Message-ID: <17035eli$9811062319@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Jewelie@spam.mindspring.com (Jewelie White) Subject: The Red that is not Gold Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,soc.subculture.bondage-bdsm,soc.sexuality.spanking Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Rcpt-To: sss-post@amythest.com X-Auth: soc.sexuality.spanking Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <364199f6.193844989@news.earthlink.net> The Red that is Gold by Jewelie White (c) 1998 Introduction Sally and I had met on IRC some months ago and it turned out to be love at first sight, rather at first chat. A few flights to visit each other on the opposite coasts ... that was proof of love, putting up with the flights. She visited me first, staying at a local motel to start. I took her to dinner that night, a modest place with good food that didn't charge for the decore. The right sort of place, not to try to overwhelm on the first date but more than good enough to know there would be at least pleasure in the food if we did not hit it off in person. But we did hit it off. At my place the next afternoon we poured over my collection of magazines and some videotapes in the background. It was quite an unusual first meeting, much like teenagers before the pill was invented. There we were, literally pouring over the material that stimulated both of us to no end but we had sworn not to do anything until we were sure of each other. Both of us contributing "I've tried that"s and "She always gets me hot"s and all the other comments that let us know we had found something to share that we both loved passionately. "What is it you feel when you look at these pictures?" she asked ernestly. "Envy. Envy of the woman who is tied or getting spanked. Always envy of the passive one in the scene." I knew that was the right answer the moment I said it. Her eyes told it all. "Would you like to see my toy collection?" "You know what we promised," she reminded me but she had a deliciously impish look in her eyes. "Just look, I promise you." And I meant it even though I was more than half way aroused. My previous "lives" with women had been good five ways from Sunday but never in this sixth way. She went through everything. All of it virgin to anyone but what I had used on myself. As virgin as I to all of this. The image of being a late-blooming virgin had a certain poignancy to it. My toy box was my trouseau. I had tried it all on but never worn it for anyone. "This all looks so unused," she commented, clearly expecting an explanation. "Mostly unused, yes," I stated clearly, ready to confess, no longer really feeling embarrassed. "I did not mislead you. I know the theory. I am well read and a quick study. And I love the mind set of it all." "But no woman to play with?" It was like a probe into my soul that demanded I give to her but she would not take from me. She picked up the leather cuffs and looked at me and licked her lips. "Turn around," she ordered. "We promised," I objected but none too seriously. She picked up a ball gag, "Shush and turn around or I'll shush you for real." Her eyes were more lust than twinkles, certainly mirrors of my own. The velcro closed them snuggly. I struggled for her. She leaned me back on the floor and lay a bit on top of me. Suddenly her pelvis was grinding into mine. I shot in that moment and she quickly followed. Arrgghhh! like teenagers. But then maybe that is the way people are meant to discover each other when new lives are young. Maybe I will tell the full story of our first few meetings some day. But for now it is enough to say that I moved to Florida and together we bought a large house with walled grounds for us to share as our playground. PART I Sally left early that morning. I had barely been awake when I got her eggs and toast ready. If the coffee had not made itself by the timer I might not have been awake enough to do that. It was turning into quite the life we had hoped for. She had a job she enjoyed. I didn't have to work as I had more than enough income to carry both of us. And I am certain we would have carried the other just to be together. I took care of the house, domestic chores and like although that had lead to a few discipline sessions which was also what both of us had hoped for. She was teaching, I was learning, we agreed with the method. Agreed hell, we loved it. The chores were not much really, we had a twice a week maid service for the regular maintenance. It was something I just loved doing and that Sally loved having me do. I loved to cook and was good at it. I was re-learning french style now that I had someone to cook for besides myself. And otherwise I still had time for my contract work, what I did to keep my hand in the business should I ever get restless enough to get back into it full time. But for me the best part, dressing all day, every day, except when I went out to run errands like groceries and dry cleaning. Still then I can wear my underwear, panties at least. Knee-hi stockings are easy and it was surprising to find just how easy it was