This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Notice: This story is copyright 2001 (C) by rcg. It may not be publicly archived, distributed or reproduced without the express written consent of the author. If you wish to redistribute this story either electronically or in print, please contact me. This story is fictional and any resemblance between characters and any person is coincidental. This story contains adult situations. If you are under the age of majority, stop reading now.
Under no condition may these headers be modified or removed.
Category: Adult
Dreamscape
By
Dreamscape
I sit and watch
in a darkened room,
as the phosphors fade
then fade... then fade
behind the blinking cursor.
I imagine that the flashing cursor signals the beating of some strange heart.
A heart that beats within me
but is not my own.
A heartbeat that only my mind knows
the eternal undying pulse of the SpiritIt has written my past,
And will write my future.
But It, only It represents the now.
My eyes have shut and will not reopen for many beats. But yet, in these windows of my soul I see...
A girl, sits in a chair against a wall. She is alone, and everything else is unremarkable. Her hands lay folded in her lap, and she is dressed just like any girl could be. But I know she is not just any girl. The object of her gaze is both unmoving and unspecified.
My viewpoint zooms in to frame her face. Her ash blond hair is pulled behind her ears, where it hangs down to brush her shoulders. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and are speckled with a few freckles left from childhood. Her mouth forms a half smile similar to that one Leonardo da Vinci enshrined so long ago.
"Jessica" I say, not questioning, not commanding, but showing my respect.
She rises from her chair, hers eyes now level with my chin, but directed at my feet.
I want to hold her, to draw strength from her fortitude and confidence in what is right and holy and just.
"Please" She says. It is a signal I know well. I take the seat and she moves to my right side.
With confident fingers I undo the buttons of her pants, and draw them past her gently rounded hips. She lowers her torso over my horizontal thighs, and instinctively my left arm goes about her waist. With my right I draw up her shirt, then pull down her white panties to reveal her beautiful bottom. To me it is beautiful by virtue of the fact that it is hers.
I know her eyes are closed in anticipation, and wait till I feel her diaphragm expand with the intake of breath to land the first swat. It is hardly a spank; more like a hardy pat on the bottom. The next swat follows close behind and is marginally sharper.
I build into a steady beat, increasing in intensity till each swat leaves a palm mark on her posterior. Each lands in a different place, decided as randomly as my human mind is able.
I can tell by the change in the tension of her body that the pain is beginning to build beyond her basic tolerance. I know that pain is not the only sensation she is feeling. Though my hand also burns, the minor pain it offers does not diminish my other feelings.
I continue the spanking until it is clear by her soft crying that the effect has been had. I end just as I began, the intensity of each successive spank less than before. When my hand once more becomes an instrument which can caress just as easily as it can hit, the spanking stops.
Jessica cries in place for a moment, then rises up and turns over so that she sits face to face with me. Her cheeks are now wetted with tears and her hair is gone awry, but still I see joy behind her sorrow. First we hug tightly, then begin to kiss as our stored passion is released.
"Jessica," I whisper as the vision fades, "Someday we'll be real."
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
Reviews
LAR <lds627(at)home(dot)com>
I could feel this one by the end. As any who have had a soul companion that they met online.
Mary Catherine <marycatherine(at)saintfrancis-sfg(dot)net>
I really enjoyed how rcg combined the short verse at the beginning of their story with the tale itself. This is a very visual piece, drawing the reader in quickly and building steadily to an unexpected conclusion. While it went over the 500 word limit, it was very nicely done.