Tuesday, 17 April 2007

The Castle

I am back and it feels good to be back blogging. I have a story for you, one about spanking. Not my best, perhaps but I like the mood in this. I do hope I managed to convey something of it.

The castle is perched on the hill above the town, the eternal wind howling against its walls. The wind is chilly today and I shiver a little in the cool air. There is no one there, except for me and an old man taking his dog for a walk. I am sitting on a cold bench of stone, waiting for you. My thin skirt is poor protection against the cold, cold stone.

My heart starts beating as I see you approaching. I am happy to see you. I have been longing for you, still I am apprehensive, being a little scared of you, not knowing what you will do.

You sit down beside me. I am happy to have you near me. I look down, a little scared of meeting your eyes. I know you want me to be like that, a little submissive, a little timid.

'Take off your knickers!' you command.


You nod. It is as simple as that, a nod seals my doom. Blood rushes to my cheeks. You know I will obey. I look around, checking that there is no one there. The man with the dog is further down the hill. I look at the castle, its windows are black. Anyone may be watching me from behind those black windows. You know this but still you have commanded me.

My hands, under my skirt, grab hold of my knickers. The movements are awkward as I slide them down my thighs. It is a strange sensation feeling the fabric of my knickers gliding over my skin. My skirt covers me but I know I am becoming more and more naked underneath it. I blush like a little girl as I rise up a little allowing my knickers to slide down a bit. They are around my knees and I am ashamed. You know how I feel about this and still you choose it for me.

I hesitantly pull down my knickers to my feet and step out of them. I give them to you but you don't take them. Instead you tell me to throw them in the bin. This is humiliating. My knickers are litter and they will be there in the bin among the rest of the rubbish. My most intimate piece of clothing is just rubbish and I will walk home without them. I blush.

'Pull up your skirt!'

I am supposed to feel the cold stone against my naked skin. You want me to be humiliated. I do as you please. I always do. The stone is cold against me. I am fully dressed but very naked underneath my skirt.

I know you want to punish me. I have not bought a thing you asked me to buy. My lectures took all the time and I didn't want to miss this appointment. I want to explain, to apologise but I don't.

I know I deserve to be punished but still a cold hand grips my heart as I see you tap your lap. This gesture means but one thing, that I am to be spanked. But I can't believe you want to do it here, in public.

'Can't we leave it till tonight? I plead.

You don't answer, you just look at me. I am silent. I look around not wanting anyone to see us. The man with the dog is still far away, the windows still dark.

I lean forward, hesitating, I lie down in your lap. You lift your hand, take hold of my neck, almost like a tender gesture, as to hug me. Instead I sense your grip on my neck, forcing me down on your knee. I have to rise up, slightly in order to place myself there but soon I am in position. I am ashamed, not only for myself but for the both of us. I hope you will not lift my skirt.

I sense your hands on my back. Suddenly I feel the cold wind against my legs and I know you are lifting my skirt. I have tears in my eyes. I bow my head while you expose my bottom. I am waiting.

The first blow doesn't hurt. Strangely enough it comes as a surprise. I hear your hand against my skin. When I start sensing the heat from the first whack you deliver the next. I am being spanked. It stings and it hurts but not too much. I am more embarrassed and ashamed than anything else. Blow after blow hit my naked bottom. The pain is mounting and soon the pain is the most prominent sensation. In some way it feels good to be able to concentrate on the pain rather than anything else. I am still concerned that someone will see us.

The pain is mounting and soon it is only my bottom and your pounding hand. The pain overwhelms me and I have to focus on it completely to cope with it. I do not cry out but I moan and squeal a little. I can't help it.

And then it is over. You tell me to stand up. I obey you. I sit down beside you. I dare not pull my skirt down but it falls around me covering my naked legs. The ice cold stone soothes my spanked bottom. I look around and I see that the man with the dog is behind me. It can mean only that he has passed us while I was being spanked. I ask you about it but you don't answer.


Anonymous said...

Nice one Janice.


Anonymous said...

Hello Janice!

Great comeback from you..thanks!

It's always so nice to find a new post here..


Manorlord said...

No accident that I came by with my dog,that you saw me before, and after, your punishment. No accident that we stopped, hearing the slaps, your whimpering. My dog sat, alert, ears perked. He whined with you. In sympathy? In excitement? I envied him, hearing overtones and resonances of your suffering, undetectable to me. But I heard, enough. Saw. Savored. And I know exactly when to return, with my dog. No accident.

Dave said...

Lovely story, well-written and erotic!

"The Cherry Red Report"