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Tears
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.
A title ? Umm... let's call it "Tears".
alc
types-a-dividing-line-cause-wizvax-will-cut-off-a-row-of-dashes-:)
Tears
He looked at me, his eyes burning with anger. "You should NOT have
said that," he snapped.
I dropped to my knees before him, kissing his legs gently. "I am
sorry, My Love," I said, taking his hands and covering his fingers
with kisses, hoping to be able to make everything all right again,
but sure inside that, this time, I had truly gone to far.
He withdrew his hands, and sat looking at me. I looked up, met his
eyes for a single second, and quickly averted my gaze towards the
ground once again. He looked at me for a moment more, what was
possibly the longest moment of my life thus far, and then reached
down and gently stroked my hair. He leaned forward in his chair,
taking my chin in his hands and pulling my face up to meet his
eyes. "This is the first time you have truly angered me, my dear."
I looked at him, seeing the lines of thought on his forehead, the
slight smile on his lips, and the look in his eyes, slightly
softened, but still angry none the less. I looked down again,
staring at the fabric making up the knee of his pants, trying to
draw my chin free, and to think of anything but what he was
thinking. He drew my chin up again, holding it firmly. "And look at
me when I'm speaking to you. You have already got yourself in
quite enough trouble for one afternoon."
I looked up at his face, still kneeling, my hands resting on my
knees and shaking ever-so-slightly. I know the fear and nervousness
I was feeling were showing in my eyes, and I know he could plainly
see that I _was_ afraid. No, fear is not quite the right word, more
anticipation, a feeling of unknown, but of excitement. It was
giving me butterflies in my stomach and making my mouth feel quite
dry. I swallowed, trying to shake the feeling, unsuccessfully.
He stood up, not meeting my eyes, and moved across the room to the
chesterfield, seating himself in the middle of the three cushions.
"Come here." I got up, moved quickly across the room, kneeling
submissively before him once again, and taking his hands in mine
and kissing them over and over, feeling the start of tears brimming
in my eyes, and blinking them back, knowing that I could never let
them fall. He pulled back his hands, and stroked my chin gently.
"Very good," he said, "I would have been most displeased if I had
had to ask you once again to look me in the eye. _Always_ look me
in the eye." I closed my eyes for a second, fighting the tears that
were still there (Why ? I had no reason to cry...), and then met
his eyes once again, wanting more then anything to be able to look
away. Those eyes of his knew me to well.
He suddenly leaned forward, quickly and deftly undoing the buttons
on my blouse, unclasping my bra, and grasping a nipple between two
of his fingers, twisting it with a steady, but not too painful
pressure. I bit my lip, suppressing a groan, and closed my eyes for
a brief second. When I opened them, his face was inches from mine.
"And," he added, "No matter what, _don't_ bite your lips. I want to
hear every sound you make tonight, or you will regret it." He
twisted my nipple slightly more, making me wince and groan
slightly, then released it, cupping my breast in his hand, gently
running his fingers and thumb over the sensitive skin. "Turn
around."
I turned slowly, feeling his hands sliding over my skin as I did,
in a gentle, loving, caress. I was now kneeling, facing away from
him, my back to the chesterfield, leaning close enough to feel the
heat from his body. His hands were at my neck, sliding the clothes
off my upper body, exposing my breasts to the room. I could see out
reflection in the glass of the fireplace, him with his eyes closed,
a slight smile on his lips, gently caressing my skin as he freed my
breasts, and me, looking fearful and expectant. Perhaps, though,
since he was smiling he was not near as mad as I had initially
thought. Maybe....
He placed his hands under my bent elbows, lifting me up and back,
so I was sitting on his lap and leaning on his body. He slowly
caressed my breasts, running his hands over the nipples, across the
tender skin underneath, just the slightest caresses, using only his
fingertips and causing almost-tickles to ripple through my body. I
felt my nipples getting harder, and looking down, I could see them
getting slowly more and more erect with his caresses.
He began kissing my neck, his hands pressing my breasts into my
body, pinning me against him. He sucked on my neck, my shoulders,
biting gently, causing me to moan and squirm in his arms. He kissed
his way up my neck, finding and sucking hard on my earlobe. He
started to blow gently into my ear, causing me to moan audibly,
and, with his hands, caught my nipples between his thumb and
forefinger, massaging them gently. I moaned, and pressed my breasts
against his hands, squirming in his lap, feeling his warm breath on
my ears and neck, enjoying the sensation.
He stopped, pinching my nipples harder, eliciting a groan of pain,
and whispered in my ear, "Did you think it would be that easy, my
pet ? Did you think I would forgive you simply because you
requested it ? No, my pet, it is not that easy." He squeezed my
nipples harder, pulling on them. "No, my pet, it is not that easy."
He unfastened my jeans, pulling them and my underwear down to my
knees, and in one deft move, turned me over his knee, exposing my
buttocks to him. He held my hands behind my back, grasping both my
wrists in one of his, not allowing me the slightest reign of
movement. I could feel the scratchy fabric of the chesterfield
against my nipples, I could feel it rubbing my cheeks and face as
I pressed into the cushions, trying to avoid looking around. The
old I-can't-see-you, you-can't-see-me theory, Yeah, right.
