Just what the doctor ordered….

(Continued from No Bystanders at the Clinic)

Once her panties were gone, Emmie felt the top cords of the gown untied and the garment allowed to fall open. She was surprised that she felt no embarrassment at being completely nude on the table. He oiled her well-a wet warmth that smelled of eucalyptus-and stroked gently at first, concentrating attention to her anatomy between the small of her back and knees.

His touch was soft enough to feel tentative-hesitant. Maddeningly so. As he dug his thumbs into her hamstrings and up toward her glutes she subtly pushed back into his hands. He was about to ask if this was OK, just a whisper of a flashing yellow light if he should stop…but he didn’t because Emmie, choosing to use action rather than words, lifted to give him better access between her legs and pushed toward his probing fingers.

She began to undulate slowly as he caressed the tenderness of her inner thighs higher than anyone had been in a long time. Her mind was nowhere but on his touch-focused on every twinge, zap and charge ignited by his light stroking. She gasped as his finger circled the tiny rosette of her anus. When he ran his finger directly over it, her subtle opening became more wanton and her lift a backward thrust.

“Please Will….” She said.

He slipped his hand higher and rubbed along her swollen folds. The dampness he felt there wasn’t his oils. “I was getting there”, he said.

“So’s Christmas” she whined with a tinge of moan.

He smiled and withdrew his hand only long enough to deliver a fake smack to her bottom which she mewed at then was back between her legs. His finger entered her this time-pushing gently inside then exploring the walls of her tight passage. Emmie had a flash of consciousness then-remembering where she was. She opened her eyes and saw the shadows of the lamp globbing on the wall seemingly keeping time with his finger. She sighed and closed her eyes again, allowing her breathing to synch with his in-and-outs.

Because Emmie was the kind of woman who couldn’t just accept a righteous fingering at face value she had to tamp down her rising lust as Will found her clit-swollen and ready for attention. And yes, he knew where it was all this time but wanted to draw it out; wanted to keep this woman gyrating on the end of his finger for as long as he could. All Emmie could think of, as his electric touches sizzled from her clit to her toes, was that she walked in here fully clothed an hour ago with no thought to do anything but read a magazine.

“Uhhh!” she said quietly-because she never could lose sight of her surroundings even now. “Will…I…”

“Shhh”, he said and she felt a pressure-firm and unrelenting pressing onto her tight asshole-the very spot that served as her START button when the thermometer slid inside.

“Mmmmmm….” Was all she could manage as she relaxed anything that wasn’t already relaxed so that the growing pressure could finally win and his thumb popped open her sphincter and slid inside of her rear without him ever losing the rhythm of his finger rub. It was too much.

He smiled and whispered “Come on…” then “Let go…” as he placed his left hand on the small of her back to guide her movements. She bit her lip and closed her mouth-screaming inside a sound that came out a muffled grunt. He felt her coming and milked her as much as he could until she shivered and flattened on the table. Again, she felt herself spread and cared not a whit.

He kissed her on the bottom then she felt his breath on her neck.

“I think I better write you a prescription for this….”

She smiled and didn’t open her eyes. “Daily?”

“Weekly to start…see what your insurance will cover.”

“I might be willing to pay out of pocket…”

“Give me a kiss”, he said.

She lifted her head and opened her mouth to accept his. With a toe drag he pulled a stool over to sit at eye level. Emmie rolled up on her side exposing new areas to explore and without breaking the long, soft coupling of lips, Will gently caressed the valley between her breasts and down her belly. She dropped her head with a sigh.

“Feel better now?” he asked accepting the smile as an affirmative. He let the silence settle for a moment then, “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing special”, she said remembering a date she would certainly break.

“I’m having people over….sort of a little dinner party. I certainly could use a little help in the kitchen.”

“You want me to come and…cook.”

“Well, I’ll be doing most of that. Smoking a brisket as big as…” he patted her rump.

“You mean it’s a big brisket?”

“It’s a perfect brisket. Come over, spend the day, figure out the sides, the dessert…hey you have a chef’s coat right?”

“Sure, hat…the whole nine yards.”

“Great-bring it, wear it in the kitchen.”

“I’m pretty expensive when I’m in uniform.”

“No pants then…”

She laughed. “So am I coming as kitchen help or your date?”

“Not an either/or…bring something to wear in the evening. Sporty, anything-as long as it involves a really short skirt. And no panties…”

She giggled like a girl “I’m sensing a pattern here.”

In answer he pushed her shoulder with his forehead forcing her over onto her back. Emmie sighed deeply as his soft lips circled, then covered, her hardening nipple. Watching the lamp patterns on the ceiling she started thinking about the perfect sides for brisket.

