Friday, 25 May 2007

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.


Simon Kade said...

Great story.

Anonymous said...

Well done, Janice, this is a good story.

Is it real? Does this matter? Have you really picked out this man to conquer by your submission? or is it really a fantasy after all?

I don't think you needed to be punished, I don't think you'd been bad. I think you needed the cane, its caress and its bite upon your flesh, in order to release you from pretence. And whilst the man needed to cane you to make him feel dominant, he was being used by you in a game of your own device, to get what you wanted, you needed.

Good story


Janice said...

Thank you for your comments. It is just a story, an idea. A game it is, that is the right word for it, Ollie.