to find women's tennis shoes that didn't stand out. After we moved in together I started getting together a nice collection of exceptionally man-tailored cotton slacks and blouses. They were light and airey. By paying a little extra or exercising my skills with the sewing machine all my slacks were lined giving my legs a delicious feeling. All of this made me conscious of having to be more careful of them while wearing them. So not only did I get the physical sensations but it worked on my head. It got me into a frame of mind that made me so comfortable I was even able to buy my cosmetics without pretending the compare the items carefully with a written list as cover. When I first did this there was a problem. When everything was sharp, neat and spotless people seemed to be able to read me. I got knowing looks. I didn't want any looks. I wanted no attention. I just wanted to blend in. And hmmm, no eye-contact, how, hmmm, feminine. So I became adept at ironing in some wrinkles and wearing things around the house passed the point where they were in need of laundering before wearing them in public. That was what I called my grunge camoflauge. The clothes might not be fully masculine but certainly I was not trying pass. And it appeared people would get as far as the wrinkles or the touch of dirt and look away, not wanting to embarass me. Early on, I began to wonder why I had not done it before, on my own. Most of it was I had no one to dress for. Sure it is fun to dress up, get excited, relieve yourself and get back to something I didn't feel I had to be careful about wearing. It is another to have someone to wake up to, know they may come home during the work day, be beautiful for in the evening and then be bedded. You find you want to look nice for them. Any my fortune beyond all good fortune was finding a woman who wanted me to look nice for her in this way. She wished me to wear well tailored women's clothes that looked good on me. She wished the colors to work together. She wished attention getting accessories and jewelry on me. Her wishes were my enthusiastically obeyed commands. Sally did her part to get what she wanted. She taught me how to dress, how to put outfits together, to mix and match. Once it is explained so you get the hang of what you are doing it, it really is fun. It is almost a man-type challenge. A real challenge too, like finding the perfect accessory that can make many outfits look different with it. Three outfits and the perfect scarf is like having three new outfits for the price of the scarf. I can't explain it really. I'll see if I can get her to write one of these stories some day. I know you are just dying to know ... Yes, I have a french maid outfit. I only wear it on special occasions. It is not a fetish but a fun thing to wear at times. It is just one costume in a growing collection of costumes. And several of them are far from submissive though I have to admit being less partial to those. They are all part of the variety that spices our life together and keeps it fresh and alive. Around the house during the day I dress casual. Usually a simple housedress. I only wear slacks when I need to get them "grunged" for wearing in public. I am usually in flats, sometimes barefoot, rarely more than one inch heels. When I know Sally will be stopping by for lunch, something a bit fancier but it still daywear. Sometimes I just a hugely oversized teeshirt or that football jersey Sally got for me and I love so. I'll have to know you better before I tell you about my underwear. :) And that was today, a bit of laundry, some writing, reviewing a business plan, and studying home decorating catalogs for the rec room in our new home. Not only was it bare but still unfinished. It was my chance to do something like this from the the barebones start. Sally would be home around six and it was time to luxuriate a bit. Going into the routine it still felt like a waste of time but I was getting to love the long soak in the tub. And she loved me fresh and soft and powdered and I wanted to do that for her. I got my hair in the hot rollers, slid my bathcap over them and slipped into the water. Everything seemed to melt away in this sensation. I had long learned what luxuriating felt like. Even if you are still playing macho guy, give it a try. Skip the scent. I wasn't much on the bubbles yet but the scented bath oils were something to look forward to. After they changed from being an irregular private experience into an almost daily experience they also stopped being something that caused a raging erection. They simply put me in an intensely erotic mood with thoughts of Sally's reaction to me this way. And of course the body shaving, still a bit annoying for the time it took but it was something to do as the relaxing hot bath cooled to just warm. Besides, I loved the look and feel. Even short stubs of dark brown hair looked and felt much better than dense hair all over. And it wouldn't be forever. The electrolysis treatments were working their way up my legs. They were almost to my knees now. As the water got towards cool