 

No Bystanders at the Clinic

IMG_1523

 

Continued from A Visit to the Clinic

Emmie Summers wandered the wide hallway at the clinic. The place was certainly bigger than it looked from outside. She almost collided with a pretty red-faced brunette with a nose stud hustling out of an exam room. “Excuse me…” the girl said as she rushed past. Emmie spun to watch her then heard a distinct “Smack” from inside the door-she turned again toward the door but it was closed, then spun back, this time walked fully into a man coming the other way.

“Oof…” She was about eye level with a white embroidered “Will” above the breast pocket of his royal blue lab coat. One look up into his lidded green eyes and Emmie sighed ruefully to herself, “I certainly would…” because she hadn’t in months.

“Can I help you”, asked Will pleasantly.

“I’m sorry…excuse me…I’m here with a friend…just waiting on a friend.” He cocked an eyebrow questioning. “Shannon”, she blurted. “Shannon Deavers.”

“Shannon?” he said seemingly delighted at the news. “We love Shannon!”

“Yeah, she’s the best…”

“Been friends long?”

“Since college.”

“Oh-a year or two then”, he said smiling.

“I wish…” She said, flashing a quick grin that dissipated too quickly.

“You okay?”, he asked looking after the fleeting smile.

She waved her hands to take in everything around her. “Doctors, nurses…all the medical stuff…makes me…”

“White coat syndrome, huh?”

She shrugged.

“But I’m wearing blue”, he flashed his own smile that didn’t go anywhere and took he by the elbow. “Here,” he said opening and leading her through a door. “Let’s step out of the hubbub, bub.”

His office was softly lit from by the light coming through the blinds and soft reddish glow of the…

“Is that a lava lamp?” Emmie asked delightedly.

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t seen one of those since college.”

“Does the same thing for me as an aquarium without the upkeep.”

The desk was in front of the window and a leather examination table, scale, sink all were against one wall.

“Here-sit.” He guided her to a plush leather chair as he leaned against the desk. “Just chill in here for a bit. Shannon’s going to be another thirty or forty minutes…”

“What’s she having done today?”

“You’ll have to ask her that-you know with patient confidentiality and all.”

“Oh Jesus!” she said. “I’m sorry…I didn’t even think…”

“No worries, no worries. We’re just talking here….”

He saw her eyes slide over to the lava lamp and watched the red orbs of wax bloom, float to the top and snap to fall back and repeat. He smiled as she watched. “See? Told you. Bet your blood pressure’s dropped ten percent since to you got here.”

She smiled…”I used to love these things…”

“Hey”, he asked. “Would you like me to do a workup on you? You’re here and all…”

“Ahh…no…that’s….Naw. That’s OK….Ah…I don’t think my insurance will cover it….” she blathered nervously.

“Not to worry-on the house. I’ve had two cancellations this morning…”

“Two?”

“Yeah, right? Sisters. There will be plenty of spankings at the end of the month, I can tell you that” he joked. But was he joking? She remembered the smack from outside that room. “Point is, I have the time. We could do this…or you can sit here and look at the lava lamp for the next half hour.”

She stepped into the changing room that felt more like a country club locker room with maroon walls, soft recessed lighting, redwood bench and a shelf with folded gowns. She watched herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse and placed it on a hanger. Then slipped her sandals off and under the bench and, with a pause for reflection, unsnapped and lowered her capris, likewise hanging them.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She was fine. She was normal for…she wouldn’t even think “for a woman her age.” But truly, she was fine. Normal. Shannon was the freak with her long legs and slim bottom. Emmie turned and looked at her backside. I’m normal, she thought. Fine, she thought yet again. He had said take everything off so she pushed her panties half way down, paused looking over her shoulder and pulled them back up. Panties can stay, she decided. Without a thought she slipped off her bra and stepped into the gown. Her fingers shook as she tied it behind. Idiot, she thought. With a final glance in the mirror she stepped was back into the office where Will was drying his hands.

“Here you go-hop up”.

He managed the basics efficiently. Eyes, ears, nose and throat. Pulse, blood pressure, all good. Reflexes-her knee bounced as she guessed it was supposed to. But there was something else she didn’t expect to feel. There was a little buzz-like an electrical charge-where he held her knee in place.

“Lay back”, he said holding the back of her neck to help her down.

He pushed the gown up over her belly to prod and poke at her abdomen. She was fine with it-wasn’t a washboard but flat enough. He pushed the gown a little higher and she closed her eyes realizing her nipples were hard. If he pushed it one more inch…but he didn’t. Surely though, he had to have noticed.

“What do you do? He asked?”

“I’m a chef.”

“Really? Where do you…hey wait-did you used to cook at Umbria??

