This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page
I concurred and asked, "How about another one that involves you." She smiled and nodded so I started. "You're a member of some kind of service club and as a special event, you sell yourselves as slaves to the highest bidder. All proceeds going to charity. Of course, it's not real slavery but it is expected that you will carry your owner's book, run errands in the cafeteria and perform what other services are requested within the bounds of decency. I have noticed you on campus. You are quite beautiful and I am very attracted."
She interrupted to say, "Thank you." I told her she was welcome and went on, "However, you are also rather snooty and since I don't travel in the same circles you do, you have turned down my requests for a date."
Another interruption as she denied ever being snooty. I reminded her it was just a story and if she would wait a bit she would see how the snooty are brought down. She pouted playfully but I ignored her. "It costs me a lot of money but I am the successful bidder for your services. Needless to say, you are not happy but you agreed to the rules and after taking my books, you follow behind. I make sure your friends see you obeying my commands and I see your face flush as they tease you. Perhaps you were hoping to be serving the jock I bid against but that is moot. You're mine and the day is young. I do not have any classes after lunch but I wouldn't want you to be spared the embarrassment of serving me in the crowded cafeteria so we stay on campus to eat. Then I drive you to my apartment where I expect you to do a little cleaning. You seem reluctant to be alone with me but your pride is too strong. You'll be damned before you even think of quitting the game."
Another interruption as she cooed, "I wouldn't mind being your slave." Now there's an interesting thought but before I could formulate a response she added, "But I'm not snooty!"
I informed her that if she didn't keep quiet I would stop this story and she would learn how a spanking would feel on a bottom exposed to sub-zero temperatures. I gave a little swat to the three layers of clothes covering that particular bottom. She thought a moment and gave me a kiss on the cheek as she said, "I've never thought about getting spanked outdoors. I'll bet it's beautiful here in the summer and plenty warm enough to walk around with not much on. Imagine what it would be like if you took me into the woods and made me strip. No, you would strip me in the cabin and make me walk naked through the open fields and then into the forest where you would give me a good spanking. I'll have to think about that some more but as to baring my rear end in this weather, I seem to remember doing that last weekend and even without you spanking me it wasn't very pleasant. Go back to your story. I'll be quiet."
I opened my mouth to speak but apparently she wasn't finished as she added, "25 degrees. That's my limit." I asked what she was talking about and she explained, "If you want to spank me outside in the winter it has to be at least 25 degrees and the pants only come down enough to give you a clear shot. The panties, however, stay on! Now, are you going to get on with your story or not."
I waited a second to see if she was really finished and continued, "You're in my apartment and I tell you I want you to vacuum, dust and generally clean it up a bit. I tend to be neat so it is not an overwhelming job but you look disgusted to be asked to do such menial duties. I am not amused by your attitude and let you know. As a bit of punishment I order you to strip down to your underwear before you start your task. You're shocked that I would even think of such a thing much less actually suggest it. I shrug and offer to take you back to campus where I expect a full refund. You can explain to the charity that they must give back my money because you didn't fulfill you end of the bargain and 'Happily serve the highest bidder." You argue that the arrangement did not include any sexual favors but I rebut that what I'm asking is not necessarily in that category. After all, you show just about as much with halter tops and shorts in the spring so it isn't that I would be getting any special view. On the contrary, you should consider it a uniform for errant maids to remind them of the status. (This was pretty flimsy logic but don't forget, it's a fantasy and anything is possible.) You reluctantly agree but are uncomfortable letting me watch you take your outer clothes off. I am charitable and allow you to disrobe in the bathroom. Shortly thereafter I see a lovely body clad only in bra and panties emerge and start her domestic chores."
"Your change in demeanor is notable. You are polite and deferential as one assignment is completed and you report to me for your next charge. And although you balked a bit when I directed you to bend at the waist with your back towards me whenever you had to pick something up or dust the lower shelves, you comply. I enjoy that view more than a few times and I can't help but notice you dusting the lowest shelf on the bookcase across the room from me. I am impressed by your thoroughness. I am sitting here silently appreciating my good fortune and watching you go back and give it four additional dustings. In fact, you seem to see a few almost invisible specks of dirt on the floor from time to time and feel responsible enough to pick them up. Your eyes have avoided mine since the jeans and shirt were removed but your actions are speaking much louder than your glance."