and I reluctantly left it. I patted dry, not really necessary but an affectation. I dusted with perfumed talc. Not really a necessity but both of us loved the feel and the fragrance. It was like I was marking my territory, leaving my scent in the air, on her, everywhere I went. And she loved being marked. I wrapped myself in a white satin robe and went to get dressed for dinner. This was an anniversary dinner and a Friday. I was going to make very special for Sally. Which anniversary? Let her guess ... I had learned that trick. If she didn't guess correctly, I got flowers or jewelry or more until I stopped being hurt. My underclothing was basic black in lace and satin. And there were sheer black stockings to a matching garterbelt. And I added a black slip. The outfit I planned didn't need it. But the lace trim and wide lace hem would do wonders for Sally's attitude when I moved so she could see it. I loved what I could do to Sally, getting her so hot and horny. I loved teasing her this way. And it would give her more to unwrap later. I was making myself into a little present for her. I love being unwrapped. Makeup, makeup, makeup. Still learning here but practicing real hard (big grin.) I had not gotten a bit of style to it until meeting Sally. And then she had convinced me to do just one thing that had given me motivation, lip collogen. I had objected but she kept at me until she threw me in that briar patch and I had gotten lips, really full lips. Before then the easiest thing to do had never worked for me, lipstick. I was a man with colored lips. I just did everything for the feelings not for the looks. Afterwards, even without color there was something feminine about my face. That was one huge incentive. I wanted to keep them colored just to attract attention to them. And it was passable outside home. Sally was so great at supporting me in becoming what I wanted to become and what she wanted me to be. And after I was so happy with my new lips she started encouraging me to more surgery. I was almost convinced to have my eyes widened along with the face lift that was scheduled for next month. "This way you won't have to go in twice," she kept saying as though it was a foregone conclusion that it was going to happen eventually. I still wasn't sure of getting a butt and hips but with Sally around they seemed inevitable as well. It was a matter of time before she had me comfortable with the idea. And I was always looking longingly at the way her skirts draped so loosely from her hips. But just with my new like doing my eyes had become a compulsion. She still did them much better than I but if I took the time I could do something credible almost doing it right. The more feminine I looked and acted the more aroused, the happier she was. Making her happy was one of the great motivations in my life. So I completed my make up -- facial hair I had had electrolized on my own years before meeting Sally. Foundation, facial color, mimicing Sally's treatment of my cheekbones. I then started on my hair, taking it out of the rollers, spraying and brushing as I went. It wasn't that long yet but I was able to work up a bouyfant style with curves surrounding my face and some modest height on top. It was only a bit lighter than I was born with. Sally had me slowly lightening it so that I would not be a shock to me and a discouragement for me to ever leave the house. I mean it was not like I was a real woman. Acquaintances were not going to come up to me and say they loved my new hair. I was not going to have any help gaining public confidence so her plan was to take it slow. I felt that it was working. I checked the time and found barely an hour left. Time to get moving. I stepped into a short black chiffon skirt. I loved it. It had arrived only last week in the mail (mail order is the only way for me to surprise Sally.) I had tried it on quickly when it arrived and it was lucsious. Next the metallic gold blouse with princess neckline and keyhole closure in back. It draped my D silicones to perfection. I was ready to kiss myself. I fastened the self belt with its gold buckle and slipped into my black 3 1/2 inch pumps. The heels matching the length of my feet. I happily wore 5 inch heels on occasion but where Sally wore 3 inch for formal occasions, 3 1/2 inch was about in proportion for me. And then the big breath in the full length mirror. I could eat me up. I was lovely. I twirled and watch my skirt flare out. I moved quickly to watch it swish around my hips. I was a match for the model in the catalog ... well almost. :) If I could just lose about a third of my body mass including bone structure ... ah, some things are not meant to be. Last little touches. perfume in all the right places including under each ear where she loved to nibble my lobes. And some long dangling earings to get her attention to them. What else? Ah yes, a thin gold slave chain on my left ankle, one of Sally's most treasured gifts to me. It contrasted so well against the black nylon. A sparkling cocktail ring, a gift to myself, on my right hand, the hand that would