The Story of Miranda, part 4

So here it is, the fourth instalment of the Story of Miranda. What seemed like a spanking story turned into a girly romantic story. I am like that. There is no continuation. It might turn into pornography should I continue or a serious relationship drama. Perhaps, sometime in the future. There are some snippets and situations from their life together that I might post here but no real continuation.

I changed during that summer and much thanks to Felicia. We went shopping together and she insisted on me getting clothes I never would have dreamt of buying. I got a brand new red bikini, even smaller than the blue one. The top was not considerable smaller but the bottom was minimal. I only partly covered my bum and its front was minimal. Seeing me from the side one could think I was naked. Felicia insisted on me tying the cords at the sides with bows that could easily be slipped. Most girls tie stout knots and make them look like bows but mine were real. This made me feel vulnerable. I had to buy a very short, wide skirt. It fell only to halfway down my thighs and was very revealing. Adding to that was the fact that it hung very low on my hips. Felicia told me to wear a shirt together with the skirt and knot it in front so that it left my belly exposed. It was nothing unusual about that but it was most shocking for tiny Miranda to be dressed like that. I had the tiniest of shorts and only the red bikini top when we went walking in town on hot summer afternoons.

She took an interest in dressing me so that I had to reveal my body in public. Nothing I wore was shocking or strange, many girls wore less but they were hip, they were sexy. I was the unassuming Miranda and was embarrassed to have to walk through town with exposed belly. It was very exciting at the same time. I often blushed when we passed people and I thought that they looked at me and my body. Sometimes they did. I was very much aware of boys and men watching me.

I felt ashamed at the same time as I enjoyed being so naked. I felt a special tingling in my body when I saw men turning their heads looking at me. I wondered if it was like this for other girls. Maybe this was what it was all about, this dressing up and showing off that the girls did?

That summer was exciting and arousing and the best thing was that Felicia was in command. I felt happy not having to be responsible for this. She commanded and I went along. The downside with all this exposure was that I couldn't get spanked as much as we wanted. It was hard to spank me without leaving some traces. During the spring semester one of the girls had commented on some marks on my bum during gym class. I had been whipped three days before and the marks still showed. I said something plausible and I don't think someone realised what had happened but we felt the need for being more cautious.

I was happy during that summer although I was sad about the spankings. I missed them or rather I missed the opportunity they gave me of losing myself in it. I have described it as being dragged to the edge of a terrifying void and almost pushed over it and that I longed for to be pushed. Although we experimented a lot I didn't seem to get any closer to that void that I so much lusted for and feared. I was eager to be pushed even further, to really lose control although I knew it meant that I would have to submit, for real, to the pain. I imagined it as pain beyond endurance and something I couldn't cope with and that it would make me fall into that void. Pain was always pain and it hurt so. I couldn't thing of anything more horrible than unbearable pain but the longing for what it might do to me was undiminished.

There was another theme that seemed to dominate that summer and it was connected to the incidents with our hugging each other and Felicia's hand in my jeans. Felicia took an interest in my body or exposing it. It seemed that these incidents had changed Felicia too and that she was more keen on looking at me and exposing me and making me feel ashamed of being exposed. I caught her regarding me sometimes when I was walking from the water, wet and in my bikini or laying in the sun.

Nothing was said but there was something, concerning my body, that went on underneath the surface. It was about her gaze and the lust for being touched and maybe the lust to touch as well. In some ways I was in love with her. I wanted her to watch me and I wanted her to touch me but I could not admit it. Felicia didn't say anything either but there was this air of something nice and powerful going on.

This changed suddenly one afternoon by the lake. It was late in the summer and the air was hot. We stayed on when most people started to leave and after some time we were alone. We often choose spots that were almost deserted even when the lake was crowded and this afternoon we were alone.

We were lying in the setting sun feeling warm and lazy. Suddenly I felt Felicia's eyes on me. I turned around and looked at her. She looked back and smiled as strange kind of smile.

'Take your top off!' she said.

'Ok,' I answered.

It happened now and then that she commanded me to take my top off. I don't know why but this time I sat up and stretched and made quite a show of it. I felt a bit ashamed, but nice in a way, doing that. It wasn't a big show, nothing spectacular but I stretched my body, arched my back a little and undid my top and slipped it off. I felt like a stripper but if anyone could have seen me it was nothing out of the ordinary, I guess.

My performance was not lost on Felicia, though. She watched me intensely and I sat on the beach for a while enjoying the sun. I wanted to stay in that moment because it felt good, daring to take off my bikini top while she watched.

'Take off your knickers!' she said and my heart took a leap and started pounding. This was new. I had showed off my breasts before but I had never been naked in a public place like this. No one was there so there was not much risk being seen but it was still shocking.

'Here?' I asked feeling stupid.

'Yeah,' she answered and didn't stop looking at me.

I looked around to see if anyone could see me and then I decided that I dared risking it. The sense was not if I dared doing it rather how hard it would be doing it, because I couldn't resist her demands. I slipped down my hands and quickly pulled off my knickers. I was shaking. I was naked. She watched me and I was embarrassed. At the same time it felt nice in a kind of warm and sexy way to strip for her.

'Lay down now!' she said and I did.

'No, as before, on your back!'

