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Ma_vie_en_rose
Advanced Spanko
Username: Ma_vie_en_rose
Post Number: 215
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Monday, September 11, 2006 - 10:17 pm: | 
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[DISCLAIMER and AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story does deal with a same sex couple. Take from that what you will.
This story was written on a prompt given to me probably about 6 months ago (well.. long enough ago for the timing of "Mardi Gras" to be timely--at least he didn't give a deadline ;) ) involving a punishment spanking involving 4 implements, and a high degree of ritual.
I really like the idea of Melisande and Bianca who are very tangentially (VERY tangentially ^^; ) related to a pair of characters I played once or twice with a friend. However, I would LOVE feedback; positive or constructive as I kind of am considering taking Mel and Bianca up as semi-permanent characters for any spanking fiction I should write. What do you guys think?]
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"Well?" She was listening. That was clear enough.
Melisande Vallemaio glanced out the window at the deceptively sunny courtyard, a suggestive shiver running up her spine as she avoided the angry steel blue eyes, scalding, but no where near bending as they locked on the younger woman skirting the issue. Melisande reached up and loosened her ponytail, peeking through one grey eye as her auburn hair fell around her shoulders. Bianca could never resist her with her hair down. "Bii, come now babe," Melisande advanced, offering a tentative, deferential kiss to the blonde woman's pale pink cheek. "You're flipping out over this. It didn't hurt anyone. Nothing's broken. And" She added finally, "It looks good."
She took one look at the eyebrow reaching towards the sky and blushed, quickly adding "Damn good--professional even!"
Bianca drew a breath sharply in through her teeth, pausing before speaking "Melisande. You could have been killed. If you would have just waited, like we had talked about, Nathan would have been here Saturday with Marcello, to hang the lights for our Mardi Gras celebration."
"Nathan would have done a horrible job, Bianca. You saw his tree at Christmas! I've seen better decorations in a youth hostel!" Defiantly flipping her hair out of her eyes, she for the first time came to notice the tightly drawn lines on her lover's face, tense lines that continued into what seemed to be every muscle of her lover's normally soft frame. Admittedly, a small pellet of guilt began to curl in her throat. They had talked about it.
Three times even.
Rubbing her temple, with an outstretched hand, in a gesture she could only remember in her own mother's loud exasperation, Bianca clenched her eyes shut. "Melisande Erica.." The middle name had come, the worst was only beginning. "Vallemaio."
Melisande's hands had at some point during the lengthy Italian name clasped themselves in front of her hips, enough to assure that her eyes would stay on her hands for the remainder of the conversation. Bianca, frankly, wasn't sure whether it would be more prudent to strangle the woman or just go pour herself a drink. "I came home to find you standing. On the roof of all places. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
Melisande began to chew on her lip, not daring to halfway toss her grey gaze across the corridor. Her lover always had such a way of making it sound so much worse than what it had truly been. "I was being careful.." She countered.
"You were wearing .stilettos." Bianca was still in a state of shock, anger, disbelief that she could be so hopelessly in love with a girl who could be so stupid sometimes.
And there had been a very good reason for that, Melisande thought, though she didn't think Bianca would agree with her logic in her current state. "I wasn't up there that long--just enough to hang the lights. Well.. I would have been up there only that long if you hadn't come home early and started yelling and-- um.. never mind." She shut up when she caught a raised eyebrow that told her she was not helping her case. "Should I go change?" The phrase had so many implications, all of which the woman was fully aware as she tremulously asked.
"I think, doveling, that that might be a good idea." It came out a bit more sharply than she had intended, and, upon watching her dark-haired lover shrink slightly, Bianca stepped forward and cupped Mel's chin on two fingers, tilting it up just slightly to give her a soft kiss. The girl pulled away and looked down to the side and a part of it broke Bianca's heart, the entire situation did. She probably hated these spankings just as much as her girlfriend.
"I'm sorry, Bianca!" Melisande didn't look up for her apology, but Bianca could tell that she was beginning to understand the impact of her little stunt.
Bianca needed to stay resolute too. She nodded at the apology. "I know you are, Mel." The girl was sorry, but she needed this. "And you will be even more. I want you to dress as per normal" Bianca spoke slowly, intentionally, though this plan had been building since she slammed out of her car nearly an hour ago. "Except, keep the heels you have on now as well. Then I want you get a wooden spoon, the oak paddle, the red cane, and.." Bianca paused for effect as much as decision's sake "and select a strap, please. Then find a nice place to wait in the study for me."