move the most as I was right handed. The evening was wonderful if I do say so myself. I had dinner set to be ready right after we shared cocktails, chilled gin with the vermouth cork passed over it lightly and a short incantation. And, I may add, my careful control of amount of alcohol per male and female intoxication levels so we were about equal. Sally was wearing her burgundy business suit when she arrived home but when she took off her jacket and adjusted her blouse and freshened up she again showed me how much I had to learn. Suddenly it was as though she had dressed for dinner. Her blouse was loose and open. I was happy for my full skirt as it would not allow the nether parts of me to ruin my image. I was attentive. I asked after her day. When she said something I found curious, I remembered to open my eyes widely instead of narrowing them and wrinkling my forehead. So many mannerisms were becoming second nature to me. They seemed to go so naturally with my new lifestyle. I timed my drinking to hers so we were finished together. It was another way of following her. I gladly refilled our drinks. She made me so happy letting me be a good wife to her. Sexually it was even more fun. I had practiced (and remembered) how to show the slip lace and to almost give the panty-peak. My legs crossed casually but not quite open enough to see my panties but just enough to have to adjust my skirt over my slip. I regularly drew her eyes to my crossing legs, legs agleam with the sheerest black nylons and a hope of a glimpse of my pantied crotch. When I walked I turned quickly so my full skirt swirled out and showed the lace hem of my narrow slip. I had practiced in the mirror and learned it would not work with a slip with a full cut skirt. It appeared the only use for the full skirted slip was to avoid it being seen. Dinner I hoped was lovely. I did my best. Candlelit, the best set table I could do. I tried to be "sparkling." I had an obvious objective, that she not remember what she ate that night, only that it was good. That she remembered only me. I took every opportunity to get up and serve something new. That drew her attention to the sounds of my skirt and stockings, to spread my perfume around her, to let her see my long legs accentuated by my gait in my heels, to give her another glimpse of my slip. And the heels did draw her attention to my ankles and that slave bracelet that I loved so. Of course I reserved the right to hold not remembering the particulars of the meal over her -- I had slaved so :). Sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose. She loved that too. I was helping make her my man, my husband, as much as she was helping make me her woman, his wife. Some day, some day soon I hoped, we would have that wedding ceremony I had dreamed over so many years. I was already mentally planning my gown and trouseau. My eyes misted with love then as I gazed into her eyes. Part II After dinner we snuggled to soft music. She held me so close, so gently. My hair was carressed lightly and there were gentle kisses. I longed for the day my hair was long enough to style so I could brush it across her face. Someone had said that a lot of being a woman was patience. It applied. We spoke lightly of our future together, plans for tomorrow, light things I barely remember under the intense eroticism I felt. Her hands were lightly touching me everywhere, appearing accidental at times, at other times very purposeful. Soon her hand that had rested on my skirted thigh began sliding up under my skirt. Never ask my why I love skirts! Here I was completely vulnerable and open. It felt so good. It always feels good. And with my aggressive Sally I loved being there for her to "agress." If you haven't tried it, it is an oddly satisfying feeling. With a skirt you wear stockings to feel less naked. There are a magic number of square inches of bare skin to show depending on the occasion. But not really ... how do I explain ... let me give you some examples. Evening wear? Never without stockings. A plunging neckline or a bare back, not both. But a bathing suit or tennis outfit? Never with stockings but with the former, everything and more can show. With the latter, only the legs and arms. But a skirted bathing suit is not much different from a tennis outfit. Cheerleading? Tastes and styles vary on that one. Trust me. It all makes much more sense when you think about actually wearing it yourself in public than it will ever make to you just thinking about it. But I digress. Her hand was far enough up my skirts that she felt my interest in her attentions and forced a gasp from me. "Do you want to play, little one?" "Yes," I said breathily, squirming under her touch. Just feeling her hand moving from my stocking to my bare upper thigh then to my crotch ... I felt so owned. I felt so possessed. Whatever she wanted there would never be a no within me. She held me tightly and kissed me deeply. My body squirmed under it layers of the acetate and nylon and satin just melting in all the feelings. "Fold your hands in your lap, put your legs together, close