Thank you!.. and some ramblings

Thank you to all my readers. Thank you to everyone who ever commented on my stories. I have been gone for so long (one year, come to think of it) but I've missed writing. And most probably I wouldn't have missed it this much had I not received any comments from you, folks.

Apologies for not being able to comment back - as I usually do when I'm online.

Anyway, I was re-reading "The Ride" from my stories because I was curious what the story was about - I had completely forgotten. Then I found a link to my story, from Pretty Perversions, belonging to Dirty Little Angel. :) And the subject in my story plus Angel's post really got me thinking again about pain and how far we would go to release it.

I'll be back on this subject soon enough: I haven't finished what I had to say about it. My life lately brought me to the point where I see no point in falling anymore. I reached a point where I am not scared about my future or about what I believe in or what I like. I don't care anymore about what people say. I feel bold and at peace with myself.

So I am ready to open the Pandora's box and let out all those scary ideas - all those thoughts that some people are scared to admit they have. I am not scared of admitting anything. Ignoring does not make anything go away. And hiding does not make you a better person. We are all sick in a way or another and we all have our little dirty secrets we hide from the rest of the world. What annoys me most is the faces some people pull when they meet others who openly admit their 'sick' ideas. As if they were perfect. Their attitude makes me wanna puke. :)

Megan: Rewind... Now Fast Forward (M/F)

I was still hoping to polish it. However, I have to be honest with you and myself: I might not be doing this for quite some time. So I'll share it with you as it is. :)

~~~~

Rewind... Now Fast Forward

(Megan, M/F)

Eyes half closed, Greg inhaled the thick smoke of his Camel cigarette. By no means was he tired of waiting; He was just eager to know the things which had happened behind the closed doors of the second bedroom.

The living room of the three-room apartment he and his friends had rented in Paris was a mish-mash of old and new: the narrow yet high windows, the classic sill, the squeaking parquet-covered floor, the high ceiling and the flamboyant looking chandelier were all from the mid-30s. But the air was filled with the smell of new furniture. He could have seen the pitch-black sky, if only the drapes had been pulled aside. Yet the windows were shut. He wanted them shut, in a futile attempt to muffle out the honks or the cars outside, the cacophony of the night traffic. From the corner of the room, a tall lamp’s obscure light was melting softly in the darkness of the living room. From the other corner, the 42 inch screen Sony was pouring a rainbow of mixed strong colors over the walls and the furniture, over his face, into his tired eyes. He could pick up bits and ends of conversation from the variety of noises the TV was broadcasting.

He didn’t hear the creak of the door opening, but with the corner of his eye he saw Ryan stepping in. Ryan was not the strongly built kind of guy, but something in his attitude, in the way he moved and talked and looked at people, made him more imposing than a 6 feet tall American football player. He slid inside like a cat, stepping on his tiptoes, and went straight for his pack of Parliament Lights on the table. His tensed shoulders relaxed.

“How is she?” – Greg questioned, pushing the lighter and the ashtray in Ryan’s direction.

“She fell asleep.” The lighter’s flame flickered as he tilted his head to light the cigarette. “Why didn’t you go out with the rest?”

“I wasn’t in the mood really…”

Ryan sat down and exhaled the smoke towards the floor. The thin grey line lost its contour, spreading in the air. With two bony fingers, Ryan massaged his forehead up and down. He felt the beginning of a headache building between his eyes. His neck cracked and he stretched it from side to side. “So what the fuck happened?” – Ryan asked in a low tired voice.

“Sorry we let them get out of hand,” Greg said, rotating constantly his glass of Sprite on the table. He felt somewhat guilty for not overseeing the outcome. “When you were in the shower Alice and Meg had a fight again – the crap with who is stronger from the two of them. More like teasing, really. They were playfully chasing each other with their belts… And we let them, because it seemed like they were having fun, you know? Yeah, I know I’m guilty: I know Meg well enough to realize she wasn’t actually playing. You know how her eyes sparkle. And you know the face she makes when she pretends to be fine but she isn’t. And you know that all she wants is to get back at you but she doesn’t know how to do it. I mean you’ve seen it before, right?…”

Ryan nodded. Of course he knew. He was teasing her about that.

“Well, Alice kind of slipped a stronger stroke on Meg’s legs and even though Alice apologized Meg was seeing red so she hit back. And the next second they were at each other’s throats, legs and kicks flying, and on the floor, punching one another like two mad cats. No bites or scratches like you would expect from girls, you know? That was shocking… Just fists. And Neil and I couldn’t separate them. I mean Meg went so berserk that I couldn’t take her off Alice. So I had to call you.” He stopped to play with his cigarette. “Sorry…”

Ryan pulled a face. “Fuck, you’re dumb… All of you. I am somewhat blaming you because you know her and you shouldn’t have let this stupid game go so far. You know her!”

“I know, man… But we couldn’t control her. And lately I don’t even know what to do or what to say anymore… She’s overstressed with the job and the exams and her family and money and all that. You can’t even make a joke anymore without her getting mad. She takes things personal. She’s never been this bad before.” As much as he wanted to make it sound like he was pointing out a fact, he still sounded as if he was complaining.

Ryan nodded. “We are her friends and we are supposed to help her. She’ll be ok if we help her.”

“Of course I would help her. But I felt powerless… like that time I called you to come pick her up from the club. If she has a drink or something, you can’t reason with her anymore. She’s gone wild. And the only person she listens to and fears is you. And even if she says she doesn’t care what you think or say, she does. Man… I just hope you are aware of it.”

Ryan nodded. He was aware of it. He’s been aware of it for a few months now. As aware of it as he was of his own feelings for her.

“It’s late. I think I’ll go to bed. Is she gonna be ok tomorrow?” Greg asked, slowly standing up.

Ryan smiled. “In which way?”

“You tell me…”

“Well, emotionally she will be fine by noon. Physically, she won’t be able to sit down without remembering tonight for about a week. At least.”

Greg couldn’t suppress his own smile. “You two are mad.”

Ryan laughed. “I know. But we’ve never claimed to be normal, either of us. Just tell the others not to make any comments about it tomorrow. I don’t want her pouting for the rest of the week, ok?”

“Of course. Ok man, I’m off to bed. Night.”

Ryan reached for the pack and lit another cigarette. He felt the need of cool fresh air. He sat and smoked his cigarette in the open window, gazing from the fourth floor of the apartment to the live city below. He thought of tonight and he smiled. Something clicked in his brain. It clicked in a wrong sort of way, but he didn’t mind. He felt his erection yet he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop it. Not this time. Not again.