My cheeks were probably very red when I awkwardly rolled over and lay on my back. I felt terrible exposed and was hoping no one would see me, no one besides Felicia. I wanted her to see me and I think she did. I didn't look at her but I sensed her eyes upon me. I took up my book and started to read again. I felt the urge to do something ordinary just to stop the beating of my heart and the scary, dreadful sense of being aroused by the whole thing.

Then she touched me. I felt her hand on my belly. Her fingers were cool against my warm skin when she lightly touched the area around my navel. I was shocked but it felt ever so good. I held my breath not daring to do or say anything. I was afraid that the slightest reaction from me would break the spell and she would withdraw her hand. I was embarrassed but it was so good to sense her touch and I didn't want it to stop.

Her hand moved around, stroking my belly, moving down to my lower belly. I was terrible aroused and couldn't' breath. I was scared she would touch my sex at the same time as I longed for it. I was helpless in her hands. I was vulnerable and exposed.

She did move down to my sex. I almost exploded when she carefully placed her hand on my sex. She stroked me a little and I felt the tingling between my legs. I tried to be still but I think I shivered and maybe moved a little. When she slipped her fingers into me I let go of a tiny, pathetic, little sound. I held my breath again and tried to control my trembling body. I didn't want her to leave me as she had did the time before but I was equally afraid that she would satisfy me.

Her fingers burnt in me and I felt even more vulnerable with her presence there, in my most intimate spot. She moved around a little and I felt waves of heat running through my body. I almost fainted with the sensation and I didn't want her to stop. I almost forgot that we were laying on a public beach and I was completely naked.

The heat seemed to focus on my sex and with a great deal of fear I realised that I was close to coming. I believe Felicia felt that too but she didn't seem to mind. She kept her fingers moving in me and the inevitable happened. I came with a vengeance. I can't describe the tingling and heat that soared through my body. I think I sighed and moved but it was beyond anything I had ever experienced.

I didn't notice Felicia removing her hand. I recall rolling over on my side, overcome with emotions and the physical reaction, burying my face in my hands, being both happy and ashamed.

When I came around I felt Felicia's hand on my shoulder. I rose to my knees, looking at her.

'I am so ashamed,' I said.

'Didn't you like it?' she asked suddenly looking scared and concerned.

'It was the best.' I said and almost started to cry. Felicia took me in her arms and I hugged her violently. I pressed my naked body against her and I felt her close to me. I hugged her and cried at her shoulder and felt happy. It was good sensing her body against mine and her arms around me and my arms around her.

After a while she looked me in the eyes with a serious face. She regarded me for a second or two and then she kissed me. She kissed me on the lips. A sweet, soft kiss. A kiss that didn't demand anything but was the sweetest thing imaginable. I eagerly kissed her back and we were suddenly full of passion. We kissed for a long time and my head swirled. I was kissing a girl and I liked it. I loved her and she was a girl.

We came to our senses and realised that we didn't want to be seen. It was a forbidden thing and we would have to hide it. We knew that. We looked at each other in bewilderment and then we smiled. It was good but we had to go back now. We could not stay. I didn't know what this would lead to but I loved her and I didn't care too much at that moment.

The Conqueror

No more silliness, at least for a while. This is a story I wrote yesterday and it is unusual for this blog in the sense that it is not a fantasy. It is just a story, a story I wanted to tell.

This is story is about something and I am not sure I have managed to tell it the right way. Is it too obvious what it is about? Or is it not obvious at all? I wouldn't mind to hear from you, Dear Reader.

Here I am, in your study, entering your domain. It is almost dark, just one single light. You are sitting in your armchair, enthroned, like a king, a ruler of your land. Here am I, standing before you, exactly where you want me.

Your head is in darkness, I don't see the sparkle in your eyes. I don't see the eyes that behold me, standing before you. I don't see the eyes that lingers on my frame, caresses my body.

I am dressed in black, the fabric of my dress hugs my body, reveals more than it hides. And there are you, knowing that I have dressed for you, showing myself for you. The way you want it.

I picked you out at the party. It was a flippant remark you made, a line you dropped for to provoke. 'Most women secretly desire a good spanking.' A remark designed to annoy, to offend.

I was provoked, I was offended. I told you what a chauvinist pig you are and that you know nothing of women. I gave you it all, in the face. You took it with your arrogant smile, waiting for to play the gentleman, trying to placate me.

Some drinks later you told me that I wanted a good spanking, yes, needed a good spanking. I blushed and looked away. You knew, then, that I was coming with you. I saw the smile on your face, the hunter's smile.

So, here I am, in my short, black dress, standing before you, were you want me, beheld by you, controlled by you, in your domain. You look at me but I can't see your face. You can see me. That is how you want it.

You like what you see. I know that. I can sense that. I hear it in your breathing. You like what you see of me. You like me in my short black dress, put on for you.

You start the inquiry. You take control. I wait and answer, standing there, beheld, in the only light in the room.

'Yes, I am naughty.'

'Yes, I feel guilty about being a woman.'

'Yes, I need a strong man.'

'Yes, I deserve to be punished.'

Exactly how you want it. I need to be punished, I want to be punished. You are doing me a favour, doing what I want. You are kind to punish me. That is how you want it. That is what you need.

I get you the cane, the instrument, the tool. That is how I show my submission, how I show you that you are in command.

