my gag, but She merely smiled at me, gave me a toodle-loo wave, and skipped away, going back up the stairs.
my ankles began to buckle, my calves cramped up.
Through the haze of fear and pain, i picture Mistress merrily skipping into Her bedroom. i imagine a big, soft four poster bed and a huge home entertainment center: three televisions, one for each camera. i see Her kicking off Her skirt and crawling into bed; gleefully snatching the remote from a bedside table. One screen, the largest, is a close-up of my face: red and quivering. Drool runs from the corners of my mouth, tears from my eyes. Another camera has a full-body shot from the rear; the third closes in on my trembling behind.
.... (more to come!)
... Mistress' words from the night before suddenly echoed through my mind: "A good sub trusts his Domme to know what she's doing, not cry 'Safeword' when his dirty little fantasies get all too real." Well, reality was crashing in around me. i was now a prisoner, helpless; the only things between me and grievous harm a mere word, and the conscience of a self-proclaimed sadist.
She didn't even notice the onset of my panic; just went right on to the next item which happened to be a pair of six-inch spike heels. She began to painfully smash my size twelve feet into the size eight shoes. They were narrow where my feet were widest, and impossibly narrow where my feet were thin. If it weren't for the buckles and snaps, they would've shot right off my agonized feet.
Lastly, She took off the gag, kissed the bright red ball, and popped it into my mouth, pulling the strap tight.
She ordered me to my feet, and i experienced a whole new wave of pain as the entire weight of my body pushed my feet further down into the shoes; my metatarsal arch smashed deeper into the unyielding point of the toe. With my center of gravity even higher up than usual thanks to the heels, my six-foot frame wobbled uncontrollably as i took tiny, baby steps to follow Her. To add to my worries, the shoes had negligible surface area, and zero traction on the slick linoleum. i had terrifying visions of breaking my ankles.
She ordered me to stop and hold still while She dragged a small stepladder next to me. She'd also gotten a coil of thin, silk rope. She started twining the rope around my balls, separating each testicle and tying them off with a sharp, quick jerk. Then She closed a tight loop around the base of my scrotum and another around the base of my cock.
Mistress took the other end and climbed up on the stepladder, feeding it through one of the eyebolts set in the overhead beams. She pulled it taut and secured it like that with a complex knot.
my whole body was trembling as She climbed back down. i began to whimper behind my gag, but She merely smiled at me, gave me a toodle-loo wave, and skipped away, going back up the stairs.
my ankles began to buckle, my calves cramped up.
Through the haze of fear and pain, i picture Mistress merrily skipping into Her bedroom. i imagine a big, soft four poster bed and a huge home entertainment center: three televisions, one for each camera. i see Her kicking off Her skirt and crawling into bed; gleefully snatching the remote from a bedside table. One screen, the largest, is a close-up of my face: red and quivering. Drool runs from the corners of my mouth, tears from my eyes. Another camera has a full-body shot from the rear; the third closes in on my trembling behind.
.... (more to come!)
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Necessary Spanking for a Perfect Ass
by Anonymous
He watched her as she took up the flask and a woven basket and disappeared down the path that led to the stream without a backward glance. She would not risk showing him her face; but her body told as much as her visage would have. Her posture spoke of resentment, her gait of irritation. There was no affection in her now.
He shifted carefully on the pallet of skins, cradling his injured arm, and tried to find a less uncomfortable position. This resentment toward him had been more and more apparent as the days had passed and his infirmity had not abated. There had always been moments of tension between them, of course -- only one of them could be dominant, and in all family units the leader was tested on occasion; but she was no match for his size and strength, and the end of every skirmish had found her pinned, helpless, while his open hand reaffirmed his ascendancy on her roundest, tenderest region. She was fortunate, in his opinion, that he had never caused her serious injury. Some of his fellows were not so careful with their females. This worked to his own advantage, of course, for when such an unlucky female was rendered unusable and the former mate went looking for a replacement, the threat of capture by a more brutal male suddenly enhanced his own desirability in her eyes.
He caught himself smiling in recollection, and brought himself back with some effort to the problem at hand. Normally he and the female shared the tasks of survival equally -- gathering the grains, fruits, and nuts in season, trapping small game, and catching fish. Rarely they happened on larger game, and then his extra speed and strength proved useful; but mostly those traits were used for fending off their fellow men. Now she was doing almost all the work, plus having to act as his other hand, and she blamed and resented him for it; and he was also looking less viable as a protector with every passing day. This was bad. It was not going to be easy -- his arm was still agonizingly painful when tested -- but the female needed to be shown that he was not yet ready to be cast aside. He began to plan his demonstration.