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I just remembered having a conversation with Shannon about restaurants once and she said she had a friend who cooked there…Here-roll up on your hip”, he said in a softer tone-as if speaking to someone else in the room. She yielded to the pressure of his hand on her hip and rolled, nestling her head on her elbow.

“I’m not there anymore though. Left about six months ago-freelancing now…”

“Catering?” he asked, then in his side voice, “Lift up please.”

She did, not even registering what he had asked until she felt her underwear slide down completely off her bottom.

“Hey!” she said startled.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“I didn’t realize…”

“I did ask you to strip naked…”

“Yes, OK…just startled me, is all.” She giggled nervously. “You are a doctor, right?”

“That’s what the papers on the wall say.” She felt his hand lift her cheek gently and something slide into her bottom. She hissed through her teeth. “It’s just a thermometer”, he said.

“I haven’t had my temperature taken like this in….”

“Hopefully you don’t remember when…” he said jokingly.

“Feels naughty…”

“Ah, you’re fine” he said with his hand resting collegially on her bare hip. “You’re relaxing already-not clenching. So, catering?”

“Yes…I…” small talk wasn’t coming easily. “…have some steady clients…to cook for. Do some parties. All word of mouth.”

The thermometer pinged and she bit her lip as he slid it out. “All normal”, he said.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Do you want a shot?”

“What kind of shot?”

“Mostly B12. Some other things that are a closely guarded secret. But it’s popular. Since you’re here and all.”

“I don’t like shots.”

“You’ve never gotten a shot from me. You don’t like getting ready for the shot. Getting up on the table, pushing your pants down. But here you are right? Why not?”

“Oh fine,” she said as if she was struggling with a decision.  “Why not?”

He pushed again with his hand on her hip but not really. Lower. She felt that charge again as the softness of her bottom yielded to his warm fingertips. “Here,” he said. “Lie flat”. She did and felt herself spread. Somewhat. A little. Not much. Ah, the hell with it!

She crossed her arms and listened to the sounds of tearing paper and plastic as he readied the syringe. “You okay?” he asked

“I’m fine…”

“Yes. Yes you are”.

“Fresh!” she said, flattered.

“I’m going to squeeze here, OK?” he said patting her ample right cheek.

“OK, but remember, you said it wasn’t going to hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever said that. Don’t tense…” He gave her bottom four staccato smacks that were over so quickly she barely had time to say “Ouch!” then squeezed a piece of her bottom right in the center. She dug her fingernails into her palms when the needle slipped in with a warm sting. He emptied the syringe and withdrew then rubbed the spot hard with three fingers as if trying to remove a freckle. “There,” he said. “How’s that feel?”

“Warm…..”

“Do you want to try a treatment? A quick cleanse?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that….”

“Well then, let’s pull your panties back up…”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.”

“Now who’s being naughty?”

“I’m feeling so warm and…..” she couldn’t find the word.

“Fizzy?”

She laughed lightly and opened her eyes to the red glow of the lava lamp burbles on the wall. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. Fizzy. Is that the shot?”

“No my dear”, he said, his hand on the top of her thigh. “That’s you.”

The hand she felt on herself was warmer than she was. “What is it exactly that you are doing back there?” she asked.

“I’m a licensed massage therapist”, he said to the back of her head.

“Of course you are.”

“Do you want to see my license?” he asked, squeezing gently.

“No”, she said. “I’d rather feel it.”

“Can I get rid of these then?”

He pulled her panties down her thighs and she lifted her legs so he could slide them over her feet. He let them fall to the floor.

To be continued….

Swordplay

sword

Not mine. Found on Tumblr

(Continued from “A little anisette, please…” Part ll)

From the house, the land rolled in fits and starts down to the lake. He wasn’t a lawn guy-the expanse of native grasses, shrubs and trees were gloriously if meticulously, untended creating small thickets and copses around seemingly randomly placed boulders. About half way down was a natural flat spot that he had manicured carefully. The surface, firmly tamped with tightly mowed grass looked like nothing so much as a putting green minus the hole and flag.

It was here that she practiced her form. She had left her wooden sword on the rack at the top of the clearing, and instead used her tournament weapon-the polished steel glinting in the sun. She wore loose fitting black pants cinched tight at the waist and a black tank top that showcased her strong shoulders and sinewy arms glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Her long hair-tightly bound in a thick braid-flowed over her shoulders and around her neck.

She was getting better, he could see that. Her form, though by no means artful, was practiced enough to have risen to a level of proficiency that would move her easily through the next one or two belt levels. Whenever she chose another teacher, that is. Given their situation he could not continue in that capacity.

