#374) Words (and Subtext)

“You really spanked me hard this morning, John!” Amy pouts (I want some attention from you, boyfriend, damn it!).
“Um-hum…” John murmurs noncommittally without looking up from the book he’s reading. (Don’t get drawn-in to a discussion about her perfect butt. Don’t even think about that perfect butt!)
“It was an unusually hard spanking,” Amy continues determinedly, “especially for a maintenance spanking when I’ve been a very good girl…” (Get him to look at it. If John looks at my butt, he’s lost, he’ll be mine for the rest of the day, we’ll be making love in short order…!)
Purposefully keeping his voice low-key, in almost a monotone to convey that he is only engaging part of his brain to this conversation, John replies, “Are you being a good girl right now? You’re interrupting the concentration I need to devote to this…” and he moves only slightly to emphasize the book in his hands. (You know how this is going to end, don’t you? She probably does, too. Somebody’s about to get spanked again…)
“I can barely sit! It’d be nice if you rubbed some lotion on it!” (You did it to me, after all! And then you’re aftercare was perfunctory! With no resultant love-making to bond us afterward!)
John deliberately puts his bookmark in place and slowly closes the big tome. He sets it on the bedside table. “Go get the bottle of skin lotion, Amy. Yes, I’ll soothe your sore bottom.” (You have no idea the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, young lady. This is so typical of you, to only think of yourself, to persist way past the point of reason!)
(Thinking that she’s scored a minor victory and about to rack-up a bigger one,) Amy scampers to get the lotion bottle and sprint it back to the bed they were still occupying mid-morning on this Sunday. She hands the bottle off to her Top and sprawls across his lap, dorsal side up.
(It is a magnificent ass! John thinks to himself, not for the first time, or even the fifteen millionth time. God, it is the eighth wonder of this world!) He pumps a liberal amount of lotion into his hand and rubs it into her slightly reddened butt flesh. (You said that you could barely sit, but you were sitting. You chose to sit on this well-upholstered derriere, when you could’ve laid down prone!) “Does that feel better?” (Damn! It is the perfect amalgamation of baby fat and muscle and peachy complexion; it’s getting me hard. I cannot help growing erect when looking at and touching her butt!)
“Yes, much, thank you! …Will you keep that up for a while? It feels heavenly!”
(Is she noticing my erection poking up into her? No, I guess not; she’s talking about the massage.) John squirts more white balm into his palm, rubs it into her butt cheeks, into the crack, grazing her rosebud, making Amy’s toes wriggle from excitement. “Do you think you deserved your spanking this morning?”
“I can be a bit of a brat…” (That’s a gross understatement, but I think you said it convincingly.) “You thought I needed it, so that’s all that needs to be said, lover.” (Whew, you are a world-class diplomat!)
“Do you think you deserve one now?” John stopped rubbing and gently but forcefully pins his girlfriend in place, left hand on the small of her back, his legs trapping hers between his vice-like grip. (It almost sounds like Simon Legree/Snidely Whiplash saying, “Now I have you, my pretty, just where I want you!”)
No! I do not! Stop it, John! I’m already bruised and sore, let me up!” (YES, yes, I do! My morning spanking hurt and got me riled-up, but we can both see that I’m barely pink back there. Give me a spanking I’ll remember, give me a spanking I’ll remember every time I try to sit down for the next week! Mark me as yours, lover…)
Her lotion-moistened cheeks react to the strong spanks violently, their roundness flattening with each wallop, her flesh rippling, contorting, with muscles flexing, then relaxing, and handprints registering on her pale skin, red, very red, dark red, angry red, deep red. And the sound was magnified to loud, gunshot-like blasts. John gives Amy a volley of twenty hard spanks, redoubles his grasp on her, grabs the nearby book in hand, and paddles her bottom with it. (Oh, that’s nice. That’s ironic, spanking her deserving butt with the book I need to read for work that she kept me from reading!)
(Fuck, that hurts! How I hate to be spanked! It’s humiliating, ignominious, embarrassing! I lose all sense of decorum, end up kicking so much that I know he can see both my holes! It’s demeaning to be reduced to someone crying like a baby from having her fanny spanked worse than you would a child! Why then do I love it simultaneously? Why do I get excited, short of breath, amorous, and so, so, fucking wet?) “Please stop! I’ve learned my lesson! Mercy!”
