Wednesday, 5 November 2008

Sweet Spanking, part 3

Alright, there is no spanking in this one either but some naughtiness. I was uncertain if I should continue with this story but I have had some nice comments and that sort of thing makes me bolder. So, here it is, the third instalment about the story about Isobel and her Juliet.

'Come!' she said and rose to her feet. She held her hand out. I scrambled to my feet and she took my hand. She led me to the bedroom.

In the bedroom she turned me towards the mirror.
'What do you see?' she said.
I was suddenly embarrassed at seeing myself, naked in the mirror. My hand flew up to cover me.

Isobel took hold of my hands and held them firmly by carefully. She then gently moved them down and behind my back. She crossed my wrists and let go. I knew I was bound. I wasn't to remove my hands.

She did it to stop me from covering up.
'What do you see?'
'I see you,' I said, 'in a pretty dress.'
'I see me.'
'Tell me what you see!'
'I see me, naked, a skinny woman, staring at me.'
'Is that what you see?'
I will tell you what I see. I see the loveliest girl I have ever laid my eyes on. Look at her hips, her narrow and delicate hips. And look at her thighs, those sweet and delightful thighs. Then there is the belly.'
Isobel placed her hands on my hips and thrust them forward, not brutally, just a little, just enough to change my stance, to make me embarrassed.
'I see this lovely belly, sweet and smooth and shaped in the most delicate way.'
She let her hands move over my belly and caress it. I held my breath.
'And I see lovely breasts, the sweetest bosom ever created. Those round breasts are the most delightful I know and when those pretty little nipples stand out I could kill to touch those soft mounds.'
She cupped my small breasts, let her hands glide over them. She took hold of my nipples with thumbs and forefingers, rolled them a little till they started to bead and then let go.
'And I see shoulders, narrow sweet shoulders, that she should show off more often in clothes that leaves them bare. Then there is this soft and lovely neck and upon that neck the cutest face imaginable with the little short nose and those kissable lips and those eyes that shine from the light within and from where tears of sadness run. And this lovely face is framed by the lightest, blondest hair I have seen.'
She moved her hands down my shoulders.
'And here,' she said and put her hand on my crotch, 'is her love cradle, a well and a fountain of so much delight.'
She let her fingers slip into me and I gasped and moved my hands.
'Bound!' she snapped.
I remembered how she had placed my hands and I returned them.
'Look at you! You are the most beautiful creation on earth and you don't see it.'
'Please, Isobel.'
'I am merciless.'
Her fingers snaked in me and I sensed my desire well up in me. The itching, red wave started to spread.

Isobel put her other hand on my belly, caressed it, moved up to my breast and kneaded it. Meanwhile her fingers in my sex moved and explored and I felt intimidated by the intrusion. Still her touch was the sweetest thing.
'Can't you see how sexy you are?'
I gasped, unable to talk.

I was bound and I was naked and Isobel touched me and had me in front of the mirror and soon I had no resistance, if resist I wanted. I was lost, I couldn't think. I gave myself over to Isobel and let her decide, let her have me.
'Look at you!'
I looked and I saw how helpless I was and how naked I was and I saw how desperate I was, desperate for her touch to take me all the way.

In that moment, when I looked at my cringing, swaying and very naked body, moving at the touch of my Isobel's hands, played like an instrument by her, dancing its need if front of that mirror, then I saw, with a strange sense of detachment from myself that it was beautiful, I saw that this body, this person was attractive. I think I for a short moment saw myself with her eyes. I saw how much she found me lovely.

And then I came. I cried out in a sudden outburst followed by a whimper as I doubled up, my legs unable to hold me. I staggered and knelt by the bed. I crumbled up and lay panting on the floor.

I felt hands on my back, arms embracing me. Isobel was there.
'I love you, Juliet.'

I lay moaning for a while. Then I turned my head. Isobel was there, looking at me, smiling.
'I felt beautiful,' I gasped.
'You are beautiful.'

I sat up. I felt how sore my bottom was when it made contact with the floor. I drew my breath. Isobel giggled a little.
'It's time for lunch,' she said.
She was sitting beside me by the bed. She was smiling.
'I'll cook for us,' I said, 'what do you want?'
'Satay, I think, something satay.'
'I'll do it,' I said and rose to my feet.
'Yes,' I said and turned to her, she was still on the floor.
'Don't dress, I want you naked.'

So I cooked for her, for us, naked. I went about my duties without wearing a single item of clothing. It was an odd sensation chopping up the ingredients, frying them and laying the table while naked.

I hummed a tune as I worked and I felt happy. I was content. I thought about Isobel and me and what we were. I loved her. She loved me. I knew that and she made me feel beautiful.

Isobel was strong for me. I was weak. I had my pride and I knew what I was good at. I was who I was and I could stand up for myself but with Isobel I was weak. In a way I was weak. I was vulnerable and open to her. But all this made me strong, made me untouchable for all the bad things in life. Being with her protected me.

But I had given up all pretences with her. I had no pride, no face to protect with her. She saw through me and let me be weak or strong, whatever I was.

I had really given myself to her, surrendered my person to her. I did it already the moment I met her, when I fell in love with her and when she began to love me. I was hers, through and through, so subjecting myself to her was nothing, submitting to her will was nothing. I was hers to have and command. And she wanted to command me, that was the great blessing.

So the outer signs of my giving myself to her was less important. I wondered sometimes about the shame I felt, the humiliation. In a way I couldn't understand why the acting out of something I knew in my heart could be so difficult.

