Self Portrait

Posted in: OTK

Self Portrait

I stand nervous and shivering aware of the slight tremor of the sheer white Egyptian cotton gown which drapes my body. I can also see the fabric move with the beating of my heart. I wait for him to come, the anticipation making the seconds feel like minutes and the minutes like hours. He is not happy with me and has sent me to prepare for him. I have dressed as he instructed in this floor length nightgown and the white panties, which fit like another layer of skin. My feet are bare and my hair is gathered into a ponytail at the base of my skull. My face is makeupless, cleansed, toned and moisturized. I have laid out the ruler, paddle, and hairbrush as he also instructed, on a small table that sits to the right of the armless chair in the center of the open space of our large navy and light pink bedroom. I stand just to the right of this solid mahogany chair with its needlepoint covered seat, quivering, waiting, thinking, dreading, and yes, I admit, also anticipating his arrival and what will come. I always anticipate his warmth and nearness, his hands on my body, his touch.

I hold my breath when I hear the first sounds of his footsteps at the bottom of the oak stairway, listening to him move ever closer. The dull rhythmic sound of him drawing nearer with each step prods my heart to quicken. When the door opens and he comes into view my breath sucks in, in a rush, and I suddenly remember to breathe. I see how rigidly he holds himself. He is so very tall, his shoulders broad, his body trim, fit, and so strong. I prefer a smile to this stern determined look he wears which furrows his usually smooth straight brow. I wish I could muster the courage to look and find ‘him’ deep inside those marvelous violet eyes, but the hawk like countenance makes it impossible for me to be so bold. My chin drops as my line of vision falls to the navy carpeting at my feet. My breathing deepens. My stomach muscles tense and I feel a twinge deep and low in my abdomen.

My peripheral vision catches his cat like movements as he comes to sit in the chair, adjusts his weight and makes himself comfortable. The pointed index finger of his right hand comes to catch under my chin and lifts to bring my eyes to his. I have to fight not to close my eyes….standing with eyes locked on his I let him peer deeply into me. I feel my eyes sting with the salt of gathering tears and my breath catches in my throat. I feel the almost imperceptible shaking of his head like a hand wrapping my heart and squeezing gently as lone butterfly flits, careening around my insides. He commands with a quick movement of his head and eyes the desire for me to lie across his muscular thighs as he directs, “raise the front of your gown just below your breasts before you bend over my lap. Now!” His tone leaves me no options as I lift my nightie, gathering the fabric quickly in my hands and move to lower myself over his sharply creased khakis.

Hard strong thighs push into the soft tissue of my stomach and abdomen as his warm strong hands adjust my position sliding my head low to the floor and raising my bottom high. My stomach feels hard and rock like, tense, as it slides on his thighs. The soft fabric of my gown glides gently with his hand as he caresses, warming my bottom with the slight pressure of friction. I absorb this gentle touch, the warmth and tenderness of him as he kneads and memorizes my shape. My traitorous body tingles deep inside and sends a trickle of fluid flowing from my recesses to taunt me and alert him. I grunt as he lifts and settles under me to mold me like clay to the form he desires. His right hand cups the bend of my right hip and lifts, as his legs part and deftly slip over mine, pinning my legs between his, pushing my head ever lower and bringing my bottom to a sharp angle over his left thigh. My feet flail just above the floor, automatically kicking to balance me as my hands flatten on the soft carpet and push. Uggghhh… his left arm circles my body as he leans hovering over me to wrap me in a vice like grip eliminating any freedom of movement I have. My thighs twitch from the tickle of fabric sliding slowly up, up, up, and my bottom registers the kiss of cooler air as it is bared by his hand which slowly works my panties to my knees. The blood floods my face, a blush heating my cheeks and forehead when I sense him looking at me, studying the portrait he has painted for himself. His finger tips feather touches over my peaks and valleys, exploring, feeling, watching for reaction and I feel my inner muscles clench and close in modest response. His hand flattens and fingers spread to knead the taught muscles of my right cheek, bringing a response of warmth as blood flows to the manipulated tissue. As his hand moves to warm and relax my left buttock a shiver runs down my spine from neck to tail bone. I try to move but can only tuck or lift against his muscular thigh. Pelvis straining against him, my body tries to find a less vulnerable position which he quickly corrects pulling my bottom high again.