“Your safeword won’t work here, young lady. What lesson have you learned?” (She’s almost where I want her. She needs a little more with the book, a long lecture, so that she dwells in her sub space…)
“I know that that book fucking hurts!” (God, no one takes me on an express elevator down into the dungeon of my sub space better, faster, deeper than John. God, I love him! The fucker…) “I’m sorry to have distracted you from your work! It was immature of me, selfish. I deserved your punishment. Let that be enough, please…”
John lets her up, tosses the sweat-soaked sheet off. “Look what you do to me. Look how hard you get me, focusing on your beautiful butt…” (Fuck, I’m rock hard! Fuck I want to fuck her! This day is a loss, a total loss, I’ll never get my work done.)
“Want me to suck it? Let me suck you, Sir…” (God, he’s hard, tensile strength steel hard! God I hate deep-throating something this stiff. Don’t gag, don’t gag…)
“Ummm, that’s…nice…” (God, she’s good at that! Don’t cum, think of other things…)
(Show him you’re submissive to the point of subservient, suck his cock for all you’re worth! Tease him…) “Dear Daddy… whom I worship and adore…” (Riff on the Lord’s prayer, go with it. And keep sucking in between the words, and don’t gag.) “In order for this King-sized cock to cum, I want you to have your way with me…” (Suck. Don’t gag.) “…So that your orgasm is both temporal and celestial, fucking intense and other-worldly, all at the same time.” (He’s buying it! Keep sucking, harder, oops, don’t gag!) “I’m going to use the royal plural now, because you’ve made me feel like a Princess, your Princess… Give us this day our daily beating, and forgive us our wrongs, as we forgive you for the pain…” (You’re doing great, both with the improv and the fellatio, keep it up!) “Lead us not into the temptation of misbehaving, but deliver us from all that shit. For you are so powerful, so glorious, my Top, forever. Amen! …Like my little prayer?”
“You are insane, Amy! Incredible intelligent, dangerously deranged, seriously sexual, and completely crazy…” (God, I love her!)
“Guilty as charged, Sir. Which hole of mine do you want next?” She rolls up on her side, leaning on an elbow with her upper leg cocked and bent, so that access was available both front and rear. (Choose my pussy, I’m so freaking wet! If you make me cum there, fucking up my butt will be easier…) John gets up out of the bed, takes Amy by the hand, and leads her out of their bedroom and downstairs. “Where are we going?”
When he speaks now, something has changed in John. Amy hasn’t known him long. There is so much about him that she loves. There is also a dangerous quality in him that comes out sometimes, a side of him Amy fears. Maybe that’s why the Lord’s prayer came to her mind. John was God-like in her eyes, an Adonis to look at, very loving most of the time, but wrathful at infrequent other occasions. She senses this about him now. “The kitchen. I want to fuck you in the kitchen,” he says quietly, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear. (Let’s test her limits, push her boundaries a bit.)
Amy tries to make light of it. “Is ‘kitchen’ an orifice I didn’t know I had…?” He doesn’t chuckle. He boosts her naked form up so that she sits on the granite countertop’s edge. It is the perfect height for him to push his prodigious prick into her pussy. His hands grab her ass to hold her in place and he thrusts into her. They go from zero to sixty in a second flat. John is jackhammering Amy’s sex, and she’s so primed from all that’s gone on before, she cums in record time, too. The first orgasm causes her to crumple from within, as if the orgasm pulls some of the bones out of her, some ribs and spine. It turns her midsection to mush and causes her vagina to gush. She is putty in his hands from here on.
(Fuck! What is it about his cock, the way he uses it like a club on my senses, that reduces me to jelly, no less firm than jelly, to oatmeal?) “God… that’s… good…!”
“That’s it, cum for me, baby.” (You ain’t seen nothing yet.) He keeps thrusting into Amy’s core, she keeps scaling climactic cliffs just as steadily, just as adroitly as one of those Acapulco cliff divers, higher and higher, with such seeming ease. “You know what I’ve discovered about you, lover?”
“Wha… what’s that…?” she mumbles, dizzy from the rarified air where she’s at currently.
“That you think you like to be scared,” and he pulls open the knife drawer below her ass and to their side, “but you’re really a scaredy-cat.”