She parried, she spun, she thrusted and slashed as he ticked off under his breath the Chinese names of each move. The good ones, the truly good ones, could feel in a 100 or 200 movement form what was coming next, then next and could see all of the movements as a single tapestry winding uninterrupted from beginning to end. Her form was a series of index cards, each standing alone with no seeming through line to the next. To the unschooled she was a goddess and possibly deadly. To him, she was competent enough with proficiency hard won through rote and dogged repetition. There was no shame in that, but the dawning realization that she didn’t have the intuitive gift that she thought she did was driving her a tad batty.

Which was probably why she always wanted to fight.

He strode out of the shadows of the sycamores and past the leather heavy bag to where she could see him. She stopped her form and bowed. Not to him, but to the school. He had learned that-when entering or leaving a school to bow in respect. But in his practice, all of outdoors was his school, so out here people were bowing all the time.

“I saw you”, she said.

“I hope so.”

“What did you think?”

“Not bad”, he gave his usual. “You could get lower in ‘snatching the serpent at the water’s edge’”, he said in English as she didn’t-and seemingly would never-know the Chinese.

“I felt that…happens when I rush.”

“And why were you rushing….?”

Instead of answering she walked over to the rack and sheathed her sword after slowing wiping it down. He followed.

“We can work that sequence if you like…” he offered.

She picked her wooden sword from its spot.

“Maybe later”, she said twirling her sword and meeting his eyes before pacing away.

He didn’t smile, afraid it would be condescending-she wasn’t smiling. “Maybe”, he said. “Same stakes?”

“As always”, she said bowing to him.

She came at him tentatively-slashing toward his sword arm before spinning and thrusting directly. He knew that was coming-but rather than countering-was content to block it with a “CLACK” of wood on wood and spin past delivering a light but effective elbow to her head on the way.

“There are more weapons in a fight than swords”, he said.

She shook it off and lunged carelessly but with surprising speed. He blocked, then parried, then slid away from her sword side. The trick was to not let her know he was toying with her; to allow her attacks, to seem surprised, then to recover at the last moment.

When he pressed, she responded well, parrying in flight but was sloppy in transition. When she stepped aside and meant to spin her toes caught in the grass and she was exposed from behind. Rather than delivering a killing blow he pulled back his weapon and delivered a hard swat with the flat of his sword to her backside.

“OWW!” she cried hopping out of harm’s way and grabbing her bottom with her free hand. “Owww, Dammit”, she grumbled kneading her paddled cheek.

“A glancing blow”, he said. “Not a killing one. You can continue.”

“It should have been a winning blow. You opted to swat my ass instead.”

“What’s a little swat between friends?” He lifted his sword. “Ready?”

“No.” She dropped the point of her sword. “I’m beaten.”

“As you will”, he said, lowering his own sword. He took hers and carried them both over to the rack while she lifted the heavy bag from the hook where it hung. She managed the 80 pound bag easily, flopping it onto the grass.

“You were better today”, he offered.

“Not good enough, though…” she answered untying the waist strap of her pants.

“Not to beat me…but better than last time…”

He allowed himself to watch her strip-to slip her pants down then step out of them, right leg, left leg admiring the muscles of her quads rippling as she balanced. Her tank-top followed allowing her small firm breasts to enjoy the light of day.

She turned away from him to face the lake and the bag on the ground before slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her black silk panties and rolling them down, then off. A bright scarlet smudge on her right cheek colored the otherwise milky white globes of her bottom.

Without looking back she knelt in the grass then paused before laying over the bag positioning her bottom uppermost. Her nerve endings hummed-vividly imprinting everything in her unconscious. Every blade of cool grass on her cheek as the heady aroma filled her nostrils and tickled her lips. She felt him spread her behind and heard him spit. Then felt his wet fingers lubricating her tight bottom. She took a breath then exhaled slowly, eyes wide open as she felt the burn of him entering her. His thrust was slow and steady, relentless and ever burning as she stretched open for him.

Closing around his cock like a warm satin glove she watched a man and a woman in a small sailboat obliviously tacking into the breeze toward them.

“A little anisette, please…”

Moon Fall

He awoke slowly; grudgingly. The new pills not only kept him asleep through the night-or at least more of the night than he was used to-but made waking a slow, weighted swim up from of the bottom of a deep pool. It was a chore that he deferred most mornings. He allowed himself a few minutes gazing at the ridge line until he could just make out the bare limbs and branches etched against the graying sky.

He rose and stretched-hands high-counting the pops in his spine as he bent this way, then that.  Then listened to the cracks in his ankles as he walked, squinting to unlock the bedroom door in the darkness. An unnecessary precaution as it turned out but one he felt he had to take.