Rewind…

Water dripping from his wet hair on his damp t-shirt, bare feet, jeans pulled on without having had time to dry himself – Ryan was knocked into reality by the speed of the events: a second ago he was taking his hot shower, then Greg was violently knocking on the bathroom door and now – now, he was staring at Meg’s figure sitting on Alice and trying to free one of her hands from Alice’s clutched hands. Rage was radiating from both sides but on Meg’s side blind anger eased out from every pore. He could picture her hammering a fist in Alice’s mouth without thinking twice. It was a deja-vu from his high school days when such weekly sights were the boys’ delight. But he’s never seen girls at it.

Neil and Greg were trying to separate them with the attitude of two pussies running around and screaming. Ryan didn’t think; he acted. It took him two seconds to evaluate the situation and half a second to bend over Meg’s back, reach from the sides and seize both her wrists. He twisted them. “Let go,” he ordered. His calm order relaxed Alice. Neil got in between them taking hold of Alice’s hands, making sure there would be no kicks once the hold was broken.

“Let go of her hands, I said,” Ryan lowered his voice even more, to an almost threatening level. Louder than a whisper, he spoke right into Meg’s right ear, bending even more on top of her.

Her chest was rising and falling fast, as if she couldn’t breath. Ignoring the pain of her skin crippling under his hold, she was twisting her hands trying to free herself. As one of her hands slid out of his lock, the hand turned into a fist, and the elbow violently hit back into Ryan’s stomach. The boy tensed his muscles too late and he felt the acute pain of not being able to breathe for a few silent seconds. The same seconds in which his own vision was covered in red and his jaw tightened. He lost his mood for negotiating or trying to be gentle, not to hurt her. He seized her hands with all his power and caught them in one hand. Two fingers grabbed her ear.

“If you hit me again, I’ll punch your teeth out, got it?” He said, recovering his breath.

“Go fuck yourself. Let go! Let go I said! Fuck… off…!” She tried to escape but the burn in her earlobe restrained her movement. She found herself forced to stand up, while her prey, Alice, was walking away safely, wiping a drip of blood from her broken lip.

Meg’s leg went up and hit Ryan’s hard. Ryan’s eyes closed in pain but no sound came out. Teeth gritted, he turned to the rest of the party: “You guys wanted to go out. I suggest you do now. Greg, stay if you want. Neil, please take Alice out. Sorry about this.” Another hit caught his muscle hard enough to numb his whole leg. He prayed he could stop his anger before he would kill her.

He didn’t remember if or when the others left the room. He had one focus only: Meg. Still keeping her hands locked he dragged her toward the bedroom. He couldn’t tell how many punches, hits, and bites he got before he dragged her past the bedroom door: his own anger made him immune to them all.

“You are so fucking dead,” he informed her, with one hand turning the key inside the key lock and isolating themselves from the rest. His fingers entangled in her hair. He brought her face close to his. “Look at me.” She shut her eyes, pouting. “Look at me, I said.” He pulled harder on her hair. She whined, trying to hit back. He put more pressure on her wrists causing her to try to twist in pain. He didn’t allow her. “You fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” She opened her eyes. Pain was written all over them. She was on the verge of crying but she tried to control herself. He locked her gaze. His words were as dark and threatening as his look: “You try to hit me one more time, I’ll snap your wrists. Got it?” She swallowed hard but didn’t answer. “Did you get it, I asked? And you fucking answer my questions when I ask you something. Or else, it’s bad for you. Really bad. Did you get it?”

“Yes,” she retorted, anger in her voice. It was almost a shout.

He pulled more on her hair. She cried.

“I don’t like your tone. Let’s try again. Yes or no?”

“Yessss,” she whined trying to escape the pain.

“Fine.” – he said. “You want to rebel? Fine by me.” He pushed her towards the bed and began unbuckling his black belt. “Then you should be able to face the consequences accordingly.”

She stepped back until she was three steps away from him, her back resting on the wall.

“I don’t have to face any fucking consequences.”

“With me, you have. Get your ass here,” he pointed with the belt toward the spot in front of him. The tone was like ice: too calm to be soothing; it raised goose bumps on her arms. She shook her head no. “Why?” – she asked.

“Because I’m gonna tan your ass blue, that’s why. Get your ass here.”

She shook her head no again. Her limbs felt like jelly.

“Bring you fucking ass here, Megan. If you make me come there to get you, it will be really bad for you, trust me. So start unbuttoning those jeans already and come here.”

Her eyes shut and tears gathered in their corners. She allowed her body to slide down along the wall, until she was a crouched figure on the floor, knees clasped to her chest. Ryan walked to her without additional words, seized her ear again, dragging her up. She cried in pain and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard, hoping this would convince him to let go. He didn’t. He threw the belt on the bed and with one hand proceeded to unbutton her jeans. Her hands moved their attention to the buttons. The grip on her ear burnt even more. She sobbed. The hand pulled the jeans to her knees; he threw her small body face down on the bed. She turned around and tried to crawl away. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, until she laid face down on the bed, head in the pillow, aligned on the side of the bed. He had to fight her again to bring both her wrists to the small of her back, then pin her down in that position. Her body arched back as she felt him reaching for the belt uncoiled at her feet.

It was hell. The pain was hell. Her inability to escape was hell. Her crying in front of him was hell. And she hated that she had reached the point to beg him to stop. By the time Ryan had finished his job she had probably apologized even for the fact that she was born. And nothing had made any difference. He had freed her hands in the end. She didn’t bother to cover her burning ass anymore, but crossed them in front of her and buried her face in the sleeves of her polo so she could muffle her cries.

When it was over she didn’t move.

He threw the belt back on the bed and simply sat there watching her sobbing. She had no intention of standing up.

“Lift up,” he said softly reaching for the top of her jeans. She raised her hips and he pulled her jeans completely down, slowly, lifting one leg at a time.

He opened her backpack and groped for the wet napkins. It took him a full minute to find them, buried under make-up items, lens cases, keys, and god-knows what else. He took one out and handed it to her. She took it gingerly without looking at him. He waited patiently for her to blow her nose and clean her tear-stained cheeks and eyes.

“Do you want me to cover you? Are you cold?” – he whispered.

She shook her head and turned her head on the pillow towards him. He sat himself on the floor next to the bed. Her hand reached out from under the pillow, looking for his. When he took it, she squeezed it hard.

Fast Forward…

It wouldn’t have happened, if it weren’t for her move. Unknowingly, she opened the Pandora box when her warm hand had reached under the blanket looking for the comfort of his hold.