I turned my head to the right, away from the chesterfield, and once
again caught a glimpse of myself in the fireplace. My body was bent
at a rather uncomfortable looking angle, and my arms were pinned
with one of his behind my back. His other hand was resting on my
legs, and I could see my jeans rumpled around my knees. He met my
eyes in the mirror for the briefest second, until I broke his gaze,
turning my head away again, and pressing my tears into the cushion.
I felt him release my hands, running his hands lower, pulling off
my jeans and underwear, leaving me naked, save for my socks, lying
over his lap, in a rather ungraceful manner. I heard the last of my
clothes hitting the floor, and felt him once again take my wrists
in his hand, pinning them painfully. his other hand began to gently
caress my buttocks, tickling gently, and dipping forward between my
legs in almost-caresses every so often. I felt that hand move up my
side and under my body, finding my breast, and giving the nipple
another gentle tug, making me groan into the chesterfield again. He
leaned over, gently kissing my back, and whispered, "What do you
think I should do now, my love ?"
He rolled my nipple between his fingers, harder now, and then let
it go and pulled away from me, his hand gently resting on my
buttocks again, pressing hard enough to let me know that I was not
going anywhere for a while yet. Not until he was finished, at any
rate....
He squeezed my bottom. "What should I do now, my pet ? Do you have
an opinion on that ? _What_ is your opinion on that?"
I took a deep breath. "Whatever pleases you, my love," I said, my
body tensing.
"Very good answer," he murmured, patting my buttocks gently, "Very
good indeed. You have learned something already." He brought his
hand down harder, in a slight slap, making me jump slightly. "How
do you feel about being spanked, my pet ? Do you think that would
be a suitable punishment ?"
I gulped, pressing my face harder into the cushion and squeezing my
eyes tightly closed. This was new. I took a deep breath, hearing
the shudder as I released the air, my mind racing at a million
miles a minute. How DID I feel about this ? It is all part of the
game, I suppose, but it brings back memories of when I was younger,
when I did something I was not allowed to do, and got in trouble
for it - making me feel like a disgraced child. On the other hand,
it was terribly arousing, lying like this. A strange mix of
feelings. Definitely suitably chastising. He slapped again,
snapping me out of my reverie, and asked once again, "Is it a
suitable punishment, my pet?"
I tensed my muscles, biting my lip, and answered, "Yes, my love."
He massaged my buttocks with his hand, gently, caressingly. "Good.
I think so too." And then he began to gently smack me, not hard
enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to be felt. I squirmed
under his hand, trying to get away, and pressed my face into the
cushion, trying to make myself disappear. "Stay still," he said,
giving me a slightly harder smack to get the point across. "Just
relax, try to feel it, don't worry about anything, just feel it,
and remember WHY you are feeling it."
I turned my face to the side, and opened my eyes, blinking back a
few stray tears. I took a deep breath, and tried to get myself to
relax, to get rid of the hesitancy I was feeling. Feel it. I could
feel the cushion against my face, my breasts pressed against the
scratchiness of it. I could feel his legs, my body resting against
his, I could feel his penis pressing into my hip, I could feel his
breathing, slow, relaxed, compared to my rapid breaths. I could
feel my legs, once again against the chesterfield, spread barely
enough to let the cool air of the room between them. No, it really
was not all that bad - all things considered.
I looked up, meeting his eyes, and he reached over, stroking my
cheek, wiping a tear or two. I blinked, and smiled slightly. He
smiled softly in return, and began slapping me gently, breaking
our gaze.
He smacked me again and again, varying the placement of his palm,
very gently, though, just enough to be felt, but not really enough
to cause any pain. The feeling I was getting was a nice tingly
sensation, kind of like the feeling of a cool rain on sunburned
skin - it hurts, but in a refreshing kind of way. It was not a
painful type of pain, it was an awakening type of pain, making me
squirm and try to get away.
He kept spanking me, moving his hand around, so that he hit me all
over both of my buttocks, including my hips, the tops of my thighs,
sometimes catching the bottom of my cheeks and pressing them
upwards with the smack. I was biting my lips, breathing hard, and
trying very hard not to let any effect this was all having on me
show. I had suddenly become _very_ conscious of the fact that I
could feel the front of my bare body pressing against him.
Then he stopped. I let the breath I had been holding go, and took
a few more shuddery breaths to compose myself. He began to run his
hands across my buttocks, caressingly, slowly - funny, I don't
remember then being that cool when we started... I glanced over my
shoulder to see what he was doing, and saw that he had a slight
smile on his lips, and he was looking at our reflection in the
fireplace glass. So he had noticed that too, had he...
He stopped stroking, and gave me a friendly squeeze, "How are you
doing, my pet ? Do you think I should stop now ?" He looked over at
me, meeting my eyes, and smiled at me. I bit my lip, and laughing,
said, "Well, that's not exactly my decision to make, is it ?"