The first smmmmaaaacccckkkkkk, comes quick and strong making nerve endings scream and my body lurch on his lap. My breath is pushed from my body in a grunt as his hand connects flat and hard with the second ssssssssmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaccccccccccccckkkkkk. The sound seems almost deafening in this quiet room as my hands squeeze gripping soft thick carpet fibers between grasping fingers, my muscles bunch and clench in response to the stinging heat of his sharp slaps to my bottom. I wait wanting to rub and ease as he moves, adjusts, and I hear him sliding something off the small antique table at his elbow. Body tense I wait for my senses to register by feel, what he has chosen. Sssssssssmmmmmaaaaacccckkk, ohhhh, I recognize the hairbrush as fire courses through my bottom where buttock meets thigh on my right leg. My body has not shaken off the tremor of the first lick when smmmmmaaaaacccckkkkkkkkkk, it jerks, as I am driven to tuck and push into his hard warm thigh. My breath sucks in a gasp as the next lick lands with precision in the exact spot low on my left cheek. Ssssssssmmmmmaaaaaaaaccccccckkkkkkkkkk….the sounds reverberate as loud as fire crackers off the walls and bounce back as my bottom registers another and another and another ssssssssmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaccccccccckkkkkkkk. Twisting on his lap my body searches for a position to avoid his expert aim. Smmmmmmaaaaaccccckkkkkkkkkk. The heat radiating from my bottom feels a great deal like a minor burn, resonating and making me so very aware of the area effected by the fiery pops of the hair brush. Over and over the hairbrush hotly connects, cheek to cheek, high then low, buttocks and upper thighs. Smmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkk. Smmmaaaaaaaaaacccccccckkkkk. My body writhes, as breath sucks then rushes out in yelps and growls. I lose count, my mind unable to think of anything but the heat and the fluid flowing now from inside to out, tickling my lips and filling me with a sexual want so strong I quiver. My arms weaken from pushing, my legs weaken from tensing and kicking and my eyes brim with tears. The only movement of my body is the rhythmic thrusting and lifting of my pelvis as it presses, grinding, against his hard thigh. I feel myself sliding on his erection, so hot and hard, his desire evident. Ohhhh, the heat. The fire. Smmmmmmmaaaaaccccckkkkk, sssssmmmmmaaaaacccccckkkkkkkkkkkk!

There is no resistance when his hand pushes my legs apart and fingers stroke in the silky wetness my body has made in preparation of its want. The churning, gnawing, craving waves deep between my legs grow with every movement of his fingers. My inner muscles grasp his finger as it slides deep inside me. He can see my whole body proclaiming its desire, in my movements, sounds, and wetness. My bottom lifts to meet the warm caress of his hand as he kneads and rubs my flaming cheeks while his finger moves in and out of me, stroking my inner tissue. My eyes squeeze closed so I can better feel his hands and fingers.

His hands stop. His finger withdraws. I feel him grip my cheeks in his hands and spread them wide. I tense and flinch as a finger probes my anus pushing deep, sliding. Ohhhh! I become almost lost in a world of nothing but response and reaction. My body desires these sensations which begin one place and end another, traveling as if wires connect them. I am momentarily aware of the animalistic sounds, which rush from deep inside me through a throat, which is dry and scratchy. I hear myself begin to plead to feel him inside me.

He gathers me gently in his arms and carries me to our bed. He carefully lowers me onto the bed on my stomach and lifts my hips. My knees tuck under me, lifting me to him as my head rests on the bed nuzzling and rubbing. My hands gather the soft coverlet, twisting in tightly clenched fists as I feel him begin to probe for entrance. I feel myself stretch, trying to loosen to accommodate his hot, hard, shaft. I hear his soft moan as he fills me, sinking deeply and grinding against me with his strong pelvis. I can’t help but jerk, my insides gripping like a vice as his finger enters me anally. The simultaneous movement of finger and hard hot male, the warm torturous rubbing deep inside me starts a wave that consumes my thought. There is no thinking, only feeling as tempo increases, thrusting, both of us moving to meet each other, helping each other find the fulfillment and release we both need now. Past the point of want, we meet, over and over, the wave gathering.

I feel the wave curling, breaking, beginning to fall in a strong orgasm which tenses my body, takes my breath, holding me still and paralyzed for a second before exploding and rocking my body in jerking, bucking movements. I feel him pounding into me, jerking against me and hear his groan as he deposits his seed deep inside me. The room is filled with the sounds of gasping breaths as we pant and moan in pleasure. My body begins to feel loose and limp as I feel his weight fall upon my back, his arms wrapping me and his hands cupping my breasts, fingers caressing, touching. I can feel his heart beat begin to slow as I breathe deeply, sighing. I know for at least a few moments, we will feel totally at peace, sated, content and the closeness we share this instant will be enough for now.

©January 12, 2001

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No Responses to “Self Portrait”

  1. Anonymous

    I got excited when a nun at my high school slapped boys’ faces and made them red in front of the class. Her slaps made loud, popping sounds when she slapped their faces. The boys’
    faces that got slapped were still soft & smooth, and the red slap marks were hot, sexy and excellent. One boy had a hot, cute freckle face, and Sister Ida slapped both sides of his face numerous times. His face turned incredibly red with slap marks. Maybe Sister Ida wanted to spank the cute boys & make their soft, sexy butts hot & red, but she couldn’t, so she slapped their faces instead. Such sexy & excellent discipline!

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  2. Anonymous

    I would like to correspond with you about cute
    butts getting spanked, sweet faces
    getting slapped, and other sexy discipline with themes of domination, submissiveness, and humiliation. If you care to leave your e-mail on this message board, I promise complete discretion and respect for the privacy of your e-mail address. I don’t even need your name, address, or ph. number . . . I’d just like to correspond and share some hot, red, sizzling fantasies.

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