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The circle of light
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Part 1..... 1. The Circle of Light
She stood in the center of the room with her hands at her sides.
Even at a distance of eight feet the heat from the fireplace at her
back was uncomfortable. She felt a trickle of sweat run from her
left armpit down her left side. Despite her effort to remain
motionless, she shivered.
"You were told to be still." His voice was in front of her. He
spoke quietly, but the sound of his voice rekindled some excite-
ment. Her hands grasped the sides of her skirt in an effort to
keep her arms from moving. She tried to slow her breathing, to
regain her composure.
His voice, so familiar from the hours on the telephone, now so
strange sounding in-person, helped her to endure the waiting. Not
seeing him made her uneasy. When she'd rung the doorbell she'd
expected him to be there, but instead the door opened on an empty
corridor, empty but for the note on the threshold. She'd read the
note and followed the terse instructions. She walked the length of
the corridor, found the large room, then stood quietly in the
center with her back to the fireplace.
The longer she waited the more foolish she felt. The room was
sparsely furnished and the high, flat ceiling made her feel small.
Then the spotlights illuminating her became brighter so that she
couldn't see beyond the lighted circle. The perimeter of the room
was hidden in shadow.
When his voice sounded again, it came from far to her right. She
started, glanced over to the shadows, saw nothing. "Are you
ready?" Oh, was she ready! But when she tried to reply her
throat was constricted and she found herself nodding her head.
"Undress." Again, from the right.
She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse then let it slide from
her arms to the floor. His voice, suddenly on her left, told her
to fold her clothes neatly. She retrieved the blouse, folded it
carefully, then placed it on the floor in front of her. As she
undressed she felt as nervous as a teenager, but secretly she
relished the anxiety and so perhaps undressed faster than she had
planned. Yes, she had planned this!
Finally she added her panties to the small pile of clothing, moved
her shoes to the top of the pile, then stood straight again with
her hands at her sides. She guessed that he was examining her. She
heard footsteps as he walked around her in the shadows and knew
that he was appraising her. She shivered again and turned red as
goosebumps appeared on her flesh. God! Was she ever this nervous
before? Surely not in her teens or in the twenty years since!
He'd said her appearance was not important, but she'd not believed
him. But she expected some reactions from him, some compliments or
other sounds of appreciation. She received silence. An occasional
footstep as he moved around her, but no vocal sounds.
She did not hear him come up behind her until his hands seized her
shoulders and turned her to face him. He drew her into his arms
and held her quietly. His lips brushed her hair and moved down to
nuzzle her throat. He slid his hands down her back and clasped
them together behind her ass to press her tightly against him.
His left arm went around her waist and squeezed her closer. Then,
very slowly, his right hand spanked her.
At first the sudden stings caused her to try to squirm out of his
grasp. Her hands flew behind her to block the spanks. He whispered
a reminder for her to stand still with her hands at her sides.
She really looked at him now, at his glaring eyes and the firm line
of his mouth. Then, she stood erect and moved her hands to her
sides. The spanking resumed. He struck her flesh with the flat of
his hand in a slow cadence, but he struck harshly and confined the
smacks to the base of her ass.
She willed herself to accept the punishment stoically. She never
displayed weakness before any man and she believed he would not be
an exception, especially if he thought he could impress her with a
childish punishment. She had not counted on the severity of the
smacks or on the cumulative effects of the prolonged spanking. As
her buttocks became hot she started to wince. Soon she was
whimpering.
She felt her loins push against him under the force of the spanks.
She knew he was enjoying her discomfort; as each smack drove her
against him she could feel his cock twitch against her lower belly.
The spanks seemed to get harder, the sting to get hotter. She
started to cry. But as her vision blurred she felt herself push
her ass back to meet his palm and so became an active participant
in continuing her travail. He responded by tightening his grasp of
her waist and increasing the speed of the spanking.
She broke into sobs then and cried against his shoulder. He paused,
delivered an especially severe spank, and held his hand pressed
into her smarting skin. She continued to bawl as his hand slowly
relieved the pressure and gently rubbed her tender ass. He lifted
her chin and kissed her eyes, tasting her tears before pressing his
lips on hers and kissing her deeply.
