Story from Blushes 04.
Bell, Book and Candle
The pretty blonde girl lies on her back on the bed in the luxurious bedroom. Her long slim legs slope down to the floor unsupported. Her ankles are crossed neatly, one heel sank into the thick carpet. Her arms are tacked beneath the small of her back; both her hands are out of sight. She has an expression of mild alarm, blue eyes big and wide.
* * *
The bedside clock-radio shows the time as 9:20 p.m.
She lies there relaxed, but quite rigidly; not daring to move. Her shapely breasts move slightly as she breathes shallowly and rapidly, displaced fluidly sideways by her position, nipples uptilted pertly.
She has a marvellous figure; slim and shapely, with a narrow waist that flares out to full hips. Apart from her very brief lacy knickers she is quite naked, though she wears a heavy gold chain round her neck. Her toenails are neatly painted deep red, and brightly varnished.
She lies there in the warm, dim room with only a subdued bedside light on. The curtains of thick velvet are drawn together. There is no sound but the tick of the clock and her soft breathing. The soft light throws exciting, deep shadows on her softly curved body. She rolls her head slowly, until she can look to her left...
The man she stares at stands in front of her dressing table with his back to her. He looks down at the things he has there, considering them carefully, smiling coldly. He takes no notice of the blonde girl, beyond giving her a quick glance in the mirror to see that she stays still, as he has arranged her. He knows she dare not move very much, if she dares to move at all! He will hear her merest wriggle, it is so quiet – and she knows it. Such obedience is a fine character builder!
Finally, he turns and strides silently over to look down at her. She is so tense now that her full lower lip is clenched tight between her teeth to force herself to keep quiet. She is not allowed to make any noise either. And she knows this well! Any noise or movement means she'll have to take more punishment. She stares up in silence, pleading eloquently with her eyes alone. This is all she can do!
The man smiles, but takes no notice. He extends his hand away from his side, but doesn't speak. She knows what she has to do now, but for a long moment she refuses, then she raises her feet and lets him grip her crossed ankles, closing her eyes hopelessly as he does so.
Now she has no chance at all! She shudders knowing she is about to be spanked into total submission. This is to soften her up for a caning later. After this she's not sure what may happen, though from the mood her husband is in, and the way she feels already it will probably be frantically sexual and terribly exciting for them both. It often is!
She feels him grip her ankles more firmly as he raises her legs until her feet point helplessly toward the ornate ceiling. She daren't bend her knees now. Seconds, and her legs are vertical, her feet pointing now to the wall above the bed headboard. Her hips are beginning to rise a little now, but still he moves her legs slowly, further exposing more and more of her attractive bottom. She lies quite still and allows him to do this to her. Paying for her small sins, as he tells her.
Finally, he tucks her ankles under his arm and sits down on the bed with on foot under him. Now she is forced to stare up at her own legs and feet. Sudden hot internal reactions start her long legs quivering even before he begins to spank her. He puts his hand across the backs of her knees to make sure he has a firm hold on her legs.
She sighs softly in anticipation as he raises his hand high, pauses, then slaps it down to connect with her defenceless buttocks making them bounce attractively. She refuses to make a sound. Her breath makes a sharp hiss as she breathes between her clenched teeth in a single sharp gasp of pain and surprise. This is allowed, fortunately for her. He begins to spank her defenceless bum steadily, smiling.
This goes on for some time, during which her pale shapely bum-cheeks change from their normal pale satiny sheen, through a blotchy pink and red, to a much deeper pink with bright red fingermarks, to an almost uniformly angry crimson colour. Her eyes are closed tight as she fights to keep still and quiet, to keep her spanking as short as possible. Again her full sensual lower lip is firmly between her teeth.
Deep in her mind she is pleased he hasn't put the main bedroom lights on. She knows she must be pouting down there already now; her hot pussy aches and galvanic impulses run from her punished bottom through the whole of her pretty body. Luckily, the low light makes a deep shadow there.
He stops spanking her before she makes herself too obvious. One tangy whiff of hot arousal from her and he'll spank her to a conclusion – until she's forced to her peak and climaxes hotly. This is the final humiliation she hopes to avoid. Later, probably – but not yet!
She feels him submit her to the next shameful indignity as her tiny knickers are tugged gently back over her hot bum-cheeks. They cling moistly at the top of her thighs. She tries to hold them there, but he pulls them down almost to her knees, as far as he can. This reduces her almost to a naughty little girl having her knickers taken down for a spanking. But little girls are not spanked as she is being spanked. Or for the same reasons; none of which she can help.
