It must be something about being Irish because Tara Finnegan was not holding back. She asked and I answered - trying to be as open as possible on some fairly intimate questions. Come on over…
Showing posts with label Submission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Submission. Show all posts
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
How Much Spanking Is Enough? #SatSpanks
Today's snippet comes from Aching To Submit. Kyan, the club owner, is using a paddle on Sophie while Michael, her husband, watches her as she takes the punishment. Kyan has become a sort of mentor to Michael - teaching him what his wife needs and wants.
In reality, if your partner isn't naturally inclined to kink, there's definitely a learning curve and it's not always easy for them to understand how much we can take and how much we want to take. In this scene, Michael learns.
It gets pretty hot after this piece but here are my allotted sentences worth… I hope you enjoy.
“Look at her expression, her eyes; her pupils are dilated. Her face is soft. She’s crying softly, but it’s nowhere near too much or even enough at this point.”
Michael nodded in understanding, watching his wife’s face, listening to the sounds she made. Her lips were swollen, her mouth slightly open, her eyes red from crying but soft, just soft.
In reality, if your partner isn't naturally inclined to kink, there's definitely a learning curve and it's not always easy for them to understand how much we can take and how much we want to take. In this scene, Michael learns.
It gets pretty hot after this piece but here are my allotted sentences worth… I hope you enjoy.
* * * *
“She can take more than you
think,” Kyan said to Michael, his breath shorter as he continued to spank her
while speaking.“Look at her expression, her eyes; her pupils are dilated. Her face is soft. She’s crying softly, but it’s nowhere near too much or even enough at this point.”
Michael nodded in understanding, watching his wife’s face, listening to the sounds she made. Her lips were swollen, her mouth slightly open, her eyes red from crying but soft, just soft.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Submission and Trust
Posted on Spanking Romance on 9/23/2013
I've always known that trust is essential to submission.
That was kind of a given. But having read the recent Round Table Discussions, I
really thought about that trust for the first time.
Sometimes I look up the definitions of words I know the
meaning of and am surprised at the true definitions, or maybe the way to say it
is they add another layer to my understanding of the word.
There was one comment in particular that Gemini made about the
gift of Dominance. As a sub, I am completely and selfishly focused on myself
and this was interesting to read. In my post, I spoke about struggling with
submission - wanting to give it but being unable to. After reading what Gemini
wrote, something clicked for me. When giving the gift of submission, you must
trust that the gift of Dominance will be given in return. It's like you have to
trust that the one you are giving your submission to can take it, can accept it
and give you back what you need - fill the lack with his Dominance.
In Aching To Submit, the blurb reads that Sophie hadn't told
her husband of her kink out of fear of rejection. Yes, that's one side of
things, but there's also the other side - maybe she wasn't sure or didn't trust
that he could take it and give her back what she needed - his Dominance.
* * * *
Once in the attic, she stripped
off her clothes and folded them, setting them on top of one of the boxes. She laid
the belt on the chair and chose a corner, touching her nose to it and clasping
opposite elbows behind her back so her bottom would be displayed for him once
he came up.
Michael’s dominant nature
surprised her. No, that wasn’t it. He was dominant in every way, but the fact
that he took on his new role with such zeal was what surprised her. There would
be pain tonight; she wasn’t fool enough not to believe that. But she also
believed there would be pleasure afterwards. Riding that fine line between the
two opposites thrilled her, her submission itself almost better than the
orgasm.
It was a good twenty minutes
before she finally heard his step on the landing, and when she did her entire
being shook with anticipation.
“Good choice,” he said, and she
knew he must be looking at the belt.
She didn’t dare turn around
until he called her to him after a few moments. He stood in front of the single
chair that sat in the middle of the room on top of the rug. She made her way
over to him.
He was shirtless and barefoot
and she couldn’t help but look at the wide span of his shoulders, his powerful,
muscular arms. “Bend over and put your hands on the seat of the chair,” he
said. He wasn’t yet holding the belt.
She turned and did as he said,
knowing to keep her legs wide as she supported her weight on her hands, looking
straight down at the doubled-over belt. It wasn’t a moment before his fingers
were massaging a cool cream over her anus.