Again you talk, your voice coming from the darkness, the cane, the instrument for my punishment, resting on your lap. Again I tell you how I deserve to be punished, how I need to be punished. I tell you that I need you to punish me, the gallant knight, armed with a cane.

We both know what is next. We both wait for it. You are still for a while, silent. Then, you tell me to prepare.

I move slowly, aware of your eyes on me, caressing my hips as I pull up my dress. A tiny gasp from you as I reveal the black silk that was hidden. My hands gently slip the silk knickers down my from my hips, revealing my body. The soft fabric touches my skin like a lover's hand. I am preparing for my punishment.

At your command I lean over your desk, turning my back towards you, turning my face away from you, giving you a full view of me from where you are sitting. I hear you rising from your armchair. I hear you breathing.

'Yes, I deserve to be punished.'

'Please, punish me now, let me taste the cane.'

The sound is tremendous, sharp and cold as ice. The pain is red, hot and red. And overwhelming. The pain is more than I can endure. Exactly how you want it. Exactly how I want it.

I cry out in pain, in agony. You like that. I can feel it, hear it. You enjoy this. I move in discomfort, showing you how brutal you are, how in total command you are, how at your mercy I am. Exactly how you want it.

'Yes, it hurt more than I was prepared for.'

'No, I think I deserved it.'

'Yes, we need to be caned.'

Then you lean on me, slumping on top of me. I sense your body against mine, your heavy breath in my ear. You are quick and eager. You don't wait for me. But I am quicker. I was prepared.

Later, you sit in your armchair, your head hidden in the shadows again. I know your smile is back on your face. I rise from my position, pull down my dress. My knickers are gone, you will keep them, as a trophy, as a sign of my submission.

Without a word I leave your study, leave your dark room. In silence, I leave your domain, with you still sitting on your throne, a king of your realm, the realm I conquered.

Frivolous Frivolities

I bet you think I am a quite boring and serious person. Maybe you are right in that, at least boring but that I have told you already. Anyway, I found a site on the Web with a lot of silly quizzes (or questionnaires) that tells you what kind of personality you have and how clever you are. I spent too long doing them and here are some results. Of course I only present the ones that are flattering for me in some way.



I didn't know my power colour was red-orange.

Your Power Color Is Red-Orange

At Your Highest: You are warm, sensitive, and focused on your personal growth. At Your Lowest: You become defensive and critical if you feel attacked. In Love: You are loyal - but you demand the respect you deserve. How You're Attractive: You are very affectionate and inspire trust. Your Eternal Question: "Am I Respected?"

What's Your Power Color?

And since I am very sceptical I don't believe in such quizzes.

You Are Very Skeptical

Your personal motto is: "Prove it." While some ideas, like life after death, may seem nice... You aren't going to believe them simply because it feels good. You let science and facts be your guide... Even if it means you don't share the beliefs of those around you.

How Skeptical Are You?

Even if they tell me I am artisitc and passionate.

Your Blogging Type is Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great. One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog... And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes. Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

But it seems to pinpoint me as being quite boring though.

You Are a Very Good Girl

You are 90% Good and 10% Bad You're a perfect angel - almost impossibly so Don't you ever feel like being a little bad?!?

Are You a Good Girl or a Bad Girl?

But that does not come as such surprise.

It is nice, however, to be creative,

You Are 79% Creative

You are beyond creative. You are a true artist - even if it's not in the conventional sense of the word. You love creating for its own sake, and you find yourself quite inspired at times.

How Creative Are You?

a little alarming to be nerdy

You Are 24% Nerdy

You're a little nerdy, but no one would ever call you a nerd. You sometimes get into nerdy things, but only after they've become a part of mainstream culture.

How Nerdy Are You?

but this really makes me puzzled (ok, it says something about me that I took that test).

Your Stripper Song Is

Closer by Nine Inch Nails "You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I?ve got no Soul to tell" When you dance, it's a little scary - and a lot sexy.

What Song Should You Strip To?

I am British!! Hooray!!

You Belong in the UK

Blimey! A little proper, a little saucy. You're so witty and charming... No one notices your curry breath

What English Speaking Country Are You?

and...

Your Personality is Very Rare (INFP)

Your personality type is dreamy, romantic, elegant, and expressive. Only about 5% of all people have your personality, including 6% of all women and 4% of all men You are Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Perceiving.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Less flattering is

You're Kind of Stupid

You got 7/10 questions right! There's some things most people know... except for you.

Are You Stupid?

But this is not too bad...?

Your Intrapersonal Intelligence Score: 85%

Your Intrapersonal Intelligence is Very High You've spent a lot of time introspecting, and it's really paid off. You are comfortable with who you are, and you have a life philosophy that you are happy to live by. And you're always re-evaluating what you believe. Because you learn something new about yourself each day!

How Does Your Intrapersonal Intelligence Rate?

And to end this silliness, I don't know how to interpret this...

Your Reputation Is: Sweet Girl

While you're well known, there's nothing to worry about. You're reputation is mostly good - as good as any rep can be.

Do You Have A Bad Girl Reputation?

Enough silliness for today

The Story of Miranda, part 3

Here is the third instalment of the story of Miranda and her friend Felicia. I suspect the story, here, takes a turn that was not completely expected by you all. I don't know. I have hinted at it.

