| Author: | Secret Narrative | ISBN: | 9781311141880 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC | Publication: | March 10, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Secret Narrative |
| ISBN: | 9781311141880 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC |
| Publication: | March 10, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Spank Me: Thrash Me: Fig Me: Teach Me. Spanking, figging and fun for Cherie Blackthorn whose life revolves around pleasing her husband, Brendan. She doesn’t give a damn about female emancipation or forging an independent life. She loves sex, and servicing others in order to please him. In this hot short story, Cherie and her friend, Alice are spanked and caned, and Cherie is introduced to the pleasures of the buried ginger root.
Warning: A short story, unsuitable for readers under the age of 18. A version of this story appears in ‘Acts Of Pleasure’ by Poppy Phoenix.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Please remain in position. Your husband assures me that you have a penchant for chastisement. My parting gift to you this day is a little lesson with the strap. If you enjoy yourself and wish to make further appointments, it will be my pleasure to be of service.”
His words ticked softly, I turned my head a little, watched him take up the strap, a wisp of sensation as he placed the leather across my flaming cheeks as a marker.
“I shall give you thirty strokes, please keep still. Use the safe word at any time, and I will cease. Otherwise, you shall have thirty strokes, without respite.”
My stomach seemed to rise to my throat. My guts liquefied. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I lifted my chin a little, my thighs soaked with the evidence of desire as my arse burned, and I knew that livid stripes and patches stained the pale skin of my cheeks.
“If you move between strokes, it will void the thirty lashes, and I will start counting again from ‘one’. Please understand that I shall give you thirty lashes, and each stroke must be perfect and consecutive. You must carefully count each stroke aloud. The discomfort will be less acute if you relax.”
Contrary muscles froze, I braced myself.
He brought the strap down.
“One, argh.”
Striking again immediately, the sting of the belt catapulted my senses, screaming cells and the pungent smell of excitement mocked and mingled with the faint masculine aroma of leather.
Spank Me: Thrash Me: Fig Me: Teach Me. Spanking, figging and fun for Cherie Blackthorn whose life revolves around pleasing her husband, Brendan. She doesn’t give a damn about female emancipation or forging an independent life. She loves sex, and servicing others in order to please him. In this hot short story, Cherie and her friend, Alice are spanked and caned, and Cherie is introduced to the pleasures of the buried ginger root.
Warning: A short story, unsuitable for readers under the age of 18. A version of this story appears in ‘Acts Of Pleasure’ by Poppy Phoenix.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Please remain in position. Your husband assures me that you have a penchant for chastisement. My parting gift to you this day is a little lesson with the strap. If you enjoy yourself and wish to make further appointments, it will be my pleasure to be of service.”
His words ticked softly, I turned my head a little, watched him take up the strap, a wisp of sensation as he placed the leather across my flaming cheeks as a marker.
“I shall give you thirty strokes, please keep still. Use the safe word at any time, and I will cease. Otherwise, you shall have thirty strokes, without respite.”
My stomach seemed to rise to my throat. My guts liquefied. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I lifted my chin a little, my thighs soaked with the evidence of desire as my arse burned, and I knew that livid stripes and patches stained the pale skin of my cheeks.
“If you move between strokes, it will void the thirty lashes, and I will start counting again from ‘one’. Please understand that I shall give you thirty lashes, and each stroke must be perfect and consecutive. You must carefully count each stroke aloud. The discomfort will be less acute if you relax.”
Contrary muscles froze, I braced myself.
He brought the strap down.
“One, argh.”
Striking again immediately, the sting of the belt catapulted my senses, screaming cells and the pungent smell of excitement mocked and mingled with the faint masculine aroma of leather.