His mind had been silenced. He felt the heat radiating from her small tired body. The smell of her skin, of Brazilian coconut mixed with her flesh’s natural scent. His finger touched her nape, stroking her skin. She let out a sigh, as if in a dream, and turned her head towards him. His lips got closer, as if testing. He could have kissed her forehead, like you’d do to a sister, but her quick breathing in his neck caused the synapses of the neurons to shut down. His lips touched hers just once. Yet it wasn’t enough. She pushed closer for his touch. Her lips parted. His tongue slid in madly, in hunger.

His hand clasped her neck, the thumb running up and down her jugular. A primitive instinct to cause her pain, to punish her, and to love her mixed together. His other hand grabbed her round bottom, squeezing the flesh. He was aching to fuck her; he could see nothing before and beyond the moment. “Turn around,” he whispered in her ear. It was a harsh whisper, almost a groan. Almost an order. She obeyed and he helped her roll on her tummy. She twisted her head to one side, so their tongues could meet again.

He threw away his boxers and slid on top of her, locking her neck with his arm. Softly biting on his forearm, she hid her deep moans.

He mouthed again the words in her ear: “Open your legs.” He was hurting to fuck her. He realized he’d been like this for longer than he could remember but he had always tried to hide it. He had always tried to ignore the feeling.

He pressed himself against her moisture. As he slid inside of her for the first time she tightened her grip on his forearm. For how long she hasn’t been fucked, he wondered. She was tight. But wet like hell too. He rocked inside of her slowly first, listening to her small noises. Then he pounded harder and deeper, each thrust pushing her small body in the bed. His hand hurt from her bite as she tried to keep silent.

He pulled out and went for her ass. “Relax. And open a bit more,” he said again. She obeyed. And he forced his hard cock in her tight asshole. It was her first time. She almost screamed, as pain took over her. She contracted her muscles instead of relaxing. He was hurting himself now. She tried to stand up. He pinned her down instead and pushed again and again, slowly.

She felt tears gathering in her eyes from the intense pain. “No, no, please… Please take it out. Take it out.” Her hands tried to push him away but he seized them and locked her in the small of her back. “Shhh… Relax, don’t tense. It will pass in a second.” He wiped her tears.

He paused for almost a full minute then pushed again. “Does it still hurt?” She shook her head “no”. He fucked her ass hard, taking small slow breaks not to ruin the fun before any of them would want to. His fingers went front, to her clit. She had raised her ass higher in delight. She came violently twice. She shook in his arms and he went on fucking her until he saw her exhausted and felt himself hurting. His sperm filled her up. He left himself fall on her, breathing hard. She turned her head around again and he kissed her. He had no idea what the heck was going to happen to the two of them from now on.

Spanking in the Movies

Hey guys,

Ok ok. I've been gone for some time... Actually I am working on two stories and neither are coming alive too fast. :) Sorry about that.

However, I have this little treat for you, thanks to someone called MovieSpank. :)



Enjoy!

Megan: Not Sick (M/F)

Not Sick

(M/F)

Copyright: KayleyBlue, 2008

Hidden in her chair, shaking with fever, watched by three pairs of eyes - she absolutely hated the situation. If there had ever been a time when she had to keep it cool, this had to be it. She was this close to shouting and swirling something in the girls' direction. She would, but she couldn't; If she moved too much she was going to faint. Or even worse - shake, as if determined to cause an earthquake.

"Meg, please let us take you to a doctor. You're burning."
She shifted her look towards the curly red haired. "I don't need any fucking doctor. Don't you all get it? I'm fine. I caught a cold. Big deal. I'll be all dandy tomorrow."
"No, you're not. Look at how you're shaking." That was Rachel. Meg didn't bother to answer.
"Look, Rachel will drive you..." - The red haired said again, feeling Meg's forehead with the back of her palm. "You have at least 38. I swear."
"Will you stop it already?" Or else she would start shouting and a shouting Meg was as bad as the Katrina.
"You were sick when you came and then you didn't want to put the jacket on last night." It was Jackie's turn. Jackie was her friend. Not her best friend, but a good friend. But Meg had a few ideas of where Jackie could shove her frienship.

And this is when Jackie decided it was time to take control of the situation and went to get help - as if anybody had ever asked for fucking help. Help materialized - as expected - in the form of another very good friend, Ryan. That was Jackie for you: too concerned about others but not enough about herself.

Perfect.

Ryan stared at Megan. She didn't look back, even though his eyes could pierce through her skull. And she avoided him not because she was scared of fainting or shaking too much - she avoided him because you don't fuck around with Ryan. It was a basic rule. Ryan would always be there if she needed him, but Ryan would take none of her nonsense. Besides, she had a clear feeling that this time Ryan would take the girls' side, only because they were three against one. It was not because she was wrong. Being wrong meant that she was sick indeed, which she couldn't be; Her body would not let her down.

"What happened to you?" He stood next to her crouched figure. She could see his black converse sneackers.
"Nothing happened to me. What the fuck happened to all of *you*?" It was a mumble.
"Cut the crap. You're as sick as a dog. And red like hell."
"I am tired. I caught a bit too much sun. Now will you all leave me alone?"

"See what I mean?" - Jackie snapped on her high pitched exasperated tone. "She doesn't want to go to a doctor."
"Jackie, go pack her bags please. I'll take her home. This trip is over for her right now."
"Jackie, you pack my bags and you are dead meat." She took it out on an easier target.
The girl stopped, looking back at Ryan.
"Are you listening to her or to me? Do as I said and I'll take care of her. I'll come in a second to pack mine."
"You're not coming back?" - the red haired one asked, as surprised as always.
Ryan watched Jackie run back to the house. She stopped for a few seconds on the terrace, where the rest of the group was gathered playing cards and drinking, and soon he felt all the eyes turn towards him and Megan.
"Nope. 'Fraid not. " - he said, ignoring the general stare.
"Ok. Then take the brat home and make sure she doesn't do more stupid stuff. Oh... and she had a few tequilla shots earlier today... be careful with the pills for her."
"I have experience, don't worry. Why did you let her drink?"
"Hello, I am still here!" - Meg finally raised her eyes, but not to Ryan - to Eliza. "Stop talking as if I was going anywhere..."

"Here she starts again," Eliza sighed, raising her hands in the air. "Woman, are you out of your minds? Of course you are going."
"No, I am not. End of discussion."

Jackie planted two backpacks next to Ryan's car. "Both ready," she announced, big smile on her face.
"She doesn't want to go," Rachel felt the need to keep Jackie updated.
Still not looking at Ryan, Megan exploded: "Fuck off all of you already! What the fuck? It's my life, my body, I know how I feel. I am not sick!"

There were a few seconds of silence, which at the moment - and given the continous chit-chat - seemed to be measured in light years.
