Spanking Erotica
"Between the Sheets," a spanking Licorice Whips sex story by Terri Pray
My beloved,
These past few weeks have been the hardest of all to cope with. I'm just not used to us being kept apart in such a manner. What will I be like if we ever have to be apart for more than a month? You'll come back to a complete wreck, I swear you will.
Am I being overly dramatic?
Well I'm not sure about that but I think I've worn through at least three sets of batteries since you've been gone and my poor vibrator is demanding a night off. It's your own fault, of course. I used to be such a good girl. Never really thought about sex until you entered my life.
Honestly speaking, I wasn't entirely sure what the big fuss was about. People got it on and then what?
You showed me the difference there.
Now I can't go more than a couple of days without needing your touch and my own just doesn't do much more than hold the cravings at bay. Gods, what have you done to me?
Even just writing this letter has my cunt quivering, aching to be filled by your cock. My nipples are rock hard and I swear they've grown since we started playing with the nipple clamps. Maybe they really like that jolt of pain when the blood rushes back into them?
Do you remember that first day you asked to spank me?
I do. Damn I'm blushing just at the thought of it.
Hold on, I've got an idea.
...
There, that's better. Do you recall that dildo you picked up for me the last time you went away? Well it's now very securely in place and I've been a naughty girl so I've added those little clamps to my nipples. The gentle ones with the coating on the end. I don't think I'm up to using the clover clamps on my own yet, maybe one day though.
You have turned me into a very wicked woman, you know that don't you?
Where was I?
Oh yes, that spanking.
I think we'd had a falling out in the mall, I'd back chatted you publicly, not that I thought anything about that at the time. It was perfectly alright for me to give you a taste of my smart mouth but by the time we got home I could see you weren't happy. Still, you just about blew me away when you told me I needed to learn the error of my ways and you wanted to spank me.
At first I thought you were trying to push some buttons in me, or attempt to abuse me. I couldn't have been more wrong there. You sat down on that straight backed chair in the kitchen and asked me for permission to correct my behavior.
I honestly believed that you'd lost the plot at the moment.
Do you remember how I just stood there, looked at you and asked you what the fuck did you think you were trying to pull?
You sat there, calm as could be and patted your lap.
How I ever found myself over your lap with my head to the floor I'll never be able to figure out. I remember standing there, half shaking, watching the calm look on your face as you explained just how out of line I had been in the mall. How you had always made it very clear that you expected at least manners and better yet respect within our relationship.
Damn, even writing this is hard. My cunt is so tight about that dildo that I feel as though I'm about ready to burst. I keep shifting in the bed but the sheets caress my skin when I move. They're almost a continuous set of hands wrapped around me, teasing, touching with each breath I take.
Gods. I've got to focus on this.
Hard to though. My pussy keeps rippling on the dildo and those little clamps have me squirming with each new breath.
You love that though. The way my cunt turns liquid, heated and so bloody willing to have your cock press into it. Those little gasps I make, the way my eyes lose focus. Each squirm, the way I smell when I need to be fucked.
I think you knew about that wicked side to me long before you had me over your lap for that spanking and you'd been waiting for a chance to test the waters.
You pulled my skirt up and my panties down before I even had the chance to protest. Then again a spanking on covered skin just isn't the same is it? You don't get the full benefit of my skin heating under your touch, or get to see the mottling, the color changing with each fresh smack.
Fuck I can feel those blows again. My hips want to rock. I have to fuck down onto that dildo but I know I need to wait until I've finished writing this letter. Would you like that? Opening a letter coated with the raw smell of sex. Better than perfume and lipstick isn't it?
I wasn't going to move or make a sound when you started to spank me but damn that idea went out of the window by the second smack. I hadn't thought you'd really hit me with enough force that I'd feel it, or that I'd feel so damn ashamed and turned-on all rolled into one.
I'd gone back to being a little girl, yet at the same time I knew I was a grown woman. One that loved you, enjoyed being with you, and yet I'd been rude, surely, foolish and worse back chatted you in public as if I were nothing more than a spoiled brat. Each spank reminded me that my panties were about my upper thighs, holding them partially closed, yet leaving me enough room to squirm.
And I did squirm so very much.
I hated the pain and loved it all in the same breath.
I couldn't see through the mane of my own hair, no one had warned me that it would fall over my face like that, or that I'd be left gasping, twisting across your lap as you made me wait between one smack and the next. Wicked man, you loved that side of it almost too much. The forcing me to wait. The way my body just wanted to feel the next smack and get it over and done with, yet never wanted it to end.
Would spanking myself have the same reaction?
I don't think so, not unless you were watching me. The way I wanted to sink into the floor and hide from you added to it all. I know that now. I didn't then of course but you've taught me so much about who I really am in the past two years.
My hips want to move.
My cunt hasn't stopped moving since I put the dildo in. It's becoming hard to focus now though I have to. I need to finish this letter before I let myself cum. It's so tempting just to reach down between my thighs and brush my clit. But I won't. If I give into that then I'll never finish this letter.
It's not helping that I can recall nearly every detail about that spanking either.
Twenty.
I've had more from you but back then it felt like too much. Twenty cracks of your hand against my bare ass. My panties wrapped about my thighs, my hair over my eyes, catching between my lips, inhaled with each whimper and gasp.
Shame. Oh I remember how I felt so ashamed.
Heated.
Needful.
I wanted you to throw me onto the kitchen floor and fuck my brains out, yet I knew I was being punished.
Then you said it.
That simple sentence that tore my heart out.
"I'm very disappointed in you."
Did you know what those words would do to me? Even in my arousal I felt them stab to the core. How I sobbed once you pulled me up from across your lap. I cried until I felt I could cry no more only to find that the tears were endless. And through all of that I still didn't shed that feeling of being so completely aroused, loved and protected.
That's what being yours means, doesn't it? That you love me, need me, want to protect me. You've already shown me that you won't let me push away from you when I want to hide away in the darkness of my mind.
Gods I need to touch myself.
My nipples are throbbing under the clamps. The walls of my cunt are tight on the dildo, holding it in place. My hips are rocking so hard now. Fast. Desperate for something to happen. I have to push that little bit longer, further, to take myself to the edge of oblivion and know that when you open this letter you'll be able to smell me. The pleasure I have tried to share with you through this note.
I miss you Master.
My body, mind and soul crave for your return.
I can almost see you standing there, in the corner of our room, watching me.
Fuck. I don't even need to touch myself now.
So hot.
My skin's so heated. Burning. Cunt tight. Thighs. Breasts. Stomach. All tight. Jolts through me. Can feel it. Please.
Gods please.
Need to...
Sweat. It's never tasted this sweet before.
This is for you, my Master. I'm yours even though you're far away. Your slut, your slave, your wife, yours until the last setting of the sun.
I miss you.
- Your slave
Originally published August 2006 - "Sweat"
Copyright August 2006, Terri Pray
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.
