By now I should have several stories available for Under Glass sponsorship but I keep getting distracted when it comes to actually typing them up (I wrote most of them longhand). As a sort of apology for that, coupled with a ‘thank-you’ to someone who said a nice thing about my writing on Twitter tonight (when I needed to hear something nice really badly), I’d like to offer another excerpt from the story I’m calling “The Last Men on Earth“:
This wasn’t what she’d expected when she came into the barn. She’d thought they might kiss, make out. She’d imagined feeling his body, hot and hard, against her. Inside her. She’d known the D/s would come up, of course, but she thought they’d work into it. Instead, he’d ordered her to stand, fully-clothed, in the middle of the stall door and he’d tied her there with her arms and legs spread.
He’d shown her the restraints before he fastened them around her wrists and ankles, the same leather ones they’d used years ago. She could still see her teeth marks in the one from their play session down at the lake–
Jake threaded ropes through their O-rings then wrapped them around various tie points in the stall and pulled tight. The familiar jingle of the metal rings settled the nerves twisting in her belly, and his hand, warm even through her blouse, against her lower back made her sight. When she breathed in he ws there. The scents of the animals were there too, but above that was him. Jake. The spicy, musky scent that was unique to him. She closed her eyes and breathed him in.
He ran his hand down her back, over her denim-clad ass, the inside of her thighs. The tips of his fingers barely grazed her pussy through her jeans but bursts of heat flared through her where they did.
“Don’t forget,” his breath stirred her hair he was so close to her ear when he whispered, “to breathe.”
***
He stroked his fingers down the curve of her back, over the swell of her ass. The clothes, the barrier between them, frustrated him. He wanted to touch her. To feel her. But he didn’t know if she’d played with anyone since their last session so he was starting slow, keeping her clothed for now.
Simple bondage, simple spanking.
He increased the firmness of his touch, peppered in tiny taps, heartbeat soft, against her butt, her thighs. Her breathing was slow and easy, her eyes closed. Her lips, full and parted ever so slightly, tempted him but rather than crush them beneath his he spanked her a bit harder, leaving his hand at the point of contact for a three count before spanking her again just beside where the last one struck.
After a dozen of those he pressed his left hand flat on her chest, just above her breast, and struck her ass with his right. She jumped, probably more from the sound than the impact, and her eyes flew open. He spanked her again and again.
She closed her eyes again, and he could tell from the expression on her face that she was letting the sensation take her away.
His cock pressed against his jeans, throbbing. He could fuck her like this. Right now. She would let him. He knew she would let him. What’s more, she would like it. Fuck knows he would like it. But though that might be what they both wanted it was not what she needed.
He spanked her again and again, using an upward stroke and a cupped hand. Then he reached around her, his chest pressed against her back, to unfasten her jeans.
Ooooh, what could possibly come next? 😉
I will try really hard to get this done and ready for sponsorship in the next few days but in the meantime if you’ve got a couple dollars in your pocket you could consider sponsoring “Of Water“. It’s a vanilla story but when she read it my editor said, “I LOVED “Of Water.”…It has a beautiful, lyrical style that fits Mara’s personality perfectly. You have several stand-out amazing descriptions in this story that make me want to hug it like a teddy bear.” so it has THAT going for it 🙂