"Now, you little witch," he growls, "have you had enough?"
"Mmmm!" she replies instantly. "MMM-mmmm!"
"You can think about that now, for a while."
She nods warily, says, "Mmm," very softly. Tonight she's got off much better than she usually does; either that, or she's getting used to being spanked – probably a bit of both. She still lies there, with her pants round her knees and her feet pointing toward the headboard of her bed. Her hands are still trapped beneath her back with almost all her weight on them. Apart from rolling her head and waggling her feet she still cannot move at all. Nor does she try!
He shakes his hand quickly. He's spanked her so hard it's stinging. He grins, trying to guess what her curvaceous bum must feel like. He is a big well-built, rangy person; wide shoulders a deep chest. And very big powerful hands, as she knows only too well.
He sighs deeply, stands up and eases her legs back until they can see each other and they are resting on his shoulder, still pointing up to the ceiling. Again his hand rests on her knees, forcing her to keep her long legs straight. Bending her knees isn't allowed her.
"I think you're about ready now," he says softly, smiling coolly down at her. "Will you do as you're told?"
"MMM!" she agrees quickly, nodding rapidly.
He lowers her feet, still holding her ankles in one hand. His other hand pulls the panties further down. She uncrosses her ankles and takes one foot out. He slips the whispy garment free of her other foot and lets her go. She lowers her legs and recrosses her ankles, one heel again deeply sunk into the soft carpet.
He stands there above her now, with her panties dangling from his fingers, thinking about something. Nothing to her advantage, of course.
"Kneel up on there." He points to the long narrow bedding chest at the foot of his bed, then strides to it and pulls it out into the centre of the room. She gets up from the bed and meekly kneels up on its upholstered top without a word, though she hates the undignified pose.
She takes up the required crouched pose carefully. There isn't too much space on the narrow chest for this, but she does it; feet hanging off one end, her forehead barely on the other, and her sleek back nicely arched so that her bottom is presented perfectly for his attention with the cane later. Her hands are at each side of her head, with her arms bent at her elbows. She takes her weight evenly on her hands, elbows and her knees. Now she is naked apart from her heavy golden chain which is not visible having slid down under her curly blonde hair.
He stands by her side, positioning her as he wants her, noticing how her firm, full breasts swing and jiggle as they hang freely suspended now. Her nipples barely clear the top of the chest when he's finally satisfied. She sighs softly again. Now she'll have to hold her wickedly exposed crouch until he chooses to cane her, later. She's in no discomfort, apart from her blazing bottom, but the thought that she is displaying all her secrets, no longer in the shadow cast by the bedside lamp, but in his full view now, makes her madly indignant.
He loves to put her into these very humiliating positions and make her hold them, any movement meaning she collects further strokes later.
"Comfortable there?" he asks his usual ridiculous question.
"Mmmm," she says, wondering how he can expect her to be comfortable after the spanking he's just given her.
"Anything to say?" he asks in a soft concerned tone.
"Handkerchief, please," she says in a pleading tone.
He walks away opens a drawer and comes back with a clean handkerchief. A big one of his, she sees from the corner of her eye. He folds this into a thick short cylinder and holds it down for her, by her head. She raises her head, opens her mouth and he slips it between her nice, big even teeth. She clamps her teeth on it firmly and subsides again. Tonight she's very lucky. The handkerchief makes it much easier for her to keep quiet. Often he refuses to allow her to have one.
"Just to make sure you don't move," he says softly, and places something cool on her back in the centre of the flat area at the base of her spine, above the swell of her buttocks. This is something new; he hasn't done this to her before. She feels its weight but has no idea what it may be. She crouches, silent and apprehensive, waiting...
"Wriggle!" he says sharply. "Go on, let me see you squirm."
She does, waggles her bum slowly from side to side; all she can do in that position. Her nipples brush the upholstery lightly and a small silvery bell begins to tinkle to surprise her. This is a new trick!
"Stop!" he says, and chuckles icily. "Now I'll hear you move!"
She stops wriggling. He's put a bell on her and she daren't take it off. Nor can she move without ringing the damned thing! A hot flush of shame runs through her. And now she can't even complain, or she'll lose the handkerchief he's allowed her to have.
