Past and Present

© Copyright 1997-2014 - Crimson Dragon All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact

========================================================================
                           Snapshot #7
                        Past and Present
                           (Ff, bd, ds)
========================================================================
                  (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved
                Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
========================================================================
She had been standing there for hours. Her legs stretched wide apart. Soft
leather securely holding the ankles to the structure. Bent at the waist,
her neck resting through the padded hole in the course wood. Her slender wrists 
securely caught in the stock. She allowed herself to fall into a time long 
past. 
Convicted of some petty crime without a trial. Secured naked in front of 
the entire town for her penance. Flushing as everyone, women, children, 
elders, warriors, all took in her exposed body with open stares. Stripped. 
Humiliated. Tears coursing down her face. Perhaps, later, a public whipping.
She sighed in her own stocks in her own time.
She felt the soft caress of her lover on her hanging breast. She opened her
eyes. Tried to move herself, press her breast into the teasing fingers, 
encouraging the touch. Frustration, as the bonds securely held her.
The touches travelling the length of her body. Brushing against the fine
hair between her legs. Her whole being softly crying out; begging for 
attention denied so very long. It had been so long since Diane had so 
lovingly secured her into the stock. So long ago, felt the leather 
encasing her bare ankles. Then, Diane had left. Frustration. Hours.
Diane had simply reappeared while she was lost in a time long ago. The gentle
touch to her breast bringing her past into her own present. Teasing touches.
Finally, feeling the touch of cool plastic slowly, maddeningly slowly, slipping 
inside of her. She found herself unable to prevent herself from moving 
with the slow rhythm of the invasion despite the bondage. Diane's fingers 
so softly touching her clitoris with the rhythm of the strokes. Crying out 
as her orgasm washed over her like a warm surf. Peace.