The olive skinned woman paled another degree as her lover read off her sentence like a perverse grocery list. They had been through this dance countless times before, but, admittedly, this was probably one of the most severe she had had to date (but didn't she think that everytime?). Melisande muttered a "Yes Ma'am" in consent.
"And Mel?" Melisande turned around and looked at Bianca, surprised, curious, perhaps a bit hopeful, as the woman called her name.
"Yes?"
"...I love you." It wasn't a pardon, but it had been exactly what Melisande had needed.
She smiled, though her eyes were still panicked. "I love you too."
----------------------------------------------------
The dark green painted nails trembled as they pushed open the pearlized buttons of her peacock blue dress shirt. Melisande looked up at the mirror at her reflection and adjusted her dark rimmed glasses; she had long ago learned contacts were a bad idea when one intended to cry, make up as well. She drew her hair up into a high ponytail and folded her shirt, placing it on the bed.
She hesitated before unzipping and sliding off the knee length professional skirt and again before stepping out of her shoes to remove the stockings attached to her garter belt. She almost smiled as she rolled up the beige hosiery. It had been one of the quirks that had drawn them together back in college, apart from copious amounts of sangria. Garter belts: a subtle little commonality which had led to more. Melisande shook her head. "No. Focus."
She slipped out of her bra and panties, folding them with the pile of her clothes on the bed which experience had taught her that they might need later. Her clothes moved to the dresser as she drew a breath and opened their drawer of implements, removing a small black bag. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look as she opened it the parcel of which she fully knew the contents.
She had a special outfit for these rare occasions when Bianca, no, Melisande too, decided that she needed this sort of punishment. There was a pale yellow pair of panties, French cut, and a matching lacy bra which clasped in the front. The bag also contained a bottle of baby oil, and a white dress shirt, three-quarter sleeves, which fell just so to frame her backside. It would have been a cute outfit, in fact, they had a very similar costume for when they played as schoolgirls. But this set was different, intentional, and preordained. Melisande knew far better than to expect any sort of play in this outfit.
It was a wonder she could ever successfully button the shirt, it generally took two (three) tries. When she had finished dressing and massaged the oil over her thighs to both heighten sensation and preserve the skin, she slipped into those damnable heels which had cost her a very well planned afternoon.
She had actually wanted one of the straps when she came home from her work at the women's clinic, a particular case had been getting to her more and more each day for the past week, but she had not intended a spanking quite like this. Her hands meticulous searched the drawer for the items her lover had requested, that was a light word, and she could not help but stare at them with a dangerous curiosity and reverence as she laid them out on the dresser.
There was the oak paddle, a heavy, darkly veneered piece of wood, perhaps a fifth of a meter long, with holes her thin fingers could just work through and curl around the wood in a manner that would be reassuring and oddly calming if she could stop imaging the heavy thud on her backside.
The wooden spoon was probably one of the lighter implements which Bianca could have chosen, but the connections for the twenty-seven year old woman and served to create a vivid charge which could make her feel a third of her age easily. Though stinging and light, she hoped that it would be one of the last tools used for fear of breaking down too soon in her contrition.
The cane was a fearsome rattan object, red because of a scarlet ribbon simply tied in a bow on the crook. It was neither the longest, nor thickest cane sold, far from it, but properly applied, was capable of devastating, even a fresh, experienced bottom. She was always tempted to move the ribbon to a lighter implement.. a pussy willow perhaps. One day, she would get the courage to do so. Now, for the past five years, she would not dream of daring.
The selection of a strap was simpler than she had expected, though her fingers ran over each piece of supple flesh, freshly oiled and tested once each as a warning earlier in the week against attempting any of her own decoration--one which she had apparently failed to heed. They curled around a deep fawn coloured tawse, drawing it slowly from the drawer and watching its fluid motion. She bit her lip as she gave it an easy test against the dresser's board which reflexively caused her backside to clench. Hopefully Bianca would be satisfied with the choice, though she did not expect leniency.
Gathering the four items, Melisande made her way to the study, where she meticulously displayed the tools in a row on a short table by Bianca's high cherry desk. With one final adjustment, she gave her bottom one final, reassuring rub and stepped into one of the room's corner. It would have been more interesting had she not already memorized every book within eye's reach on the shelves meeting in the corner. This was the worst part of the punishment.
There was nothing to do but wait. And think.