He had plenty of leisure to plot. It was nearly dark by the time she returned with a flask of water and a basket full of food. He had taken up a new position in the meantime and was now seated with his back against the trunk of a large, low-spreading tree. He called to her to come and help him up, and could not miss the annoyance that flared in her eyes before she controlled herself. She came and gave him her hand, and as he rose he tugged her off balance, guiding her into the crotch formed by the tree's lowest branch and its trunk. Before she knew what he was about, he was sitting on her back, pinning her, and had free access to her unprotected lower half. He produced from underneath the bad arm still cradled at his side the stout switch he had hidden earlier and made immediate and grim use of it. The female screeched and writhed; but it was useless against his determination and greater weight, and he painted a warning with lines of fire across her wriggling backside. When at last he was convinced that she understood his message, he let her up, and bade her prove her comprehension by pleasuring him.
Pleasure him she did, as always after such demonstrations, and as always he fell asleep with a smile and another memory for his collection.
After he was still, she slid from his arms and crept away to where she had left the basket and the flask. She twisted to see her still-heated rear end, gasping at the confusion of red lines that criss-crossed the buttocks and then admiring the rosy glow that suffused the whole region. It was attractive, even to her own eyes, and she knew it would make the second part of her plan easier -- but first she must carry out the first. She picked up the large rock she used to smash open the thick-shelled nuts and moved silently to where the male lay; then she brought it down on his skull with all the force she could muster. The first blow killed, she thought, but she kept striking until there could be no doubt at all. With a sigh of relief, perhaps tinged with regret, she tossed the rock aside and bent to her next task. a woman with a firm, round backside was desirable; a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped was even more desirable; but a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped *and* a large supply of fresh meat was irresistible, indeed.
He watched her as she took up the flask and a woven basket and disappeared down the path that led to the stream without a backward glance. She would not risk showing him her face; but her body told as much as her visage would have. Her posture spoke of resentment, her gait of irritation. There was no affection in her now.
He shifted carefully on the pallet of skins, cradling his injured arm, and tried to find a less uncomfortable position. This resentment toward him had been more and more apparent as the days had passed and his infirmity had not abated. There had always been moments of tension between them, of course -- only one of them could be dominant, and in all family units the leader was tested on occasion; but she was no match for his size and strength, and the end of every skirmish had found her pinned, helpless, while his open hand reaffirmed his ascendancy on her roundest, tenderest region. She was fortunate, in his opinion, that he had never caused her serious injury. Some of his fellows were not so careful with their females. This worked to his own advantage, of course, for when such an unlucky female was rendered unusable and the former mate went looking for a replacement, the threat of capture by a more brutal male suddenly enhanced his own desirability in her eyes.
He caught himself smiling in recollection, and brought himself back with some effort to the problem at hand. Normally he and the female shared the tasks of survival equally -- gathering the grains, fruits, and nuts in season, trapping small game, and catching fish. Rarely they happened on larger game, and then his extra speed and strength proved useful; but mostly those traits were used for fending off their fellow men. Now she was doing almost all the work, plus having to act as his other hand, and she blamed and resented him for it; and he was also looking less viable as a protector with every passing day. This was bad. It was not going to be easy -- his arm was still agonizingly painful when tested -- but the female needed to be shown that he was not yet ready to be cast aside. He began to plan his demonstration.
He had plenty of leisure to plot. It was nearly dark by the time she returned with a flask of water and a basket full of food. He had taken up a new position in the meantime and was now seated with his back against the trunk of a large, low-spreading tree. He called to her to come and help him up, and could not miss the annoyance that flared in her eyes before she controlled herself. She came and gave him her hand, and as he rose he tugged her off balance, guiding her into the crotch formed by the tree's lowest branch and its trunk. Before she knew what he was about, he was sitting on her back, pinning her, and had free access to her unprotected lower half. He produced from underneath the bad arm still cradled at his side the stout switch he had hidden earlier and made immediate and grim use of it. The female screeched and writhed; but it was useless against his determination and greater weight, and he painted a warning with lines of fire across her wriggling backside. When at last he was convinced that she understood his message, he let her up, and bade her prove her comprehension by pleasuring him.
Pleasure him she did, as always after such demonstrations, and as always he fell asleep with a smile and another memory for his collection.
After he was still, she slid from his arms and crept away to where she had left the basket and the flask. She twisted to see her still-heated rear end, gasping at the confusion of red lines that criss-crossed the buttocks and then admiring the rosy glow that suffused the whole region. It was attractive, even to her own eyes, and she knew it would make the second part of her plan easier -- but first she must carry out the first. She picked up the large rock she used to smash open the thick-shelled nuts and moved silently to where the male lay; then she brought it down on his skull with all the force she could muster. The first blow killed, she thought, but she kept striking until there could be no doubt at all. With a sigh of relief, perhaps tinged with regret, she tossed the rock aside and bent to her next task. a woman with a firm, round backside was desirable; a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped was even more desirable; but a woman with a firm, round backside recently reddened and striped *and* a large supply of fresh meat was irresistible, indeed.
A Woman's Ass in Latex
I love a Woman's Ass when it's sheathed in Latex. It is so beautiful! The second skin caresses and teases me. I want it so bad!
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