"Can you leave us two alone for a few seconds," Ryan asked, hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, as if you could convince her," Eliza mumbled.
"You have no idea," he smiled.

Meg fought to hide her disconfort, yet she was sure the embarassement was written all over her red face. She wasn't sure why, but she just knew this was not good. She caught a glimpse of Ryan's knee as he sat down, crouched, in front of her.

"Megan, look at me," he said.
"What do you want?" She kept staring at her own sneakers, pulling at the long green blades of grass around her feet.
"Look at me," he repeated, and this time it was almost an order.
Why was she unable to say 'no'? His eyes caught hers. She couldn't sustain his look.
"Has there ever been a time when I didn't keep my promises?"
"What the fuck does it have to do with...?"
"Answer my question." He was too patient. It made her feel small, like a child being scolded. "Have I ever broken my promises?"
"No. So what?"
"Then let me promise you this: if I don't see your ass in that car in 3 minutes, you're in deep trouble. Because you've been looking for trouble for some good time now and today you are overdoing it."
"I am not looking for any trouble!" It was the most rebellious cry she gave in half a year.
The heads turned again towards the two of them.
"Yes, you are, and I promise you that you are gonna get it. Badly. And in front of them." He pointed towards the rest of the gang.

She smirked and locked his eyes. "You are not serious. You don't have the guts in front of the manager!"
He raised his eyebrows. "If you want to find out if I have the guts or not, try me. And by the way" - he said checking his watch - "you still have two minutes." He stood up. "I'm putting the baggage in the car. When I am in the car, I want you in there also. Or else."

He stood up, and went to carry out his plan. In less than a minute, her backpack had landed in the trunk of the car, next to his. Oh, how romatic: She will remember to throw up later. Then without even looking at her, he went to sit in the car. Started the engine even.

She waited. Thirty seconds later Ryan opened the door of the car without looking at her. Fuck, was the only thing that crossed her mind. He was not kidding. Without hurrying, and as naturally as she could, she began walking towards the BMW. He stopped to watch her, amused smile on his face.

Slammed doors was something that he hated so she slammed hers as loudly as she dared to.
"You're really needing it, I see... Really really asking for it..."
Pouting, she sank in her seat.
(Engine still purring in the background.)
He stared at her staring stubbornly outside.
"If anyone has ever deserved a good spanking, that would be you."
She didn't answer. He didn't expect an answer anyway, so he went back to the gears and gas padal.

***

"You'd better not spit that out, Meg!" He watched her grimace as she nibbled on the broccoli.
"I hate it. I hate being forced to eat." The fork landed noisily on the plate. "I want to sleep."
"Not before you eat your food and take your medication."
"No."
"Megan?"
It was a threat.
She wanted to throw something at him. Possibly the plate. Or the fork.
"I am not hungry. Why can't you leave me alone? I am tired. I am not sick! I don't need medicine."
"Eat your food, Megan. "
He sat next to her on the bed.
She pushed the plate aside, lowering herself under the blanket and pulling the pillow over her head. "No" - her voice came mumbled.
"I am not your Mom or Dad or your boyfriend to try to be nice to you, you know? I don't even give a shit if you get mad at me. If you don't eat your food and take that damn medicine-- Megan, are you listening?-"
"No."
"--You'll get a good thrashing. I hope your heard that."
"I am not sick." She lifted the pillow to stare at him with what she hoped to be a convincing look.
"You're a spoilt brat. And it seems that no one has ever spanked you for that."
"Ryaaaan... I want to sleep."
His hand reached for her wrist. She pulled back but there was no escape: he grabbed one, then the other.
"And this time I am not playing or messing around," he added, bringing together her wrists so he could hold them in one grasp. She opened her mouth to bite, then changed her mind, but not fast enough.
"You want to bite?" - he chuckled. "Here. Bite. See if it helps. Because I'm telling you for sure it won't." He stood up, pulling her unwilling body out of bed.
"Let go! Ryan!" Any attempt to free her hands was futile.
The other hand grabbed her nape. "Don't you know you can't run once I get my hands on you?"
"Ryan, I'm sick..."
"Oh, I thought you weren't?" He laughed, but put his force into making her stand up, then forced her to bend over. He freed her hands only to reach for his buckle, while the other hand kept a firm grip of the back of her neck. She tried to stand up only to realize again that yes, it was impossible to escape. And Ryan was not her boyfriend, to kick him in the balls and make a run for it.
"Ryaaan... it hurts..."
"You have no idea how it will hurt! And say thank you you get to keep your Pjs on."
"I'm not thanking you for anything! Hey, my phone is ringing. I need to answer!"
He laughed at her attempt. "You will call back. So, baby sister, is that all you can come up with to get out of this? I thought you were smarter than that!"
She heard the clink of the buckle as the belt was coming out of the loops. It took Ryan a bit of extra effort to fold it with one hand but the mission was accomplished. Meg's hand reached back to grab it. Something clicked in her mind; this was not one of their stupid fighting games - this was real. And Ryan had every intention to make her understand that.

"So," he said tapping the belt against his jeans and keeping his firm grip on her nape, "I reckon this is the first ever spanking in your life. Correct me if I am wrong, but I remember you saying you never got spanked?"

"Leave me alone! Ryan, let go. I am fucking serious."

"Me too. I suggest you keep your hands on the bed and your voice down. You will make better use of your lungs when we are finished."

"Ryaaan! If you touch me I kill you. I swear."

"Promises, promises... But you never keep your word." He chuckled again, raised the belt and brought it down. It wasn't hard but it caused her to jump in protest.

"Ryan!"

He ignored her protests. As the belt went up, the smirk on his face was gone. His eyebrows wrinkled. And the belt came down with the purpose of leaving a lasting impression in her mind. She wanted to shoot up. His hand stopped her. And before she got the chance to let any sound out, the belt fell again.

"This is not funny. Stop it."
"I didn't say it would be funny. If there is no one in this world to give you a good spanking when you need one, then I have to volunteer. And unluckily for you, I care for you and I also take my job seriously." He didn't have to count the strokes to know, from previous experience, that by now her butt would be already turning pink, and to also know that the pain was bearable.

He went up a notch: raised his arm higher, brought the belt down harder. She fought back, mostly trying to stand up. The pain had reached her brain. Shouting at him was an effort.

"Ok ok... For fuck's sake! I'll take my medicine."
"When we're done you will, yes," he agreed, not stopping the assault on her behind.
"Fuck, man! Ryan, stop it! Ryaaaan!"
He didn't answer.
"I'm not done yet. And for your info," he added, letting the belt fall hard again," I am far from being done."
