Saturday, May 16, 2009

Fantasy Friday - Detective Death Tattoo, part 2


As promised here is the rest of Kaylynn's wonderful story. If you haven't read the first part yet go here and so you can start at the beginning.





Detective Death Tattoo, part 2


And so it began.

“Tell me the whole story. From the time you thought the one on your shoulder was ok to … right now. I want to know exactly what you were thinking.”

Marissa choked out the story holding nothing back from John. If she had any sense of self preservation she knew to be honest with him. But oh my god was it painful. It was excruciatingly painful when she had to tell him about exposing herself for the tattoo. She never looked at his eyes but she could see is jaw line turn to granite and his neck was pulsing like a rhythmic bellows. She was inaudible most of the time. But John having done undercover had an unnatural ability to discern the language of confession. She needed subtitles to understand what she was confessing to him. She could barely make out her own words.

She did understand how she felt on the inside. She had been manipulative. She had used the most difficult time of their lives to do the worst thing in his mind to her revered body. She could have used other ways to be protective of him, had she used her brain. Her motives were selfish. Once again, she had gotten what she wanted. John felt like she immediately regressed to that heiress mentality he had justifiably spanked out of her years ago. Obviously that method needed to be retooled. She would be reworked, put back on the lathe.

“We have some serious work ahead of us.” He let that hang between them. “I want you to remove your clothes. Don’t look away from me.” His voice was instructional. Pulling her eyes away from the plank wooden floors, she felt centuries of couples working through struggles. She gulped when she met his eyes then began her trek to walk beside him once again.
She shivered removing her shirt over her head, next her bra. She let it drop on the floor. He cleared his throat obviously expecting her to fold it and place it on the couch. This wasn’t a strip tease after all. She looked down to place it on the couch.

“You won’t want to make that mistake again.” She looked at him and nodded too quickly. She was determined not to make things worse. She felt exposed beyond where she ever chose to feel it again when she began to take off her jeans. Her thong was to be a formality. He picked up the stereo remote and heard she heard the first few telltale notes of the Allman Brothers’ “Tied to the Whipping Post”. If she had had one ounce left in her of being recalcitrant she could have thought that that was not funny. But now she was a cork bobbing up and down in his ocean. With one last shred of dignity she very slowly removed her thong. It was the only piece of clothing standing between his watching her and his inevitable actions upon her. Her sense of survival was torn between taking her time and not infuriating him.

“I think you should show and tell, then I’m going to tell and show” his voice dripped with irony and expected obedience. Her eyes widened to the point where he thought he might have to keep them from taking over her cheekbones. She slowly turned around keeping a healthy distance from him. Between the music and his last sentence, he had given all of this too much thought – a trait she now envied.

“I can’t see it from hear. Come closer and it had better be close enough the first time. You got one try.” She walked with all instincts crying at her that this was both the right and the wrong thing to do. Moving closer so that he could read what she’d had permanently written on her ass by a stranger, she didn’t feel the least bit sexy – her original intent. She turned around with justifiable in trepidation.

“Bend over and put your elbows on the coffee table.” His voice was unrecognizable to her at this point. She remembered how relaxed and oddly comfortable she felt getting the tattoo put on her. Now somehow her lover had become her stranger and her discomfort level was off the charts. John knew her heart and she prickled with erotic fear. He immediately noticed she was so wet that she glistened in the last few afternoon rays of daylight when she bent over. He smiled but he found his anger lurking above his favorite moist cave when he read the scrolling. He stood up slowly unfurling himself like a sail on a ship. He towered over her every day. But today was going to be memorable.

He grasped her elbows together and lifted her up. Spinning her around she was awkward and awaiting a slap to her ass that would send her head spinning. Her feet stumbled a bit and she looked into his eyes hoping he would keep her upright. It was a pathetic helpless look but he used the moment of her eye contact to ask, “What does it mean? And don’t look away or I swear Marissa…” and his voiced drifted into restraint.

She didn’t look away but she closed her eyes. He shook them opened again.

“It means” and her voice was mousy begging for mercy “Spank me…. Hard.” Her voice cracked. It waivered off into pathetic nothingness.

“Fuckin’ A Marissa!!!” he was yelling at her now and she cowered, feeling the fool awaiting deserved sentencing. Her eyes went to the floor.

“Eyes on me!” his hissed out of a clenched jaw. His fists were white at the tops of his knuckles. But then she saw him smirk and her heart went all soft inside. She was desperate to grasp at a smirk as if it meant hope. She quickly jumped off her mentally sinking ship into the one sailing to the island with John and it felt ok for a second before he spat out, “You’ve signed your own warrant darlin’! Now back around on the table just like you were.” He left her like that for a few minutes while he went to gather his intent while squelching his fury. He returned holding a thick paddle in his hand. He slapped it against his palm relishing the results per her instructions. He shook his head and smiled realizing this was actually little funny. It was better that he dispense justice with this frame of mind than any other.