“This plug is a little bigger
than the last one,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse as his finger
penetrated her tight ring. “I want it in your ass when I whip you.”
She made a sound, unable to
manage words, taking in the not-unpleasant sensations.
“Good girl, that’s it,” he
encouraged as he pulled his fingers out and began to insert the plug. With that
she struggled a bit; he wasn’t kidding that it was bigger and thicker. Michael
pressed it in and pulled it out, patient and slow, waiting for her to open and
accept it. “You can take it, Soph, come on, open. Reach your hips back. That’s
it. Push against it. Almost there.”
She made another sound as the
thickest part penetrated and the plug was finally seated firmly inside her.
“You can straighten up,” Michael
said. He went to wash his hands in the corner sink.
Sophie tightened her muscles
around the plug, which was heavier than she’d anticipated. Michael returned
with a pair of leather cuffs.
“Hold out your hands,” he said.
“You don’t have to bind…” she
began.
“How many additional strokes do
you think you deserve for speaking when you did not have permission to speak?”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry,
Sir,” she said quickly. “I just…”
“Ten more, then. Another word
and we’ll make it twenty on top of what you’re already going to get.”
She stared at him, her mouth
open, but luckily too smart to keep talking.
“Hold your hands out,” he said.
She extended them to him and he
bound them in front of her before sitting down on the chair. “Lay yourself
across my lap,” he said.
Sophie took a step to his side
and held on to his thigh as she leaned forward, then put her hands to the
floor. Once she was situated, he trapped both her legs between his and pulled
her tight to him. She then felt the weight of the belt as he laid it over her
low back.
“I like you like this,” he said,
his hand circling her buttocks, then pressing on the base of the plug before
dipping down into her pussy. “You’re wet, Soph, even for your punishment you’re
wet. But pain before pleasure and this is going to hurt. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” she said,
her voice wavering.
He chuckled and slapped her ass
once, then caressed softly before repeating the motion on the other cheek. The
caress was just momentary and only heightened her anxiety as she knew the
strike that followed would be sharp and quick.
“Ow,” she said, already
squirming.
“Oh, honey,” he said and she
could hear the smile in his voice, “this is nothing compared to what’s coming.”
He slapped harder and she
struggled against each one, but with her hands bound as they were and her legs
trapped between his, it was useless. When he picked up the belt, however, she
shoved her full weight against him, trying to get free, panic overriding
everything else.
Michael pulled her to him,
holding her tight by her waist. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, Soph. It’s me.
You can take this; you’ll feel better for it.”
“Easy for you to say,” she
cried.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked,
surprising her.
She turned her head to meet his
eyes. “No.”
Her eyes, which had been dry
until then, suddenly filled with tears that overflowed onto the carpet beneath
her. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m just scared. I think I made a mistake. I
think I should have chosen a different belt,” she cried.
He laughed out loud, but it wasn’t
cruel. In fact, as he did it, he hugged her to him, rubbing her back. “Baby,”
he began, “you think I’d have let you get away with that?” he asked. He was
massaging her low back.
That was the moment she
understood that he wouldn’t have let her off the hook.
Goose bumps covered the flesh
over her entire body as this realization settled upon her. She exhaled and
closed her eyes, relishing the release, the knowledge that she was safe here in
his arms and that she could lean on him, that he would carry her. That he could carry her.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Submission in Real Life - Round Table Discussion
If you read last week's Round Table post, you have a brief introduction to me. That or you've already heard way more than you ever wanted to know anyway so on to today's post which is - in one word - submission. There are quite a few of us participating today so make sure to visit the Spanking Romance Review site to check out the rest of the posts.
Let me first define submission. Dictionary says - the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.
Personally, I would define it as a gift of surrender. In my mind, this is not a 24/7 thing. This is a gift given over a certain period of time where there is an exchange of power, I relinquish mine over to him. It is a gift given, never taken, never asked for. It is simply given.