Things was about to change again. Spring had turned to early summer. I was totally surprised by the change but with hindsight it was inevitable, I guess. The first step was taken during an afternoon in early June. It was a Friday and we were along at Felicia's place. Her parents were out and no gym class until Wednesday next week so it was a perfect evening for some hard spanking of me, the kind that left marks.

This time I was kneeling by the bed. I had no trousers or knickers on and Felicia was about to whip me with a cane she had found in the basement. It was a cane used for carpets and it was a single strand twisted and coiled back on itself in one arch. It was extremely powerful and the pain was horrible. I cried out at the first blow and Felicia didn't dare give me more than half a dozen before I was reduced to tears. I lay sobbing on her bed my bum on fire. The pain was more than I was used to and Felicia was somewhat shocked by the effect it had on me.

Suddenly I felt her hand on my shoulder.

'Miranda, are you alright?' she asked.

I tried to nod and rose to my knees. She was kneeling in front of me and suddenly we stood there kneeling, face to face. I must have looked horrible because she suddenly reached out and touched my cheek. That kind of affection was not usual between us. It had an enormous effect on me, though. I burst into tears and couldn't control myself. Felicia took me in her arms and hugged me. I pressed my body against hers and hugged her back. We held each other for a long time before it felt silly or embarrassing. Felicia stroked my back and I enjoyed the feeling of being comforted by her. I didn't mind her hand moving down and stroking my bottom. Her hand was cool against my burning skin and that felt good.

Suddenly it made me aware of my nakedness. I had no clothes below my waist and I realised that I was pressing my whole body against hers and I felt the fabric of her trousers against my thighs and lower belly and I felt naked. The strange thing was that I stayed for a short while in that position. I enjoyed feeling naked in her arms and sensing her slim body against mine. Then it dawned upon me that I shouldn't feel that way. She was too close, too intimate and I tried to disengage. She slowly let me go and I didn't want to do anything aggressive but I wanted to get away from being close to her. I was too embarrassed and too ashamed. I had enjoyed it but it was something that I wasn't supposed to feel.

I said something and we laughed and I dressed and we talked about the cane and that it was a good implement. I agreed because it was so powerful and I wanted to be overwhelmed and I told Felicia so and she looked at me with a gaze I could not interpret.

Things changed more but before I talk about that I have to mention another thing that was going on inside me during that time. Getting spankings from Felicia made me think about how I saw her and whom I was in relation to her. When I had first met her, which seemed like an eternity ago, I had imagined myself kneeling at her feet, a captive before her throne. I started to feel as if reality had become like that. I felt that I was not only accepting spankings from her, wanting spankings from her, but I was also submitting myself to her will. That was strange and complicated and scary but I wanted it to be like that.

Sometime after the hug something happened that changed things again. It was something that made me grow up in many ways and that opened up a floodgate in my mind. We were lying on my bed one hot afternoon and we were feeling lazy. I was lying on my back reading some comic book and Felicia was browsing through some other book. This afternoon I was dressed in jeans and t-shirt.

I was caught up in my book and didn't notice that Felicia had stopped reading and was lying on her side regarding me. I sensed something was happening and looked at her. She noticed my attention and looked up at me. She looked me in the eyes for a second and then looked at my midriff.

'Your t-shirt is very short,' she said and suddenly I felt her finger against my belly. My t-shirt was indeed short and left some four inches of skin visible between my jeans and my t-shirt. Felicia was now touching my exposed skin and that sent a bolt of fire through me. I was immensely embarrassed but I lay still. Something inside me said that my determination of subjecting myself to her will was being put to the test now. I would not protest or do anything to stop her. I was hers to do what she pleased with.

Suddenly I felt her gaze on my body and I felt completely naked. I shivered with embarrassment but didn't say anything or move. She gave me a quick glance but was then focussed on my belly. She stroked it for a while and I held my breath. She touched my skin and it felt intrusive and very nice at the same time.

Then she slid her hand inside my jeans. I drew my breath and held it, unable to move or speak. She made her way, slowly, down to my sex. I was aroused, shamefully aroused. Here I was lying on my bed beside my friend and she had her hand in my jeans and I was aroused. I had changed. I was changing.

I wanted her desperately to touch my sex and at the same time I was afraid what might happen if she did. I felt totally and utterly exposed and completely in her power. I knew I wasn't but I felt as if I was.

She did touch my sex. Her fingers slid into me and stayed there for an eternity but not long enough. My body was on fire and I wanted nothing more than for her to break through to me and make it happen. I didn't say anything but she must have heard me breathing. I was agitated, aroused and helpless. I was hers and she seemed to know that.

She didn't stay long enough and when she withdrew her hand, my sex ached. I was frustrated and upset by her lighting my fire but not putting it out. I looked at her almost with horror. Her hand left my body and I longed for it already. She looked up at me and must have seen my red cheeks. She smiled. She seemed completely self assured and completely in control and enjoying it. I was lost and powerless. I wanted to kneel before her and offer myself as a slave if only she would satisfy me and at the same time I was upset and humiliated and despised myself for being so utterly weak.

She acted as if nothing had happened and I felt embarrassed by that. I felt as if I had stripped naked showing all of my inner desires and she had laughed at me. The strangest of things was that I didn't hate her for it. I loved her. Later I asked her to spank me. She complied and gave me a good thrashing with the leather belt. I cried when she was done. I felt the tingling in my sex through the pain and when she left that evening I was still on fire.