She cursed under her breath and grasped at the bedspread. Her fists clenched and her forehead lowered until it rested on the bed. Each stroke made her jump but she stopped fighting back, too preoccupied with the pain. Besides, it was pointless - she was aware of it. The only comforting thought was that there was no one there to witness her downfall; she prayed that Ryan would not tell Jackie.

"Imagine this over your panties, Meg. Or on your bare. I am sure you don't want to feel that. Do you?"
"No," she choked.
"And I am not giving you the fullest, trust me," he went on, raising the belt again and again. "I am only introducing you to a demo, if you like."
"Fuck your demo," she dutifully replied.
He chuckled.

"Oweeee!"
"Half through..."
"This is not funny!" She tried to stand up. He grabbed her nape again in an instant and brought her head down. The echoes of the belt hitting her clothed behind overlapped.

And here is where the real pain starts, he mused. And he was right: the pain was throbbing all over her button, going down her legs, to her knees.
"Ryan..." - the sound was chocked. It was on the verge of a plea.
He ignored it.

And then there was silence; the kind of silence that hides the cries that do not want to come out.

He went on until he heard a few sobs. He unrolled the belt and began sliding it back into the loops, keeping an eye on her crouched figure.

"So, now you know what a spanking is and what you will get from now when you act the way you did today. Actually, you've been after it since I know you..." He sat next to her."You're ok?"

She nodded but refused to look up. She didn't want anybody to see her crying.

"Ok... Go wash your face and get in bed then. You gotta eat your food and take your pills and then you can sleep for a few hours."

She nodded. Turning her head to the opposite direction, she stood up gingerly. Her palms itched to rub her bottom but she refused to show him that the spanking actually hurt her. In the doorway, she paused for a second, back towards him still:
"You're not going to tell anybody that I got spanked, are you?" She was pleading.
"Why not?" - he teased. "Are you ashamed of it?"
"Please don't..."
"I bet Jackie can't wait to freak out when she hears this."
"Ryaaaan..."
"No, I won't tell them. But maybe we should prepare them just in case one day you find yourself over my lap in front of them." He chuckled.
"Not funny."
She walked toward the bathroom, hiding her own smile.

Back after 3 Months

Why hello there happy folks!

Yes, I know I have been gone for about 3 months... which was not my fault. I am not saying that because I am a brat and because, generally speaking, nothing is my fault; it's not my fault because the fucked up cable company was unable, during all this time, to give me the Internet service I signed the contract for. So I am on wireless, still waiting for the mother fuckers to do something about my connection.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I cannot write from work. Even if I could, I wouldn't.

Also, this week I will be more than busy with work and then I will go on vacation. And by the time I am back things should be fine.

I am writing something - as a matter of fact, I started that story some good time ago and I lost interest in finishing it, but even so, I will. And then I will focus on something else.

Thanks to everyone who commented on my stories - and not only. And I apologies for not getting back to them. :) But I will see you around.

:)

~Kay

Older Spanking Story: The Way I Want it to Happen (RL, M/F)

Hello again... tonight.

I don't usually post two stories in a row, but I've been thinking about this one lately. It was written more than seven years ago for A.S.S. It's not my best, but it gives me a feeling which no other story of mine does. Maybe because it was based on real events, which have happened to me and Jack. Maybe because back then I cared less about style and more about mood. Maybe because, being about us, it is more personal to me. And most probably because I love the thrills I still get when I read it.

It focuses on anticipation - still my favorite part of a story. I have editted it - just a bit, but here it is. You can still find the txt format in which in was originally written. Hope you enjoy it.

The Way I Want it to Happen

Copyright: SK (now KayleyBlue), April 2001

M/F, anticipation

The plane landed. Rushing to the 'passport control', I can't
take you out of my mind. I waited for almost 4 months to see you
again and now that I am here, I just can't believe it. The call last
night was short due to the high phone bills we always get, but you told me
you already emptied a shelf in your closet for me. Yes, soon I will
be outside, I will see you... I will kiss you. You have no clue how
much I missed you.

The flight was crap, but I'm getting used to them. Those 3
hours spent in 'transit' were the worst 3 hours of my life. It always
gets worse: the anticipation, the boredom when you are all alone and
have to entertain yourself. I spent the last night at home
cleaning my computer. It took me some time - 'Favorites' folder,
'My Pictures', 'My Documents', the trojans I'm keeping, the cookies,
the 'History' folder, the 'Temporary Internet Files'. When you are hiding
something from your parents or friends (like my kink) then you gotta
make sure no trace is left. Then in the morning, calling for the cab
and waiting for it to come... smoking all the time... worrying about the
weather up there... Not being able to eat just drink water and coffees.
Your mouth dry, your pulse racing... Trying lots of clothes until you
KNOW you look the best today. All that, you know? It's really enough to
build stress and a huge blood pressure. And then finally in the
airport, counting the hours: I will see you in less than 5.
Then 4; then 3, and so on. And when you check-in for your last plane,
then it really goes crazy: reading magazines but not being able
to focus on them. But this is always better than the leaving point which
involves too many tears.

So here I am, in the line. I can claim my baggage in 10
minutes. The New York or Vienna flight is always landing before mine.
I just hope they haven't lost my luggage this time!

"Hello..." I smile, giving my passport to the guy in front
of me. I could say it in (language specified) now but I don't want to show them that I speak too
much of it so I can avoid the crappy questions.

"Coming from?..."
Why do you always ask that? Can't you see the stamps in my
passport?

"...Cape Town..." The guy nods, checks my picture, my face.
I smile sweetly. Then he smiles back and I have a new 'stamp'.

"Thank you..." I murmur and, grabbing my hand baggage,I
head out.

It didn't take long for my blue baggage to come. I'm happy
I bought one with wheels because if not, I think I would go crazy
carrying it. Always 20 kilos. Not even once less or more... But
also 3 months of staying outside of your country requires lots of
clothes.

Heading for the sliding door, I get to look outside. I can't
see your face but I know you are there, somewhere among all those
people. The terminal is kind of small comparing to the one in *location deleted*
but I like it better this way. I read the signs "Declare and Nothing
to Declare. I don't have anything worthy with me except for my cell
phone, which isn't much anyway. The guys don't ask anything. I look
too innocent to carry bad things with me.

Finally outside! Where are you?... And while I turn my head
around in all directions, I realize you are standing right in front
of me, smiling... Oh, you are so cute! I get to hear yor voice next
to me again, the sexiest voice in the world.

"Babyyyyyyyy!!!" - I jump kissing you.