"I follow you into the kitchen to make sure you wash the dishes correctly. They are dried and you put them away. How fortuitous, there are two pans that go under the counter and you have to make two trips. I am standing not two feet from the drawer where the pans belong and in order to keep you rear end towards me as commanded, it is close enough to touch. I wait till you put the second pot away and take advantage of the short distance between my hand and the cotton stretched over your bottom. You quiver at my touch and quietly ask me not to do that, however, it is significant that you are still bent over and making no move to correct that situation even though the pot is in its proper place and the drawer closed. We hold our relative positions for a few seconds and I withdraw my hand. You stand and look down as you turn to me for further instructions. I tell you to bring me a soda as I head back to the living room."
"I am barely seated when you arrive. I pull the tab off and take a drink. You are waiting for your next assignment but it has already started. I drop the pop top on the floor in front of me and politely ask you to pick it up. It is less than a foot from me and you have to stand between my legs as you lock your knees and bend over. This time my touch is not unexpected so I don't get the same little jump I saw in the kitchen. The surface is still soft and inviting. Again you plead for me to refrain while taking no overt steps to prevent it. My actions are now a little less subtle than before. I am taking this opportunity to do more than just a static contact. I need to make sure the smooth softness extends over the whole surface. You whine about that and I ignore you. That is, I ignore your words. I cannot ignore what you are still presenting for my caress or the gentle wriggling of the area under my hand. Now we're getting somewhere."
"Your complaints stop when I take my hand away and tell you to stand up. You step out of my reach and your face is flushed. I ask for the pop top and you look confused as you hand it over but all becomes clear as I deliberately place it back on the floor in the same spot. You look directly at me and say, 'No. Please.' I am unmoved and silently point to the innocent little object at my feet. Your eyes are watering as you return to your last post and in seconds, I am once more in contact with that enchanting surface. Both hands want a turn and since you have two delightful cheeks to explore I see no justification for limiting myself to one at a time. Nor do I restrict contact to light stroking. They're nice enough to hold and give a little squeeze now and then. I hear you crying in shame even as you remain a willing participant. It's time to move on to the next stage and I direct you to straighten up again. To my surprise, you do not move away. You turn to face me and I have to reposition my grasp. I kept my hands on you and now they are wrapped around you with a slightly better grip on your delectable ass. You give me the pop top with the explanation, 'Here. Do you want to put it back on the floor or do you want me to?' I think this is an attempt at sarcasm but it fails. You don't seem to be able to get your voice to work as strong as a statement like that demands."
I glanced at my companion in the cold and she whispered, "This is pretty good. Go on." so I did.
"I hate to remove even one of my hands from it's duty but I accept the offering. I put it in my pocket saying I think its done it job for now. The hand that took the tab is now happily back where it likes to be and I pull you just a little bit closer and announce it's time we see what's under your bra. I am prepared for a shocked look but you do not respond in indignation. Just a quiet statement that you're not that kind of girl. I ask what kind of girl you think you are. Before you can answer I remind you that you have been parading around my apartment in your underwear and have allowed me to touch you in a rather intimate manner. You meekly return my earlier argument that you are as decently clothed as you would be in summer outfits but I change my position on that subject and inform you that 'nice girls' don't strip down to your present state unless it is with the implicit promise of eventually removing everything. Do you think I or any other normal male could see you without mounting anticipation of the final veils to your so called modesty falling by the wayside. And how do you explain your uncontested acceptance of my hands on you? You have no answer except tears and your desperate entreaty, 'Please. Don't make me take any more off.' I order you to unhook the bra. You tearfully refuse and make an ineffectual attempt to back away from me. My hold on you prevents your retreat but you're not really trying very hard."
The girl at my side back here in the cold air squeezed my hand. I continued.
