I stand naked, legs wide, arms clasped behind my back in the middle of a room. It is more brightly lit than the last. Next to me is a small table upon which a broad wooden paddle and a long, leather strap lie. You are standing in front of me, watching, noting my downcast eyes and the way I nervously bite my lip. All you are wearing is a pair of dark pants, your body gleaming and lithe. You reach out and place your finger under my chin, turning my face towards you and lifting it so that my eyes are forced to meet yours. In them you see remorse for having displeased you, fear of the unknown punishment to come, and a hint of nervous excitement. You tell me that I am to look you in the eye throughout the entire punishment. Failure to do so will only increase your displeasure.
You reach for the wooden paddle, measure its heft and run your finger along the length enjoying the silky smooth feel of the wood. A tremor runs through me. It is the first time you have punished me for reasons other than pleasure and I don't know what to expect. Your swing is wide and deliberate, catching me squarely on the buttocks with an explosion of pain. I had not expected such force and tears immediately begin to spill from my eyes. The first blow is quickly followed by others -- catching me on one cheek and then the other; now catching both; some swinging upwards so hard that they nearly lift me off of my feet. It is all I can do not to stumble forward or to give in to the urge to drop my hands from behind my back in an attempt to shield myself. All the while my eyes cling to yours with the desperation that only one so desirous to please can show. You can see each shock of pain reverberating in my irises -- the glitter of my tears only intensifies it. Each blow opens me wider and wider to you. You continue this rain on my buttocks until they are red and raw and you hear sobs breaking through my closed lips.
You lay down your paddle. You breath is heavy and ragged, your skin is coated with a luminous sheen, but your eyes are still dark and dangerous. You are not satisfied. I have not yet made up for the time my silence wasted.
Next you pick up the leather strap -- doubling it to shorten its length. You stand before me and begin to spank my breasts, one and then the other. Your lashes are hard and deliberate, covering each inch of flesh, concentrating the hardest blows on my nipples, which by this point are standing out like beacons. Each slap of leather on skin elicits a moan from my partially opened mouth. It is both agony and ecstasy this combination of physical pain, emotional rending and your intoxicating nearness.
When my breasts are striped pink and white you unfurl the strap and move to my side. One hand squeezes my inflamed buttocks and your eyes are inches from mine. My eyes silently plead with you, but it only increases your resolve. You swing the strap and as it connects with my pubis a startled gasp escapes my lips. You strike again, the leather curling between my legs, conforming to my shape with a stinging wallop. You tell me that I am never to hide myself from you again. You continue to lash my pubic lips until the sound changes from the original crisp snap to a wet smack.
The intensity of being so near you, of trying so hard to please you, of giving myself to you so completely has brought me to that hallowed place where pain and pleasure are so mingled that they become one. You drop the strap and reach between my legs, feeling the silky moisture between your fingers, caressing my red, swollen lips -- a lesson well learned. Your eyes soften and all traces of anger disappear. Tears still stream down my cheeks.
Knowing that after such a hard lesson I would need comforting, you walk across the room and take a seat, motioning for me to follow. You pull me down so that I am curled up around you. My head is on your lap and my arms are draped about your hips. You smooth my hair back from my face and with your thumb wipe the last tears from my cheeks. I press my face close up against you and can feel how aroused you still are. I look up at you, asking with my eyes the question you had hoped for and in answer you reach down and unfasten your pants.
You reach for the wooden paddle, measure its heft and run your finger along the length enjoying the silky smooth feel of the wood. A tremor runs through me. It is the first time you have punished me for reasons other than pleasure and I don't know what to expect. Your swing is wide and deliberate, catching me squarely on the buttocks with an explosion of pain. I had not expected such force and tears immediately begin to spill from my eyes. The first blow is quickly followed by others -- catching me on one cheek and then the other; now catching both; some swinging upwards so hard that they nearly lift me off of my feet. It is all I can do not to stumble forward or to give in to the urge to drop my hands from behind my back in an attempt to shield myself. All the while my eyes cling to yours with the desperation that only one so desirous to please can show. You can see each shock of pain reverberating in my irises -- the glitter of my tears only intensifies it. Each blow opens me wider and wider to you. You continue this rain on my buttocks until they are red and raw and you hear sobs breaking through my closed lips.
You lay down your paddle. You breath is heavy and ragged, your skin is coated with a luminous sheen, but your eyes are still dark and dangerous. You are not satisfied. I have not yet made up for the time my silence wasted.
Next you pick up the leather strap -- doubling it to shorten its length. You stand before me and begin to spank my breasts, one and then the other. Your lashes are hard and deliberate, covering each inch of flesh, concentrating the hardest blows on my nipples, which by this point are standing out like beacons. Each slap of leather on skin elicits a moan from my partially opened mouth. It is both agony and ecstasy this combination of physical pain, emotional rending and your intoxicating nearness.
When my breasts are striped pink and white you unfurl the strap and move to my side. One hand squeezes my inflamed buttocks and your eyes are inches from mine. My eyes silently plead with you, but it only increases your resolve. You swing the strap and as it connects with my pubis a startled gasp escapes my lips. You strike again, the leather curling between my legs, conforming to my shape with a stinging wallop. You tell me that I am never to hide myself from you again. You continue to lash my pubic lips until the sound changes from the original crisp snap to a wet smack.
The intensity of being so near you, of trying so hard to please you, of giving myself to you so completely has brought me to that hallowed place where pain and pleasure are so mingled that they become one. You drop the strap and reach between my legs, feeling the silky moisture between your fingers, caressing my red, swollen lips -- a lesson well learned. Your eyes soften and all traces of anger disappear. Tears still stream down my cheeks.
Knowing that after such a hard lesson I would need comforting, you walk across the room and take a seat, motioning for me to follow. You pull me down so that I am curled up around you. My head is on your lap and my arms are draped about your hips. You smooth my hair back from my face and with your thumb wipe the last tears from my cheeks. I press my face close up against you and can feel how aroused you still are. I look up at you, asking with my eyes the question you had hoped for and in answer you reach down and unfasten your pants.
Still curled around you I take you into my mouth...less hungrily than the last time, but with no less desire. It is more about comfort than urgency. This time I go slowly, taking the time to explore you -- the physical beauty, the feel of your skin, your taste and smell -- these are all things that I will come to know and recognize as if they are a part of me, things I will treasure in my memory, things that will haunt me so beautifully...but for now we are both content to exist in this moment. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall, breathing slowly and evenly. Your hand absentmindedly strokes my face and hair.
A plethora of feelings engulf me -- surrender, relief, an improved understanding of what you want from me and just a trace of despair. Despair because I know that there will be moments when I fail you and already I know which of us will be less forgiving.
Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53557110438/original-sin-find-the-original-text-at
Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53557110438/original-sin-find-the-original-text-at
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