He padded across the hall and paused at the slightly open door to the front room-just as he’d left it. Her deep regular breathing was the only sound on the floor. He slipped the door open wide enough to enter. This side of the house fronted the lake and the light of the dawn moon falling over the far hills pointed a silver sword their way across the water. He watched the flickering light crawling directly at him and fell under the spell of her breathing.

He allowed himself to be borne away by her rhythm, inhaling deeply with her and exhaling as she did. Not being asleep, the exercise left him feeling winded-in need of quick swallows of air. The room carried the sweet aroma of his grandmother’s bread dough rising in her tiny kitchen-a heady mix of sleep, damp heat and last night’s lovemaking.

He approached the bed where she was on her side sunken deeply into the old mattress the sheet around her shoulders. He checked the knots around her ankles and gently slipped a finger between the bonds and her skin. Secure and not too tight. He then pulled back the sheet to check her wrists, bound before her as if in prayer. Her breath feathered the back of his hands. The rope securing her wrists to her ankles was likewise fast.

And lastly, the knife. His own deer knife, a nine inch blade sharp enough to shave, cut and gut. Happily, it was safely sheathed within her easy reach. His suggestion was to bind her lightly so she could easily release herself if necessary during the night. She instead wanted to be bound tightly, with the knife as her out card.

He knew she was mad from the first. But the first was so long ago that the knowledge did him no good now.

“However…” Part I

Tidy Whities Down

From http://www.firmhandspanking by way of Tumblr

Dana pushed the little Kia as hard as she dared along the cobbled streets that wound through the stately older mansions and newer, sleek homes and named McMansions hidden off the avenue behind trees and high stone walls. She did take the time to slap the steering wheel with the heel of her hand in frustration. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

She was just stepping out of the shower when Bob Geldof sang “I Don’t Like Monday’s” from her phone. She hurriedly toweled her short blond hair when she saw the number. “Hi Taylor!” she answered.

“I was just calling dear, to see if you were on your way, or if you had forgotten completely about us.” Dana froze allowing the water to drip off her onto the floor. “No Taylor-I have you and your friends for tomorrow at 10…”

She heard Taylor say away from the receiver…”She has us down for tomorrow…”

Oh, Jesus, she thought. Was that today? She hadn’t forgotten-just got the day wrong. How was that possible!? Taylor Grayling was more than a private client, she had promised to be a true mentor and benefactor; someone who could open doors to a new class of clientele. On her worst days Dana saw herself as a twenty seven year old gym rat who refused to get a real job. On her best, she knew that the style of fitness training that she had developed could be Tae Bo for the next generation if she could get it moving beyond her little lakeside gym. This is what Taylor and her friends could do for her. If she wasn’t such a FUCK UP!

Dana pulled up to the gate hidden between two large oaks and pounded the code into the key pad. The gate opened achingly slowly. The parking area at the top of the circular drive looked like a Mercedes showroom, an SUV, a sports coupe, there was Taylor’s Porsche…Jesus half a million in cars in the driveway and she had forgotten the appointment!

The women could not have been nicer or more accommodating. She met Flora Cappalina, the owner of a trendy downtown boutique that was far out of Dana’s price range. Lynette Rampling was the wife of software entrepreneur who had sold his company to Google for an untold sum…and she didn’t know Mary Elizabeth Franc but assumed her to be worthy of the same respect as the rest of them.

“Don’t worry about it…mistakes will happen”, Taylor said kindly. “We had a chance to get a workout in.” Indeed, Dana was looking at thousands of dollars worth of ellipticals, treadmills, and stair steppers laid out before her. “But I’m afraid we’re about out of time though-to look at your program…”

Again, Dana apologized profusely and offered any day next week to come back and show everything they wanted to see. Obviously at no charge.

“I think we can set something up that will work for all of us”, Taylor purred.

“That’s wonderful!” Dana said, thinking she would cancel whatever needed to be cancelled next week to make this work.

“However….” said Taylor.

What? However. What a word! Three little syllables that turn a conversation from a well-traveled smooth thoroughfare where all landmarks are known and navigation simple. “However” cuts a path off the easy road and into rocky terrain where Dana feared to go. She was thinking about the equipment actually-taking a break from the embarrassment of screwing up this afternoon and thinking about how long it would take her to afford all this gear. She suddenly felt the room go silent and looked back to her would-be benefactor who was, apparently awaiting her response to something.

“I’m sorry, Taylor. I was distracted. You were saying?”

The older woman smiled with enough warmth to not be threatening, but not enough to be cuddly.

“I said, dear, that I think we can agree that you’ve earned your first spanking.”