As he stepped back from her she found it difficult to stand. Her
legs seemed unstable, her ass burned, and yet she felt alive and
excited. When he told her to lie down she did so with too much
enthusiasm; even soft carpeting feels harsh against freshly spanked
buttocks. Then, as she stretched herself out she became self-
conscious again, watching him stand above her, feeling his eyes
on her. (So intense! Did her never smile?)
At last he knelt beside her, took her left wrist in his hands and
raised it high above her head. She couldn't see how he tied it,
but she felt him wrap something soft about her wrist before
stretching her arm up and out and securing it to something at floor
level. When he did the same with her right wrist she strained to
watch him, but she couldn't really see anything. Her apprehension
increased momentarily when he reached for her right ankle, extended
her leg wide, and tied it tightly, but when he tied her left ankle
she resigned herself to helplessness and found that she trusted
him. When he rose and gazed down at her the open vulnerability of
her spreadeagled position resurrected her nervousness, but she
found she was excited to be so exposed to him and so helpless to
prevent him from using her as he wished.
She couldn't believe his words! Not move? The demand seemed
absurd. But she remembered how fierce the whip looked and steeled
herself to be still.
He allowed her to wait for a few minutes, knowing any delay would
increase her anxiety; he was almost right. While he paused, her
mind was most busy.
The whip had frightened her. She had enough experience to know
that the control she craved would be a silly game unless her
partner carried through with her punishment. She knew that some
pain was necessary; without genuine pain her fears would be mere
affectations. She knew that love-making was most pleasurable for
her when gentleness was mixed with roughness. She enjoyed all
the passions, but what she enjoyed most was a climax experienced in
a milieus of masculine control, with just enough terror to keep
her excited ("interested" was how she usually described it).
She feared the whip. Yet, she knew he would use it on her; he had
to keep her honest. It was one thing to submit to a spanking -- it
hurt, but it was an intimate, sexual hurt. If he were to control
her, he must punish her; the spanking wasn't genuine punishment.
The whip would be. Despite her fear, she was resigned to feel the
lash --it was the inevitable price she had to pay to make her
experience valid. She hoped she'd take it well. (Hmmm. Was
she more afraid of embarrassment than pain?)
Her thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly cupped both her
breasts in his hands and squeezed harshly. Her initial gasp was
soon followed by a throaty moan. He released the pressure and took
hold of her nipples. He rolled them slowly between his thumbs and
forefingers before beginning to pinch. The pinches were applied
very lightly initially, but gradually over the space of several
minutes he applied increased force.
This was not a novel experience for her; she loved having men play
with her nipples. It excited her when they rolled her tits and she
enjoyed the discomfort that accompanied light pinches. But the
pressure of his fingers now started to exceed the levels she
enjoyed. The arousal was as strong as ever, but the discomfort
was turning into pain, pain of such a nature that she found
herself simultaneously wishing it would end and wanting it to
continue. He continued to pinch harder. The pain was over-
whelming. Her moans turned to cries. She tossed her head from
side to side and screamed for him to stop.
He responded not with any release of pressure, but by pulling on
her nipples, thus lifting and distending her breasts. She howled.
She begged and pleaded with him to stop. He held her nipples
tightly.
Suddenly he released his grip and again cupped her breasts in his
hands, this time quite gently. He could feel her swollen nipples
digging into his palms. Her cries quickly subsided. Her nipples
still throbbed, but the pain was no longer excessive. She allowed
herself to relax and began to enjoy his touch.
Slowly he lifted his palms from her breasts so that only his finger
tips remained in contact. Then, very slowly, he resumed tracing
lazy circles, this time on her breasts instead of around them. She
found that the sharp pains had faded to a dull ache while his light
touch was reawakening her desire.
Gradually his fingertips traced a spiral centered on her nipples.
His fingers at last reached her aureolas and she felt the sides of
his fingers brush against the sides of her nipples. The touch
thrilled her and she wondered if he was going to torment her
nipples again. She found that she both craved and feared that he
would. Indeed, she was disappointed when his fingers began to
trace an outward spiral.
His fingers were moving less slowly now, but slowly enough that it
teased and frustrated her. In time the spiral took his fingertips
off her breasts entirely and they moved around them in an expanding
spiral. This time he did not keep circling her breasts with his
fingers. Rather, as they moved around the outsides of her breasts
they continued down her sides. The touch of his fingers on her
ribcage was almost tickling, but their intended direction kept he
mind on possible destinations.
His hands reached her hips before moving centrally. His fingertips
moved over her belly and then very lightly brushed her pubic hair
before skipping down to plant themselves on her legs, just above
her knees.