It was difficult to show her in action how much I belonged to her. But although it was hard and my pride protested, I felt utterly relieved for every step I took and I found how proud I was for everything I had learned to show openly.

There was pride in me that felt ashamed for humbling myself and showing in action how much I was hers. But in that shame there was a joy, and another kind of pride that sprung from those actions.

I had shown my submission to Isobel, to my love for her. I had let her cane me, let her punish me, I had knelt to her and let her touch me. I had surrendered to her and now I cooked for her, naked.

I knew I should be ashamed, should feel humiliated by humbling myself, by submitting my body to punishment and touch, by kneeling and being naked. But what I felt when I stood there in the kitchen was happiness – happiness and life. I felt more alive than I had felt in a long, long time.

I was still naked as we sat down to our lunch.
'This is yummy,' Isobel said.
'Thank you.'
'You are not just beautiful, you are a great cook too.'
'Stop it!'
'Not sure I will.'

We continued eating for a while. Isobel looked at me and chuckled a little when she saw me move about on the chair. My bottom was smarting still and it was uncomfortable sitting down.

'You still feel that caning?' she said.
'Yes, I do.'
'Does it bother you?'
I looked at her, not sure what to say.
'No, Isobel, it doesn't bother me. I feel sore, and it is not comfortable sitting down but that is not what I think when I feel it. I think that you did this, that it was your intention, so I feel that you are there, with me. And I know it is a sign of me giving myself to you.'
'Does it bother you that I punish you and make you suffer?'
'No, but I think it is unfair.'
'That I punish you unfairly?'
'No, that is not what I meant.'
'What then?'
'I think it is unfair that you should have to take control, that you should have to be strong for me. It is easy for me. I can just say yes and accept. You have to decide and do. I can just be. That is unfair.'
'We are different, Juliet, you and me.'
'I think we are,' I said, 'and I am happy for it.'
'Me too,' she said, 'and I was going to say that it was unfair that you had to bow to me.'
'Unequal,' I said, 'is the word, Isobel, not unfair.'
'Unequal, it is,' she said, 'and that can be good.'
'It can.'

I spent the rest of the Sunday naked. We stayed at home and did nothing useful. I sat in my armchair and read and Isobel sat by the computer writing. Later, in the evening, we watched the telly together and I laid be her side, still naked.

It was a very special feeling, being naked all day, spending it with the fully clad Isobel. I felt it clearly as I lay by her side with her arm around me. I think the difference in clothing enhanced that sense of inequality we had spoken of.

Isobel couldn't stop her hands from moving all over me as I was by her side. She was never a stranger to touching me or hugging me whenever she passed me or stood near me. I was the same with her. We were like apes, grooming each other constantly. But with me completely naked her touches became bolder. She didn't just hug me or caress me. Often she pinched my bottom or my breasts, or groped me or put her hand between my legs. It was as if she felt she had a right to my body.

I didn't mind that, I don't mind she feeling she can touch me but suddenly sensing a hand groping you between your legs can be quite surprising and a little intimidating.

That sense of being at her disposal made me feel quite submissive, made me feel that I belonged to her. And when I got past the feeling of intimidation I felt blessed by it. I wanted to be hers, I wanted her to treat me like hers.

In front of the telly her hands became even more exploring and soon she kneaded my breasts and let her hand wander in between my legs. Soon she had me moaning, and after a while I lay panting on the sofa, overcome but quite satisfied.


Paul said...

Janice, this is good, I love the point of view of the submissive.
Being naked when your Dom is clothed, my Mel said that it was almost the height of submission for her.
Had you thought that frying naked can be painful, Mel always wore an
Warm hugs,

Ollie said...

This was lovely Janice, hot and warm at the same time.

How many times have I said things like:

"'Look at you! You are the most beautiful creation on earth and you don't see it."

and she just rejects it? I'm just glad for Isobel.

Anonymous said...

There are some startling insights here. The distinction between unequal and unfair (and the ramifications) is one that stands out.

While your "Sweet" series posts are not sadism stories, they do resemble Sade's tales in one sense: the dialogue, the probing questions and candid (though sometimes reluctant) answers.

For me, the real juice is not the power exchange, or the control or the inflictions (!) of pleasure or pain, but the attempt to get inside the mind off the submisssive -- to understand how we fit together as a D/S dyad. Understanding the female mind (why they love men) is difficult enough; comprehending the glories of the submissive female mind is the brass ring, forever out of my grasp, I fear.


Mina said...

Janice, I like this very much. Seeing the different emotions Juliet felt and what she thought. I loved how she went through each stage of how she should feel vs what she does feel and then the conclusion that this is what she wants and what makes her happy. She has worked through the way she is, wired if you will, and accepts it.

They are really lovely together and there is such love and strength.


Janice said...

Dear Paul, I am glad to hear that it is not just me who is preoccupied with nudity. And, yes, I am fully aware of the dangers of frying while naked. That was, sort of, part of it.

Dear Ollie, yes, our skulls can be quite thick at times.

Dear Wystan, you bring an interesting view to this. I think you may be right. After all, being done to, asked questions and all that is being seen and being at the focus of attention and that is something very attractive, at least to me. Not sure I think it is sadistic to ask those questions but what are labels?

Dear Mina, for me this is first and foremost a love story. The outer signs of submission and dominance are secondary, although we tend to enjoy them in stories and such...smiles. I do think wanting to be cared for and not be in charge runs deeper than being part of some kind of submissive personality, deeper than the kink, if you like.

Hugs and thank you for your brilliant comments.