Alone in my room I gave myself the satisfaction I had been denied and I had to admit that spanking evoked something in me, something that had to do with sex. I had fooled myself that it was just for fun or for some romantic idea about submission. I knew that I loved Felicia in a way that I had never expected. I had never known how much I had longed for her to touch me. It terrified me to be so exposed to her.

From that moment my mind was full of images of me being naked in front of people under the strangest of circumstances. I saw myself naked in the classroom or naked walking with Felicia in town. I had images in my head of having to strip before her and being examined by her. She was always dressed. Sometimes I was a slave, naked in chains being sold at a market and she was the one selling me.

I longed for to get naked with Felicia, to get naked for her, in front of her. But I couldn't admit it. I was too shy. It may sound strange but I was still tiny Miranda, tiny unassuming Miranda. Things had changed a lot during those months but I am not sure anyone noticed. We were always together and we were the weird girls but I don't think anyone suspected that one of the weird girls were being spanked by the other and if they had known that one had put her hand inside the other's jeans they would have fallen off their chairs.

I longed to get naked and luckily it was summer. We went swimming by the lake. Swimming meant swimming costume and it was natural to get naked. It is easy to write that I longed to get naked but I didn't admit it to myself. At the lake I could have my bikini. Wearing bikini meant being almost naked and being almost naked with Felicia.

Felicia had a green one piece swimsuit. It was stylish and somewhat old fashioned but it suited her. I dared show my body in a blue bikini. It was quite small and revealing with a tiny top and a tiny tie side bottom. Most girls would have felt ok in such a bikini but I felt exposed and naked in it. This was scary but something good as well. When we were among other people I felt as if I was naked. I felt as if I was naked for Felicia, because of her, as if I was hers. I imagined being her slave and had to be naked at her feet. I enjoyed feeling her eyes on my body. I felt it even stronger when we were alone by the water.

She had come a long way, tiny Miranda. A year ago I had been nobody and now I enjoyed being seen and watched wearing a bikini. Still I was shy, still I couldn't admit enjoying being exposed. I was still ashamed by the thought of someone seeing my body. Felicia seemed to know that. She ordered me to take my top off one afternoon. We weren't alone and I was shocked but I knew I had to obey. I untied my top and took it off and immediately lay down on my belly trying to cover myself. Felicia told me to buy ice cream so there I was walking to the stand topless. There were some people from our school there and I know they saw me. I am sure they were quite surprised. It was even more embarrassing because they didn't know that I had been ordered to do it.

On the other hand walking to the ice cream stand topless was one of the most exciting things I had ever done, not necessarily the most shocking or most powerful but in a sense the most exciting. It was like being in one of my fantasies, exposed and naked in front of the world and feeling ashamed and aroused.

The Tower

This arrived from the other side of the pond. It is written by a friend who gave me this piece for my blog. It is immensely beautiful, it sings with a poetic voice I admire. It is a little more explicit than the things you usually find here but I am sure you don't mind. Read and enjoy!

A seacoast park, on a windy, almost chilly day. You have dressed in earth tones: long skirt, blouse, sweater. You have arrived on schedule, just before sunset, just time enough to climb the long, circular staircase to the top of the Observation Tower. The vista is breathtaking. Best of all, you are alone here, so high up, leaning over the rail that encloses the roofless deck. You tuck your unruly breeze-blown tresses behind your ears.

Far below you, people stroll, singly, in couples or groups. All eyes are on the setting sun, the brilliant jewel colors and golden streaks of the clouds.

Entranced, you barely hear the footsteps on the stairs. You feel a mild, unreasonable disappointment at having to share the view. You straighten up slightly, grip the rail, and determinedly stare forward. You are, in your mind's eye, the very portrait of impenetrable solitude, offering no opening for introductions or idle observation.

The light steps pause. You are grateful that this interloper respects your privacy, your priority, and seeks only, like yourself, to enjoy the magical, privileged view, undisturbed and undisturbing.

Two minutes of reverie pass. Three. You realize that the stranger has not taken some unobtrusive place at the railing. All is yet silence. But your sixth sense, or a subtle sound, or even a hint of warmed, moving air, tells you the stranger stands immediately behind you. This brings a twinge of disquiet. You drop your eyes to the ground, see the people strolling, pointing, and are reassured.

Then...

Strong hands grip you by the flanks, just above your hips. You gasp, but remain still, mute. The touch is firm and insistent, but not quite rough, a hold you can break. You consider options, angles, as the importunate hands remain, calm, as if by right, on your waist. Your unease mounts. But oddly, you are reminded of being in the arms of an experienced dancer, a man confident in leading his inexperienced partner in intricate steps, slow or fast. The hands relax a bit. You relax a bit. But what…

A gentle, steady force presses you, ever so slightly, to your left. You resist for a moment, keep your footing, spread your legs for balance. Then – unthinkable -- you yield, bending stiffly and ever so slightly from the waist. The sure hands guide you back to plumb, then impel you, still insistent and gentle, to the right. You follow, less unwillingly, as the hands guide you in a slow rocking arc ... yes, like a dance, a softly swaying dance.

The man – not quite a stranger anymore, is he? -- takes a half step forward. You feel his shoulders pressing against yours, his chest brushing your back. He is swaying with you, rocking side to side, slowly, to the rhythm of – of what? The setting sun? The rising moon?

