ALEX NEEDS A SPANKING
                                                             By Terpsichore

The room is darkened against the waning day and the heat, small shafts of light
leaking into the room, making designs upon the walls and ceiling.  I return
from the kitchen with a glass of water, spilling a drop or two onto my naked
flesh exposed by my loosening robe, the sash of the robe falling away as I walk
toward you.

You've been at it for hours, engrossed in your computer, with barely a grunt
for me.  Enough.  I have learned your moods sufficiently to sense that you are
nearly finished, so I will now take your attention.  I feel petulant in the
heat, hungry for you--and playful.

I walk behind you and flick some drops of water at you.  You turn to me, mild
annoyance playing across your face, to be replaced by a wicked grin as you
watch me trickle water onto my breast.  Quickly you log off and turn back to
me.  I have not moved and your body is brushing against mine in this move.  

"Thirsty, Alex?" I ask, as you mumble something, your teeth and tongue and lips
tease and suck at my nipple.  You look up at me, puckishly, as you bite down
just a bit hard.

"Ouch!" I yelp, popping you on the head with my hand, and pull away.  "For
that, my pretty, you will suffer! Come with me, now."

You follow me to a comfortable but sturdy chair, one we have picked for just
such activity.  I sit with knees slightly apart, to give me balance.  You are
not quite sure of the look on my face--it is the imperious, cold mask that
still makes you uncomfortable.  You're not sure if I am playful any more, but
you obey.  I have given you the hand signal that has allowed you to agree or
decline.  

You watch me watching you undress.  I catch your eye, raising a questioning
brow.  You realize your mistake and promptly lower your eyes to the serene 45
degree angle I require.  I can see your mental shift manifest into the body
language that so entrances me, drawing a pleased and wicked grin from my
pursing lips.

You kneel at my right knee.  Because the chair has been adjusted to just the
right height, you can lie across my lap, hold your weight, and still place your
penis between my thighs--which is what I indicate for you to do now.

Can you feel my desire? Can you feel my heat? Ah, yes, my favorite barometer
stiffens against my skin.  I press you as close to my sex as I can, gently
breathing deeper, almost tempted to forego this little treat.  But no, I want
to feel this.

"So, Alex, my foolish little Sandro, you ignore me all day and then have the
temerity to bite me?!" WHACK! I spank you with my bare hand so hard that I
nearly bruise the palm.  "No sweet warm up for you, my little smartass! Hah!
When I get through with you, your ass will be downright stupid and you won't be
able to sit at that damned computer for three days!" A whimper has escaped your
lips--you are usually so good about no sound.  But it is your whimper that I
want.

I reach under the chair for the hairbrush left from previous scenes and begin
to beat your asscheeks soundly, sometimes changing the rhythm, soft, hard,
caressing, brutal.  Bright red, your ass is enflamed.  And then blue bruises
start to appear.  Ah!

But, I am also pressing your cock, and petting you with my left hand.  I put
down the brush, occasionally, to play with your exposed balls--and your
wonderful, open, posterior entrance.  Under the chair is lube, gloves, and
condoms, all of which I avail myself.  At one point, I have two fingers of my
left hand prodding your prostate, while I continue to spank you with my right. 


Finally, I can deny my own pleasure no longer.  You are hard and pulsing
between my legs.  With one final *whack!*, I push you off my lap, onto the
floor.  Before you can recover, I have applied a condom, straddled you, and
taken your hardness into me, not needing any build up, ready for you, riding
you, lost in the joy of your body in mine.  You hold your hips still, for you
know that that is what I like best in this position, but soon your own desire
takes over and you begin to take your own pleasure with me--you know I like
this especially, too.

Between the two of us, there is now no Top, no bottom.  We roll around the
floor, changing position after I have cum at least once, loudly.  Soon, I have
another orgasm as you have yours, clutching you to me, hard, tender--as if I
would take you completely into my body.

It takes a while to recover, but kisses and embraces do not seem to cool our
energy.  We retire to the bed, 'just to lie down' for a little while.  On the
way, I swat your now sore butt again, giggle, and race ahead.

"Why you .  .  ." I hear you say behind me as you grab at me and miss.

Ah, a lovely night ahead.  I do SO love being playful.  .  .heh heh!

======
Terpsichore