I've learned something in the past weeks. I've learned I'm much more traditional than I thought in that I am only able to give this gift to my husband. That's a whole other topic and it's not really important for this discussion so I'll leave it for now, but that was a huge learning for me.
In reality, this area is new for me. I'm in a whole new place with no reference points where we're learning as we go. One thing I've learned is that in reality, submission is not as perfect or easy as in fiction. Yes, I knew that but I now really know that. And to be very honest, in reality, the act of submitting or surrendering is very difficult for me. In my mind, in my fantasies, I submit. It's easy. It's sexy, it's my whole being. But in reality, I fight it even as I long for it - long to just do it, to give it, to let go and give it.
I'm sitting here writing this and have been trying to write this post in the past days, but it's a much more difficult post to write than I thought it would be. Partly I think it's because it is a personal post - and how much do I want to share? How much can I give away of myself?
I think I'm going to do this the only way I know how - through my writing - in a sort of poem or offering. Here it is - the ideal submission in my mind:
Let me first define submission. Dictionary says - the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.
Personally, I would define it as a gift of surrender. In my mind, this is not a 24/7 thing. This is a gift given over a certain period of time where there is an exchange of power, I relinquish mine over to him. It is a gift given, never taken, never asked for. It is simply given.
I've learned something in the past weeks. I've learned I'm much more traditional than I thought in that I am only able to give this gift to my husband. That's a whole other topic and it's not really important for this discussion so I'll leave it for now, but that was a huge learning for me.
In reality, this area is new for me. I'm in a whole new place with no reference points where we're learning as we go. One thing I've learned is that in reality, submission is not as perfect or easy as in fiction. Yes, I knew that but I now really know that. And to be very honest, in reality, the act of submitting or surrendering is very difficult for me. In my mind, in my fantasies, I submit. It's easy. It's sexy, it's my whole being. But in reality, I fight it even as I long for it - long to just do it, to give it, to let go and give it.
I'm sitting here writing this and have been trying to write this post in the past days, but it's a much more difficult post to write than I thought it would be. Partly I think it's because it is a personal post - and how much do I want to share? How much can I give away of myself?
I think I'm going to do this the only way I know how - through my writing - in a sort of poem or offering. Here it is - the ideal submission in my mind:
I stand naked before him while he is fully clothed.
He tells me to kneel with my hips resting on my heels, knees wide.
He stands behind me, walks to the side of me, watches me as I look straight ahead at nothing.
He tells me to rest my forehead on the ground. I lean forward to do that. At his direction, I extend my arms forward, my forehead touching the cool, hard wood.
I'm to remain as I am.
He is somewhere behind me. I feel exposed.
He does not touch me and I do not move. I close my eyes, then I open them.
Vulnerability flows through me. Resistance wants me to straighten but it's not as strong as my desire to submit.
I remain as I am for I don't know how long. As long as he wants me to be.
When he tells me I may straighten, I may stand, I may come kneel beside him, rest my head on his thigh as he caresses my hair, I feel soft. I feel my eyes are reddened, not from tears but from my submission. He does not speak to me and I rest against him, close to him and for the first time, I am submissive.
He tells me to kneel with my hips resting on my heels, knees wide.
He stands behind me, walks to the side of me, watches me as I look straight ahead at nothing.
He tells me to rest my forehead on the ground. I lean forward to do that. At his direction, I extend my arms forward, my forehead touching the cool, hard wood.
I'm to remain as I am.
He is somewhere behind me. I feel exposed.
He does not touch me and I do not move. I close my eyes, then I open them.
Vulnerability flows through me. Resistance wants me to straighten but it's not as strong as my desire to submit.
I remain as I am for I don't know how long. As long as he wants me to be.
When he tells me I may straighten, I may stand, I may come kneel beside him, rest my head on his thigh as he caresses my hair, I feel soft. I feel my eyes are reddened, not from tears but from my submission. He does not speak to me and I rest against him, close to him and for the first time, I am submissive.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Devotion As Submission
I feel like I'm talking about this all the time but it's still such a huge topic for me. Although I don't subscribe to a religion, I consider myself spiritual. I have the live and let live philosophy and it makes life so much easier. You can avoid so much drama by just letting people be, letting everything just be. But yoga is the piece that adds the juicy bits to that straightforward way of being.
