MFM - Touched by Sunlight

She sat still and quiet on the impossibly hard pew. She could feel each of the five welts that cut across her skin from thigh to the curve of her buttocks. She arched just a little trying to find relief for the white hot burning that simply sitting was causing. That he made her come to church this morning and sit for these hours was a punishment worse than the initial beating with the hickory cane. Ezra stood in front of the congregation preaching of wickedness, the damnations of purgatory and the fires of hell. She thought then that perhaps she was already in purgatory as she shifted slightly and felt the burning start anew.

She was alone on the small pew. Ezra did not allow others near her unless he was standing guard. He did not want anyone influencing her with their weak or wicked morals. Speaking to that man in the mercantile while Ezra ordered new hymnals had earned her the burning welts. So she suffered alone and in silence as his voice filled her with shame and dread. Then he said from there beneath the stained glass in front of the church for them all to kneel in prayer. She was relieved to shift from the hard bench, but dreaded the time she would now spend on her knees. Ezra's prayers for their souls could take so very long.

Her head was bowed, her hands clenched in a tight ball in front of her, her knees now hurt more than those lines raised across her backside. She rocked forward to try and find relief and pressed against the low back of the pew in front of her, pressing her hands against her most wicked of places, as he called it that first night. Her eyes flew open at this. What was that feeling that was suddenly stronger than the pain in her knees or the pain in her bottom? She rocked again back towards her heals and then pushed forward and pressed her thighs, her belly and her clenched in a ball hands tight against her. Her eyes fluttered a bit. Ezra droned on and on about evil and torments of the soul. Her breath came a little faster, she rocked again pressing her bottom against the back edge of the pew behind her, feeling the pain there as the welts from Ezra's beating radiated a warmth that seemed to grow and grow, and then forward again feeling the pain in her knees that seemed to flow up into her thighs in a way that was somehow was and was not pain anymore. And then pressed again against that seat back in front of her. She took one more ragged breath before holding it. She looked up above the pulpit, above Ezra, to the top of the stained glass window and in that moment a single shaft of sunlight shown down through a beautiful pane of rose colored glass, down past all of Ezra's words of evil and wrong and lit her face, and she shuddered and cried out.

Minister Samuel looked down from the pulpit at his beautiful, young wife, her head again bowed, hanging low, the sunlight haloing her exceptional pureness. Her cry of Hallelujah at the exact right place in his prayer had pleased him. Perhaps she was not as evil as he had first feared.

_________________

Written for MicroFantasy Monday at the Sweltering Celt.

Waxed

She was the third girl on the table at the party.

A large blue tarp had been laid on the floor of the den. The table from the patio the boys had maneuvered into the house and onto the tarp. The thick red vinyl sheet was put on top of the table. Several of the sub girls were very busy in the kitchen melting candles and paraffin and crayons. It looked a bit like a mad scientists laboratory as they had numerous pots on the stove, double boiler style and the microwave sizzling. Stirring up colored concoctions and giggling a bit maniacally. Let me just say, sub girls who get to torture and tease their fellow sub girls can be more evil and devious than any dominant.

Wax play is an interesting combination of sensual, pain, pleasure, tease, erotic... and about half a dozen other descriptions during the act. The sounds of both pain and pleasure co-mingle in very enticing ways. Three girls stripped down there in the den and climbed up on the table one at a time and allowed just about everyone to have a bit of erotic fun with their eager and willing bodies.

Yes, that is me in the pink polka-dot apron. I had on a pretty white blouse and believe me colored wax was getting everywhere. I rather liked the juxtaposition of the sweet-cute apron and my evil intentions while pouring the wax on the girl. Oh, and we would have loved to torture and tease a boy, but somehow couldn't convince one to jump up on the table.

I think perhaps it was the removing the wax that was nearly more intoxicating than dripping it on. Well, it may be a tie... that moment when she cried out as an entire ladle full was splashed onto bare pussy was quite exquisite. But in stripping the wax from naked bodies there was a connection, a touch, a tug, a pull and that was lovely. Running my nails down a thigh covered in blue and red wax, watching as the wax pulled away and pink flesh was again exposed was intoxicating.

It was a pleasure of a party. There was an energy in the room that was infectious. A sense of naughty fun that got hearts racing, people laughed and moan, people smiled and gasped. That was all so wonderful. I do so adore all my friends, especially each one of those three girls who jumped up on the table.

New paint...

Work has been busy, life has been busy.

But... gotta stop once in a while for a luxury you enjoy.

Butt for a Friend

Snakey Charm

An interesting accessory for today's outfit.

HNT - Cowgirl

Back and happy to be a little Half Nekkid for this Thursday. I put my favorite pair of boots on (though not as worn as Sage's thought he might like them) and then as you can see Hubby was a sweet man who took them off for me.

Gonna Have to Wait... She Needs Me

This is a song by the band Elbow. I have listened to the album all the way through a few times now and love it. But I was singing along with this song on the way home tonight and thought it was wonderfully sexy. I would say it is has a nice kinky take on how we see our relationship.

