Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Angel Baby – Chapter Three – Penance

It would be the wooden ruler first. The softest option but still harsh in his hands. As I lay motionless on the bed, I remembered handing it to him for the first time, knowing exactly what he intended to do with it, but handing it over all the same. I handed myself over too. I wanted to belong to him, truly devoted, and as my shaking fingers handed him the wooden ruler, I just hoped he would accept.

He did. Now, many months later, it was time to accept the consequences of belonging to him, and that meant that the wooden ruler was first. He slowly pulled down my underwear, the lace soft against my legs as they fell to the floor, and then it came, the first of many, quick and loud against my skin.

Wooden ruler first. A gentle sting that got stronger with each stroke. He was so strong. He warned me about that once, his voice halfway between cautious and excited as he told me that he was a lot stronger than me, so my idea of a hard spank would be remarkably different to his. He was right of course, but I had no complaints. A few breathless moans as I dug my fingernails into his duvet cover, but no complaints.

Again. Wood on skin. Wood on skin. Wood on skin. At first, I would always try to count each one, but after five or six, the pace always quickened, and my mind was a tempest, so all I could do was lay there and allow him to do as he wished. I was his plaything, all of the time, but especially when he punished me. It was a confusing cyclone of feelings. I melted at his touch, but my body radiated with shame for disappointing him and bringing the situation on in the first place.

Again. Wood on skin. Wood on skin, but then, a new sensation. I wasn’t sure how many it had been. I had lost count, as always, and now, he was kissing me, soft and gentle, his lips, lining my spine, and then across my shoulders and my neck.

“Good girl.” It would be his hand next. A little respite before the next stage. He wouldn’t be soft when he spanked me, but with his hands, he couldn’t resist kisses and caresses between strikes.

It began. His skin. My skin. His fingers, gentle with me for a few seconds, and then back to the beginning. His skin. My skin. I called out his name, my fingers, rough with the duvet cover. I felt it tear in between my fingertips, and I knew I would be bruised by morning.

I recited his name quietly, like a prayer, occasionally screaming, until we were both still. His kiss, tender on the back of my neck. “Good girl.” It was almost over. Just one more step and then I would have atoned. Just a little more pain and pleasure until the road to penance had been completed. Metal.

I had given him a metal ruler as a gift. My own little way of saying “I trust you.” It was the hardest of all my punishments, but every stroke with the devil’s material, as I had come to refer to it in my head, was another reminder that I was right to trust him. He never gave more than I could take, and I was always rewarded for seeking absolution.

Metal always seems to go faster than wood or his own hands. I didn’t even try to count, I just lay beneath him, writhing and whispering his name, as the sharp pain sank into my body and became a kind of sweetness. I could hear the ruler moving through the air and then the impact with my body, over and over. Metal on skin. Metal on skin. Sweet kisses as he moaned my name softly. Metal on skin. Metal on skin. Then stillness. It was over. I was free, for now…

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Angel Baby – Chapter Two: The Punishment Game

His typing was relentless. Beautiful blue eyes barely leaving the screen as he worked, the sounds of his fingers on the screen seemed not to distract him, so I decided I should do so instead. It’s a little game I like to play, where I promise at the beginning of the day that I will behave myself and let him work, and for a little while, I am true to my word, working on my own things and keeping out of his way, but dear reader, that’s no fun.

It started off small. Simply relocating to the room he was working was my first move. Sitting on the sofa with my laptop, and a sweet smile, as if I didn’t intend to drive him right to the brink of insanity, and then push him off. I had a manuscript overdue, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. There would be plenty of time to write, when I was done toying with him. Besides, what was my editor going to do? Spank me?

No, that would be him, but not yet, there was more madness and mischief to be made before I got what I wanted. Placing my pen between my laps, in the most phallic fashion I could manage, I shoved my laptop from my knees and stood from the sofa.

Without even looking away from his work, he calmly said “Sit down.” I wanted him to look at me. I needed him to look at me, and so, I took a few brave (and stupid) steps closer to his desk, staring intently, willing him to tear himself from his work and tear my clothes off instead. “Now.” He was still glued to the screen, much to my dismay, so more brave and very stupid steps were required. I knelt beside him, looking up at him expectantly. My mischievous fingertips found their way into his lap, and I played innocent as he relented, stroking my hair gently as I slowly moved my hand towards his zipper.

“Five minutes.” He promised. I ignored him, pleased at the slight hint of hunger in his voice. He continued typing, as I took him in my hand. Soft and slow, still with an innocent smile, that grew into a satisfied smirk as I heard him moan my name above me.

That was all it took. There was absolutely no justifiable way he could leave me able to sit down without significant discomfort after that, and so, out from under his desk I came, and off to the bedroom, where his many rulers, whips and fancy paintings lived, and it was about time.