"Hey little baby," you welcome me in your arms. One kiss... Two
kisses... You want to take my luggage and get out of that crowd but I
won't let you. "More more more!..." - I ask, not getting enough of your
lips. You chuckle and give me some more soft kisses. "Ok, let's go,"
you whisper in my ear. "Cab or bus," I ask, knowing that a taxi would
be my favorite right now. "Cab," you grin. I'm already playful,
jumping around you.

The taxi driver is indeed waiting for us: some young guy who
doesn't understand English hopefully. I'm getting inside the car, waiting for you
to place my luggage in the trunk. I'm smiling at myself. Finally here,
finally seeing the city again. I do love this place! I'm always happy here.

Turning my head I see you getting on. Then the doors close and
here we go. Home sweet home! Bet your room is clean, isn't it, baby?
Lucky for me to come and make it a mess again! The image outside this cab
doesn't interest me. Only you can have my full attention now. Hands in
hands - you smile at me and carress my face. I kiss your palm.

"How was the flight?" - you ask - always the first question
when we meet. I answer by rolling my eyes. Laughing, you drag me closer
so I'm almost lying down now. Then - "how are your parents, how is your
cousin, how was Cape Town when you left, are you SURE you are done with
your exams, have you been sick lately?". I give half-hearted answers to these
questions: they are not my main concern right now. Your
fingers run through my hair and suddenly I feel you tightening the grip.
This means only one thing - we won't unpack tonight, I guess!

"So have you been a good girl?" Hiding my face in your chest and
blushing furiously, I nod.
"Uhmmmm..." I can't say much. The driver is intimidating me...
and I know from previous experience that you won't miss the occasion to
turn me on right there, knowing how embarassing it is for me. As a matter
of fact, it's always a question of who is faster in turning the other one
on. If you weren't the first one to try and do it, then I would be the
one starting it. Who's controlling who in this cab? This time it is your
turn.

You're pushing my chin up with your forefinger forcing me to look
into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" Oops! I missed a heart beat! Boom boom boom - my
heart against the ribs. Your eyebrows raised, your eyes into my eyes, your
little incredulous smile, the whole attitude makes my face flush again. I
open my mouth but no sound comesg out. Mind racing, I turn my eyes on
the landscape outside, knowing full well that your gaze won't help me give
the right answer.

"Ummm...", I try, "I... I mean... I was MOSTLY a good girl.. you
know."

"Mhm..." You don't fall for it. "Well... " I come back
trying to convince you, "Well, I was good 99% of the time..." Your face
shows me that you still don't believe me...

"Maybe 90 per cent of the time?" I grin a bit amused.
"Try again," you suggest, hand pulling my hair a bit harder.
"Ok ok... " I give up. "I was good... less than 90%. 89??"
I can't help myself and I start chuckling. You're just watching me.
"I hope you won't lose your humor when we get home," you pass it to
me sweetly, big smile on your face. As suddenly as I started laughing, I stop.
Puzzled by your remark I look at you: "Ummm... why?"

Three loving taps on my thigh give me the answer:
"You will see why, baby... You will see!"

OK. You are cooking something it seems. The back seat is not
comfortable anymore. I wriggle a bit and get closer to you.

"I've been a good girl... Really... "
"Well... What do I know? Except for the skipped classes and
the huge phone bill?..." I catch you grinning. "Or the teasing on the
phone when I was on guard... knowing full well that I can't get you
back... " I suddenly frown and pout. "Pretty impressive list, huh?"

I raise my head and look at you; you turn your face towards me,
still smiling. I'm trying to understand if you are serious or if this is
just teasing.
"Rings a bell?" - you query.
"More or less..." - I sigh in reply.
With the corner of my eye I'm looking outside again, pondering the next idea that popped into my mind. "Umm," I start, while you play gently on my cheeks. "What iiiiiiiiiif...What'f I promise never to do it again?" I'm crossing my fingers behind my back. I see you shaking your head and laughing, as if this was my best joke ever.

"I heard this promise before. I hear it each time your phone
bill comes and then, after you pay it, you call again or stay online all
day long... And then you call me very upset - "oh, baaaaabyyyyy... my bill
came... what am i gonna dooo? fucking bill and fucking phone and fuck
this and fuck that"..."
I whine and slap you softly. I couldn't help myself. I just
hate it when you immitate me. I hate it. And you know that. "There!" -
I declare on such a tone as if I won the big war.

Your eyes widen, then your face darkens.
"Bad girl! You'll get your punishment for this when you get
home, don't worry! Brat!" Sulking and protesting, I hide my face in
your lap.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and obey me, little one?"
"No!"
"Well then," you go on, "I will put you over my lap and spank your
ass until you will." I groan.

My face burns with shame, and I pray to all Gods that the driver
doesn't understand English. "Ok ok.. I will!" - I give in, very scared that
you might actually go on explaining everything in front of him.

"And are you gonna be a very good little girl, young lady?"

Murmuring and trying to hide lower - if only I could get under
the back seat! - I reply in a very soft voice: "Yes..."

"Yes WHAT?" The game started, I think for myself and my mind
starts racing, looking for a way out, trying to demonstrate that I can
be good. Scared like never before, anticipation killing me, I close
my eyes.
"Yes, Sir", the soft answer comes. I'm nervous.

"I couldn't hear that... " - you tease, pushing me to face the same
shame again.
Trembling, I grab your t-shirt in my fist. You feel my arousal,
my embarassment, and I think this turns you on. You have total control
over me, over my mind or my body. I finally manage to speak up:
"Yes, Sir!"
I'm sure I missed a smile there...

"That's my good girl! I won't have to spank you for this at least,
little one. But we have some unfinished business to take care of... Your nice bottom and I will have a little conversation."

The car is driving fast. I finally sit up and look to check
where we are. 10 minutes left. There are more knots in my stomach now.
Twisting on my seat, I stare at you. Your demeanour should give me clues
about your next plans. Do you still want to punish me? Rubbing my hands, I
realize how wet they got. The closer we get to the house, the stronger my
fear grows. I smirk. You smile, carressing my face with your fingers.

"What... what if I will be very good? Very VERY good? Are you still
gonna spank me?"

You nod. I panic even more. I need to find the way out NOW, before
we get home!

"What... what if... ummm... I promise never to do anything bad
again? I mean it! I can promise that! I will be very good!"

I feel the eyes of the driver fixing me. He's probably puzzled by
my whines, by the tone of my voice, by my mimic.

"I don't think that a promise will help you now, baby..." You tap
my hand comforting me. Anyway, there's nothing else I could promise.
The only thing I can do is beg. And I do. Then I switch to impressing you
with my miserable face. I fail. I finally resume to being silent.

"First I'm gonna bathe you and wash you very nicely..." - you start. "Then, I'll put your baby pijamas on and take you to the room.
