Kismet of Submission: Episode 13

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Sir continues to layer the paddle pops in a quasi-random pattern, focusing on the area covered by Tamara’s panties; which by now, have crept up and inwards revealing the dark pink rounded edges of her buttocks.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

‘Oh…’ A long drawn out hiss of surprised pleasure as the spanking shifts to the virgin territory of uppermost thigh and plump crease now accessible due to her arched posture.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

‘Lift up a bit. A bit more.’

Smack. Smack. Smack.

‘Waggle your naughty bottom if you want more.’

Without hesitation she obeys and even widens her stance by shifting backwards and thrusting her hot skin higher.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The rapid sharp smacks on dusky olive flesh sink into her submissive posture and she pants as she clenches and releases. She can’t help wiggling her hips, acutely aware, even in the midst of the floating sensation that’s overtaken her nerves, what a view Sir must have. I want my panties yanked down! Please! Touch me!

Smack. Smack. Smack.

A hand caresses. She instinctively arches even higher, her toes straining with rigid knees locked straight. The hand, slowly, ever so slowly, passes over her spanked bottom. She can feel the heat pouring off. His hand rubs ever so slightly over the warmed fabric.

Tamara whines under her breath.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

‘I heard that.’

‘Please… Sir!’

Smack. Smack. Smack.

His hand now slips lower onto the bare portion and down her thighs: But not towards the wet center.

‘Not yet, not now.’

Tamara whines louder when Sir’s finger slip under the lace seam and tug her cotton underwear back to the original position.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

When her dress follows suit by dropping to her knees, she pouts.

‘Last three. They’ll be very hard.’

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

She bites her lip, hard, and chokes off a scream as the blows nearly take her over the edge. As she writhes and frantically rotates her pelvis on the pillow, she hears him zip up his suitcase. The television shuts off. The bed dips near her head and Tamara lets out a prolonged sigh when his fingers run through her hair.

‘Time for that cuddle.’

‘I’d rather have a come.’

‘Later.’ He leans over and kisses the crown of her head. ‘Later.’

We too let out our breath with a shivery shake of the shoulders. For many of us, we’re reminiscing about giving or receiving a spanking. For some, it’s been too long—or never, and the yearning Tamara has discovered under discipline is something we crave deep in our souls. But yet, there are questions that have been raised. Did this paddling have the desired effect on her? Why didn’t Sir touch her or at least take down her panties to expose her pussy? She clearly wanted that, although his masterful technique was quite striking. The way he kept a steady tempo, slowly increasing strength and varying location until the entire target area was a solid carnation color. And those last three. No way could Tamara have taken an entire punishment padding at that severity. We’d be talking fire engine red with bruises. A sudden gust of wind slaps the window and immediately the external view turns blurry. A flash: A loud crack of thunder. Tamara jumps in his arms that automatically tighten in response.

‘Don’t like storms?’

‘Not my favorite.’

‘Keep your cheek on my chest. It’ll be fine.’

As the rain slashes against the glass and lightning strobes through the dark sky, she winces every time the growling claps rumble their stentorian bellows. Ever since she was a little girl, she’s been frightened of thunderstorms.

Later, it was the looming figures creeping into her bedroom and slipping beneath her covers while she lay there and pretended it was only a nightmare. The two eventually became intertwined when the pervasive abuse often coincided with inclement weather.

She burrows into Sir. It’s different. It’s different. We’re safe.

He absentmindedly traces Mobius loops across her quivering back. Random kisses on her temple. Wordless croons in her ear. His left hand settles on her hip. Patting gently, he hoists her even closer as the storm rages—inside and out.

‘Why did you… why didn’t you go any further?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.’

Tamara lifts her face and repeats. ‘I said, why didn’t you… you know… go even further?’

He cups her chin and meets her scared eyes. She flinches at an extra loud crack. He carefully enunciates, ‘Because you hadn’t given permission to go any further, no matter what your body responses were saying.’

Relaxing a bit in his gentle but firm grip, she blinks and manages a small smile. ‘Even though I was begging you to be ridden like a two-bit whore?’

The air seems to freeze momentarily. She gives a reflexive gulp when Sir’s expression turns statue stern. His voice is calm but the tone is unyielding. ‘Unless we are role-playing, or in the throes of passion, I never want to hear such self-denigrating words from your mouth. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ her response is barely a whisper.

He squeezes her jaw and then shocks her with a broad impish grin. ‘Too Domish for you?’

She shakes her head as much as possible given the tight grip. ‘No, you didn’t frighten me, Sir. I have a lot of bad habits that I’m not proud of admitting.’

‘Everyone does, Tamara, including me.’ He turns his fingers loose and strokes her cheeks softly. ‘I don’t want to ever frighten you, even when the things I say or do may seem harsh or unsympathetic. I understand there are likely bad things in your past and I don’t demand or need to hear them: but, the longer you remain with me, the more likely that trauma will begin to bubble out from the dark spaces inside. D/s can help mitigate the consequences of learned behavior.’

‘That seems… weird, Sir. I can understand if I drank too much or wanted to quit smoking; but why would I want or need to be spanked for something someone else forced upon me without my consent?’

To read all the Kismet of Submission episodes in order, please go to this page for individual links.

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