"Head up, now."
Slowly she raises her head; stops staring down at the carpet and sees the skirting board, then the wall, finally her dressing table. And feels another small weight on the back of her head! When he moves away she sees in the mirror she is balancing a thin book on her head! She fumes in silent anguish.
"One extra, if you ring the bell. Three more if you lose the book. Okay?" He chuckles softly, knowing she can't even nod now, to agree, or even say her usual, Mmm – not that this matters – he's got her and there's nothing she can do about it now.
"Waggle your feet" he tells her, trying to keep amusement out of his voice. "Left for yes, right for no," he adds drily.
Stubbornly she refuses; keeps both feet still.
"That's mutiny!" he says, surprised. "You know what you'll get for that, don't you!"
Reluctantly she waggles her left foot, feeling absolutely ridiculous with a book balanced on her head. At least, when he's gone she'll be able to settle down carefully into a more relaxed position. He always leaves her to think over her small misdemeanours, convinced this turns her on.
"That's better-r-r," he says, chuckling. "You don't mind me calling you my little witch, do you?"
She waggles her right foot, wondering what he's driving at now. "Good! We'll fix you up like one, then."
Now what? she wonders.
He goes back to the dressing table. She hears the flick of his lighter and sees a small yellow glow a few seconds later. He comes back holding a tall candle in an antique-looking brass candlestick. The candle is lit! She tried to imagine what he can possibly do with that!
"Knees further apart." She sees him in the mirror, behind her. And feels instantly very vulnerable indeed. "Come on!"
She eases her knees apart reluctantly.
"More!" he snaps. "Don't be so modest; it doesn't become you!"
She gives up and moves her knees much wider apart, hopelessly.
He stoops quickly and puts the candle down out of her sight. She can't see where in the mirror, but she knows it won't be to her advantage. She waggles her right foot furiously, but he doesn't even notice. He brings another book from the dressing table and stoops to balance this one across her legs just above her heels. This is a much thicker, heavier book. The weight stops her from raising her feet.
"There you are! A real witch." Again he chuckles wickedly. "Bell books, and candle – it suits you marvellously. "Move now, witch!"
She stays quite still, not that she can move very much in any case.
"Go on – try!" he urges her in an amused tone.
Slowly she waggles her bottom. And feels the small heat of the candle at the tops of her thighs! The candle is right behind her! The bell rings softly. A warning!
"Settle down a little. Make yourself comfortable; you may be there for a short while. I think I've earned a coffee, now."
She has no alternative but to do as she's told. She allows her knees to bend slowly. And feels the low heat building up – ON HER PUSSY!! She jerks up again, tinkling the bell. Another soft warning! She seeths silently, heightened by the way he stands by her side looking very smug and clever, chuckling that wicked chuckle of his.
To add insult to injury he stoops and runs a slow fingernail down her spine, until she sets the bell tinkling helplessly. Luckily the bell itself stops him from going further; running his finger on down her cleft and to her hot aching pussy as he often does when she can't do a thing to stop him. She groans deep in her throat, very softly.
Suddenly the doorbell rings!
"I'd better go and answer that," he says, adding blithely, "I wonder who it is."
He goes out, but leaves the door open. With her facing away from it!
She crouches there helpless. Afraid to move! So tense her curls are quivering and slipping down over her face. She moves her hands cautiously; one to steady the book on her head, the other behind her to keep that bell quiet. Increasing heat on the underside of her hot, sensitive bum warns her to keep it up high. She raises it higher, fuming.
Downstairs she hears him open the door, talking to someone. A light FEMALE voice answers him. No, it's not her Mother, thank heaven! Who can it be, at this time? She has no idea of the time, now, but knows it must be fairly late. She hears voices, but not their words. He laughs lightly. She joins in!
She gasps as rapid feet come up the stairs softly. The door opens and he's caught her! Her hands should be flat, by her head!
"That's cheating!" he says softly. "Good thing I came up."
She puts her hands back where they should be as quickly as she can.
He leaves her. Water runs in the bathroom. In no time he's back. She can't see him! Where is he?
Suddenly he grips her wrist, says, "Give me your hand," in that odd sharp tone he uses. She does!
He straightens her arm, so that it points behind her, then slips something cool and fairly heavy and smoothly round into her hand, saying, "Hold that, and don't spill it. Two more if you do!" He very quickly does the same thing with her other arm, leaving her clutching, she realises, two glasses of water.