I'll put you nicely on my lap, lower your panties and spank you with my
hand until I make sure you are going to obey."

I smirk one more time... Corners of my mouth are coming down, tears
are gathering into my eyes. "Please, you don't have to spank me for thaaaat...
I will be goooood!"
"We will see!... And you'd
better behave. If you hesitate for one second, I'll spank you again with
my belt! If you misbehave or back talk... or if you smirk, you will
get a double dose with the strap. And when I am done with you, you will
never think about talking for hours on the phone or using the net or
skipping school or teasing me again... Is that clear, little girl?" With
my eyes cast down and a huge knot in my throat I finally manage to mutter:

"Yes, Sir..." - I choke.

You stroke my hair and kiss my palm, my lips and my forehead.
"We're home," you announce, while I dive deeper into my seat.

Spanking Story: Morgan and Adam: El Nino (M/F)

Here is another M/F story for you. And an Alex (M/m) story is in the 'setting the plot' stage right now.

Morgan and Adam:

EL NINO

Copyright: Kayley Blue

Shivering with cold and fear, Morgan had walked two blocks from El Nino, only to realize that she could not find a safe ride home at 3 in the morning. She didn’t dare look behind to see if anybody was following her, but with each step she took her fear grew bigger and bigger, transforming into panic. Following the main avenue to be safe from muggers was not a solution, as she had thought; There were gangs piling up at the corners of the buildings, gangs that whistled after her and proposed nasty things to her, just because she was a woman.

The only smart answer to her troubles, answer which she had arrogantly dismissed five minutes ago, was to call Adam. But exposing a Nokia N96 edition in this neighborhood was as close to getting mugged as one could get. Yet she had no choice. So she prayed and she dialed.

And Adam picked up at the first ring.

“Where the heck are you? I called you five times already.” Pissed and worried he sounded and he had every right to be.

“Forget that now,” she said. “I need you to get me out of here.” She stopped under the yellow light of a street lamp, surveying the road for any suspicious behavior. She was so tensed, she run over and over in her mind a self-defense move in case someone would suddenly materialize with a knife behind her.

She heard Adam suddenly stand up from his couch, and she imagined him already picking out his jeans and trying to put them on with only one free hand.

“Where are you?” – he asked, his voice coming cut as he performed an accelerated ritual of getting dressed.

“I don’t know.”

The commotion at the other end of the line ceased.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? From where am I supposed to pick you up then?”

“I don’t know! I was in El Nino and I started walking home because I was scared to take a cab. I figured I could get out of the neighborhood fast. I can’t.”

“Where is Amanda?”

“They left around one.”

“No police car around to help you get somewhere safe?”

“Haven’t seen any, no. I don’t know what to do…”

“For how long have you been walking?”

“Five minutes…”

“Turn around and go wait for me in front of the club. Is your cell phone charged? You have enough battery to talk until you get there?”

“Yes.”
“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me. If anything suspicious happens, run. But run towards the club and wait for me there, around people. You got that?”

“Yes.”

She heard him grab the keys of the car then the entrance door was slammed shut. She began walking back, her eyes inspecting each hidden corner in her path.

“Adam, I am so scared.”

“It’s gonna be fine. I’m in the car now. I’ll put you on hands-free.” There was a small interruption then his voice came through the microphone, mixed with the purr of the car’s engine. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Maybe I should run. I’m really scared.”

“Then run.”

Adam had warned her other times: she had no business being in this place. She knew that. Cigarette in her hand and sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, she looked like she had no worry in this world. There were still groups of young people in front of the club, getting ready to leave. But they had come by cars – like Amanda, Jen, and her. The difference was that she was left without a ride. And when had Adam called, she didn’t answer, so he wouldn’t offer to come pick her up; so he wouldn’t know she had lied to him. And look at the irony of things: now she needed him. She inhaled another doze of smoke. The alcohol was still in her veins, but mostly in her head.

“Let’s go,” a voice startled her and she saw Adam standing tall besides her, car keys in his hand.

“I didn’t see you coming,” she said, slowly picking herself up and taking a last puff from her cigarette. She felt Adam’s eyes examining her face.

“You’re drunk.”

“Dizzy,” she corrected. “I sobered up after this experience.”

He didn’t reply, just began walking back to the car. She slid in the Ford next to him, without a word, and fastened her seat belt. The headlights were on, then the engine started, and in the familiar tangerine scent of the air sanitizer, Morgan began to relax.

Adam rolled up his shirt’s sleeves – the one he wore at work today and gave her a tired look. His ruffled hair ran into his dark eyes. “What the heck was all this about?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, playing with her tongue the ring piercing her lower lip. “I didn’t know it would be dangerous.”

“If I hadn’t told you a million times…”

“But I didn’t know!”

“The idea was that you weren’t supposed to find out. You were supposed to trust me when I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Morgan shrugged. “Now I know.”

“And you lied to me.”

“I had to. You wouldn’t let me go if you knew where I was going.”

“Of course I wouldn’t! I’ve been trying to reach you on the cell phone since twelve. You didn’t even bother to answer.”

Morgan sighed and sunk into her seat.

“I already said I was sorry. I was having a good time, right?”

“And I was dead worried at home.”

“You didn’t have to be.”

“It seems like I had my reasons to be. Obviously you cannot be trusted.”

“That’s crap.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning, Morgan, when you’re awake, don’t worry.”

The line seemed to cut her nagging mood. She stared stubbornly at the silent neighborhood as they stopped at the red light. They had reached James Carter Avenue and she could recognize the grand architecture of the buildings, even though she hadn’t seen this place before. She mused over his words.

“What do you mean,” she asked, without turning to look at him.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t…” – she mumbled quietly.

It had started to rain. Big heavy drops splashed on the wind screen. Adam operated the wipers. She followed their hypnotic move as they gathered rivulets of rain in small ponds at the bottom of the windscreen.

Adam turned on the mp3 player and the car was filled with the heavy Japanese rock of the CD she had played in the car two days ago, on her way to work. The light turned green again, and he accelerated again into the dark.

“I mean you’re gonna get the spanking of your life for this,” he said suddenly, bringing the car into the fourth gear.

“That’s crap,” and as she said that she wondered why she hadn’t kept quiet.

The car suddenly halted. She tried to vanish in her seat. He wasn’t supposed to react like that – after all, she had only fed him a conversational line. It wasn’t a big deal. Adam’s raised eyebrows and his stern serious eyes fixed on her profile were telling though a different story.

“Care to repeat that, please?” – he invited.

She shook her head “no”.

