Flashback Friday: “Do spankings improve your complexion?”

This week’s Flashback Friday story, was originally posted on Oct. 15th, 2009.

Such strange thoughts chase through your mind when bent over waiting for the first blow. No matter how many times your butt has been blistered, every spanking is different. Whether a good girl, maintenance, discipline, punishment, role-play, therapy or any other type of spanking, the mental aspect determines the effectiveness. Sure it’s your bottom *baring* the swats, but it’s your Dom toying with your mind that makes the scene fly.

[I mean scene as in personal scene not professional scene.]

Thus the questions in a submissive mind long before the spanking actually begins. Sure a spanking hurts, most of the time very badly, but the mental torture lovingly applied by a cruel Master is so delicious. It makes the nerves jangle, the adrenaline pump and when the bottom is bared to the implement of correction, the mind has become numb. Except for those pesky questions.

Do spankings improve your complexion?
How often do birds eat?
If we had roast last night, how many sandwiches can I make?
How long to teach that damned pig to fly?
OUCH!

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(25)

“As for you, Louisa,” Mrs. Cleanknockers continued with icy diction, “give Ruby what comfort you may, and stay with her all night. Never let it be said, I would refuse the condemned her last request.” With those ominous words, she departed. My legs gave out and I blindly groped for my cot. Louisa lent me her arm and we heavily sat down together, hips bumping and heads touching in joint misery. “What have I done?” I said with teary voice. “A very brave thing, dear Ruby.” Louisa cupped my face and pressed her lips to mine. “A very brave thing.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Tear me a new one

I bask in your respect
admire the flowers you buy
giggle at the itchy lace
and waxy chocolate once
a year in February
my heart thumps when
you load the dishwasher
or take the kids for pizza
so that I can bubble
and pretend still single
we fight about money
who doesn’t do that
however you’ve taught me
—and our daughters—
that our actual strength
is between our ears
—not our legs—
and feminism isn’t a
curse word or weapon
I know we’re tired
and weekly sex is fine
yet sometimes it’s
necessary for you…

…to grab my throat
call me slut, throw
me on the bed, pin
me down, take my
wrists in your strong
calloused palms and
molest my curves
when I struggle and
whine, flip me like
a pancake and spank
my ass until I cry,
not only in pain,
pleasure is too tame
for what I feel when
you fist my thong,
rip it clean off,
the scorching heat
in my cunt
—I said it—
cunt, weeping for
your thick cock, yes,
we make love, it’s
wonderful, but what
I want sometimes
is a good fucking,
hard, deep, fast,
make it hurt, treat
me with rough contempt
when you yank my
head back and use
me like your private
whore, not a beloved
wife…

…you don’t even
have to pay me, just
finish by reaming my
ass and spraying your
hot sperm on my back

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(24)

We were mute. Carved puppets of ash, or perhaps soapstone, we danced for our betters’ amusement. The oh-so-familiar resentment washed over me. I glanced sidelong at Louisa. “Why is love forbidden, ma’am? Why must we, who have no recourse, be expected to toil for our board, perform sexual feats daily, yet be denied the comfort of close companionship in the night?” I heard the synchronous soft intakes of snake-like hisses. I fully expected to be tossed bottom-up over Mrs. Cleanknockers’ knees; instead, she exhaled several deep breaths. “You will report to the Gun Room, Ruby, tomorrow morning, after your discipline.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(23)

My skin erupted into a pimpled landscape that mapped my fear through erect hairs and tingling shivers. I was sure I’d finally gone too far and would be cast out into the dark. Mrs. Cleanknockers spoke. “I came to tell you, Ruby, that you need not fear Emily’s corrosive malignancy any longer. His Lordship has seen to her placement as the ward of a friend of his who specializes in molding malicious spirits. It seems someone though has wasted no time in transferring her puckish loyalty. Had I known you were so easy, Louisa, I would have licked you myself.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(22)

“See?” Louisa coaxed. “I lick you and you lick me: soixante-neuf.” As the meaning became clear, I said ‘Ah, I get it now’ as an oil lamp flared. We froze in shock as the seemingly sun-bright lamp chased the shadows and lust from the room. “Well, well, well,” Mrs. Cleanknockers drawled. “What does my wandering eye spy, but two very, very, bad little girls engaging in very, very naughty games?” We sprang off my cot, limbs tumbling and colliding in our haste to stand at attention. Our breath was short and my heart, at least, was pounding in my chest.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 5 Part(21)

“Let me roll over on my back, Ruby, so we can soixante-neuf,” Louisa growled in return. “What does that mean?” I asked, baffled by the unfamiliar term. “It means sixty-nine, for the shapes when laid on the side and on top of each other.” She struggled under me and I dismounted and stood up. She quickly turned over and clasped my hand. Tugging, she said, “Now, climb back as you were, with your face down there, and with your pussy above my face.” I clambered over her and crouched on all fours. I felt her tongue lick my wet thighs.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.