----------------------------------------------------
Bianca stood outside staring up at the lit up evidence of her girlfriend's work. Lit up it formed an intricate effect, almost like lace in purple and gold. Melisande had done a much better job than Nathan would have, she admitted to herself as the cigarette mechanically returned to her lips. Weren't men supposed to have a good sense at this thing, or at least not a fear of heights they would never admit to? She shook her head and laughed slightly.
It was not that she could not smoke in the house but the stark February cold was doing wonders for clearing her mind, soothing her like a drink. She would never drink before punishing Mel, no matter how much the other woman might drive her towards it. However, the cigarette, she needed. This time, they both needed to make sure neither ran away, that neither acted foolishly
In the house, her lover was anxiously waiting in the corner of their shared study like a man watching the moon for his dawn execution. Bianca could create the scene in her mind's eye, the svelte woman first apparent when opening the door to the room. Bianca had never indicated to Melisande a particular corner of the study as preferred for waiting, but she had selected one on her own as her regular spot. Bianca supposed it was the same as her own particular corner in the den that she had visited seldomly in the time they had been in this arrangement.
The implements would be lined up carefully on the table, parallel to the edges but at just barely enough of an angle that they might be viewed as slightly askance. It was not intentional, it was hardly noticeable, but Bianca had an inscrutable eye for detail. (Melisande accused her of hiding a level in her bra. Bianca always replied that she was there often enough to make that impossible. She had a point.)
Bianca tried to divine the order in which Melisande would place the tools. The spoon, she was almost certain, would be placed on the inside. The paddle would be on the outside. The cane probably would be too, as far from the paddle and spoon as possible. It would most likely be paddle, spoon, the strap and the cane. She put out her cigarette and decided it was almost time to go confirm her suspicions.
Stepping back into the house, Bianca changed, took care of a few other errands and filled a pitcher and bowl with ice water before slipping into the room where her girlfriend was obediently waiting, just as she had envisioned. She smiled, taking in the sight of the younger woman's attractive backside which had tensed the moment the door to the study had opened. Bianca glanced at the table, she had predicted the tools as well.. though the tawse was a bit of a surprise. She had expected Melisande to go for a far less severe strap.
Her original plan had been to leave the room for another five minutes, but the gesture warmed her sense of leniency; though barely. She stood observing her lover in a quiet that could be could cut with a knife for the length of time instead, before finally speaking.
"Alright Mel, It's time."
Melisande's hands, clasped behind her head dropped as she turned to look at Bianca. Bianca could tell she had been thinking about, and beginning to regret her actions during the forty-five minutes spent facing the wall. The regret in the Italian woman's grey eyes was evident, but she knew better than to apologise anymore. She walked over to her mistress and sitting next to her on the sofa.
Bianca smiled gently and reached out to stroke Melisande's hair. "You know that I love you, baby." Melisande's nod was sullen and resigned, but Bianca's words were undeniable, perhaps that was why this hurt so much.
"I did something stupid, Bii. It's okay." Her hands clenched again in her bare lap as she studied them. "I know I deserve this."
Bianca nodded, leaning in to kiss her lover's forehead. "Tell me why."
Melisande thought that this had to be the worst part of the punishment. "Because..." she hated how juvenile this process managed to make her feel. She could not help but feel her voice shrink as she talked. She certainly could not look up at Bianca. "Because I disobeyed you, and I put myself in danger."
"That's right. Do you think this is fair that I am upset with you?" Melisande nodded slowly. With a reassuring pat, Bianca's hand left her face and she slowly stood up, offering Melisande a hand up. "Do you think this punishment is fair?" The sitting girl hesitated, looking at the other woman's well-groomed hand before taking it and standing.
"It is," and she hated to admit it and then, taking a pre-emptive step, Melisande drew a breath and looked up at Bianca. "Will you please punish me?"
"Si." Proud of the younger woman, Bianca rewarded her with a kiss and a friendly smack to her soon to be smarting bottom. "Bend over the desk."
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Melisande shuddered and removed her shirt, setting it on the chair by the desk before she bent down, pressing against the dark wood desk; Bianca's. Her own, which faced Bianca's, was far too cluttered. She offered one glance at Bianca, trying to offer a brave smile, though she could feel her stomach dropping out with every tick of the clock in her view.
Clocks slowed down during spankings, everyone knew that. However, time did not. Melisande had barely stretched to curl her fingers around the edge of the hardwood desk before the command came for her to assume a proper position.