I discovered yoga nine years ago. It was Baron Baptiste who could hold my attention back then and not because he was hot, although that didn't hurt. He just taught a class where the rug was pulled out from under you over and over again and all your bullshit was called out and he wasn't beating around the bush about it. I had (have?) a lot of bullshit.
I used to teach Baptiste Power Vinyasa Yoga and I firmly believe in the power of something as physical as yoga taking someone to a place so completely not physical. For me, the more challenging the posture, the more it hurt, the more I was in. That physical discomfort forced me to find center, find my breath, stop the chatter in my head and focus and then, if it's a good day, melt into it. Just give over to the pain and let it have me and just maybe, I find some peace there.
I made a joke once that isn't a joke at all really. I think yoga teachers are sadists and students are masochists coming back for more and more. On a side note, I believe the opposite of every truth resides within that same thing - or in this case - person. Did that make sense?
I was talking with a friend not too long ago and he said something that has stuck with me. Hopefully, I get it right because he wrapped this all up so nicely. He said something like - or maybe I should say I understood something like: "devotion will be the expression of your submission." Those words are some of the loveliest that have ever been strung together in my mind. He managed to bring two very important parts of my life together and just summed it up so neatly. It's still something that requires some exploration from me but I get goose bumps thinking about it.
Anyhow, my post has turned into rambling again, but I think that's part of it. Ramble and talk and read and listen and really hear and maybe you can uncover another layer and get closer to the core.
I discovered yoga nine years ago. It was Baron Baptiste who could hold my attention back then and not because he was hot, although that didn't hurt. He just taught a class where the rug was pulled out from under you over and over again and all your bullshit was called out and he wasn't beating around the bush about it. I had (have?) a lot of bullshit.
I used to teach Baptiste Power Vinyasa Yoga and I firmly believe in the power of something as physical as yoga taking someone to a place so completely not physical. For me, the more challenging the posture, the more it hurt, the more I was in. That physical discomfort forced me to find center, find my breath, stop the chatter in my head and focus and then, if it's a good day, melt into it. Just give over to the pain and let it have me and just maybe, I find some peace there.
I made a joke once that isn't a joke at all really. I think yoga teachers are sadists and students are masochists coming back for more and more. On a side note, I believe the opposite of every truth resides within that same thing - or in this case - person. Did that make sense?
I was talking with a friend not too long ago and he said something that has stuck with me. Hopefully, I get it right because he wrapped this all up so nicely. He said something like - or maybe I should say I understood something like: "devotion will be the expression of your submission." Those words are some of the loveliest that have ever been strung together in my mind. He managed to bring two very important parts of my life together and just summed it up so neatly. It's still something that requires some exploration from me but I get goose bumps thinking about it.
Anyhow, my post has turned into rambling again, but I think that's part of it. Ramble and talk and read and listen and really hear and maybe you can uncover another layer and get closer to the core.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Good Girl - Two Word That Make Me Weak at the Knees
I have been obsessed with the song Blurred Lines ever since I first heard it. The tune was catchy, his voice was nice but there was definitely something else about it that just grabbed me. I always have that with music - for me, it's the words - and I know straight away if I'm loving it or it's going to be OK or whatever.
At first, I couldn't figure out what it was I liked about it. It's fairly simple and I quite like something a little heavier, something I can brood over. Mumford and Sons has a song that describes this well:
At first, I couldn't figure out what it was I liked about it. It's fairly simple and I quite like something a little heavier, something I can brood over. Mumford and Sons has a song that describes this well:
And the darkness can descend,
We can relish all the pain.
But I know that's what you love,
Cause you know I love the same…"
- Mumford and Sons, Where Are You Now
I relish the pain. I like it. I'm drawn to it and it's usually how I connect with people. But here was this simple song and I finally - finally - figured it out. Yes, I'm a little slow.
It was the good girl reference. When he sings 'you're a good girl', it just speaks to me, makes my belly go all soft and really just makes me want to sit up and pay attention and do whatever he says. I'm submissive by nature and this just hits a button - it's a total trigger.