The only thing she can do is to move her arms so that they rest against her hips, to steady them. He's gone back downstairs before she's done this. Now she is truly helpless and dare not move at all in any way! She is reminded in the midst of her self-pity and humiliation, by the mounting warmth on her bottom, to stick it up higher.
She hears him coming upstairs again quickly, she is still in the same humiliating helpless position, bottom very high now. He opens the door and she feels the cool air on her hot bum which is facing it.
"Helen's here." He says, teasing. "She wants to see you." She waggles her right foot frantically. He says nothing. In shear desperation she spits out his handkerchief and gasps, "No! No! I don't want her to see me like this!"
"Okay, lady-witch," he says, "please yourself – but I can't see why. You look terrific from here. So calm and obedient. And so damned sexy!"
He goes back downstairs and Kath feels sweat trickling into her eyes. More low conversation downstairs. Helen calls up, '"Bye, Kath."
The door is closed, and locked. His feet come up the stairs again, slowly. He comes into the bedroom, and says, "She's gone."
He gazes at the object of his fondest interest, softly lit by the golden light of the candle below it. Kath's exciting curves appeal to him strongly, as does the hint of moisture in the attractive golden hair below her shapely cleft. He's never known her look so damned enticing. She looks ready to take her caning now, quivering and sighing softly, both glasses of water still full, with not a trace on the carpet below her unsteady hands. A few strokes of the cane will provoke her into hot arousal – especially if she takes it as she is now. Helpless she always responds furiously.
"Please?" she asks mildly.
He perches on the edge of the dressing table she faces. "Pardon?"
"Hanky!" She gazes up at him wide-eyed, pleading, not wanting to have to take any more than the three strokes they agreed on. He often agrees to three, knowing she'll make it double, or more, by yelping. Tonight he's been so successful, she'll only need three. He picks up the hanky, refolds it and puts it between her teeth.
She waggles her hands carefully, so as not to spill her water. He knows she wants to be rid of them, and why not? He takes both glasses from her and puts them on the dressing table. Obediently she puts her hands by the sides of her head.
"Ready?" He chuckles wickedly. "That's four now, for talking."
The book rocks precariously as she tries to nod, accepting this calmly.
He takes out the cane and swishes it to and fro, slashing the air. The sound it makes seems to agitate her nicely. He chooses his spot on her fascinating bum that is offered so nicely still, and lays the cool cane to her hotly sensitive skin.
She clenches her cheeks instantly, until she's quivering slightly.
Just for fun he stoops and moves her candle a bit closer and her bum rises a little. He moves it back a little, only teasing.
'Shwit' – and the pale line appears instantly. Her hips squirm slowly as she lowers her bottom instinctively, only to raise it as she feels the mild heat of her candle. She makes a low husky sound, deep in her throat. Her fingers twitch tensely. She doesn't need to hold the two glasses of water now. The bell on her back tinkles softly, but doesn't ring, amazingly. Nor when he gives her another fiery stripe!
He waits for her to calm down, then 'Shwittt!' and another instant fine line appears across her full, bouncy cheeks, and she claws her fingernails into the material she's crouched on, using her thumbs to keep her head steady so that she doesn't lose her thin book.
Small beads of sweat are showing on her back before he reluctantly raises the cane again. He waits until she crouches quite still, now looking much more moist as she reacts hopelessly, her golden-blonde pubic fleece much darker and less crisply curly.
"One to go!" he says, making her cringe, waiting for it.
'Shwit!' – another thin pale line glows across her offered cheeks, and again she dips her bum by instinct, only to raise it yet again. He drops the cane and stands behind her, watches her last line turn bright red to match her others.
She spits out the hanky and pleads "Oh, please!" She wails huskily, "Ple-e-e-ease!"
She is exactly the right height and in the perfect position. He takes the bell from her back, throws it on the bed. The two books hit the carpet with dull thuds, and he gets rid of the candle. She spreads, ready for him; wet and musky, writhing desperately.
He steadies her hips. She is so beautifully warm and wet he enters with no drama.
She squeals softly, giving herself unreservedly.
He leans over her, panting, matching her urgent breathing. His hands find her firm breasts. Her nipples are as hard as small ripe berries. One gentle touch and a little friendly squeeze is enough to start her off again. He pays no attention to her soft squeal.