your eyes, be silent, and don't move till I return and say you can." I hated this kind of order. Rather she had tied me so tightly it hurt instead. But it was to teach me obediance. To learn obedience from Sally brought rewards beyond knowing. She was had returned but I was still not given permission to move. I knew she was just watching to see if I would move, testing me, testing obedience. There were some small sounds and then a soft scarf tied over my eyes. "You may open your eyes now." Yes, just barely I could. In the low lit room there was not light nor dark nor could I be sure of seeing in the least. Sight was the second thing Sally was taking from me tonight after the privacy of my body under my clothing. But I wanted to give her that privacy and now I wanted to give her my sight. Anything she would take I would give willingly. I heard the whispers of her nylons and skirt move in front of me. Gently a soft scarf surrounded my wrists and then a cinch pulled it snug. I was getting into this then ... feeling my headspace overwhelming me with this slow ritual. I nervously played with the hem of my skirt as best I could with my bound hands. It was a way to let out a bit of the adrenalin coursing through me trying to keep it from rising to nervous shaking. Another scarf was wrapped around my ankles and tied loosely around one ankle separately. I had worn this hobble tie before, just enough to keep my kicking under control. I knew what was coming. She took my hands in hers and kissed my lips gently. "Thank you so very much. That was a very lovely dinner and the start of a wonderful romantic evening." My hands started to tremble in hers. She seemed to sense my inner mood. As always she knew what to do. She tugged at my ankle scarf, "I guess we don't need this just yet." She untied it and helped me to my feet. She raised my bound arms and brought them down behind her so I was holding her upper body with her arms under mine. Her hands went to my sit spot and pulled me close to her. She moved and I followed, then she moved again in time with the music. Bound slow dancing, following her blindfolded, requiring total trust in her. Her hands sliding over my bottom, squeezing lightly, the layers of my clothing sliding under her hands against me. Being teased and reminded of the way I was dressed, knowing I had dressed just for these feelings. The sounds of my legs moving, my nylons sirrushing slightly. The feel of the lace of my slip catching a bit as it slid over my nylons, the feel of the chiffon of my skirt sliding over its lining and the lining against my slip. It was so comforting, so relaxing. All tension, all concern was slipt from me. Time would have stopped on its own without my blindfold. My head rested on her shoulder. She whispered her love for me. Our scents mingled, our lipsticks oddly shaded from our kisses. The softness of my blouse slid quietly over the softness of hers. Our hair mussed each other's, earrings tickling our necks and each other's necks. I was lost in her, lost in the delicate physical sensations. A gentle whisper, "It is time now." I quietly nodded my head feeling my blindfold caress her hair, my nervousness gone. No one need ask why I love her so. She stopped leading and gently freed herself from my arms. With a whispersd, "sit," she easied me down to the couch. Again my ankles were loosely bound against kicking. I felt Sally sit next to me and gently start guiding me over her lap. I used my tethered-in-front "don't rub, don't interfere" hands to help ease myself into position. The toes of my pumps just touching the floor, my wrists over my head, my right cheek resting on the couch cushion surely ruining my makeup. Submission, surrender, comfort, security, all replaced the fear of the pain. Did I ever tell you I fear a spanking? Yes, very much. Not the hero here, more like the big crybaby. I may never sort out why I want it so. This time Sally had taken the fear from me. "Are you ready?" Again I nodded. She giggled slightly, "I forget to tell you you could talk. Yes, please talk. I want to hear your voice." "Thank you, Ma'am. Yes, I am as ready as I will ever be." "Good for you," she encouraged as she raised my skirt to my waist and ran her hand over my black satin slip. "Very pretty, you really are learning to dress like a lady," she said softly as she ran her fingers over the lace at its hem. And then she raised it to join my skirt. Her finger tips carressed the seat of my matching full cut panties. "I'm getting all wet just uncovering you." I shivered from her tounch and her words and moaned a little. "You're so cute when you do that," she whispered. My panties slowly, so very slowly, were pulled down. When told to "lift a little" I did to let her get them out from under me. She left them just at the cleft of my thighs with my butt and carressed me. For a while she just touched and complimented me on being so soft and white and smooth for her. "You must really double over to shave here ... and you do it for me," she said in a dreamy voice. Anticipation was starting to build in me as she