“Do you think that after tonight I would have any trouble pulling you out of the car and spanking you? You think that just because you are in the middle of the street and not at home, you are invulnerable?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll probably be sorry sooner than you can imagine. Since you’re already up and with an attitude, we might as well stay up till morning and deal with it when we get home.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he shushed her. “I don’t want to hear another word. I’ve heard enough already,” he said, turning back to his driving.

The narrow street they were speeding on opened to an avenue again. The red McDonalds drive-in sign met her eyes - a spot of color between the dark buildings - a reminder that her lips were dry and she was thirsty. She sighed. If only they could stop by for a double cheeseburger and an extra large bag of potato wedges and a monstrous Cola Light. A quick look in his direction told her that bringing up the subject was a dangerous idea. Besides, they were almost home, and Adam seemed to get more determined and more awake as they got closer. She knew the whole story was eating him inside and that silence was her enemy. But saying something wrong might tick him off more.

“Such recklessness,” he finally said, unable to cope with the silence around him and the mad voices in his head. “You do many stupid things but this beats them all.”

“It was Amanda’s fault. She said it wasn’t dangerous.”

“Is she responsible for you or am I responsible for you, Morgan?”

“I am responsible for me.”

“No, you are not. You are reckless, just like I said. I don’t know in which reality you have moved lately, but I’ll bring you back to earth. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“Adam…”

“Get out of the car,” he said, as he parked the Ford Focus in front of their house.

She knew that tone. She felt sick.

“Please… I already said I was sorry…”

“Out of the car, Morgan. Now.”

She hid deeper in her seat. He got out, went around the car, and opened her door. He leaned over her and unfastened her seat belt.

“Adam, this is not fair …”

His fingers wrapped around her arm and pulled her out. His right hand landed noisily on her Levi’s.

“Don’t, please…”

“You don’t argue with me, you hear me? You do as you’re told. I had enough of this attitude.” He planted a few more meaningful swats on her butt and sent her towards the door with an extra one, to get her thinking.

As she waited for him in front of the locked door, watching him lock the car and search for the house keys, millions of excuses run through her head. And she pushed them away, one by one, as none would help her tonight. Only God could, and God didn’t care if her butt would be purple by morning.

Pushing the door open, he nudged her in. Unlike other times, she bent down to unlace her sneakers, to steal some time. Behind her, Adam kicked off his own shoes, threw the car keys on the glass coffee table, and went upstairs, taking two stairs at a time.

Morgan watched him until his silhouette disappeared behind the corner upstairs, then, thirst being stronger than the creepy paralyzing feeling in her legs, she went for a bottle of water from the fridge. She couldn’t think straight. And all she wanted right now was to collapse on the bed, couch, or even floor, and sleep. She could sleep till tomorrow evening without budging in her sleep – she knew she could.

The bubbly water refreshed her mouth and senses.

She heard Adam’s giant footsteps, fast, furious, covering the distance from upstairs to the living room in less than three seconds. Then, again, he was behind her, and his iron grip was on her arm as he twisted her around. Gracefully, he took the empty bottle from her hand, placed it on the counter, and forced her torso onto the white kitchen table.

She caught the glimpse of the wooden hairbrush and her voice cracked.

“Not the hairbrush. I hate the hairbrush… Pleaseee…”

His hands reached in front of her, unbuttoned her low-cut jeans and pulled them to her knees, with an artful move. The underwear joined them.

She tried to move, but his palm, firmly pressed on her back, glued her cheek to the table.

“Keep your hands flat on the table, Morgan,” he warned, when she tried to reach back to cover her butt.

“Adam-“

“This is the last time you lie to me,” he said. The hairbrush landed noisily. The pain was abrupt, concentrated in one spot. Then it began spreading, helped by another hard swat on the other cheek.

“El Nino?” Three cracks; three howls of pain. He stopped to lecture, watching a multitude of expressions dance on her face. “You ignore my warnings and go to the most dangerous neighborhood. You refuse the ride home when Amanda leaves and you don’t answer my calls. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“No.”

The hairbrush came down again, turning her white skin to red.

“I just want to know what the heck goes through your mind when you act like this?”

More hard swats and no chance to articulate words, only vocalize pain. Her knuckles turned as white as the edge of the table when she gripped it.

“What do you do from now on when I tell you not to go somewhere, Morgan?”

“I don’t go,” the prompt answer came from behind gritted teeth.

“Damn straight you don’t.”

He went on assaulting her cheeks until she dissolved into tears and her apologies lost coherence.

“Stand up,” he said, removing his hand from her back. She pushed herself up gingerly, legs frozen from the uncomfortable position, butt burning with searing pain.

“Do I have to do this again, Morgan? Because if I have to, this will seem like a walk in the park compared to next time.”

She choked a “no”, and reached out for him. She had gotten over the shock of pain and was acknowledging the aftershock of the panic attack she’d experienced tonight. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t do this to me again, you hear me? Ever. Do you know how scared I was? How would you feel if it was I the one doing this to you?”

“I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Let’s get you washed and let’s go to bed.”

She stepped back, allowing him to pull up her panties and jeans.

“I was so scared,” she went on sobbing hard, unable to stop herself.

“I know, sweety. But it’s ok now.”

He stood up again, and hugged her head to his chest. “You’re safe now. It’s ok.”

The daylights were already breaking outside when she could finally stop her sobbing.

Vanillas and Their Innocent Spanking-Free World

I was reading, on Haron's and Abel's blog, about "Electric Paddles". After quoting from a vanilla blog, Haron says "by Naomi, to whom I don’t link to avoid freaking her out".

And she is right. I can't stop giggling at how sick we spankos are.

Sometimes, I get tired of reading spankings told from a spanko perspective and I search the blogs for vanilla stories. It's interesting to note that while Juju - like many other spankos - are still tormented by feelings of anger and frustration when recalling childhood spankings, the vanillas barely remember them. I even remember an occasional swat and feel embarassed by it! Does it have to do with our spanko minds? It has to. In all the occasional conversations I had with vanillas about spankings received while they were kids I've never seen a glimpse of remorse or hard feelings. The other day, one of my friends was telling us that he was getting spanked probably once every 24 hours for being naughty. And he could laugh about it. And when he said that, the whole group joined in telling stories of their spankings - except for me. I'm not vanilla.

I also remember, in my childhood, that one of my cousins was getting it regularly and good. He had no trouble speaking of it and even giving me details. I was freaked out.

I am beginning to believe that spanking is a great deal to us, adults, who have some kind of spanking fetish. The rest of people - they don't give a shit anymore and everything looks normal and forgotten.