| Subject: Re: Stopping by home for a visit |
Author:
Master Mike
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Date Posted: 09:45:27 01/08/14 Wed
In reply to:
Keri
's message, "Stopping by home for a visit" on 21:10:59 01/07/14 Tue
Obsess? Of course we obsess. We're on this board, aren't we?
But wait! >You< haven't been on the board - how can you claim to obsess and abandon your friends?
I've written to you several times without a response, Miss Keri. I won't say I've obsessed, but I've been concerned. I wondered if your health issues recurred and I'll ask you about that after my hurt and anger is assuaged.
You know I could pay you a visit within three hours, Miss Keri!
(Burned and burning, MM burns up the freeway, harbinger of the annoyance of all Sometimes A Girlers)
Arms akimbo, leaning slightly forward, I glare at you. "Why haven't you written to me or to the group?"
"I...uh...Christmas...family...," you faintly sputter.
"It's been a lot longer than that, you silly girl. Stop these lame excuses. Over my knee." I sit in the straight wooden chair I brought for the purpose, an unzipped gym bag to one side.
I enjoy the look on your face, a priceless mingling of apprehension and joy. I adjust your hips and push your head slightly down, pointing your bottom up. I smack your protected mounds for a couple of minutes. "Raise your hips."
When you obey, I slowly lift your skirt to your waist. A sigh passes your lips. I rub the sensuous nylon of your green slip decorated with white lace at the hem. A delightful compliment to your red hair. Smack, smack, smack, again and again. You kick your legs a bit, so I know I'm getting to you at last. "Hips."
The slip joins the skirt, revealing a matching green, six strap garter belt supporting coffee colored, full fashion hose and more lace trimmed green halfway up your glowing cheeks (I get to indulge more than one fetish here.).
I resume spanking, with my hand curved to your round cheeks, giving each strike a resounding pop. I let myself feel how abandoned we all felt and straighten my hand out so you feel more. You kick for real, grunting and gasping.
When my hand stings, I enjoy the warmth of your upper cheeks and the soft nylon below. "Hips."
Panting, you obediently raise up. Down comes the skimpy final covering, all the way down and off your high heels.
A beautiful bottom suffused with pink lies before me. There are no marks or bruises except those I created. I enjoy other sights as well as you shift about on my lap. I run my hand over the hemispheres, warm and ready for more. I resume the handspanking, but not for long. I don't hold back any more and I lecture.
"You abandoned your friends without explanation or warning! You had us worried about your health, about the welfare of your children! You didn't tell us about the spankings you received or continue your philosophic ruminations we all enjoy so much!"
I fish a thin wooden paddle from the gym bag and apply it vigorously to your wriggling bottom as you whimper and moan, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"That's not good enough, young lady. What are you going to do about it?" The paddle rises and falls.
"I'll write on the board. I'll respond to questions. I'll tell about my spankings. I'll pose unanswerable existential questions about the meaning of spankings."
"Now, that's the Keri we know and love. Perhaps you're beginning to learn your lesson. How warm is this bum?"
I place my palm on the reddened cheeks, savoring the warmth. "Yes, you've almost learned your lesson." I trade the paddle for a short, flexible riding crop. Pow, pow, pow, pow! I rain rapid blows on you, lecture and promises done.
You jerk and writhe, but make no protest or attempt to crawl off my thighs. You're beyond words, and a high-pitched keening fills the air. Your kicking is rapid with wide swings of your legs exposing you most enticingly.
Violating marital vows is not on the program. But nothing can stop the inevitable consequences of a good spanking. I discard the crop and rub the hot, glowing, striped cheeks, so different from when you invited me in.
The handspanking resumes, now softer, slower, an upward swing meeting your cheeks at the crease between thigh and rump, tugging the resilient mounds up again and again. Your keening stops and changes to gasps and pants of pleasure. Very slowly, I speed up the tempo of my strikes, but not the force. Your gasps are quite loud before I speed up and when I do, I'm rewarded by the sounds of a woman in ecstasy. I keep it up until you gasp, "Enough! Oh, that was wonderful!"
As you recover, I gently rub your warm globes, a satisfied grin on my face.
You ask to get up and I give you some support. We hug and I say, "Welcome back, Keri. Have you been well?"
MM, whose pants are too tight
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