The heels helped her stay on her toes, but Melisande got the sinking feeling that they may not seem such a blessing shortly. She shifted her legs apart slightly and straightened her long legs, pressing against the desk to push her bottom out for her looming pain. She would have given anything in the world to stop the punishment now, even if she really wouldn't. Melisande looked up at a windchime hung between their desks and tried to prepare herself for the hand resting on the small of her back to tug on the panties' waistline, baring the small amount of unbared flesh and stripping her of her control.
It didn't happen; that is to say, it didn't yet. Bianca bent over with Melisande, lacing a long pink ribbon, part of an old costume, ironically enough from carnevale three years past, around Melisande's wrists. Bianca softly whispered to her girlfriend as she secured the knot. "I'm not giving you any as it is. Break position and you get two."
Melisande shivered, her withdrawn concentration snapped by the promise, but the woman only continued. "If the ribbon comes off, that's ten and an additional six with the spoon." Her groomed nails trickled down Melisande's back as she stood up, finally hooking the panties with two hands to guide the yellow cotton undergarment down her lover's thighs. "How old are you to still be getting spanked like a little girl, Melisande?"
Mel bit her lower lip, this was all part of the maddening routine of a spanking. "Twenty-seven." Twenty-seven strokes per implement. It could be worse, she always tried to convince herself of that. She'd learn better before she was 28. (Right.)
Bianca nodded and stepped back, having to admire Melisande's perfect legs and bottom for a moment. Perhaps this position could be useful again later with a harness. She shook her head and suddenly began to slap her lover's presented bottom with her bare hand. The slaps fell hard, fast, and overlapped to give the girl at least a partial warm-up before her punishment.
Melisande, for her part, took the warm-up spanking very well, though the sting was quickly building in her backside. Some people might be under the impression that a woman could not spank as hard as a man. Bianca was smaller than a man, yes, but that only made her more meticulous and intentional. A woman, from Melisande's experiences, was far more likely to always know exactly were to strike to build an even, but roaring fire. And Bianca struck quite hard enough. Those people were crazy.
Bianca continued for three minutes, according to the clock, regularly coating Melisande's bottom so that it was a nice deep rose before stepping back with an exhalation of a woman completing some very thorough exercise. Melisande's moans continued for the space of another few smacks before she realized her warm-up was done.
Her fingers only partially uncurled from their death grip on the desk, a reflex to maintain her position. She did shift her weight slightly from one foot to another to relieve the sting fading to a burn somewhat as Bianca retrieved the first tool. The only sound in the room, apart from the occasional hissed breath from the girl bent over the stool, was the click of the blonde woman's sensible shoes as she walked back over to Melisande. "You don't need to count." The woman just nodded and tightened her posture again.
Bianca pressed the paddle against Melisande's warm bottom, significantly cooling it before she would begin to reheat it. Melisande clenched her eyes shut and raised her heels off the ground obediently, timidly. And the paddle left her bottom.
It returned with a soft whistle and a loud crack which was felt all across the very top of Melisande's thigh. She bit back the first half of an expletive, as the second strike landed on top of the first, compressing her bottom, save for the holes. The paddle continued marking time as Bianca stepped into each swing and made her girlfriend dance. Where the warm-up had stung, this was beginning to hurt. Melisande tried to hold in her cries, blows managing grunts, and an occasional yelp.
She was glad that Bianca never made her count (save for with the cane, as much ritual as punishment), as she always seemed to lose track after five or so with any implement. It seemed, she thought as the paddle shook her once more, that she had been hit with the paddle far too much already (it came again). That each stroke should be the (ow) last. But they kept (smack) coming (crack). She knew Bianca would never give her more without telling her, but (a particular unexpected crack hit her on a bit low on the thighs, she stood partially up with a cry, almost reaching back but for her bound wrists.
"Get back down." Melisande sheepishly complied, grasping the desk and sneaking a glance at the ribbon around her wrists, it was still on at least. "That's two." The paddle came down three more times in rapid succession before Bianca told her to relax.
Melisande drew several slow breaths as she tried to draw her mind off her bottom. In truth, that only seemed to make it worse; she wanted to reach back and hold it, absorb some of the warmth in her cool (actually, slightly clammy from nerves) hands. A moment later, a set of cool hands were gently pressed against the red flesh.
"You're doing a beautiful job, Mel." Mel thought that nothing could be farther from the truth, but the woman's soft massage continued, as did her words. "I love you, Melisande.." Bianca wanted her to know this.