He whispers innocently. "Let's see if I can do that again?" In due course, she finds that he can do just that.
Bell, Book and Candle
The pretty blonde girl lies on her back on the bed in the luxurious bedroom. Her long slim legs slope down to the floor unsupported. Her ankles are crossed neatly, one heel sank into the thick carpet. Her arms are tacked beneath the small of her back; both her hands are out of sight. She has an expression of mild alarm, blue eyes big and wide.
* * *
The bedside clock-radio shows the time as 9:20 p.m.
She lies there relaxed, but quite rigidly; not daring to move. Her shapely breasts move slightly as she breathes shallowly and rapidly, displaced fluidly sideways by her position, nipples uptilted pertly.
She has a marvellous figure; slim and shapely, with a narrow waist that flares out to full hips. Apart from her very brief lacy knickers she is quite naked, though she wears a heavy gold chain round her neck. Her toenails are neatly painted deep red, and brightly varnished.
She lies there in the warm, dim room with only a subdued bedside light on. The curtains of thick velvet are drawn together. There is no sound but the tick of the clock and her soft breathing. The soft light throws exciting, deep shadows on her softly curved body. She rolls her head slowly, until she can look to her left...
The man she stares at stands in front of her dressing table with his back to her. He looks down at the things he has there, considering them carefully, smiling coldly. He takes no notice of the blonde girl, beyond giving her a quick glance in the mirror to see that she stays still, as he has arranged her. He knows she dare not move very much, if she dares to move at all! He will hear her merest wriggle, it is so quiet – and she knows it. Such obedience is a fine character builder!
Finally, he turns and strides silently over to look down at her. She is so tense now that her full lower lip is clenched tight between her teeth to force herself to keep quiet. She is not allowed to make any noise either. And she knows this well! Any noise or movement means she'll have to take more punishment. She stares up in silence, pleading eloquently with her eyes alone. This is all she can do!
The man smiles, but takes no notice. He extends his hand away from his side, but doesn't speak. She knows what she has to do now, but for a long moment she refuses, then she raises her feet and lets him grip her crossed ankles, closing her eyes hopelessly as he does so.
Now she has no chance at all! She shudders knowing she is about to be spanked into total submission. This is to soften her up for a caning later. After this she's not sure what may happen, though from the mood her husband is in, and the way she feels already it will probably be frantically sexual and terribly exciting for them both. It often is!
She feels him grip her ankles more firmly as he raises her legs until her feet point helplessly toward the ornate ceiling. She daren't bend her knees now. Seconds, and her legs are vertical, her feet pointing now to the wall above the bed headboard. Her hips are beginning to rise a little now, but still he moves her legs slowly, further exposing more and more of her attractive bottom. She lies quite still and allows him to do this to her. Paying for her small sins, as he tells her.
Finally, he tucks her ankles under his arm and sits down on the bed with on foot under him. Now she is forced to stare up at her own legs and feet. Sudden hot internal reactions start her long legs quivering even before he begins to spank her. He puts his hand across the backs of her knees to make sure he has a firm hold on her legs.
She sighs softly in anticipation as he raises his hand high, pauses, then slaps it down to connect with her defenceless buttocks making them bounce attractively. She refuses to make a sound. Her breath makes a sharp hiss as she breathes between her clenched teeth in a single sharp gasp of pain and surprise. This is allowed, fortunately for her. He begins to spank her defenceless bum steadily, smiling.
This goes on for some time, during which her pale shapely bum-cheeks change from their normal pale satiny sheen, through a blotchy pink and red, to a much deeper pink with bright red fingermarks, to an almost uniformly angry crimson colour. Her eyes are closed tight as she fights to keep still and quiet, to keep her spanking as short as possible. Again her full sensual lower lip is firmly between her teeth.
Deep in her mind she is pleased he hasn't put the main bedroom lights on. She knows she must be pouting down there already now; her hot pussy aches and galvanic impulses run from her punished bottom through the whole of her pretty body. Luckily, the low light makes a deep shadow there.
He stops spanking her before she makes herself too obvious. One tangy whiff of hot arousal from her and he'll spank her to a conclusion – until she's forced to her peak and climaxes hotly. This is the final humiliation she hopes to avoid. Later, probably – but not yet!