"I again make my command and your refusal is made with less conviction but it is noncompliance none the less. It's time to teach the cost of disobedience. I twist you slightly and bring you down over my left knee. You're saying, 'No. Please don't.' as you allow me to place you in a position where there is no doubt what's going to happen next. I don't disappoint you. I swat hard and am prepared to close my right leg over yours if I need to but aside from your unceasing whining and yelping, you're not trying to evade my hand. Between slaps I am lecturing you on being a tease and failing to follow orders. Eventually you stop asking me to end the spanking and you apologize for all the sins I've outlined. A few more spanks and I ask if you're ready to take your bra off. You promise to obey me and I'm sure you expect me to let you up but I keep slapping and ask what you are waiting for. Take it off. You get the idea and despite the awkwardness of your position, you manage to reach one hand behind you and unsnap it. It takes three spanks for you to accomplish this and I get in two more before the garment is off your arms and on the floor. The spanking stops and you remain draped and crying for a minute. My hand is not idle during this interlude. It is giving what comfort it can by gentle rubbing and I hear no objection. I assist you to your feet and the bra stays where it landed, however, your arms are crossed in front of you and I have to laugh as I ask you if you really think I would go through all this trouble to get you to take off the bra and allow you to hide your breasts. I don't wait for a reply but turn you sideways and revisit your bottom with a hard swat. You jump and cry out and by the time I turn you to face me your arms are at your side where they belong. Your face is red from your crying and from your shame to display yourself to a guy you wouldn't give the time of day to before this afternoon. I should feel pity but I don't. Your eyes are closed until I tell you to move forward. They open in bewilderment. There is not much space separating your legs from mine but you see my hands hovering an inch from what you just uncovered and understand what I expect. I am going to fondle those lovely breasts and you're going to be the one who places them there. Fresh tears and you lean into my waiting fingers."
In spite of the coldness, my friend had her other hand rubbing the top of her thigh. I turned around and headed back towards the cabin as I kept up my narrative.
"What I am touching now is a nice as I expected. I fondle, squeeze, and pinch the nipples a little. I lean my head forward and pull you to my lips. You moan as I kiss and nibble. I pull my head back and look into your eyes. There is a silent stare as my hands slide down your sides to their former position grasping your ass. You wince as they give a gentle squeeze on your recently punished skin but do not break eye contact. They move lower and my fingers trace a path from the back of your thighs to the sensitive area between them. Now your eyes close as they move up and stroke the crotch of your panties. I point out how wet they are and your eyes shut tighter against the rising tears. Your body, however, doesn't seem to share your shame. You move your feet apart and open your knees. I rub a bit harder and hear you say, 'Please. Don't.' even as you thrust your hips forward. Your arms have been hanging useless at your sides and I leave your special spot to grasp your hands. I put your fingers in the waistband and tell you to take them off. You shake your head. I ask if you need another reminder of what happens to slaves who hesitate. You plead with me not to spank you anymore but do nothing about removing the underpants. I turn you towards me knee and you realize what I intend so you quickly peel them down. You have to bend over to complete the operation and I take advantage of your position to pull you over my knee again. I tell you I expect no hesitation to my orders and thank you for giving me a bare target to apply correction to. You protest of course but meekly accept what's coming to you. I limit myself to a dozen strokes before I let you up. You're rubbing your bottom as you step out of the panties."
The cabin was in sight and she was blatantly rubbing herself.
"You're also looking directly at my crotch. The effect of our activities is obvious. It is a little uncomfortable as I stand so I pull down my zipper and take it out. Your fingers move towards it tentatively. It feels wonderful as you take it. I push down on your shoulders and you are on your knees. Orders are not necessary. You mouth comes closer and wraps itself around me. I take my shirt off. My T-shirt is next followed by my pants falling to the floor. I would rather you didn't stop using your mouth in this enticing manner but you do in order to help me out of the rest of my clothes. As soon as that job is done you go right back to your previous activity. Much as it pains me, I bring you to your feet again. A few gratefully accepted gropes and twists to your breasts and I direct your body to bend with your arms straight and hands resting on the seat of the chair. I walk behind you and run a hand down to your wetness. A moan as it goes away but it returns in the role of guide for something else. Entry is easy. You are more than ready. I mention this to you and hear fresh crying. I pull out and slam in repeatedly. You may be ashamed of how turned on you got by the humiliation of serving and suffering for me but the fact is, you are turned on and on a physical level at least, thoroughly enjoying yourself."
We had reached the cabin and I ended the story.
"By the time I took you back to your dorm. You had not only agreed to go on a date with me but kissed me both on the lips and where you had to lower you head behind the steering wheel."
Get your own Free Home Page