He brought his palm down hard on my behind, making my whole body
react and tense up. I could feel the outline of his hand print, as
I'm sure he could see it, and that slap took it beyond the
pleasurable pain I had been feeling, and just plain hurt. *sigh* So
much for making jokes to keep myself calm - that was obviously not
a good tactic in _this_ situation. I felt his hand settle on my
thigh, and he asked again, "Do you think I should stop now ?"
I bit my lip and swallowed, mumbling, "I'm sorry my love, I didn't
mean.." A second slap cut me off, raising a groan of pain as his
hand struck me. He asked again, "Do you think I should stop now ?"
I took a deep breath, blinking back the tears, and mumbled,
"Whatever you decide, my love."
"Better," he said, slapping me hard again, "But I couldn't quite
hear you. Speak up." I swallowed a sob, and, my voice trembling,
said, "As you wish, my love." He ran his hand gently over and
around my buttocks, "Very good. Do you think you can remember the
correct response next time, my pet ?"
"Yes, my love," I said, clearing my throat, and blinking away the
remainder of the tears that had been collecting in my eyes for the
past few minutes, trying to gain back some of the composure I had
lost. Once again, he began to slap me, harder now, hard enough to
leave hand prints, making my behind tingle. His palms felt suddenly
like ice, and my skin like fire. He was varying the time and the
force of the slaps - I never knew what was going to come next, nor
when it was going to strike. The longer this went on, the more
sensitive my skin got, and the closer to breaking I got. And with
each slap, I was getting more and more determined not to let him
see that I had broken. I was breathing hard, in long gasps, and
every muscle in my body felt like it was tensed to it's capacity -
my fists were clenched, pressing against his hand, and I could
feel my teeth aching from trying to keep from crying out.
He stopped then, and brought his hand to rest on my thigh once
again. I gulped, feeling his fingers dip between my legs, and slide
through the moisture that had been slowly gathering there all
evening. "Are you enjoying yourself, my pet ? You seem to be..."
I turned my head to the side, glancing at him, and released a deep,
shuddery breath. "Yes, my love, if it pleases you." I could feel my
whole body shaking with tension, and I could hear every beat of my
heart.
He moved his finger gently back and forth a few times, making me
moan with pleasure and bury my face in the cushions once again.
He shifted his grip on my hands, lacing one of his fingers through
mine, and gently bent and kissed my shoulder. He sat back up, and
withdrew his hand, wiping the wetness on my buttocks, making me
feel even more than before the heat of my own skin, and the
contrast of the cool air against it. I moaned again, pressing
myself against his lap, wondering how much longer this was going to
go on.
He chuckled, and rubbed my sore buttocks, then began slapping
again, not as had as before, but hard enough to hurt, given the
heightened sensitivity of my skin. Every now and then, he stopped
slapping, and gently touched my between my legs, making me torn
between moaning with pleasure and groaning in frustration. I was
squirming constantly now, trying to get myself closer for the
caresses and further away for the slaps, my breath coming in ragged
gasps.
He stopped smacking me again, and brought his hand to rest so that
it was spread across the tops of my legs, and said, "You are
squirming too much, my pet. Please stay still." With that, he
pushed my legs a small bit further apart, and began to gently
caress me, making me moan, and, yes indeed, squirm. He slapped me
hard. "I told you _not_ to move, my pet."
I choked back a sob, feeling the first tear escape from my eye.
"I'm sorry, my love, but..." He slapped me again.
"I didn't ask for explanations, my pet. I only asked that you do
not move." He once again placed his hand between my legs, finding
my clitoris and gently moving in circles around it. I moaned. He
pressed harder, letting one of his other fingers slip inside of
me. I moaned again, more of a sob then a moan, and pressed back
against his hand, unable to keep myself still no matter how much I
wanted to. The tension that had been gathering in my body was
screaming for a release, and I _needed_ it.
He slapped again, harder. "That was your last chance, my pet.
Perhaps next time, you will be able to listen better." And with
that, he began to slap me with more force then he had used thus
far, again and again, holding my hands firmly, pulling them upwards
at such an angle that to move too much caused me pain. I groaned,
fighting back the sobs, having already lost the battle to keep back
the tears.
I could feel his body lifting off the chesterfield with each blow,
and I knew I could not keep from crying much longer. He stopped,
suddenly, and went back to rubbing my clitoris, bring me within
inches of an orgasm, then stopping, and starting to slap me again.
I groaned and twisted in his lap, ignoring the pain in my arms,
burying my face in the cushions to muffle the sobs that I was not
able to keep inside any longer.
Then he stopped, caressing my buttocks for a moment before letting
go of my arms, turning me over, and pulling me up into his arms.
I rested my head on his shoulder, and feeling no need to hide
anything any more, sobbed quietly into his chest, relaxing as I
did. He brushed the sweaty hair from my face, kissing my temple
gently, and held me close in his arms....
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