She feels him submit her to the next shameful indignity as her tiny knickers are tugged gently back over her hot bum-cheeks. They cling moistly at the top of her thighs. She tries to hold them there, but he pulls them down almost to her knees, as far as he can. This reduces her almost to a naughty little girl having her knickers taken down for a spanking. But little girls are not spanked as she is being spanked. Or for the same reasons; none of which she can help.
"Now, you little witch," he growls, "have you had enough?"
"Mmmm!" she replies instantly. "MMM-mmmm!"
"You can think about that now, for a while."
She nods warily, says, "Mmm," very softly. Tonight she's got off much better than she usually does; either that, or she's getting used to being spanked – probably a bit of both. She still lies there, with her pants round her knees and her feet pointing toward the headboard of her bed. Her hands are still trapped beneath her back with almost all her weight on them. Apart from rolling her head and waggling her feet she still cannot move at all. Nor does she try!
He shakes his hand quickly. He's spanked her so hard it's stinging. He grins, trying to guess what her curvaceous bum must feel like. He is a big well-built, rangy person; wide shoulders a deep chest. And very big powerful hands, as she knows only too well.
He sighs deeply, stands up and eases her legs back until they can see each other and they are resting on his shoulder, still pointing up to the ceiling. Again his hand rests on her knees, forcing her to keep her long legs straight. Bending her knees isn't allowed her.
"I think you're about ready now," he says softly, smiling coolly down at her. "Will you do as you're told?"
"MMM!" she agrees quickly, nodding rapidly.
He lowers her feet, still holding her ankles in one hand. His other hand pulls the panties further down. She uncrosses her ankles and takes one foot out. He slips the whispy garment free of her other foot and lets her go. She lowers her legs and recrosses her ankles, one heel again deeply sunk into the soft carpet.
He stands there above her now, with her panties dangling from his fingers, thinking about something. Nothing to her advantage, of course.
"Kneel up on there." He points to the long narrow bedding chest at the foot of his bed, then strides to it and pulls it out into the centre of the room. She gets up from the bed and meekly kneels up on its upholstered top without a word, though she hates the undignified pose.
She takes up the required crouched pose carefully. There isn't too much space on the narrow chest for this, but she does it; feet hanging off one end, her forehead barely on the other, and her sleek back nicely arched so that her bottom is presented perfectly for his attention with the cane later. Her hands are at each side of her head, with her arms bent at her elbows. She takes her weight evenly on her hands, elbows and her knees. Now she is naked apart from her heavy golden chain which is not visible having slid down under her curly blonde hair.
He stands by her side, positioning her as he wants her, noticing how her firm, full breasts swing and jiggle as they hang freely suspended now. Her nipples barely clear the top of the chest when he's finally satisfied. She sighs softly again. Now she'll have to hold her wickedly exposed crouch until he chooses to cane her, later. She's in no discomfort, apart from her blazing bottom, but the thought that she is displaying all her secrets, no longer in the shadow cast by the bedside lamp, but in his full view now, makes her madly indignant.
He loves to put her into these very humiliating positions and make her hold them, any movement meaning she collects further strokes later.
"Comfortable there?" he asks his usual ridiculous question.
"Mmmm," she says, wondering how he can expect her to be comfortable after the spanking he's just given her.
"Anything to say?" he asks in a soft concerned tone.
"Handkerchief, please," she says in a pleading tone.
He walks away opens a drawer and comes back with a clean handkerchief. A big one of his, she sees from the corner of her eye. He folds this into a thick short cylinder and holds it down for her, by her head. She raises her head, opens her mouth and he slips it between her nice, big even teeth. She clamps her teeth on it firmly and subsides again. Tonight she's very lucky. The handkerchief makes it much easier for her to keep quiet. Often he refuses to allow her to have one.
"Just to make sure you don't move," he says softly, and places something cool on her back in the centre of the flat area at the base of her spine, above the swell of her buttocks. This is something new; he hasn't done this to her before. She feels its weight but has no idea what it may be. She crouches, silent and apprehensive, waiting...
"Wriggle!" he says sharply. "Go on, let me see you squirm."
She does, waggles her bum slowly from side to side; all she can do in that position. Her nipples brush the upholstery lightly and a small silvery bell begins to tinkle to surprise her. This is a new trick!
"Stop!" he says, and chuckles icily. "Now I'll hear you move!"
She stops wriggling. He's put a bell on her and she daren't take it off. Nor can she move without ringing the damned thing! A hot flush of shame runs through her. And now she can't even complain, or she'll lose the handkerchief he's allowed her to have.
