Boundmuse

An extract from one of boundmuse’s passionate stories:

“Punish me?” She whispered those magic words, the innocent sounding phrase barely escaping those pouting, glossy lips.

Two little words, so simple, but enough to make my pulse jump, my cock rouse and begin to stiffen. Two words that when spoken just so, were like a shock of electricity that went right down my spine, making me sit up straight in my seat. Those were the words that made me want to grab her by the front of her shirt or even by the throat. The words that filled my mind with images of her upturned ass and her cheeks wet with tears. I could almost hear her moaning, crying, and begging me to stop.

Even then, even when she was trembling and weak over my lap, some part of her, some small part of her didn’t want me to stop. Not until I was finished. Not until I told her that she had taken enough. Not until the act had redeemed her of bad deeds and she was once again my ‘good girl’.

Sitting across from me, she was tense. Her posture strained, she was trying to relax but truly she was stiff in her seat. I could see that her foot was twitching, on one foot the heels she wore were half hanging off her little foot, only secured by her stocking clad toes.

Leaning forward, I rested my arms on my knees and clasp my hands together. Subtly she attempted to lean back but found the chair’s stiff back offered her no room to do so, her hands sliding up and down the arms of her seat in a slow caress.

“Why should I?” I asked. This was the part she hated, the part she needed more than perhaps the spanking itself. This was the act of confession, the giving in and the telling of dirty deeds. There could be no penance without confession.

boundmuse

Originally posted 2006-09-21 05:47:39.