“Uh…uh….” Dana was stuck for an answer. Taylor had mentioned spankings before but always in an off-hand light-hearted way. Like a joke! OK, she had mentioned it when they first agreed on the training schedule and regimen and what Taylor expected for the money she was paying. One thing was punctuality-she was a busy woman, after all. They both were-Dana had laughed it off and told her new, rich client not to worry. She would never be late. And she hadn’t been. Until today of course when Taylor had set up a workout with three of her closest and richest friends to show off her workout guru.

Flora was packing a towel into her bag and zipping up. “As much as I would love to stay for this, duty calls. I have to be off.” She smiled and held out a hand to Dana. “Hope to see you again-Taylor raves about your work. Not your punctuality, however…”

“Yes…” Dana said robotically bobbing her head. “Sorry, sorry…”

“Be firm Taylor”, she said over her shoulder, leaving the room. “Ta-Ta!”

The woman all followed Flora’s exit then turned their attention back to Dana who just stood there, her belly filling with freezing Jello, six eyes boring into her. Her mind raced back to every single mention of spanking that had come out of Taylor Grayling’s mouth in the last three months. Dana had read it as a joke-maybe a flirt. She’d flirted, and been flirted with, enough over the years but had never misread anything as clearly as she seemed to have misread this.

She was about ask-to say “you’re joking, right?” but realized that no one’s face said “Just kidding!” Their expressions were light, easy, anticipatory, committed…but definitely not joking. Something was going to happen here. And it was going to happen to her.

“There’s no way out of this, is there?” Dana asked bravely forcing a half-smile across her lips.

“Well of course there is!” Taylor said. “All you would have to do is say, no thank you. I’m not who you thought I was. Tell us you’re not a bright ambitious young woman willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead…just walk out and go back to your gym. It’s successful. You’re successful. You don’t need us. There are a ton of people who would love what you bring to the table. I do. We do. We just require a level of commitment evidently beyond what you’re able to bring. And our conditions are a little…unique.”

“You got that right”, she said, maintaining the same smile.

“It’s true. We are an…acquired taste, Dana. No problem. You can tell us that and just walk back out the door you just walked in. No harm, no foul. Right ladies?”

“Absolutely”, said Mary Elizabeth, wiping her hands on the towel that hung around her neck. Lynette was filling a cup of cucumber water from a pitcher on the bar. “Fine by me. As I said, Taylor-I already have a trainer…”

Taylor looked back and gave an exaggerated palms up shrug. “See? Simple as that-all you have to do is walk out the door.”

The give and take of even this slight conversation had calmed Dana a bit. She felt less like a tardy schoolgirl being sent to the office and more like a co-conspirator, even though she was the one being conspired against. She liked and trusted Taylor and was certain if she walked out, she wouldn’t be seeing her again.

“But here we are.” Said Taylor. She pointed at the small armless sofa beside the drink bar. “Here we have the spanking couch…and there we have the door.”

Dana looked at the couch as if she were reading it. “I’m not leaving”, she said.

“Alright then.”

To Be Continued…

 

Best to let sleeping dogs…

(Continued from If the boat’s a rockin’…)

She hovered, suspended in the dim gray place between waking and sleeping. Could she truly awaken though, if she wasn’t asleep? Her body wasn’t buzzing anymore as it had been so recently. Instead it was warm and limp-as immobile as a sack wet grass, radiating the living stillness one might feel sitting at the bottom of a deep warm well. Nothing to do but allow herself to be enveloped by the warm darkness.

It hadn’t been that way when James had pushed her-still wet and vibrating-onto his bunk. Had that been moments, hours or days before? She had spread wantonly on his rough blanket ignoring both the pinches from her strapped, bruised bottom and the pulses from her recently receding orgasm. In fact, as she lay back and pulled her knees to her chest she felt the receding waves cease their retreat and turn back-seeking a reason to crest and break again.

Being arrayed on her back gave her the first chance to actually see the shaft that had brought her to heights she had never felt before. She wasn’t the most experienced lover but this was beyond anything she could imagine. Was it like this for others? Then, as he mounted and slipped inside her still wet folds, she knew immediately that she would come again.

It wasn’t his length-nor the strength of his thrusts filling her more deeply coming from the front than they had from behind. It was not one particular thing. It was more the all of him. His scent, the soft beard that tickled her nipples as he sucked gently on her breasts, his strong arms that coiled around her back and the rough hands pulling down on her shoulders-driving him even deeper inside. It was all of that.

Each thrust, deeply planted then deliberately withdrawn to the very end, felt as if he were pulling her insides out. As if her hair and eyes themselves were being withdrawn back into her head-only to be pushed back into place with a loud slapping of belly on belly.