"Head up, now."
Slowly she raises her head; stops staring down at the carpet and sees the skirting board, then the wall, finally her dressing table. And feels another small weight on the back of her head! When he moves away she sees in the mirror she is balancing a thin book on her head! She fumes in silent anguish.
"One extra, if you ring the bell. Three more if you lose the book. Okay?" He chuckles softly, knowing she can't even nod now, to agree, or even say her usual, Mmm – not that this matters – he's got her and there's nothing she can do about it now.
"Waggle your feet" he tells her, trying to keep amusement out of his voice. "Left for yes, right for no," he adds drily.
Stubbornly she refuses; keeps both feet still.
"That's mutiny!" he says, surprised. "You know what you'll get for that, don't you!"
Reluctantly she waggles her left foot, feeling absolutely ridiculous with a book balanced on her head. At least, when he's gone she'll be able to settle down carefully into a more relaxed position. He always leaves her to think over her small misdemeanours, convinced this turns her on.
"That's better-r-r," he says, chuckling. "You don't mind me calling you my little witch, do you?"
She waggles her right foot, wondering what he's driving at now. "Good! We'll fix you up like one, then."
Now what? she wonders.
He goes back to the dressing table. She hears the flick of his lighter and sees a small yellow glow a few seconds later. He comes back holding a tall candle in an antique-looking brass candlestick. The candle is lit! She tried to imagine what he can possibly do with that!
"Knees further apart." She sees him in the mirror, behind her. And feels instantly very vulnerable indeed. "Come on!"
She eases her knees apart reluctantly.
"More!" he snaps. "Don't be so modest; it doesn't become you!"
She gives up and moves her knees much wider apart, hopelessly.
He stoops quickly and puts the candle down out of her sight. She can't see where in the mirror, but she knows it won't be to her advantage. She waggles her right foot furiously, but he doesn't even notice. He brings another book from the dressing table and stoops to balance this one across her legs just above her heels. This is a much thicker, heavier book. The weight stops her from raising her feet.
"There you are! A real witch." Again he chuckles wickedly. "Bell books, and candle – it suits you marvellously. "Move now, witch!"
She stays quite still, not that she can move very much in any case.
"Go on – try!" he urges her in an amused tone.
Slowly she waggles her bottom. And feels the small heat of the candle at the tops of her thighs! The candle is right behind her! The bell rings softly. A warning!
"Settle down a little. Make yourself comfortable; you may be there for a short while. I think I've earned a coffee, now."
She has no alternative but to do as she's told. She allows her knees to bend slowly. And feels the low heat building up – ON HER PUSSY!! She jerks up again, tinkling the bell. Another soft warning! She seeths silently, heightened by the way he stands by her side looking very smug and clever, chuckling that wicked chuckle of his.
To add insult to injury he stoops and runs a slow fingernail down her spine, until she sets the bell tinkling helplessly. Luckily the bell itself stops him from going further; running his finger on down her cleft and to her hot aching pussy as he often does when she can't do a thing to stop him. She groans deep in her throat, very softly.
Suddenly the doorbell rings!
"I'd better go and answer that," he says, adding blithely, "I wonder who it is."
He goes out, but leaves the door open. With her facing away from it!
She crouches there helpless. Afraid to move! So tense her curls are quivering and slipping down over her face. She moves her hands cautiously; one to steady the book on her head, the other behind her to keep that bell quiet. Increasing heat on the underside of her hot, sensitive bum warns her to keep it up high. She raises it higher, fuming.
Downstairs she hears him open the door, talking to someone. A light FEMALE voice answers him. No, it's not her Mother, thank heaven! Who can it be, at this time? She has no idea of the time, now, but knows it must be fairly late. She hears voices, but not their words. He laughs lightly. She joins in!
She gasps as rapid feet come up the stairs softly. The door opens and he's caught her! Her hands should be flat, by her head!
"That's cheating!" he says softly. "Good thing I came up."
She puts her hands back where they should be as quickly as she can.
He leaves her. Water runs in the bathroom. In no time he's back. She can't see him! Where is he?
Suddenly he grips her wrist, says, "Give me your hand," in that odd sharp tone he uses. She does!
He straightens her arm, so that it points behind her, then slips something cool and fairly heavy and smoothly round into her hand, saying, "Hold that, and don't spill it. Two more if you do!" He very quickly does the same thing with her other arm, leaving her clutching, she realises, two glasses of water.