slid my panties down to my knees sliding her fingers up my nylons as she returned to my bum. "Hold tight, sweetie," she said in a soft voice. A loud whack and a sharp squeal, my squeal. Five more just as hard followed rapidly in the same spot right where I have put my weight when I sit. I was letting out a continuous screaming sound through it, then gulping quick, short gasps of air, trying to get my breath back. That must have been the sorority paddle. God that hurt. It always hurt. I am never ready for it or the way she wields it. With slight pauses the rest of my bottom and thighs down the welts of my stocking tops got the same treatment. Sally had once explained, "Why not get the hardest over while I am still fresh? Spanking is hard work you know. All you have to do is lay there and relax." I was not amused at the time but she did have a point considering what more she did for me with every real spanking. By the time she started gently touching my soreness my tears had started to flow. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" I sniffed a bit and assured her it was not. That was the way I was required to answer, always agreeing with her. "Lets get on with it then." Next I think it was the hairbrush that started fanning the flames back there. This time she was established a rhythm of medium speed, very hard spanks from outside top right to outside right thigh then starting again top center and working down. Then the same on the left and then starting the pattern over again. I went from crying and yelping to sobbing and wailing and quickly to trying to get pleading and begging out between my sobs even though they would be useless. "Please stop, please." "It hurts so." "I can't stand any more." All the standard entreaties and a few extra creative ones that always sprung to mind but I doubt she could understand a one of them through all my sobbing. I hope she knew it was the thought that counted. By the time she paused I was a blubbering mess. The soft folds of my blindfold were soaked with my tears. My nose was running. I was actualy wahhh-wahhhing. As I started getting some control of myself I started begging, "Please no more. I can't stand any more. Please, please, please." I was learning how to sound abject and pitiful. And what better teacher than a lap session to practice it. But I had yet to be good enough at it for it to work. Maybe I never will be. "You always say things like that, silly. In a few days you'll be good as new and think of all the wonderful memories you'll have." As I gritted my teeth to keep the pain under control she ran her nails roughly over my sore places. "Lets try this toy. You said it was only a bracing sting the last time." What had I described like that? Oh, God! The hundreds of loops of fine fishing line made into a flogger. "I said that when it was the first thing used ... " my voice trailing off trying to shut my mind to what was going to happen. The first swipe came and brought a fresh flood of tears. It brought the pain back just like it had been at its peak. It didn't really hurt on its own it just renewed what had been. She worked it down twice over every sore spot I had back there. I was freely crying again. "This isn't much work at all. I can go all night like this." I knew she was teasing me. At least I was hoping she was teasing me. "Stand up now," she said softly as she helped me to my feet. I just stood there and cried, wincing a little as the lace of my slip brushed my bum as if fell into place. I was huddled over, my shoulders shaking in sobs. She removed the hobbling scarf from my ankles and walked my over to the fireplace mantle, pausing a moment get my panties back to my knees when they fell. She stood me there facing an antique, loudly ticking mantle clock and removed my blindfold. "This is so wet. Looks like you had a really good cry. You got it all out of your system. I'm happy for you." I could see her in the mirror over the mantle looking me up and down, "How are we going to do this?" I was silent not quite wanting to know what she wanted to do. I reached around back as far as I could with my bound hands trying to rub what little I could. "Now, now, none of that," pushing my hands away. "Will you rub then? just a little?" Again that pleading voice through crying and tears hoping she would take pity on me. "No, silly, we aren't finished yet." She hobbled my ankles again and said, "You just wait right here," as she headed off to our bedroom. I squeezed back extra tears from the loss of hope, she wasn't just teasing me. I just stood there, collapsing forward, supporting myself with my hands on the mantle. I could not get the pain and burning out of my head and just kept crying. "Here we go," she said as she draped a long black scarf between her spread hands to show me in the mirror. She ran the scarf across my back, under my arms and to the back of my neck. I was puzzled until she raised my bound wrists high and back down behind my head. She tightly tied that scarf to my bound wrists. I could not remove them from behind my neck. Next she raised my skirt and