This on and on, again and again, until she gave herself entirely to the second orgasm of the afternoon. Lying under him, crushed and cuddled-open and pulsing she gave in utterly-allowing screams to turn to laughter then tears as she crested again, and again and…again? Or all at once? She knew not and cared not. She pulled her legs back opening her bottom hole-wishing he would take it. She kept her mouth wide, wishing he would take THAT. She wanted him everywhere at once.

Her last memory as she faded under her own wave was of his hot seed splashing hard upon her belly and scalding her up to her breasts. She moaned loudly under the thick pulsing rain and flopped backward sliding into the gray where she now found herself.

Her dream that wasn’t a dream was of kittens…no, puppies. There were three or four of them lapping at her-tickling her. She opened her eyes a slit and recognized the peeling paint on the wall beside James’ bunk. There were no kittens, nor puppies, but James sat on the side of the bed fully clothed rubbing dollops of lotion on her still tender bottom.

On her side she smiled and pushed back into his hand. “That feels nice.”

“I’m sorry about this but….”

“Don’t be.”

“I got a little carried away.”

“It was I who was carried away. Swept away actually….” She reached back and clutched his wrist.

“Had to be done.”

“Has to be done.”

“From time to time…”

“When warranted.”

He rubbed absently for a moment but she could feel his eyes painting her. He was fairly memorizing every fold, surface, dimple and wrinkle. Finally, he patted her on her fulsome cheek-finished with his ministrations. “We’ve a tow to deliver.”

She rolled onto her back. “My God, is there still a world out there?”

“Aye, and it’s a demanding one.”

She propped herself on her elbows, ultimately comfortable in her nakedness before a man who until a short time ago she knew only as a boss.

“Give me a kiss first”, she said with a smile.

“A kiss. After what we’ve just been through you want a kiss?”

“You can whip a horse James. And you can fuck a whore. But a man only kisses his lover.”

His eyes softened as he bent-bringing his lips to hers. She watched him come until the last moment when she closed her eyes and allowed his soft lips to close over hers. She opened to allow his tongue entry and as their tongues twined she began to feel yet another spark that threatened to reignite the dying embers that smoldered between her legs. Reading her body, James pulled back.

“Now would you please get your sweet red ass out of my bunk and go tend to the lines so we can get this tow downriver. The sooner we get this job done, the sooner I can take you ashore and show you how it’s done in a real bed.”

“Yes Cap’n”, she said.

He regarded her looking so young and small as if the copulations had regressed her to girlhood. He blinked then turned away quickly not wanting to encourage his sleeping dog into awakening and stretching itself again.

 

If the boat’s a rockin’…

strapped

(Continued from River Life)

“You should do it, then.” She said her voice tight in her throat.

She wasn’t sure he had heard her-as as he’d become keenly interested in the river flowing outside the window.

“Probably best you go ashore.”

“James-please”. She gripped his arm. “Don’t put me ashore-I need this job. I need this-out here”, she moved her arms to take in the river and overhanging trees that, even October’s gray light were enchanting. She could breathe out here in a way she couldn’t in the closed world of quiet desperation ashore.  “I’ve been doing well. I have. I’m…afraid what will become of me in town without this.”

“This employment comes with conditions, Emmaline.”

“I know. I understand. And I must be punished…. Please….”

She unsnapped the canvas coveralls that she wore over her clothes on foul days. Still facing the flowing water he heard, rather than saw, her coveralls slide down.

“Just do it James…Please…”

He gave her nothing.

“Beat me and let me stay…” her voice was a whisper.

He turned to look into her glistening and pleading eyes. He pulled away from her grip and nodded to the pile of coveralls. “Step out of those”. She tore off her boots and high stepped a march to extricate herself. “Stand there”, he told her, “facing the table.”

She was finally sure that she wouldn’t be put ashore. He was going to punish her here. “Oh thank you, James.”

“You might want to hold onto those thanks…”

Her shirt was overlong, covering her seat. “Take off your shirt.” She did so quickly and tossed it onto his chair. Her undershirt barely reached her waist.

“You won’t regret this James…”

“You might”, he answered. “Take down your pants.” She didn’t hesitate as the temperature in the pilot house rose. James saw her jeans loosen and she pushed them down. Without prompting she followed with her panties, undressing efficiently and immodestly as if she were alone in her bunk. The view of her bottom-voluptuous and glowing alabaster in the gray light gave James pause, if only for a moment.

“Put your hands against the window sill”. Doing as she was told, she had to lean over the table pushing her bottom backward.

With her back, as well as everything else, to him she focused on the thick trunk of the sycamore outside the shoreward window. The first flush of relief at not being fired and put ignominiously ashore faded to be replaced by trepidation and an anticipation she couldn’t quite understand.