The only thing she can do is to move her arms so that they rest against her hips, to steady them. He's gone back downstairs before she's done this. Now she is truly helpless and dare not move at all in any way! She is reminded in the midst of her self-pity and humiliation, by the mounting warmth on her bottom, to stick it up higher.
She hears him coming upstairs again quickly, she is still in the same humiliating helpless position, bottom very high now. He opens the door and she feels the cool air on her hot bum which is facing it.
"Helen's here." He says, teasing. "She wants to see you." She waggles her right foot frantically. He says nothing. In shear desperation she spits out his handkerchief and gasps, "No! No! I don't want her to see me like this!"
"Okay, lady-witch," he says, "please yourself – but I can't see why. You look terrific from here. So calm and obedient. And so damned sexy!"
He goes back downstairs and Kath feels sweat trickling into her eyes. More low conversation downstairs. Helen calls up, '"Bye, Kath."
The door is closed, and locked. His feet come up the stairs again, slowly. He comes into the bedroom, and says, "She's gone."
He gazes at the object of his fondest interest, softly lit by the golden light of the candle below it. Kath's exciting curves appeal to him strongly, as does the hint of moisture in the attractive golden hair below her shapely cleft. He's never known her look so damned enticing. She looks ready to take her caning now, quivering and sighing softly, both glasses of water still full, with not a trace on the carpet below her unsteady hands. A few strokes of the cane will provoke her into hot arousal – especially if she takes it as she is now. Helpless she always responds furiously.
"Please?" she asks mildly.
He perches on the edge of the dressing table she faces. "Pardon?"
"Hanky!" She gazes up at him wide-eyed, pleading, not wanting to have to take any more than the three strokes they agreed on. He often agrees to three, knowing she'll make it double, or more, by yelping. Tonight he's been so successful, she'll only need three. He picks up the hanky, refolds it and puts it between her teeth.
She waggles her hands carefully, so as not to spill her water. He knows she wants to be rid of them, and why not? He takes both glasses from her and puts them on the dressing table. Obediently she puts her hands by the sides of her head.
"Ready?" He chuckles wickedly. "That's four now, for talking."
The book rocks precariously as she tries to nod, accepting this calmly.
He takes out the cane and swishes it to and fro, slashing the air. The sound it makes seems to agitate her nicely. He chooses his spot on her fascinating bum that is offered so nicely still, and lays the cool cane to her hotly sensitive skin.
She clenches her cheeks instantly, until she's quivering slightly.
Just for fun he stoops and moves her candle a bit closer and her bum rises a little. He moves it back a little, only teasing.
'Shwit' – and the pale line appears instantly. Her hips squirm slowly as she lowers her bottom instinctively, only to raise it as she feels the mild heat of her candle. She makes a low husky sound, deep in her throat. Her fingers twitch tensely. She doesn't need to hold the two glasses of water now. The bell on her back tinkles softly, but doesn't ring, amazingly. Nor when he gives her another fiery stripe!
He waits for her to calm down, then 'Shwittt!' and another instant fine line appears across her full, bouncy cheeks, and she claws her fingernails into the material she's crouched on, using her thumbs to keep her head steady so that she doesn't lose her thin book.
Small beads of sweat are showing on her back before he reluctantly raises the cane again. He waits until she crouches quite still, now looking much more moist as she reacts hopelessly, her golden-blonde pubic fleece much darker and less crisply curly.
"One to go!" he says, making her cringe, waiting for it.
'Shwit!' – another thin pale line glows across her offered cheeks, and again she dips her bum by instinct, only to raise it yet again. He drops the cane and stands behind her, watches her last line turn bright red to match her others.
She is exactly the right height and in the perfect position. He takes the bell from her back, throws it on the bed. The two books hit the carpet with dull thuds, and he gets rid of the candle. She spreads, ready for him; wet and musky, writhing desperately.
He steadies her hips. She is so beautifully warm and wet he enters with no drama.
She squeals softly, giving herself unreservedly.
He leans over her, panting, matching her urgent breathing. His hands find her firm breasts. Her nipples are as hard as small ripe berries. One gentle touch and a little friendly squeeze is enough to start her off again. He pays no attention to her soft squeal.
He whispers innocently. "Let's see if I can do that again?" In due course, she finds that he can do just that.
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