Friday, November 28, 2014

"I'm sorry, Daddy." (FFF)

It's been awhile since I FFF'd. And I really wasn't sure I'd be able to find inspiration for this photo...but, I just started writing, and this is where it took me. Head over to the Flash Fiction Friday site to join in the writing fun!

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

“Will you spank me, Daddy...” Her slightly averted, pleading eyes, her bouncing pigtails, her pink-cheeked, smiling face..all of it framed by his naked, spread knees, made him smile. 

“Why, princess?” His right eye squinted as his lips curved up in a wicked curl.

“Because it’s my birthday.”

“It’s not your birthday, princess. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, Daddy.”

“Oh, but love, you are. You are lying, and you know it, don’t you?”

“Why would I lie, Daddy?”

“Because you want me to spank you harder, baby. And you know what, I ought to send you away right now for your naughtiness. But, you know what I’m going to do instead, my girl?”

Her smile had faded, a shamed blush taking its place.

“I’m going to spank you. I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t forget it. And the next time you feel the need to hand me such an unnecessary and silly story just to get what you want, you’ll be sent to the corner.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, with great intent, as if he were counting backwards to keep his calm. 

He patted his lap.

She moved instantly, positioning herself across legs, her full breasts pressing into the outside of his left thigh, her belly pushing against his right.

“With every strike, princess, I want to you say I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Meekly, she whispered, “Yes, Daddy...”

Raising his voice slightly, he demanded, “Speak up, girl.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, clearly and obediently.

His hand came down hard to meet her bare bottom, leaving its telltale red print, like a semi-permanent tattoo.

Her voice rang out, in between each resounding smack, her rear-end quivering, “I’m sorry, Daddy!”

But she was not.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Things that go "mmmmm" in the dark

We live on a dark road, about a mile off the highway, nestled between cedars and maples. Our sky does not look the same as the sky above a large city. It's much darker, and shines with dense pockets of twinkling stars so numerous it looks as if a salt shaker has been upended.

When the clouds roll in, and the moon does its monthly disappearing act, it becomes so dark, you can't see your own hand in front of your face. And if you are paying attention to the crunch of the leaves beneath your feet, you might not even notice someone coming up behind you.

Maybe a pair of warm hands and the comfortable smell of recognition.

With one sense fully at the mercy of nature, the rest will be left to experience those hands with more intensity. The sense of touch...fingers tracing curves, entering crevices, exploring places in a way made more surprising by the inability to see them.

Smells...the wood stove smoke lingering in the still, cold air, kept low and closed in by the clouds, making the atmosphere seem heavier, the pressure of winter bearing down and making your bodies feel weighted and slow. The day's cologne and perfume will have withered beneath more natural scents, muskier and mouthwatering.

You might feel the heat of breath on your neck, a hot tongue licking at your nape, and the cool air immediately stealing the warmth. That will likely be intoxicating. The quick contrast. The shift in temperature.

That tongue will take away the salt of your skin, taste buds swelling with the sting, causing the mouth to water. It will come back for more, only this time, it will invade your mouth, filling it, pressing itself between your teeth, sucking.

The hands might make their way between your legs, probing, searching...and eventually finding your sweetest spot, already wet and

If you could see, in the darkness, you would notice the steam rising from the hand as it is pulled from the band of your loose evening clothes. The steam caused by your heat as it meets the bitter reality of night.

Best to go in...out of the cold...out of the dark...and into the warmth of the house. The subtle glow of the lamplight will be a cozy invitation to snuggle up on the couch and finish what has already been started.