She heard the slithering rasp of his belt being pulled through the loops on his trousers and felt something…else. She dipped her back pushing her bottom imperceptibly backward. Seeing the movement James almost groaned. He struggled to keep himself contained suddenly desiring nothing so much as to drop to his knees and lavish her back-thrust bottom with kisses. He snapped the stout leather in his hands to come back to himself.

She expected pain-how could she not?-but even so, the searing burn of the first slash across the very center of her buttocks surprised her. She didn’t move-not even a flinch-but when the second stroke fell equally upon her lower bottom and tops of her legs, her mouth fell open and remained so albeit silently for the next three strokes which burned across her tortured cheeks. The sixth elicited a choking cough, quickly silenced and the seventh a small hop as she rose onto her toes. He lashed her while she remained thus elevated, her bottom tightened by the exercise.

Once she fell back onto her heels her bottom, now coloring, softened. His belt dug into the softness, drawing a yelp. Realizing he’d been holding his breath he paused in his labors.

“I’m quit with drinking on your boat James”, Emmaline told him maintaining her position.

“Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping.” His punctuation was a lash on the last unmarked spot high on her bottom that snapped around her hip. She gasped and allowed a moan to fill the room. He then directed the strap lower, completing his task of turning bright white to pink, pink to red and in a few spots, red to purple where the blood came close to the top.

“I mean it James….”

“Mean it or not, but know that this will be your punishment when you do. Or whenever I judge you wanting in any way. Do you understand?”

“Yes James.”

They were silent with no sound but their quick shallow breaths.

“Please James….” she said finally.

“You’re finished”, he said. “Well punished, well marked.”

“That’s not what I meant”, she said looking, flushed but dry-eyed, over her shoulder. “That is not what I meant at all.”

“Emmie…”

“Are you going to tell me you’ve never thought of having me like this?”

“We’ve established you’re a woman-so of course.”

“Then do what you will. Be assured I want it more than you do.”

He felt the ache in his own spar as it pushed against the canvas of his trousers and wondered how that might be possible.

The strap had slipped out of his hand as he slid closer and lay his rough hands on the mottled skin of her bottom. Emmie gasped as if burned. His hands slid gently up and down and squeezed softly.

“My God James-you must get inside me. I didn’t drop a tear in your strapping but will cry like a hungry baby if your cock isn’t in me soon.”

He removed his hand from her only long enough to unfasten his trousers which fell to the floor. He stepped out of them and closer, leaning against her heat-allowing his cock to rub against her backside, up one cheek and down the other. Outside her left cheek along her right hip. He let it pulse between her legs-sniffing at the inside of her thighs like a serpent probing a rock face for a crevasse.

Her moan at his serpent’s touch was deep and rumbling. “You are a torturer.”

In truth, it was less about torture as it was about exploration-finding his way along what he’d feared were long forgotten paths. But once on the right trail, the path toward her shining beacon was made straight. She pushed back and opened-James slid slowly into her glistening offering. He had expected some resistance but slipped easily and fully into a lambskin change purse brimming with the syrup of distilled morning dew.

Fully sheathed he ground his hips into the heat of her seared bottom.

“Oh, James….I’ve wanted you to fuck me for….”

Her voice caught as he pulled out as far as he could and still remain in, then rammed home deeply again, with more force than before.

“Yes!” she barked.

He looked down to see his shaft sliding in and back out, in and back out-slowly, then hard. Slow. Then. Hard. She grunted at the building strength of his strokes.

“Slap me James!” she said breathless. “Slap my ass!” she twisted sideways giving him, what she imagined to be a getter target. He slapped her tortured right cheek as best he could without breaking the slow rhythm of his deep thrusts.

“Faster James! Faster…” Knowing she didn’t mean spanking, he gripped both hips and thrust harder and faster the slapping of hip on hip now louder than hand on ass.

“James! James!…” Feeling her pitch rising, James rose on his toes and worked quickly until she stiffened, shuddered and finally broke. Her voice morphed into a high squeal muffled only when she dug her teeth into her own shoulder. He stayed inside her, still engorged as she twitched and mewled finally pulling out as she collapsed from the window sill to lay spread across the table.

“Does this mean I’m not fired?” she asked when she gathered her breath.

His answer was a hard slap to the center of her red fulsome bottom. She neither yelped nor moved, and facing as she was, James couldn’t see the smile play over her face.

“That means you’re not fired.”

He pulled her up from the table and hugged her from behind. She felt the strength of his unspent cock digging at her bottom.

“Let’s go to my bunk”, he said prodding her forward.

“Yes, Captain”, she said.