"I'm sorry Bianca." Melisande was sorry. If she had not been, she truly was now. She refrained from glancing behind her as the woman's weight drew away from her. Melisande submissively, against her body's better judgement, spread her legs once more and waited for Bianca to return. She almost preferred to not know her next implement. She jumped when the cane tapped her bottom silently.
At the whimper which escaped her partner's throat, Bianca drew a soft breath. "I'm sorry, love, but you've earned this." Melisande nodded in agreement, tears pricking warmly at the corners of her eyes. "Get back in your position and ask me for the first stroke when you're ready."
It was physically impossible to ever be "ready" for a caning, especially a prolonged punitive one like the one for which Melisande was prettily submitting her already warm bottom. Still, the Italian woman quickly moved back into a solid position, took a series of calming breaths and finally whispered. "Please give me the first stroke."
Bianca made no attempt to reply, but the cane was more than happy to shrilly screech through the air and sharply crack against Melisande's bottom in a fiery line, perfect and angry. The cane pressed against the welt already trying to form like twin train tracks. The woman being caned gripped the desk as if she were struggling for survival, crying out sharply. Her chest heaved against the desk as she fought valiantly to maintain her position before nodding again. "Please give me the second."
Counting only made the punishment worse. Melisande choked on a cry, nearly forgetting to ask for the third. Bianca was patient, rubbing the woman's back until she was able to speak once more. "P..please give me the third." She held onto the desk as if her life depended on it. In many ways it did.
She broke position on the eighth stroke, twisting to avoid the stroke and causing it to hit low on the side of her right thigh. The woman shrieked as the stroke wrapped around, granting a short respite and a penalty of another stroke. She burst into tears after that which had previously been present, but intermittent. Bianca let her stop counting after the 12th. The final strokes seemed to fall faster, harder, like a rain; torrential and cleansing. The punished girl had pressed against the desk, her position held for a lack of strength to resist her torment.
Bianca stepped back when she was finished. Panting and on the verge of tears herself. She dropped the cane and covered her mouth with a manicured hand as she assessed the damage that had already been done. Melisande's bottom was scarlet and angry, several of the lines of the cane already purpling. The skin was raw in several spaces where the cane had crossed itself, but all the lines, save for where Melisande had squirmed, were perfectly parallel.
Bianca poured a glass of water, taking a long, stabilizing sip of it herself before moving back over to the desperately sobbing girl who had been so good at keeping her position during the break. "Mel, sweety?" Bianca rubbed her back through the shirt, trying to calm her. "It's okay babe, Mel?"
It was a minute before Melisande realized that Bianca was talking to her, but the impact of her lover's hand on her back was felt and immediately appreciated. "Y...yes?" The girl finally managed to hoarsely gasp between sobs.
"Do you want some water before we continue?"
She couldn't believe that they weren't done, there could not possibly have been much more pain existing in the entire world, but as Bianca brought it up, she did realize that her throat and lips were parched. She slowly let go of the desk and tried to slip back. "Help me stand?"
Her voice was small and unsure as Bianca carefully slipped a hand under Melisande's stomach to help her stand without hurting her anymore. "I'm really proud of how you're doing, baby." Bianca brushed damp bangs out of her lover's puffy eyes and kissed her cheek before offering her the glass of ice water. Already, all of her anger and resentment were gone, they just had to hammer in the point.
Melisande, for her part, collapsed against Bianca's chest, bound hands dropped between the two women. Bianca had to tilt the water past her lips, but all the water in the world didn't matter as much as her lover's perfume and the concerned smile in her eyes. Bianca, for her part, held her close and supported her, rubbing her back as the woman calmed herself again.
It was Melisande who actually finally asked that they continue the punishment.
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Bianca led her by the bow on her wrists to the sofa and across her knees for the third portion. The very intimate and familial posture in itself bringing tears springing back to her lover's eyes. Bianca patted Melisande's bottom once, admiring., more assessing, the quick work which the cane and paddle had done. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but no damage had truly been done.
Bianca raised a leg, trapping Melisande's and pressed down on the small of her girlfriend's back with her left hand. Neither of them said a word, but as the wooden spoon cracked on Melisande's backside, one of them became much more vocal...and active.
The spoon always had a powerful effect on Melisande, reducing her quickly to a shroud of tears. It was very much to her credit that she managed not to untie her wrists and reach back. Were she not bound, she almost always did. Bianca moved quickly, thoroughly, and mercilessly across the radiant landscape of her lover's ass, watching each stroke turn white then viciously red purple as she counted her way towards a conclusion.
