Fantasy Friday - In Her Place

I've spent a lot of time on my knees, so has Nick, for that matter. Wish it had been as much fun as it could have been - but in fact we were painting.  I think it's all done now.  Who know.  Tomorrow the cabinets are supposed to be completed, doors, drawers, crown molding - the works.  And this week should see the granite installed, the tile and the backsplash are supposed to be done too.  Please cross your fingers. My dead line is the first weekend in August.  That's my annual family reunion.  All should be done, but I'll feel much more relaxed when it is.  


We have another great story this week. Faerie, over at Faerie Learn to Fly, has written this one for us.  It has a submissive feeling that goes all through the story.  It will just put you in a different place and I'm betting you'll like it.  Please enjoy...

In Her Place 

She knelt at his feet, nude, except for the collar, so heavy around her neck, and the slave bells at her ankles.

With her head bowed and her eyes lowered she could not see his face, she is unable to judge his mood this night. Would there be pain and humiliation to be had at his hand? She trembled slightly with the thrill of anticipation. She absentmindedly chewed her lower lip as she thought of the myriad experiences she has had at his hand. They always start with her in this exact position.

On her knees.

At his feet.

When did she become so comfortable there?  More importantly, when had she started to crave being there?

 In HER place.

On her knees.

At his feet.

She sensed him moving, but dared not raise her eyes unless commanded too. She felt his hand reach for her chin, gently lifting her head until their eyes met. The blackness of his eyes pierced hers and held her captive as he uttered, “I have something special planned for you tonight, slave.”

He released her chin and dropped his hands as he spoke just one word, “over.”

Her body betrayed her with the beginnings of tingles, felt deep in the pit of her belly, as she moved to place herself across his lap. She had been here many times before and knew to relax and ride the waves of pain that were to follow. The waves of pain that brought such incredible pleasure.

Smack.

She startled a little, but knew to keep still when he was spanking her.

Smack, smack, smack.

She certainly felt every blow from his hand. She felt the absence of his hand between the blows even more. A second, a minute, she never knew as he followed no pattern, but her mind always raced with the anticipation of the next blow.

Smack, smack, smack…breathe…breathe…breathe.

The tingles in her belly now blossoming with each blow and exploding into wetness flowing down her inner thighs. She hears her breath coming in ragged inhalations now as the spanking continues.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, as flesh meets ever warming and reddened flesh.

Her butt on fire, her thighs drenched in her own juices her body betrays her again when she misses his command the first time it is given.

A pinch to her burning bottom brings her focus back and she finally hears and registers the command. Again, just one word, “up,” and she is sliding off his lap and back into her place.

On her knees.

At his feet.

He stands and steps away from her, she plainly hears him moving around the room, but she does not move so much as an inch. As she struggles to get her breathing under control she feels the silk of the blindfold slide across her eyes and his hands tying it firmly behind her head.

She has learned to take comfort in the blindfold.

His hand drops from the blindfold to her back, pushing her forward. She instinctively reaches her arms forward as he bends her into position. She doesn’t hear him move, but soon feels his hands cuffing her wrists to the hooks on the padded bench she is bent over. His hands fasten cuffs around her thighs, securing them also.  She no longer struggles to free herself and embraces the bonds as friends. Friends that will support her through what is to come.

She hears the slight swish of the paddle just a nanosecond before it connects.

Swat.

Her bottom is already red and tender, yet she moans with the pleasure the paddle gives her.

Swat, swat, swat, swat.

He still follows no pattern, but oddly enough the blindfold prevents the anticipation of the next blow. In the absence of that anticipation she is free, free to revel in the pain/pleasure she is receiving. The feel of the wooden paddle she inexplicably has come to love that transports her.

Swat, swat, swat, swat.

The pain generated from the paddle connecting with her flesh transports her to another realm. A realm that disposes of the physical body and touches the soul. A place of pure wonder and joy to be shared with him, and only him. A place she never knew existed, until she found her place.

On her knees.

At his feet.

She no longer registers the wetness flowing down her thighs, or the fact that the paddle is no longer being employed. She is lost in the haze of submission brought on so effectively by the spanking. She has entered the headspace she chased for so many years before she met him. The headspace she now relies on him to provide, like a junkie relies on a dealer.

She doesn’t question when she’s here, she just obeys. Whatever he commands, she obeys, because she is here, in her place.

On her knees.

At his feet.

The haze of that other realm she now dwells in obscures the sound of the leather strap as it descends towards her now very red bottom. The sharpness of the sting when it connects however brings her mind sharply back to focus. She’s grateful for the bonds that force her into stillness, allowing her no movement other than to breathe.

Slap, slap, slap, slap.

She hasn’t learned to love the strap, yet. But she knows she will. She has learned to love, even crave, all the depraved things he does to her.

Slap, slap, slap, slap.

The blows continue to reign upon her skin even as she loses herself in what she knows will be just the first of many orgasms she will experience this evening. She lets go of herself and flies freely through the mists forming in her mind. She flies toward the sun, each blow of the strap driving her higher and higher.

Slap, slap, slap, slap.

Her world narrows as she reaches the limits and pushes past them to soar even faster in to oblivion. Oblivion that can only be found in her place.

On her knees.

At his feet.

~o0o~

Faerie, I hope you realize what a great writer you are. Thank you so much for sharing your stories on Fantasy Friday!

I love reading all the different styles that my readers share here.  But you know I'm always, always asking for more.  I can promise you that most of the folks writing for us right now didn't think that they could do it, but they took the chance and we all have benefitted from it.  Now how about you?  Try a story.  You can send it to elisspeaks@yahoo.com (I won't make you start a blog of your own, honest...) LOL!