Amy is so high on endorphins and cum, this doesn’t register in her brain. John sounds like an adult in the Peanuts televised cartoon specials, just a lot of blaring noise. Indeed, his relentless jackhammering of her sex crumbles her internal cement and she climaxes again, harder this time, imploding in a cloud of dust. She crumples more. She moans louder. More ejaculate squirts out of her, mostly onto the linoleum floor, but some of it bathing his belly with the warmth. John holds her up. He takes a knife from the drawer, a small paring knife.
“You like to watch horror movies, but never alone, only when I’m here to comfort you,” he continues. “Open your mouth.”
Obediently, submissive Amy does. John places the blade of the sharp knife in her mouth, flat, so that the blade lays on her tongue. Whether it’s the taste of cold steel, or enough time has passed since her crippling climax, Amy comes to, realizes the reality of what is going on. Her pretty eyes grow large.
“Put your head back, like a sword-swallower would. I want you to take the whole blade down your throat, right to the hilt, where the handle starts… Open wide…”
She almost imperceptibly shakes her head no, more with the lateral movement of her saucer-sized eyes than any shaking of her head. (What the fuck is happening?)
“Come on, you can do it! You just took my long cock down your throat. This paring knife isn’t nearly as long. When you’ve practiced with this one, I want to try something bigger…” He gets out a medium-sized all-purpose knife with a serrated blade from the drawer and puts in next to Amy’s hip on the counter. “Or do you want to try a different orifice? ‘Hole’ as you so un-lady-like put it…?” John boosts Amy off the counter, takes two steps to the right, and puts her on her feet a little ways away from the puddle of jism she created. He still hammers into her as she stands on tip-toe, but now reaches around behind her. He parts her buttocks wide. Amy feels the tip of the paring knife touch her rosebud of an anus. He stops thrusting so they stand stock still. But the threat is quite real, a sharp and pointed knife is a mere millimeter from her delicate butt hole. “Maybe you want to do it, you can tell the ‘angle of approach’ better than I…” he hands Amy the knife behind her back. It is deadly silent. Neither of them even dare to breathe. “…Open wide back here…”
(I don’t think he’s kidding. He wants me to insert a knife up my ass while he fucks me from the front. To test my nerve. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?) Amy turns the handle of the knife around in her hand. (He’s crazy! He’ll push me to do as he says! He called me deranged and crazy, but that’s him! I need to stab him, stab him in the neck, hope to hit the jugular, then run! It doesn’t matter that you’re naked, run out of the house, run and scream for help! It’s your only hope to save your ass hole, maybe your life!) She has the knife turned, so that the blade juts out from the heel of her hand, the pinkie finger side. If she can raise it fast and come down at John’s neck as hard as she can…
Suddenly he’s grabbed it, grabbed both of her hands and slammed them on the counter. He’s jackhammering her again, zero to sixty again.
“Experts say that the feeling of being scared to death is very close to the onset of orgasm. Is that true, Amy?”
(Powerless. He has my hands held down. He has my pussy filled with cock. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only…) Amy orgasms, orgasms so suddenly, so violently, she loses all touch with reality. Whether inspired by fear or by the fucking, she hasn’t a clue, only that the orgasm wracks her, throws her about, inside and out. She thinks she’s a surfer in Hawaii, one moment in perfect balance, then suddenly thrown off her board, held under water until way past out of air, disoriented, drowning.
She gasps, back to reality, back to her kitchen, drenched in sweat, drenched in jism, but alive. (Where am I? Where’s the knife?)
“I wanted to give you the best orgasm of your life, Amy. Was it mind-blowing?”
“Consider my mind blown…” she says faintly, manages an even fainter smile. (How do I get out of here? Get out of this? John is fucking crazy! How did I get involved with him?)
“You look like you just had the strongest orgasm of your life!” and he punctuates this with a swift slap on her ass, walking them both back to bed. (God, she’s lucky to have me…)

[First, I got the idea of trying to express both what a character was saying AND what they were thinking. Sometimes that’s the same thing, sometimes it can be exactly the opposite. So I hope you’ll catch-on to the “quotation marks around dialogue” and some exposition simply stated, as well as (the subtext), what they’re thinking, in parenthesis.]

(Second, when I had the characters defined, they kind of took it in their own direction for the plot. It becomes a high stakes game!)

2 responses to “#374) Words (and Subtext)”

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