slip put their hems in my hands. "You hold this real tight and don't let go." I got weak-kneed then. Everything that had been spanked and more was exposed. "Very good, now lets see ... " Reaching under her skirt she pulled off her panties and balled them. "Open wide." I did willingly accepting her panties. "Now keep them there so I don't have to tie them in place." I just stood there looking at myself in the mirror through my tearing eyes. My mascara was all down my face. My eyes and cheeks were puffy and red. Bits of jade green panties protruded from a terrible frown on my lips. I barely had enough attention left to notice the soreness starting in my shoulders. I was startled when the clock began to chime 9pm. Sally announced, "It's time," picked up the flail of fishline loops and approached me. I tried to scream No! without pushing out my panty gag. I yelped into my gag with the first stroke. "My ... it is so much easier to swing hard standing up." She relit all my flames and renewed my tears then placed it on the mantle. "I have some things to get ready. I'll be back when its time" she explained as she left the room. I knew it was not over. How will she know when it is time?, I asked myself. The regular tick, tick, tick came into my mind. Again I tried to scream no. The ticking had never seemed louder. The minute hand clicked lightly to the next minute. Every fiber of my being tried to will that clock stop. The quarter hour chimed. My tears had finally slowed to a trickle. Sally returned. I was in flames and tears again. The maddening ticking continued as though nothing had happened. There was nothing but my flaming bottom exposed to the cool air of the room, my tears running down my cheeks, the tick, tick, tick of a clock sealing my fate as though nothing were happening. My body froze as the whisper quiet mechanism drew back the striker for the half hour chime. I felt like I was living a lifetime, hearing between the little sounds that made up the cocking mechanism. It stopped and must have offered a thousand prayers between its release and the chiming strike. "Hi there," she said cheerily, "Still comfy?" She rubbed my shoulders a bit and readjusted the hems of my skirt and slip in my hands. Picking up the flogger, "You're a big girl, don't look so sad." My poor, poor backside was lit up again. I could barely cry this time, just racking heaves. This time it was just ticking. Just a sound in the world I became part of. Obediance, waiting, pain, an endless cycle, obedience, waiting, pain. The quarter hour chime came to repeat the cycle. I was there, some place in my head. Images of life, death, rebirth passing endlessly back into my past and forward to my future. Golden segments of a centipede paraded passed me. The sun arose in golden glory, lit the day, lay to slumber in beautious reds and golds, the cold, silent beauty of the night, then the sun again. There was love and birth and maturity and love again, the endless cycle of life. I saw myself as an infinitely small part of it; I saw myself as all of it. My mind was overwhelmed with the images. I barely heard the clock strike ten. Sally whispered in my ear, "Are you ready again?" I nodded. My nod was part of it all. I was part of the cycle. The cycle was part of me. I was just playing my part it in. Though I barely noticed it, the scarf slipped from my ankles. In the dream time of the cycle I was turned and the panties removed from my mouth. The hems of my clothes were pried loose from the grip of my fingers. Arms were around me. My face found its way to Sally's shoulder and some place inside me I found a secret reservior of tears. I had some strange thought that I was all wet inside as I should be. One arm never leaving me, the other loosed my arms and unbound my wrists. I felt a terrible ache as I brought them forward to clutch Sally. Clutch her so tightly that if I let go for a moment, I would fall away from the golden glory of the cycle. She moved us to sit on the couch. As I sat I felt and watched glory of the cycle flame more brightly from below me. I embraced the feeling, no longer anything I could call pain. It was something as ineffible and the spaces between the ticks of the clock, the nothingness between the red and the gold, and as concrete as the paddle strikes that drew it forth from the darkness and into the light. I cried for joy as images flowed through my head. I can not remember them all. At the end there was a jarring one. The image a necklace came with little bells that were jingling. The tones became sharper and louder till I was shaking with them. "Time for bed, honey, it's almost midnight." My shoulder was being ever so gently shaken. "Lets go. You were snoring." "I don't snore," I said with a smile and shifted to reach up to kiss her. My thigh slid a bit on the couch. I marveled at the explosion of gold that came from her eyes. END ++ If you are into BDSM you do have a very serious problem. You can't get enough of it. #1-BDSMscening, #1-bdsm-tennessee and #1-BDSM-worldchat on DALnet -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----