He guides your waist gently forward and back, now left and right --- a full circle. You release the rail, drop your arms to your side. His strong hands and firm back hold you up. The sun kisses the sea. The light is red, yellow, the shadows long... He reverses directions, pauses, speeds, slows. In spite of yourself, you unlock your knees, giving yourself wholly to the undulating improvisations of this unseen dance partner. Do you know, or do you merely hope, that …

You feel his breath, warm, on your right ear. He is crooning in a low voice, or perhaps whispering. The sound is urgent. The dance continues. But now the comforting hands glide, inch by inch, smoothly forward. Clasp your waist, fingertips interlaced in front of you. You place your hands over his. He pulls you close. The dance continues. You feel his broad chest against your back, his knees behind your knees, thighs against your buttocks. Still swaying.

His left hand returns to its first post, gripping your left hip. But his right, slowly, smoothly, slides under your sweater. You stiffen, take his wrist in your trembling hand. "Shh, shhh," he whispers, warm breath in your ear. You release him, place your hands back on the railing. He untucks your blouse, and his right hand slips under, caressing your belly, finding your breast, cupping it tenderly. He pulls you even closer to him, still swaying slowly. His left hand has already found your left breast, his smooth flat palm circling, barely brushing your hardening nipple. Now his hands lift your breasts appraisingly, testing their weight. And now, fiercely, he clasps you to himself. A rude prod from behind tells you how hard he is, how very hard. You feel his erection's radiant heat like a second sun. He arches back, away from you, but not quite completely breaking contact. Is this a hint, a warning, a reminder, invitation, boast?

Now his right hand turns, still flesh to your flesh, fingertips probing the waistband of your slacks. He leans forward, and you lean with him, bending slightly at the waist. His fingertips trace the top of your knickers, then glide underneath, inexorably downward. His hand cups your sex, gently, like a nesting bird. Lingers there...

You feel his left hand untuck the back of your blouse, then slide under slacks and knickers to cup your smooth bottom. This hand is restless. It clenches, kneads, presses, circles. Once, just once, it is pulled back, smacks you gently. His fingers clamp down again, open, close, pinching and palpating. The heat of this hand, the heat of your bottom under his hand, spread down your legs and through your pelvis. You imagine, no you see, the white outline his handprint would leave, will leave on your blushing cheek.

The left hand now probes forward, between your legs, joining briefly with the right. Dexterous fingers part, finding, flicking, stroking your clitoris. You feel one, two, three left digits probe your opening from behind, teasingly testing, dowsing for moisture, finding and transferring it to fingers still busying about your swollen pearl. Then, one, two, three, to the knuckles, to the hilt, they enter you. He enters you. He is in you, circling, back and forth, side to side. Just as your bodies' swaying dance continues, his hands holding your sex like reins, guiding you side to side, forward, back, around and around. You reach your arms behind, clasp him by the waist, pulling him, if possible, closer still. In your ear, you feel rather than hear urgent, indistinct, syllables: endearments, threats, promises, poetry… some old tune, or ….

His commanding hands dance, glide, guide your dance. You follow his lead, from twilight into darkness.

Fantasies

One thing I think a lot about is how my fantasies relate to my reality, or in what way they should relate to my reality. A great many people see their fantasies as an extension of their real life, things they fantasise about are things they are planning for or want for real. In one sense it has to be like that. What I fancy in my mind has to come from my desires and wants to some extent or fears that needs to be addressed. They come from me and I am real and so they relate to reality.

On the other hand it is a great thing that what happens in your mind does not always become reality. You can express anger and even hate but you don't have to act upon it. You don't have to go killing someone just because you have fantasies about that. Those thoughts may come from great anger and fantasies may function as an outlet rather than as a planning stage.

Fantasies, wild and strange, are an inspiration for stories and daydreaming and that is something I enjoy. In fact I have come to realise that the thought of having to realise my fantasies hampers the free flow of thoughts. If I let my mind be thrilled with the thought of a cruel whip or something a little more brutal it scares me if that has to become reality. I then try to control my fantasies to include only doable and nice things. That is not very good.

At the moment I think I prefer to have reality, boring and ordinary, in one place and wild and strange fantasies in another. And enjoy the free flow of thoughts.

The Story of Miranda, part 2

This is the next instalment of the story of Miranda and her friend Felicia. Miranda is not a girl who takes things lightly so everything moves quite slowly.

But the floodgates had been opened. I was changed. I had entered into a strange world. The sensational thing about this was that I wasn't alone. Felicia was there too. I couldn't be completely sure that Felicia felt the same but I hoped so. Something in her way of looking at me told me that maybe she was taken by this as well. After all she had been the one suggesting it.

I desperately wanted to be spanked again. It is easy to write that now but the thought, then, was terrifying and almost a forbidden one. The thought of being spanked was humiliating and scary and something I really dreaded but I felt a strange and forbidden urge to have it done to me again. I could not understand why I wanted something painful to be done to me, something painful and humiliating. There was this strange mix of feelings in the thought. I had never been so scared and I had never felt such pain and agony but I had never been so aroused and excited either.

I think the most humiliating thing was that I felt aroused by it. It made me hot and not only hot as when blushing but as in having a tingling sensation in my sex. I didn't think of it as something sexual but the urge was something that had to do with lust and such things and that was hard to admit.

