Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The naughty panties become the red panties: what Emily is up to

Last week I teased the dystopian I'm working on. Though, as I said in that little post, the whole idea came from the phrase, "the naughty panties," and my daydreaming about what it might mean to be sent the naughty panties by a handsome officer, I realized that the story I came up with is much better served by the rather more clearly symbolic title, The Red Panties.

Here's where I am with it:

From behind her came Captain Clark's voice, not angry and not even disappointed — matter-of-fact, really. "You just earned yourself a paddling, Jenna. Six swats, after I spank you over my knee and before we get all your clothes off."

She turned around, sat with her back to the locked door that now seemed to symbolize to her everything about this terrible fate: the trustworthy house in which she had grown up, so secure despite the door never being locked, had been taken by this officer and his men, and locked up tight. So, too, her body: taken, clothed in underwear that meant her most private places belonged to Captain Clark and not to Jenna Caprio. For him, to lock her back door… and then she felt the heat spread through her face: for him, to… to put something inside another back door… to make his manhood go there.

"Now you get to choose whether you want to add to that paddling by further disrespect and disobedience, Jenna. Are you going to get up and come back to the livingroom like a good girl, and get over my knee the way you should?"

Jenna looked up at him, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, still eight or nine feet away and apparently feeling no need to enforce his will on her bodily.

No, he has no need to seize me, does he? All the logic, all the reason is on his side.
Her knees shook under her as she moved to hands and knees, so that she could begin to rise. She felt her breath shudder out of her chest. She tried to get her feet under her, but her legs still trembled in fear, and she sank to the ground again.

But Captain Clark did come towards her then, and stooped down to put an arm around her shoulders. "I can be kind, when you're a good girl," he said softly, as both AV crews captured different angles on the moment. He pulled her to her feet, but not at all roughly. Again their bodies were touching, this time much more intimately though without any erotic dimension at all. Again, though, Jenna found that her erotic self responded to the strength in his muscles and the way he simply guided her, with that strength back into the livingroom

When they reached the loveseat, he sat in a deliberate way, as if so as not to take Jenna by surprise, and then she felt herself being guided between his thighs, and then over the left one. She felt, too, that he was bending her over, pushing her down so that her face would be on the cushion of the seat and her still kilted bottom raised, over his thigh. His right leg, then came around, and she heard a whimper come from her throat as she realized that he had trapped her almost completely between his legs. Jenna Caprio would have this humiliating old-fashioned family punishment, here in her livingroom, whether she liked it or not.

She felt Captain Clark lifting the hem of her kilt, to bare her bottom for his firm hand. She felt him gather the fabric atop her back, in his left hand, so that it wouldn't fall down and get in the way of Jenna's spanking.

Nearly lost in a strange reverie of sensation, trying to puzzle out why something about this humiliation felt right, she heard a whisper to her right, and it took a long moment before she realized it was the cameraman of one of the AV crews. "Turn your face to look at us, Jenna," the whisper said. "We want to see you cry, when the captain spanks you."

Jenna bit her lip, suppressing the wail that wanted to burst from her mouth. She turned her face, which had been buried in the soft old velvet, to look to the right, and she saw the lens of the little video-camera pointed straight at her. Then she gasped, because Captain Clark had begun to spank her, hard and quick.

Jenna yelped: the spanking hurt terribly, and right away, because of the paddling Mrs. Trest had given her. The tears formed in her eyes instantly.

"Very nice," murmured the cameraman.

1 comment:

  1. I would love it if you wrote about a Stepford community where proper wives wear long dresses and aprons at home while serving their husband only after they have been "freed" to be the domestic and feminine women they really want to be. Imagine a high power women executive visiting a friend in Stepford find to her amazement that the high power layer she once knew is now wearing a Victorian choker and pinafore apron over her long prairie dress. Imagine the shock when her friend's husband speaks to her husband about getting her to be properly dressed via some proper discipline. Then later finding out that all her clothes have been taken away and replaced with a single pettiblouse and sheer below knee bloomers. Then learning that her friend personally help remove her clothing and shockingly sewed the only clothe she has left. I think you would have a crazy fun time writing about this town and it secrets!