“Hold onto the edge of the table and brace yourself.” Her legs were feeling very tired and she just wanted things to end. Funny that she was willing to risk his wielding of the paddle in order to end her lengthy position over the coffee table. Actually it was the mental vulnerable position that was killing her. At least until he put the paddle down on the coffee table so she could see it. It had been a long time. Her heart sunk like a torpedo headed to the unknown depths of the ocean. She started to cry silently. He saw her shoulders shake and was glad she was coming close to the path of regret. She had had no business exposing her ass to anyone but him. It made him furious to think of someone looking at her and tattooing her, touching her skin! He wanted her different from the rest, unscathed by the ink, a blank canvas. It was unnecessary for her to have gotten one tattoo - but two?! Only Marissa….

And the phrase she chose “Spank me hard” would be motivating. If that was her goal, than she had better literally hold on because they were both on the same page. That page was a picture of her with her ass so red it made her olive skin tone look white in comparison. On that same page he saw her consequences. She had played with a man, not a boy. He would spank the goddamn tattoo off her ass with pure pleasure.

And thinking of pleasure and still behind her, he held her warm breasts and then found her nipples. They both knew his tenderness was a disguise for staging his lesson. He pinched her nipples with such force she cried and moaned simultaneously. He didn’t stop until she sounded distressed. His jeans were touching her tattoo and while he thought of all kinds of things he’d like to do in this position he stayed focused. He released his fingers too briefly then started up again. This continued until she seemed to have trouble taking it as an established rhythm. He stood up stretching his back. Then resting his knee on her left side and on the coffee table, he sized up her ass like he’d done many times. But this time he wasn’t holding back. What she had done flew in the face of all that he stood for regarding respecting yourself and your body. She would know the consequences of screwing with his standards. Not a day would go by that she wouldn’t have a slight reminder of this juncture in time.

His hand came down on her like an iron gate closing with strength and force. Despite the shocking pain she knew it was her job to reposition herself and make no fuss. Her situation was out of consideration. She felt tender and swollen. Maybe it was her imagination as it had been over a week. Maybe she had never tried to piss him off before.

SMACK!! She was back gripping onto the front of the coffee table and just starting to quietly cry. In the past, she would encourage her tears, believing that it would shorten her spanking. But she couldn’t help it today. She saw no way out at the moment. CRACK!! She whimpered and moved to the point where her knees bumped against the table.

“I want you to hand me the paddle, then bend over my knee.”

Her hands were shaking with a steady rhythm as she handed him the heavy paddle. It was long and thick and hard. Those were attributes she’d memorized as being part of his cock. He had always kept her contented, never wanting to stray because of the pleasure he wielded with it. She knelt down before him before going over his knee and spoke so softly she could barely hear herself. She looked into his eyes with soulful sincerity. He knew he finally had her attention. How many years did it take?!

“I ignored you. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” When she got to the “sorry” her voice resembled the ends of a goose down feather where the air and the feather are indistinguishable. He could now encourage her to forgive herself. But there were still hardened layers of her ego to attend to before he welcomed that crossroads.

“I’m glad you’re getting it. This wasn’t an opportunistic game Marissa.” He guided her from her knees to over his. His arm arched above her French invitation and came down naturally to a resting place that shook her to her core. Her ass collapsed inches upon impact. She was silent while the cumulative pain took hold of her senses. She screamed a guttural sound she had never heard herself make. The sound of the heavy wooden paddle hitting her ass made a cracking thud sound – also new to her. She never heard the sound slapping her ass again because she was so busy feeling every nuance of the stinging harsh horrible fucking paddle. Her voice carried with it the consequential sounds of a woman who had never baited her man without consideration of his feelings. Over and Over and Over again she felt his standards meet her directive. She had no idea that duremont would feel so permanent.

Her pain grew so fierce she went into an angry season with his spanking. She tried her best to get away. He quickly felt and squelched that wrongful independence. She was not even comparative in stature. Marissa obviously had this let-me-see-what-I-can-get-away-with asinine streak. He cracked her again and again until she instinctively knew to obediently allow him to finish. She howled furiously at first in between the tears. Finally she just cried and bucked up with each smack to her swelling reddened bottom.

He dropped the paddle on the coffee table feeling disdain for the whole ridiculous situation. The kicker was her beautiful ass would forever be marked with a phrase she would regret. He would have to wrap his mind around the fact that she was trying to be sexy for him. She was being a little tease who wanted to keep things alive for them. The spanking he had just administered had been therapeutic for both of them. He felt as exhausted as she did. For Christ’s sake, he felt like crying himself!

She was draped over his knees her arms wrapped less tightly now around his thigh. He sat back on the couch viewing her in totality from the inside out. He placed his large hand on the small of her back. It was moist from her stress. Then he moved his hand down and felt the tremendous heat. She snuffled now feeling so much had passed between them with this classic hard hard spanking. She didn’t want to move.

She wanted to feel the swaying bridge which they were on now clinging to the sides of the rope for dear life and staring at each other in the middle. Who would test the safety of letting go of the side ropes and reaching out to touch the other? John felt it too. Moving over the moment seemed insurmountable. But his arms felt like lead, same as his heart. From out of the fog a tiny brave voice emerged.

“John........Is it OK if” sniff “if I get up now?”

“Of” he barely got out the consonant when his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. It had been so tight and unused the last minutes.