I'm not going to get all broody now - instead I'm off to listen to the song one more time. Maybe do a little dance in my kitchen - consider yourselves lucky you don't have to witness that. I've linked the video above so if you click on the song title, you can enjoy it right along with me.
It was the good girl reference. When he sings 'you're a good girl', it just speaks to me, makes my belly go all soft and really just makes me want to sit up and pay attention and do whatever he says. I'm submissive by nature and this just hits a button - it's a total trigger.
I'm not going to get all broody now - instead I'm off to listen to the song one more time. Maybe do a little dance in my kitchen - consider yourselves lucky you don't have to witness that. I've linked the video above so if you click on the song title, you can enjoy it right along with me.
Monday, July 29, 2013
The Elegance of Submission
I think I'm not alone in thinking The Story of O is a sort of bible to this genre of writing. Even outside of this genre, it's one of the most elegant books I've ever read. The words are pure sensuality and their meaning so much more than what you gather at first glance. The book sits on my bedside table, its simple white cover with the title in black block letters, and every now and again I pick it up to re-read. Every time, I feel like it's my first time.
One of the most erotic scenes from The Story of O is toward the beginning when O's lover brings her to Sir Stephen's apartments. He has her undress then displays her over the ottoman to present her to Sir Stephen. I still remember O's thoughts as she submits, her feelings as the men discuss her as if she weren't there. Then when she is told to stay as she is while Sir Stephen shows her lover out and she does, remaining exposed and vulnerable without being bound but choosing to submit, it is just incredible, beautiful, highly arousing but so much more. In this short scene, so elegantly written, I felt sensation upon sensation. It was so well done that I even remember the tiny detail of the ash of Sir Stephen's cigarette falling on O's breast a few moments later.
I write about submission an awful lot because it's so completely erotic for me. It's more than an orgasm could ever be, it's more than the act of spanking or any other act, it's somehow, simply, complete. Does that make sense at all?
I leave you with this beautiful piece of pure sensuality from The Story of O...
One of the most erotic scenes from The Story of O is toward the beginning when O's lover brings her to Sir Stephen's apartments. He has her undress then displays her over the ottoman to present her to Sir Stephen. I still remember O's thoughts as she submits, her feelings as the men discuss her as if she weren't there. Then when she is told to stay as she is while Sir Stephen shows her lover out and she does, remaining exposed and vulnerable without being bound but choosing to submit, it is just incredible, beautiful, highly arousing but so much more. In this short scene, so elegantly written, I felt sensation upon sensation. It was so well done that I even remember the tiny detail of the ash of Sir Stephen's cigarette falling on O's breast a few moments later.
I write about submission an awful lot because it's so completely erotic for me. It's more than an orgasm could ever be, it's more than the act of spanking or any other act, it's somehow, simply, complete. Does that make sense at all?
I leave you with this beautiful piece of pure sensuality from The Story of O...
“Keep me rather in this cage, and feed me sparingly, if you dare. Anything that brings me closer to illness and the edge of death makes me more faithful. It is only when you make me suffer that I feel safe and secure. You should never have agreed to be a god for me if you were afraid to assume the duties of a god, and we know that they are not as tender as all that. You have already seen me cry. Now you must learn to relish my tears.”
-Pauline Reage
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Submission as a Gift
I think bondage is hot, restraints are hot, being made to submit is hot (in fiction or consensually in real life). But there's nothing like taking your punishment. Nothing like bending over without the need to be held down, and offering yourself to him. It warms me just thinking about it.
I've been writing a bit more DD oriented stuff lately. Or at least a form of it where the heroine is punished when the hero decides she's broken a rule or put herself in danger or just disobeyed.
In Taken by the Beast and now in Captive's Desire, the spankings have been more disciplinary in nature rather than erotic. Although for me, it's always erotic but I'm sitting behind my computer screen typing away on my keyboard when the hard spanking is going on so easy to say maybe.
I've been writing a bit more DD oriented stuff lately. Or at least a form of it where the heroine is punished when the hero decides she's broken a rule or put herself in danger or just disobeyed.