Audience With the Pope

Sweet Jesus I'm on fire
She has the sweetest, darkest side
And when it comes into her eyes
I know iron and steel couldn't hold me
But god I'm easy bruised
But so often a moth to her flame
And the things that she's asked me to do
Would see a senior saint
forgetting his name

I have an audience with the pope
And I'm saving the world at 8
But if she says she needs me, she says she needs me
Everybody's gonna have to wait

Where could she be?
Was that a minute or an hour?
Where could she be?
She turns the hours into days.

Kill me phone, cover the cage
And wait for the doorbell to ring

Where could she be?
No she won't come running
Where could she be?
The world is turning at her pace.

Kill me phone, cover the cage
And wait for the doorbell to ring

I have an audience with the pope
And I'm saving the world at 8
But if she says she needs me, she says she needs me
Everybody's gonna have to wait

Fact or Fiction?

I have been told it is difficult on some of my posts to tell if I am writing fiction or non-fiction. I took that comment as a compliment assuming some of my fiction rings true enough to feel real and some of my factual real life pieces are poetic enough to make you wonder if I am making it up. I rather like the mystery of all of that.

I don't feel a burning need to clear up any confusion about any posts unless specifically asked. If you enjoy reading it, sometimes you don't really need to know where the source came from, my mind or my life (or a combination thereof). I will not lie to you if you want to ask a question about anything. If you want to know if I did something or shared something with someone in real life, just ask.

But there was a recent post that was special to me and I wanted to share with you this photo that should make any question about the fact or fiction of it clear for you. The post was... Opened the Box ... and everytime he puts those cuffs on for me I am pleased.

On the Cross

"Please, Miss Honey," she cried out.

I did not know if she was begging for me to stop or pleading for more. My hand stung. I had used it against her back, her ass, her tender thighs. There were ten different paddles in the room but I didn't want to use any of them. I wanted her to feel my skin against her skin. I wanted to feel her tremble under my hand.

All evening I had watched others play. This one was spanked, that one knelt, some shared in the extreme, some just teasing play. I had enjoyed it all, watching, commenting, talking to these my naughtiest of friends. I could have played a bit with the others there. A smack here, a pinch there. But really I wanted her. It had been too long. I wanted intense and real and I wanted it sexual and sensual and as I said, I wanted her.

It was warm in the room, for the moment we were alone, though throughout it all others had come and watched quietly. I pushed up against her body. I could feel her breathing hard, ragged. I knew she had already been through so much this evening. She had taken all 42 of her Master's birthday spankings. She had been cut by him, a beautiful design with a scalpel, not to mention all day preparing for the party. I knew she was tired and sore and yet when she began to cry out, "Please, Miss Honey." I wanted more from her.

I pulled her hair and pulled her mouth to mine. "Kiss me." I nearly growled the words against her lips. I wanted to take this kiss from her lips. I leaned down bit at her, neck and then shoulder. I stepped back. Pushed my hand between her legs. She was aroused, she was wet. She rocked against me there as I pushed against her pussy. The tiny moans she offered then drove me to distraction. I wanted to hurt her and pleasure her at the same time. I pulled hard at her nipples and she screamed. I turned her pretty soft inner thighs hot pink. Again and again she called out my name.

I paused looking at her face. "Let go baby, cry for me." And she did. The tears fell down her face in a most beautiful way. I kissed her again then, tasting those salty tears on her skin. It was exquisite. "I am going to offer you just one more. Are you ready." She just nodded and I drew my hand back, I had hit her only moments ago on her pretty pussy. Her thighs were red, her breasts I knew hurt, and yet I couldn't help myself I wanted her to ache just a little more for me. I let my hand strike against her soft skin and pulled her to me in almost the same moment. I helped her from the cross and held her tight to me. She cried for a while longer and I let her. I adored her for all she gave to me with those tears.

And she offered me one more gift as we both calmed down and hearts that were racing slowed to normal again. A simple, "Thank you" was the gift from her in that moment I will treasure always.

Chastity

He is in chastity simply because it pleases me. Well that is not entirely true. It pleases me because it turns him on to offer to me that control and him being turned on is a turn on to me and him giving me control is a turn on and him saying, "Yes Mistress." is a turn on... so it all pleases me and so he is in chastity.

No, it isn't a punishment.

No, there is no time that it magically ends. It will end, when I decide it has been long enough, and not a moment sooner.

He wants to touch, to rub, and squeeze and play with his cock. I want him to want that. I want him frustrated and horny and so desperate that all he can think about is the control he gave to me. Was it a mistake? He could end it right now. But he won't, not without permission. In that I trust him implicitly. And if I give that permission will he be thankful or a bit sad that it is over? You always seem to want most what you can't have. But when you finally do get it, then what?

Oh, don't worry. I have a plan for the... then what. But am always willing to consider suggestions.

On Vacation

Los Cabos in Mexico was lovely and so relaxing. Didn't see a single swine so no flu. Made it home safe and sound and caught back up at work.

Tonight having some fun. A combo play party/birthday party for a friend tonight. So looking forward to it.