Some time later, when I had thought about this all too much, I decided to talk to her. I was determined to trust Felicia to be my friend and that admitting things to her was not that bad. She would not shun me. She might laugh at me but she would still be my friend. I dreaded her ridicule but I wanted to tell her what all this meant to me.

I was the one opening the discussion about it the next time we met.

'I want to try it again,' I said and felt my heart stop beating.

'What?' Felicia said, looking innocent. This made me want to retract my steps and talk about something else, something ordinary but it was too late.

'I want to be spanked again.' I couldn't believe I had said that.

'Did you like it?' Felicia said which was a cruel thing to say. She could have helped me, instead she forced me to tell her about my feelings.

'No, not really,' I said, 'maybe a little.'

'Do you really want me to spank you again?'

'I want to try it once more.'

'Yeah, why not, it was fun?' She sounded casual but I sensed something more behind her words.

She fetched the brush and my heart sank when I saw it in her hand. The thought of the pain returned and I almost changed my mind. Then I thought that it was supposed to be dreadful and my determination returned, somewhat.

'Felicia,' I said.

'Yes,' she answered.

'Maybe you should spank me longer, this time.'

'Alright,' she answered sounding a bit strange.

She didn't have to command me this time to lean over the bed. I wanted her to command me but I felt that I should comply with what was expected of me and not pretend to be ignorant. I leaned over the bed and this time I pulled up my skirt. My heart started pounding in my breast. I wanted to pull down my knickers as well to get the spanking on my bare skin but I couldn't get myself to do that. I needed her to command me.

She laid the brush on my bottom and I held my breath in anticipation. I knew more about it now and I expected it to hurt but I was still excited and I had to admit to myself that I was aroused. Then she started to spank me. She waited a second or two between smacks and alternated between my cheeks. The first swats was almost bearable but the pain soon grew. I wanted to get away from the relentless smacking of my bottom and the pain was soon unbearable and far more than anything I could stand. I heard my own voice, not screaming, but moaning and letting out sounds of distress. It was a strange sensation of hearing myself but it felt good too, humiliating but good.

In this slow and painful smacking of my bottom I thought about how much more painful it must be if she was to smack my bare bottom. The thought was scary but at the same time I longed for her to demand it. I urged for having to take down my knickers but she didn't command me.

The spanking continued for a while. I didn't count but she continued at least twice as long as the first time. I got that overwhelming sensation of being pushed to the edge of some terrifying void and I wanted to be pushed over it, to lose control, although I wasn't sure I was prepared to allow that to happen.

Then she stopped spanking me. For a short while I was relieved but also disappointed that I wasn't to be spanked on my naked skin. Then she said in a low voice:

'Take down your knickers!'

I almost protested because I felt so embarrassed but I didn't say anything. Instead I brazed myself for the task of obeying her. My hands trembled when I reached for my knickers. I hesitated but then I pulled them down. This time I wasn't so shy but pulled them down to my bended knees. I heard Felicia draw her breath and she didn't move for a while. I was embarrassed because I knew that she could watch my naked bottom now. The strange thing was that I felt almost unbearably aroused by the thought of having her watching my exposed behind. I felt cheap but aroused by it.

Then she started to spank me. She was more relentless this time. She wielded the brush with more vigour. The pain was more direct, more humiliating against my naked skin. My head swirled. I fought the impulse of fleeing. I had to stay, I had to take my spanking. I heard Felicia breathing heavily and heard the sound of the wood against my skin. I almost cried out. I felt tears in my eyes and I couldn't stop my body from moving, wriggling under the swats.

Then she increased the frequency and the final hail of blows made me want to push my body through the bed away from the brush. I screamed a little. When it was over I lay panting on her bed. I wasn't really there mentally and it took me some time to return to reality. Suddenly I felt Felicia close to my left ear. She leaned forward and whispered with a low and gentle voice.

'Your spanking is over.'

I was bewildered by this sudden kindness. The spanking was something we did together but her voice in my ear was an act of kindness, something she did to me, for me.

I recovered my stance, pulled up my knickers and rubbed my bottom a little. I was still hot but felt calmer now. My bum burned and ached but the sensation was exciting and almost nice.

This time we talked about it. I was lying on my stomach in her bed and Felicia sat in an armchair.

'Do you hate me for it?' Felicia asked.

'For what?' I said.

'For spanking you so hard.'

'No, no, not at all,' I answered somewhat confused, 'why should I?'

'I mean, I was, kind of cruel to you.'

'I want you to be cruel to me.' I said and almost bit my tongue. This felt like a confession of some sort and I wasn't sure I was prepared for that.

'I mean, spankings are supposed to hurt,' I continued.

'I guess so,' she said, suddenly thoughtful, 'I think you are right.'

'Of course I am right,' I said.

'It's not that I am angry or anything but it feels, kind of, good to spank you.'

She was silent. This was a confession from her. I was a bit surprised but it felt good too.

'Next time I think you should be harder with me,' I said feeling more confident all of a sudden.

She fell silent for a while.

'Do you think we should do it again?' she asked in a low voice.

I had to be silent for a while now.

'I do,' I said, swallowing, preparing for something difficult, 'I want you to spank me again, sometime.'

'I'd love to,' she said with an unexpected outburst of enthusiasm. She sank back, slightly embarrassed. I looked at her and felt the need to disarm the situation.