In Taken by the Beast and now in Captive's Desire, the spankings have been more disciplinary in nature rather than erotic. Although for me, it's always erotic but I'm sitting behind my computer screen typing away on my keyboard when the hard spanking is going on so easy to say maybe.
"Relax your body. Stop fighting, take your punishment and it will be over."
For me, during these scenes I have a theme. It's the "take your punishment without having to be held down, submit to it, to me". And also a favorite line. I can't remember and I hope I edited it out of the current manuscript. I'm not going to tell you what it is- see if you can find it in case it's still there.
Back to the submission piece. Submission is given. It can never be taken. I hope as the stories have progressed, I've been able to show the trust that grows between the characters to the point where the heroine truly submits to the hero, trusting him, giving herself to his keeping and finding bliss there.
I'm not sharing an excerpt today because I was told I'm winding some people up and walking away at a crucial moment. I believe I was called a tease even… today, it's just a pretty picture…enjoy and thanks to everyone for dropping by.
Back to the submission piece. Submission is given. It can never be taken. I hope as the stories have progressed, I've been able to show the trust that grows between the characters to the point where the heroine truly submits to the hero, trusting him, giving herself to his keeping and finding bliss there.
I'm not sharing an excerpt today because I was told I'm winding some people up and walking away at a crucial moment. I believe I was called a tease even… today, it's just a pretty picture…enjoy and thanks to everyone for dropping by.
“I hope I don’t need to remind you again that you’ll be absolutely still and take your punishment without a sound except for the count.”
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
#Figging Gabrielle
I don't really know why the idea of figging is such a turn on. It's probably one of the most taboo things for me at this moment in time.
If I think about what I write and how explicitly I write it, I'll admit, I blush a bit. Even as I write this post, I'm a little embarrassed. It's funny, if it's in the pages of one of my books, I don't feel that way. Maybe it's that if you're reading the book, if you're reading that naughty little scene, well, we're in on a secret. I wrote it and you're reading it. That secret is safe between us. Weird thought, huh?
Anyway, on to figging. I like it. I like the preparation, the mental place it puts you to to receive the ginger as well as the physical sensation - to a point. I've written two figging scenes so far and kind of backed away from them for a bit just to do something different but I'm going to bring it back into my next book I think. I'd love to read more books where figging is used but they're not that easy to find. Or I live under a rock so recommendations are welcome.
For now, I wanted to share a snippet from Taught to Kneel where Gabrielle has asked for punishment and Julian is the one whom she trusts enough to give her what she needs. And in case you weren't sure, yes, he brings the ginger...
If I think about what I write and how explicitly I write it, I'll admit, I blush a bit. Even as I write this post, I'm a little embarrassed. It's funny, if it's in the pages of one of my books, I don't feel that way. Maybe it's that if you're reading the book, if you're reading that naughty little scene, well, we're in on a secret. I wrote it and you're reading it. That secret is safe between us. Weird thought, huh?
Anyway, on to figging. I like it. I like the preparation, the mental place it puts you to to receive the ginger as well as the physical sensation - to a point. I've written two figging scenes so far and kind of backed away from them for a bit just to do something different but I'm going to bring it back into my next book I think. I'd love to read more books where figging is used but they're not that easy to find. Or I live under a rock so recommendations are welcome.
For now, I wanted to share a snippet from Taught to Kneel where Gabrielle has asked for punishment and Julian is the one whom she trusts enough to give her what she needs. And in case you weren't sure, yes, he brings the ginger...
Julian went into his room and closed the door. He was hard already at the thought of what was to come but he wouldn't decide until after the punishment if there would be sex. His priority was Gabrielle. It had taken courage to ask for what she'd asked. She trusted him to deliver what she needed. She trusted him completely.
He unpacked the ginger he'd bought and set the bottled water in the small refrigerator. He then took the small fruit knife and went out on his patio. There, he peeled the thick pieces of ginger root and began to carve them.