Twenty-seven strokes later, she had a very contrite girl sobbing in her lap, and a bit of a sweat forming on her own brow. She held the woman's seething backside to calm it enough so that Melisande could hear her. "Mel..?"
"Mel."
It was only when the girl made no move to answer on the third time that Bianca quickly gave her a short series of hard smacks to her upper thighs. "Melisande!"
Melisande howled initially, digging her nails into her palms before sniffing and looking over her shoulder. "Yes?" She sounded miserable, but she truly wasn't; she just wanted this done.
"Back to the desk, darling, last bit and it's over." She helped Melisande back to her feet, holding her until she was sure the woman could stand in her heels before pushing her back towards her desk. She was truly a remarkable sight to watch wobbling ever so slightly as she made her way back to the desk and sank down onto it.
Bianca waited until she was settled and took up the strap, crossing the room much more easily. "I got your e-mail today, kid." Her hand rubbed lightly over her lover's back as she felt it tense.
Mel was still crying, but managed the word after a minute of composing herself a little. "E-mail?"
"Mmmhmm." Bianca bent down to kiss Melisande's back. "About the strap."
Melisande's eyes widened as she half pushed herself up. She thought she hadn't sent that. "You...But..I...you did?"
"I did." Bianca pushed Mel back down easily. "You didn't have to nearly kill yourself to get my attention, I'm proud of you for at least considering asking." She let the smooth leather dangle against Melisande's thighs as she stepped back. "Even if you only accidentally sent the e-mail."
"I would have asked," Melisande sniffed again, but closed her eyes, entering a peaceful, penitent, and submissive headspace at her girlfriend's words, and the soft caress of the leather on her own tanned piece of flesh. "I would have!"
And the spanking resumed, leather rising, falling and cracking against Melisande's backside, which admirably received the blows, though one would be a fool to think that the woman was quiet or entirely still throughout the whipping.
"I know you would, sweets," Bianca spoke lovingly to her throughout the flogging, a rare incident, but wholly welcome and vital for releasing the stress which Melisande had been carrying from work. With a shorter implement, she would have kept physical contact with the younger woman. Her voice worked just as well.
It was around the 15th stroke that all physical resistance faded from the woman who lay against the desk, wracked with sobs which would now come even without pushing them up from her bottom. They were sobs of contrition and healing, beginning to release. Bianca helped them on, even past the 27 promised strokes. By the 41st stroke (But who was counting?), their timbre changed into a healthy and clean sound, a cathartic cry.
-------------------------------------------------
The tawse hit the floor with an ethereal thud. Melisande had found the peace she had needed, both in forgiveness, and in letting go of the case she had been carrying around with her. Bianca smiled and scooped her off the desk, soothing her lover with kisses, cuddles, and kind words. "You did good Mel! I love you."
Melisande looped her still bound wrists around the blonde woman's neck and closed her eyes, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she smiled and accepted the caresses.
The youthful rekindling of their first intimacies continued for a good quarter hour until Bianca kissed her girlfriend's cheek and rubbed her side. "You've got two strokes, but we'll do those before dinner." She kissed the other cheek, then her lover's soft lips, pulling back to rest their foreheads against one another. "Until then you can shower, nap, do whatever you want."
Mel, to her credit, did not argue, rather taking the additional punishment for moving with an accepting grace. "Anything I want?" Her arms slid around Bianca's slender waist, resting on her girlfriend's bottom.
Bianca's painted lips turned up into a smirk as she caught her lover's intention. "Within reason." Her own hands traveled south, through the coarsely curled hair and past between the other woman's legs. "Anything."
"Bii," Melisande whispered, almost whined. "I want you."
(Message edited by bethie on September 23, 2006) |
Bethie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Bethie
Post Number: 1131
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, September 23, 2006 - 07:40 pm: |
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Good story! Thank you for posting this. 
I edited out some text artifacts, I hope you don't mind. They were making this story a little tough on the eyes to read. |
Ma_vie_en_rose
Advanced Spanko
Username: Ma_vie_en_rose
Post Number: 233
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, September 24, 2006 - 02:34 pm: |
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Thanks, yeah, I guess there was an issue transferring quotation marks from my word document to to here. :/ It was funny, I didn't notice it when it was previewed it--or until you messaged me about it.  Thank you though. <3 |
Nicenick06
Advanced Spanko
Username: Nicenick06
Post Number: 145
Registered: 02-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, October 08, 2006 - 04:04 pm: |
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Great story.
Well-written.
Very erotic.
Thanks
Nick |
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