'Maybe you will have to tie me down then. It is really hard keeping in place.'

I think that day settled a lot between us. We had confessed to each other things that had been secrets, I think. I had admit that I wanted to be spanked and she that she wanted to spank me.

A crazy time followed. During April and May that spring Felicia spanked me a lot. We talked only about spanking. We tried different methods and different implements. We went shopping for things to spank me with. We found spatulas and spoons among kitchen utensils that were great for spanking. It was a strange feeling standing there in the shop holding a long bath brush and thinking that it would be used on my bum sometime and imagining the pain it would cause, strange but exciting.

We tried out different positions with me kneeling or standing bent over and lying on the bed. We did away with the silly spanking on the knickers so that I had all my spankings on naked skin. Things escalated so we tried things that would hurt me more and we experimented with tying me down during the spanking. It was a strange feeling being unable to move freely and being able to struggle without success. We made plans for arranging spankings in strange places and we had ideas of tying me to a pole like in the olden days when people were flogged in public. We had no sturdy pole and were not likely to find one. Still we allowed ourselves to have fantasies.

Being spanked was not an easy thing but I longed for it at the same time as I dreaded it. I was constantly upset about a spanking I had received or one I was expecting. My life was turned upside down. When the end term exams came up Felicia got the brilliant idea of having me spanked according to my results. Every point less than maximum on an exam rendered me a number of swats with some implement. This made sitting the exams quite exciting. I struggled to get things right knowing that failure meant pain. I was quite good at it but getting the results back was even more terrifying now. The sense of failure when I didn't get full score was added to with the knowledge of the whipping I would receive.

I wasn't spanked only with spatulas and spoons and brushes. Felicia tried a leather belt one day and that was terrible. It sounded like gunshots and the pain was tremendous. Sometimes the leather wrapped around my body and hurt my belly. That was cruel.

One day she bought me a bamboo stick. The impact was beyond belief. I cried out at the first blow. Some time later we went, together, to a shop where they sold riding crops and bought one. I remember the sensation of holding it in my hand knowing that it would be used on my body later.

We had become quite open with the matter of spankings and we talked for long times about how exciting it was and why we liked it. I wasn't completely honest about it with Felicia and didn't admit that I was aroused by it. I think she knew but we didn't talk about it. I think, maybe, she was aroused too but she never said.

There was something going on underneath the surface, something I sensed but could not talk about. It was connected to the forbidden sensation of being aroused but it was something else. Being spanked by Felicia became more and more intense. I dared cry and move around more and she showed her enjoyment and sometimes she laughed out loud with sheer pleasure.

Sometimes I had to lie in her lap for my spanking and that gave me the strangest sensations. I felt extremely humiliated by the the touch of her trousers or skirt against my naked skin when I had pulled down trousers and knickers and was lying there in her lap. The contrast between her dressed body and my naked skin was overwhelming. I was embarrassed but at the same time it felt good. It felt good being close to her but I didn't admit that to myself. I just enjoyed lying in her lap at the same time as it was the most humiliating of all positions, the one I begged of her not to have to take.

Dialogue

'You could spank me.'

'Spank you?'

'Yes, spank me.'

'What do you mean?'

'You know, spank me, smack my bottom.'

'Doesn't that hurt?'

'Well, yes, that is... kind of...you know...well, it is...you know, the point.'

'I suppose it is...'

'It is easy, you just smack my...hm, bottom.'

'And it hurts?'

'Yes, it hurts.'

'That is mean.'

'Yes, a little mean.'

'Why?'

'Maybe you are angry with me.'

'No, I am not.'

'Don't you want to be a little mean?'

'No.'

'Yes you want to.'

'Well, sometimes.'

'Then, spank me!'

'But it hurts.'

'Yes, that is true.'

'But why?

'Maybe you want to punish me?'

'I don't want to punish you.'

'Perhaps, just perhaps, I deserve a punishment.'

'That is another matter.'

'So, you think I deserve a punishment?'

'Sometimes, yes.'

'Spank me, then!'

'.......Ok, then, if I...were to...you know...spank you.'

'Yes?'

'How would I do it?'

'Well, you should, really, decide how.'

'Any suggestions?'

'On my bottom?'

'Yes, you said that.'

'Seems natural.'

'Yes, it does...if natural is the word.'

'I don't know...'

'With what?'

'With what what?'

'With what should I spank you?'

'Oh...you could use your hand.'

'That seems...natural.'

'Or you could use something...like my hairbrush.'

'Ouch...that must hurt.'

'Yes, of course it hurts.'

'That is the general idea?'

'Yes, it is.'

'So I take a hairbrush to your bottom and then...'

'Then you smack it.'

'Just like that?'

'Yes, just like that.'

'I get the idea.'

'You could flip up my skirt first.'

'To make it worse.'

'You know, the skirt protects me.'

'You would be protected, it would hurt less.'

'That would not be true to the general idea.'

'I see your point. So I flip up your skirt?'

'And then smack my bottom.'

'And then smack your bottom.'

'Unless...'

'Unless what?'

'Unless, you would take down my knickers.'

'Oh...I see, to smack you...sort of, on the bare.'

'Yes, it hurts more.'

'Yes and that is the general idea.'

'You could say that.'

'Ok, then, go and get your hairbrush!'

'Yes, sir.'