Her punishment would be thorough tonight, inside and out. She might be sorry she asked for it in fact. Julian considered his feelings for Gabrielle. She was beautiful and he was attracted to her; that went without saying. But her nature, her softness, her innocence… it all made him feel very protective of her, very possessive. She was a woman he could see himself with for longer than a weekend or a few nights.
But he pushed those thoughts aside. She needed him tonight. She needed him to chastise her. He'd come to terms with the part of him that gained satisfaction from giving discipline. But her trusting him enough to give herself over completely, to give up her safety net, that fulfilled a whole other need.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes to go. He placed the carved ginger root in the refrigerator and stripped off his clothes to have a shower and change.
* * *
Gabrielle knelt in the corner farthest from the door. He'd be here in less than five minutes. Her stomach was in knots, goose bumps raised every hair on her body, and her nipples were pebbled hard. Moisture lubricated her throbbing pussy, her lips spread open, hungry, waiting.
The key turned in the lock and her heart all but stopped. When the door opened, she dropped her gaze to the floor and listened as he closed and locked the door, set the key on the table beside it, and approached. She could see from beneath her eyelashes that he wore dress shoes and black slacks. She dared a glance up to see him set the grocery bag from earlier on the table and quickly dropped her gaze again when she caught his disapproving look. He was dressed in a black suit with a white button down shirt that was open at the collar. His hair was still wet from his shower and seeing him like he was while she knelt at his feet, naked, made her want him like she'd never wanted a man before.
She listened as he took off his jacket and set it over the back of the chair.
“Look at me, Gabrielle,” he said.
She swallowed and lifted her eyes to his. She watched while he rolled up his shirt-sleeves, recognizing once again the power in those arms, those hands.
“Tonight I'm going to punish you hard. I expect you to submit and take your punishment unbound, but if you struggle or resist, I'll bind you. If that happens, you'll receive additional strokes. Do you understand?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
He stepped closer and took hold of a handful of her hair.
“Ow!” She reached instinctively for his hand.
“Words, Gabrielle. This will be your only reminder.”
“Yes. Yes, Sir. I understand.”
He released her. “Good. Stand up.”
That wasn't a question so she didn't answer. She rose to her feet, but she was unsure whether to meet his eyes or not and so she kept hers to the ground.
“Climb on the bed, on your knees and elbows. Keep your legs wide and face forward.” He moved to retrieve whatever he'd brought with him.
She couldn't see the item while she moved into position, feeling the sticky moisture drying on her thighs while she situated herself, settling on her elbows which lifted her ass high.
She heard his feet on the tile floor and couldn’t help glancing back when the bed dipped beneath his weight.
A sharp slap to her buttocks quickly readjusted her position.
“Turn around again and I won't stop at one.”
“I'm sorry, Sir.” He was being harsher than he had been before, harder on her. It turned her on and frightened her at the same time.
“This,” he said, just as she felt something cold and rough at her anus. “Is ginger root. It's about two inches long and two finger widths wide.” He pressed and she clenched. “And this is exactly the reason we're using it tonight. Relax your muscles and push against it. It will go easier.”
She mewled and although she wanted to do as he said, she just couldn't.
“I won’t be using lubricant or the ginger won't serve its purpose. Do you know what that purpose is Gabrielle?'
“No, Sir.” The sting had already settled along the rim of the tight passage, giving her some idea when the tip of the root penetrated her entrance.
“The ginger will cause a burning sensation from the inside. It will hurt but you may find it pleasurable. If you clench, however, the sting will become more intense. I plan to whip you tonight and I want your buttocks soft and unclenched for the punishment.”
He was going to whip her, just as she wanted but feared.
“Bear down, Gabrielle. Put your face on the bed and bear down.”
Could this be more humiliating? She laid the side of her face on the bed and pushed, feeling the ginger slide in as she did so. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant at first; in fact, when it was all the way inside and he released it, she worked her muscles around the cool intrusion and she knew if she reached back and touched her clit, she'd come.
But after a few moments, she knew exactly why he was using the root.
He unpacked the ginger he'd bought and set the bottled water in the small refrigerator. He then took the small fruit knife and went out on his patio. There, he peeled the thick pieces of ginger root and began to carve them.