The same feather touch now made long, slow strokes upward along her
inner thighs. These strokes were repeated over and over again in
the most frustrating manner; each caress ended higher on her thighs
than its predecessor until his fingertips almost, but not quite,
reached her crotch.
She remembered his order not to move, but she couldn't help her-
self. Soon she was contorting herself in an effort to thrust her
pussy against his hands. He anticipated all of her movements and
thoroughly enjoyed teasing her in this fashion. When her motion
became excessive, he pinched the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
She squealed appropriately and dampened her movements.
He resumed stroking her legs, but varied the touch and direction to
keep her aroused. Finally he allowed one fingertip to touch her
perineum, most tentatively, and then move forward along the outer
edges of her labia. She seemed to sigh with relief, but what
relief there was short-lived. Soon his fingers were
titillating her vagina with repeated light strokes.
He kept his fingers away from her clitoris, but continued to tease
and arouse her by varying the speed and locus of his touches. Once
he started to insert one finger into her, but only for a fraction
of the first joint. She reacted by redoubling her movements only
to find his touches completely withdrawn.
The sudden lack of contact drove her wild. It never occurred to
her that she might be about to feel the whip so consumed with
desire was she. Instead she alternately begged him to take her, or
when there was no response, cursed him thoroughly.
When he finally touched her again it was a warm, moist probe that
suddenly touched her left nipple. She knew immediately that it was
his tongue that slowly circled and throbbed against her tit. Then
she felt him close his lips on the nipple, thrilled as he sucked
it, and gasped when his teeth started to close on it. The bite
was not nearly as painful as the earlier pinches, but it scared
her. Her fear vanished when his mouth slowly moved from her left
to her right breast and repeated the entire process.
His lips now kissed her between her breasts and then moved slowly
down the center of her abdomen. The kissing and licking continued
all the way to her pubis. There he withdrew contact and she feared
a replay of the teasing pattern he'd used with his hands. Instead,
his hands took hold of her hips and a moment later she felt the tip
of his tongue prod the hood of her clit.
His tongue was no less teasing, however, and she screamed in
frustration as it moved between her labia, almost but not quit
penetrating her. He repeated this many times, always at a
different pace, but never fast enough to satisfy her. She found
herself getting higher and higher, knowing a frustration that was
exasperating. She found her voice again and begged, then demanded
that he satisfy her, as though she were in any position to demand
anything.
Then, with the now usual suddenness, his tongue was withdrawn. His
hands slid down her legs to her ankles. When he slackened but did
not remove the bindings on her ankles she knew she was soon to be
fucked.
His hands returned to her hips but then slid under her buttocks.
He grasped her buttocks tightly and forced her to rotate her hips
forward. Moments later she felt another warm probe on her
clitoris and she wondered whether it was his cock or his tongue.
When it slid between her labia she knew it was his cock and she
tried to thrust herself onto it. His hands tightened on her
buttocks and thwarted her movement, but she did not have a long
wait. Seconds later he thrust himself into her.
He held himself deep inside her for a moment before slowly with-
drawing. He paused again when only the head of his cock was within
her, then thrust inward again. He repeated this action several
times, varying only the length of each pause. Then he gradually
started to speed up his movements.
She moved to meet his thrusts and was only a little surprised when
his hands relaxed their grip to allow her. He was pumping at a
rapid pace now and she was very close to climaxing. He started to
spank her, each smack timed to match a deep thrust of his cock. She
was close to bursting then and lost herself in the exquisite
sensations. When his cock exploded, he bent forward and bit one
nipple. She responded with a starburst of passion.
Later she would try to remember details and fail totally. All she
could recall was the strange mixture of pleasure and pain that
carried her into ecstasy. She wondered if the blindfold inhibited
memory.
When he released her his manner hadn't changed. He showed her the
whip and told her she had much to learn. Then he left her standing
again in the circle of light. His voice told her she could dress
and leave. He also told her that her next session would severely
test her.
As she dressed she examined herself and found that she had a dark
bruise where his spanks had landed. Her left nipple also seemed
discolored. Despite those vivid reminders, she didn't want to
leave. When the spotlights faded and she could see the walls of
the room, she saw that she was alone. The fire had almost died out
and the cabinet that held the whip was again locked. She slowly
walked down the corridor and out the door.
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