“Of course Marissa,” he answered with a voice that assured her of everything she had believed in was still there between them.

There was major readjusting when she sat down. He had annihilated her ass! She had to dig a little deeper to continue feeling the softness in her heart. The havoc wreaked on her bottom made a few nasty phrases leap to her mind like mischievous children spray painting in remote corners at the Louvre.

They leaned their heads together and sat quietly for a long time. She sighed and put her lips close to his ear.

“I had no business getting away with what I did. I really am sorry.” Silence held them together. But he knew she had more to say. “You’ve never spanked me like that before.” Her voice faltered and she started to cry softly. She put her arm around his neck and cried warm tears into the top of his shoulder. He turned sideways and wrapped his arm around her. His body was warm and now open to her.

There were quiet motionless moments that were eventually broken when he held his hand against her head and stroked her hair. He kissed her forehead and slid down to her lips. They were full from crying and felt wonderful and pliant as he gently kissed her with tender, than progressively more substantial kisses. Then something inside him switched suddenly. He didn’t remember feeling so close to her and it turned him on like a teenager during his first coed swimming lesson. He became rock hard. To say his kisses were punishing would be redundant given what they’d just been through. But she too felt the pool of warm lust puddling under her scorched bottom.

He had scooped her off that swaying bridge and walked them safely to the same side. Reaching for his zipper she heard the sound of straining material and metal as it released his engorged cock. She had one thought and began to enjoy herself as she placed her body from the couch to between his legs kneeling on the floor. Her hot ass touched the cool wood of the coffee table. She found herself moving on account of wriggling sexually and to find another cool spot on the table. She smiled laughing at her motives. His eyes were closed as he gently guided her head finding a special peace and place deep in his soul. Just when she thought he would allow her to end his pleasure. He guided her from him. He kissed her again then released her.

He stared into her eyes as if to say “Trust Me”, he stood her up and put her arms on the back of couch. She winced thinking he would spank her more. Instead she felt him rubbing her then finding his very long and talented middle finger, he pleasured her wet warm pocket that fit only him exactly. She moved her bright red bottom in seasoned sexy stripper like circles. He was done mentally when she came hard on his hand. He wiped her warmth onto her ass. The evaporation was heavenly for her but short lived as he came into her like a rocket from behind. Gripping her hips his fingertips touched as he bounced inside her again and again. She moaned without consideration to anything other than the vocal release. This in turn dropped him into the place where he couldn’t retrieve himself. The inverse of going then coming never felt so strong. He found himself bracing the two of them over the couch with one arm under Marissa and another supporting both of them on the couch. He smiled before he heard himself chuckle. He slid them both onto the couch on John’s back. She lay on top with her back to his chest. And miraculously he was still inside her. Everyone once in a while her breathing would exhibit tell tale signs of her having just cried hard. The heat from her ass felt great on his balls. He finally felt like he was home. This new place was their mental property and they would homestead right here was his last thought as they both drifted off into a well deserved nap.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Kaylynn, as always I am blown away by your writing skills. You are so good to share your talent with us. I hope others out here are thinking of trying to write a story. I have said before, everyone that comes to read these blogs has a fantasy about spanking - you need to write it. Some people can write with great skill like Kaylynn and other like me just start out by writing down some of the dreams and fantasies we have kept inside us, sometimes for years. But whether you feel you are a writer or not give it a try! Send any stories you are willing to share with us to elisspeaks@yahoo.com

Kaylynn, thanks again and we're waiting for the next one!

Labels:

Written by PK at 12:01 AM

6 comments

6 Comments:

At 7:20 AM, Blogger Paul said...

PK, what a great story, thank you Kaylynne so much.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.

 
At 1:06 PM, Blogger ronnie said...

Kaylynn thanks, I loved it. You are such a good writer. More please.

Thanks PK.

Have a good weekend both.
Ronnie
xx

 
At 1:25 PM, Blogger Florida Dom said...

KayLynn, I don't know where to start. What a great story. Such a different theme and yet put together so well. I can't imagine how you managed to come up with the idea and follow through on it. You know what this means, though. PK will be wanting you to do more stories. And so will the rest of us.

 
At 2:20 PM, Blogger Michelle Carlyle said...

AWESOME!!!!

Kaylynn, have you submitted to Discipline and Desire yet? Or Bethany's Woodshed? You must! Monetize this stuff! Really great work!

PK, thanks so much for providing this great opportunity to writers!

Hugs to you both,
Michelle

 
At 9:29 PM, Blogger PK said...

Paul,
She one of the best!

Ronnie,
I wnat more from her too (you too for that matter!)

Florida Dom,
You're dog-gone-right I want her to write more, who wouldn't!!

Michelle,
Are you trying to lure on of my more loyal writer's away?? Not that your advice is wrong, I just don't want to lose her!

 
At 11:56 PM, Anonymous Kari said...

great story, interesting tattoo.

I think Fessée durement or Fessée moi durement would state it better.

thought passed briefly through my head when I read it. however it is probably best left in a story.

I have been planning to get another tattoo, so I will have to think of what I could do very subtle.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home


Photobucket
This Site Best Viewed in Firefox