Her punishment would be thorough tonight, inside and out. She might be sorry she asked for it in fact. Julian considered his feelings for Gabrielle. She was beautiful and he was attracted to her; that went without saying. But her nature, her softness, her innocence… it all made him feel very protective of her, very possessive. She was a woman he could see himself with for longer than a weekend or a few nights.
But he pushed those thoughts aside. She needed him tonight. She needed him to chastise her. He'd come to terms with the part of him that gained satisfaction from giving discipline. But her trusting him enough to give herself over completely, to give up her safety net, that fulfilled a whole other need.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes to go. He placed the carved ginger root in the refrigerator and stripped off his clothes to have a shower and change.
* * *
Gabrielle knelt in the corner farthest from the door. He'd be here in less than five minutes. Her stomach was in knots, goose bumps raised every hair on her body, and her nipples were pebbled hard. Moisture lubricated her throbbing pussy, her lips spread open, hungry, waiting.
The key turned in the lock and her heart all but stopped. When the door opened, she dropped her gaze to the floor and listened as he closed and locked the door, set the key on the table beside it, and approached. She could see from beneath her eyelashes that he wore dress shoes and black slacks. She dared a glance up to see him set the grocery bag from earlier on the table and quickly dropped her gaze again when she caught his disapproving look. He was dressed in a black suit with a white button down shirt that was open at the collar. His hair was still wet from his shower and seeing him like he was while she knelt at his feet, naked, made her want him like she'd never wanted a man before.
She listened as he took off his jacket and set it over the back of the chair.
“Look at me, Gabrielle,” he said.
She swallowed and lifted her eyes to his. She watched while he rolled up his shirt-sleeves, recognizing once again the power in those arms, those hands.
“Tonight I'm going to punish you hard. I expect you to submit and take your punishment unbound, but if you struggle or resist, I'll bind you. If that happens, you'll receive additional strokes. Do you understand?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
He stepped closer and took hold of a handful of her hair.
“Ow!” She reached instinctively for his hand.
“Words, Gabrielle. This will be your only reminder.”
“Yes. Yes, Sir. I understand.”
He released her. “Good. Stand up.”
That wasn't a question so she didn't answer. She rose to her feet, but she was unsure whether to meet his eyes or not and so she kept hers to the ground.
“Climb on the bed, on your knees and elbows. Keep your legs wide and face forward.” He moved to retrieve whatever he'd brought with him.
She couldn't see the item while she moved into position, feeling the sticky moisture drying on her thighs while she situated herself, settling on her elbows which lifted her ass high.
She heard his feet on the tile floor and couldn’t help glancing back when the bed dipped beneath his weight.
A sharp slap to her buttocks quickly readjusted her position.
“Turn around again and I won't stop at one.”
“I'm sorry, Sir.” He was being harsher than he had been before, harder on her. It turned her on and frightened her at the same time.
“This,” he said, just as she felt something cold and rough at her anus. “Is ginger root. It's about two inches long and two finger widths wide.” He pressed and she clenched. “And this is exactly the reason we're using it tonight. Relax your muscles and push against it. It will go easier.”
She mewled and although she wanted to do as he said, she just couldn't.
“I won’t be using lubricant or the ginger won't serve its purpose. Do you know what that purpose is Gabrielle?'
“No, Sir.” The sting had already settled along the rim of the tight passage, giving her some idea when the tip of the root penetrated her entrance.
“The ginger will cause a burning sensation from the inside. It will hurt but you may find it pleasurable. If you clench, however, the sting will become more intense. I plan to whip you tonight and I want your buttocks soft and unclenched for the punishment.”
He was going to whip her, just as she wanted but feared.
“Bear down, Gabrielle. Put your face on the bed and bear down.”
Could this be more humiliating? She laid the side of her face on the bed and pushed, feeling the ginger slide in as she did so. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant at first; in fact, when it was all the way inside and he released it, she worked her muscles around the cool intrusion and she knew if she reached back and touched her clit, she'd come.
But after a few moments, she knew exactly why he was using the root.