The Table

The Table

She is bending over a table kneading bread dressed in french cut panties and a loose, long white cotton t-shirt which doesn’t cover her bottom in her position. He stands watching the natural gentle rocking of her hips as her hands love the soft pliable dough. Her whole body seems to be involved in her task as muscles move and slither under her skin and that thin sweet layer of woman. His breath catches as he stands and tries to memorize the rounded shape of her buttocks, the smooth fair skin of her bare legs, the rhythm of her motion. He almost changes his mind about taking care of necessary matters. He takes a deep breath, sighing. Maybe it can be done in such a way as to not bruise her tender heart, he thinks as he walks to her.

She let’s out a soft cry as his hand cups and rubs her left cheek, startling her. She giggles softly and he is aware of the momentary tension leaving her body almost immediately. His hand absorbs the warmth and feel of her on its palm as he gently massages her bottom, squeezing gently. His right hand must touch her and reaches to run flat and tenderly under her shirt, pushing it up her back. He hears her breathing change so imperceptibly he would have missed it had he not been listening closely, attuned to her sounds and reactions to his touch. She feels so warm and smooth to his hands…like silk. His right hand slips around her, sliding on her dry soft skin to cup her right breast. He is rewarded with a low moan as his finger tips tease her nipple. His left hand travels to slip between the top of her thighs, gently probing her lips under the thin snowy white cotton. He hears her breath catch and come out in a quiet rush….sweet music to him, her sounds. He adjusts his shoulders, toughening himself, adjusting his demeanor, and leans to whisper, his lips touching her ear. “Baby, it is time,” he says softly but firmly and feels her tense under his touch. He listens as her breathing stops for an instant. He hears the deep breath she takes, a telling sign she is resigned to his decision. He sees the very slight nod of her head and watches her chin drop slowly.

He reaches out and takes the dough from her hands and wraps it in plastic, setting it aside. Her hands rest on the table, her position does not change and he can’t help but smile. He reaches to spread her arms and gently pushes between her shoulders, guiding her to lay upon the table. His thigh works between her legs and lifts, pushing her thighs to the table’s edge. He watches her center of gravity change as most of her weight is shifted to the table, her feet all but leaving the floor. He lifts his thigh and pushes a bit harder and slides her so that her toes dangle an inch from the floor. He admires her beautiful bottom, raised and bent in the most delightful position, perfect for his chore.

Both his hands rub up her back pushing the shirt in a puddle to her shoulders. His hands slip to slide the front of her shirt up her body. He lifts her right arm and bends it to pull it through the sleeve, then takes her hand and moves it back to the table top’s rim. He pulls her left arm back through the other sleeve and guides her hand back to its former place. Tugging gently the shirt slips over her head, baring her. Her back rises and falls a touch more quickly as he leans to whisper in her ear. “You know we have to do this, don’t you? And you know why, too, don’t you?” he asks her gently as he watches her for signs of compliance. When he hears her almost silent, “yes”, he feels it in his loins. Everything about her now, makes him sexually aware of his body’s reaction to the sight and sounds of her. “Tell me, Baby”, he whispers his directive. He waits patiently as she fills her lungs with enough air to answer him. Her low whispered reply of, “because I forgot the car payment and it was late. It was very unlike me to forget something so important, very naughty of me,” brings a nod of which she is unaware . “And?” he prompts. Her deep breath expels the consent he is waiting for, “and this is the way ‘we’ decided we would correct things like this”.

Straightening behind her, his finger tips dip under the elastic of her form hugging panties and begin to work them down over her hips, gently tugging them down underneath her at the same time. He listens as her breathing deepens, while sliding them slowly down her thighs, calves, ankles and off her feet. While he is lowered at her feet his hands wrap her ankles and spread her legs in a wide ‘V’. “Can you hold your legs open, or do you want me to help you keep them open,” he asks her. Her answer of, “I don’t know if I can”, in a worried tone sends him to the bedroom, with a firm, “don’t even think about moving”, over his shoulder. He returns in moments with two silk neck ties and quickly binds her ankles to the table legs, stretching her legs wide. He cannot help but study her open sex, grinning at the shine of wetness he sees glistening before him. Unable to stop himself, his right index finger slides between her almost closed lips. The degree of slickness always surprises him as his finger slides, stroking her from hook to her rosy opening, then higher to her tight ultra sensitive opening. His finger probes the tight rubbery indention, pushing its way thorough the tense ring of muscle, feels the grab as she bucks and he waits to hear the deep groan that always comes when he plays here. Her sounds make him harder by the second and he begins to feel a constriction as he grows more erect. His thumb seeks the tight standing bud that will make her quiver and moan as he strokes it gently with the same rhythm as the finger which has begun to move, sliding slowly in and out of her tight back opening.

When her body cannot help but move with his fingers, meeting and helping him, he sighs and withdraws them. His eyes quickly scan the kitchen for an appropriate implement to finish his task. He heads for a large crock on the counter at the edge of the stove top and slips a large flat bowled oak spoon from its throat. The bowl of the spoon is almost the size of her hand, almost flat, with a long handle. His hand checks the balance of the oaken spoon on his way back to the table. He studies the way her bottom still gently lifts and lowers in a perpetual dance. He feels it in his loins as he notices the wash of fluid her body has created. He stands to the side of her hip and rubs the spongy roundness of her bottom, feeling it tighten slightly under his touch. Her bottom is smooth and warm, giving with the pressure of his left hand. His right draws back coming in an arc to ssssmmmmmmmaaaaaaccccccckkkkkkkkkk, her right cheek. Her quick intake of breath, her moan, the oval of color rising, all cloud his senses as he quickly sssssmmmmmmaaaaacccccccckkkkkkkkkssssss the left cheek. Her hips wiggle and push into the table top as he counts the quick licks…. ssssswwaaatttttttttt, one. Whhhhhhhaaaaaaaaccccckkkkkkk, two. Ssswwwiiiissssssshhhhhhhhhhh, three. Sssssmmmmmaaaaaccccccckkkkkk, four. Her breathing is loud and uneven, a low deep howling comes from her throat. Sssslllllllllaaaaaaaaaappppp, five. Her bottom begins to lift, twist and push hard against the table. Ssssssssmmmmaaaaaaaccccccckkkkkkkk, six. Wwwwhhhaaaaccckkkkkkkkk, seven. Ssssmmmmmmmaaaaaaccccccckkkk, eight. Sssswwwwiiiisssssshhhhh, Wwwwwhhhhhhaaaaaaccccckkkk, nine and ten. He tenses, his face flushing hot, his breathing deep and coarse as he continues his onslaught….fifteen licks, and he hears her begin to cry, her breath catching. And on, now to eighteen smacks, watching her writhe on the table. Her bottom crimson, her sex open and soaking wet, the aroma of her arousal perfuming the air, his fingers go to her swollen clitoris and rub firmly as he ssssssssmmmmaaaaaccccccckkkkkksss, nineteen and twenty. He slings the spoon across the room listening for the crash as it lands, his fingers maintaining their steady rhythm, his right hand reaching to rub and caress her hot reddened bottom.

When he hears her low growling and sees her body tense, the moment’s silence as she comes, then her deep animal sounds as she finally relaxes panting and beginning to whimper, he quickly tears open his pants pushing them quickly over his hips and down, his hand wrapping his raging hard and gently stroking as he leans into her and guides himself to tease in her wetness. The sensations tear through his tip like soft tingles of electricity which run straight to his testicles. He hears his breathing coming deep and quick with hers as he slides himself along her hot slick crevice. He feels her straining to push onto him and sees her rosy muscles close and open wanting to grip him. He strokes his base firmly as he places his tip at her opening and begins to push. His shoulders tense and his back arches bringing his head back as he feels her wrapping him, hot and tight, the muscles gripping him and pulling him deeper. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh”. His hips begin to join in her dance, pushing and pulling him in long strokes in her velvety rough tunnel. Her solo becomes a duet as his soft moans join hers filling the warm quiet solitude of the kitchen. His buttocks tighten as he strains to burry himself in her tightness. He groans loudly as her muscles become fist like, milking him, sucking at him. His hand lowers to slide, firmly matching the rhythm of his throbbing hardness, against her tight softly pointed bud.

He hears their sounds intermingle and become one just as they have become one in this dance. His testicles tighten, heat builds, a torturous sweet pain fills him. His back arches more deeply as his pace becomes frantic. His body pounds hers, pushing, pounding, withdrawing, pounding, pushing, as the sweet pain becomes almost unbearable. He feels her body jerking as she cries out and he begins to buck against her. “Aaarrrrgggghhhhhh!!!” He feels himself explode in her, as her muscles spasm milking him. He feels himself being drained by her gentle sucking as a wave of slight dizziness clears. He gulps for air as she pants. He feels her go limp as his muscles also go slack. He sighs and leans to lay over her, scooping her into his arms. His lips pucker and peck at the back of her neck. His hands caress her as he nuzzles the side of her face. He hears her soft purring as he feels her gripping and releasing him. He feels the heat of her bottom against him. His thumb moves to gently wipe the tears dried on her cheeks. He is sated and content as she nods in response to his whisper of, “now we both forget the late car payment, ok?”
© December 31, 2000

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No Responses to “The Table”

  1. Anonymous says:

    just the way it should be all is forgiven after the punishment is over and ends making love . Domestic Discipline can be a great way to settle any disagreements. thanks for writing this.

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  2. Anonymous says:

    great story exellent

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  3. Anonymous says:

    Thank you for your kind words. I’m really glad you enjoyed it. Your liking the story makes it worth the effort of writing. *smile*
    vix

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  4. Anonymous says:

    I’m glad you enjoyed my work.. and that you understand. Domestic discipline is SO much better than shutting her out… hurting her emotionally. Thanks for your comments.
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