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Subject: The Red that is Gold 2 of 2
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Part II

     After dinner we snuggled to soft music. She held me so
close, so gently. My hair was carressed lightly and there were
gentle kisses. I longed for the day my hair was long enough to
style so I could brush it across her face. Someone had said that
a lot of being a woman was patience. It applied.

     We spoke lightly of our future together, plans for tomorrow,
light things I barely remember under the intense eroticism I
felt. Her hands were lightly touching me everywhere, appearing
accidental at times, at other times very purposeful. Soon her
hand that had rested on my skirted thigh began sliding up under
my skirt.

     Never ask my why I love skirts! Here I was completely
vulnerable and open. It felt so good. It always feels good. And
with my aggressive Sally I loved being there for her to "agress."

     If you haven't tried it, it is an oddly satisfying feeling.
With a skirt you wear stockings to feel less naked. There are a
magic number of square inches of bare skin to show depending on
the occasion.

     But not really ... how do I explain ... let me give you some
examples. Evening wear? Never without stockings. A plunging
neckline or a bare back, not both.

     But a bathing suit or tennis outfit? Never with stockings
but with the former, everything and more can show. With the
latter, only the legs and arms. But a skirted bathing suit is not
much different from a tennis outfit.

     Cheerleading? Tastes and styles vary on that one.

     Trust me. It all makes much more sense when you think about
actually wearing it yourself in public than it will ever make to
you just thinking about it.

     But I digress, her hand was far enough up my skirts that she
felt my interest in her attentions and forced a gasp from me. "Do
you want to play, little one?"

     "Yes," I said breathily, squirming under her touch. Just
feeling her hand moving from my stocking to my bare upper thigh
then to my crotch ... I felt so owned. I felt so possessed.
Whatever she wanted there would never a be no within me.

     She held me tightly and kissed me deeply. My body squirmed
under it layers of the acetate and nylon and satin just melting
in all the feelings. "Fold your hands in your lap, put your legs
together, close your eyes, be silent, and don't move till I
return and say you can."

     I hated this kind of order. Rather she had tied me so
tightly it hurt instead. But it was to teach me obediance. To
learn obedience from Sally brought rewards beyond knowing.

     She was had returned but I was still not given permission to
move. I knew she was just watching to see if I would move,
testing me, testing obedience. There were some small sounds and
then a soft scarf tied over my eyes.

     "You may open your eyes now." Yes, just barely I could. In
the low lit room there was not light nor dark nor could I be sure
of seeing in the least.

     Sight was the second thing Sally was taking from me tonight
after the privacy of my body under my clothing. But I wanted to
give her that privacy and now I wanted to give her my sight.
Anything she would take I would give willingly.

     I heard the whispers of her nylons and skirt move in front
of me. Gently a soft scarf surrounded my wrists and then a cinch
pulled it snug.

     I was getting into this then... feeling my headspace
overwhelming me with this slow ritual. I nervously played with
the hem of my skirt as best I could with my bound hands. It was a
way to let out a bit of the adrenalin coursing through me trying
to keep it from rising to nervous shaking.

     Another scarf was wrapped around my ankles and tied loosely
around one ankle separately. I had worn this hobble tie before,
just enough to keep my kicking under control. I knew what was
coming.

     She took my hands in hers and kissed my lips gently. "Thank
you so very much. That was a very lovely dinner and the start of
a wonderful romantic evening." My hands started to tremble in
hers.

     She seemed to sense my inner mood. As always she knew what
to do. She tugged at my ankle scarf, "I guess we don't need this
just yet." She untied it and helped me to my feet.

     She raised my bound arms and brought them down behind her so
I was holding her upper body with her arms under mine. Her hands
went to my sitspot and pulled me close to her. She moved and I
followed, then she moved again in time with the music.

     Bound slow dancing, following her blindfolded, requiring
total trust in her. Her hands sliding over my bottom, squeezing
lightly, the layers of my clothing sliding under her hands
against me. Being teased and reminded of the way I was dressed,
knowing I had dressed just for these feelings.

     The sounds of my legs moving, my nylons sirrushing slightly.
The feel of the lace of my slip catching a bit as it slid over my
nylons, the feel of the chiffon of my skirt sliding over its
lining and the lining against my slip. It was so comforting, so
relaxing. All tension, all concern was slipt from me.

     Time would have stopped on its own without my blindfold. My
head rested on her shoulder. She whispered her love for me.

     Our scents mingled, our lipsticks oddly shaded from our
kisses. The softness of my blouse slid quietly over the softness
of hers. Our hair mussed each other's, earrings tickling our
necks and each other's necks. I was lost in her, lost in the
delicate physical sensations.

     A gentle whisper, "It is time now." I quietly nodded my
head feeling my blindfold caress her hair, my nervousness gone.
No one need ask why I love her so.

     She stopped leading and gently freed herself from my arms.
With a whispersd, "sit," she easied me down to the couch. Again
my ankles were loosely bound against kicking.

     I felt Sally sit next to me and gently start guiding me over
her lap. I used my tethered-in-front "don't rub, don't interfere"
hands to help ease myself into position. The toes of my pumps
just touching the floor, my wrists over my head, my right cheek
resting on the couch cushion surely ruining my makeup.
Submission, surrender, comfort, security, all replaced the fear
of the pain.

     Did I ever tell you I fear a spanking? Yes, very much. Not
the hero here, more like the big crybaby. I may never sort out
why I want it so. This time Sally had taken the fear from me.

     "Are you ready?" Again I nodded. She giggled slightly, "I
forget to tell you you could talk. Yes, please talk. I want to
hear your voice."

     "Thank you, Ma'am. Yes, I am as ready as I will ever be."

     "Good for you," she encouraged as she raised my skirt to my
waist and ran her hand over my black satin slip. "Very pretty,
you really are learning to dress like a lady," she said softly as
she ran her fingers over the lace at its hem. And then she raised
it to join my skirt.

     Her finger tips carressed the seat of my matching full cut
panties. "I'm getting all wet just uncovering you." I shivered
from her tounch and her words and moaned a little. "You're so
cute when you do that," she whispered.

     My panties slowly, so very slowly, were pulled down. When
told to "lift a little" I did to let her get them out from under
me.

     She left them just at the cleft of my thighs with my butt
and carressed me. For a while she just touched and complimented
me on being so soft and white and smooth for her. "You must
really double over to shave here ... and you do it for me," she
said in a dreamy voice.

     Anticipation was starting to build in me as she slid my
panties down to my knees sliding her fingers up my nylons as she
returned to my bum. "Hold tight, sweetie," she said in a soft
voice.

     A loud whack and a sharp squeal, my squeal. Five more just
as hard followed rapidly in the same spot right where I have put
my weight when I sit. I was letting out a continuous screaming
sound through it, then gulping quick, short gasps of air, trying
to get my breath back.

     That must have been my sorority paddle. God that hurt. It
always hurt. I am never ready for it or the way she wields it.

     With slight pauses the rest of my bottom and thighs down the
welts of my stocking tops got the same treatment. Sally had once
explained, "Why not get the hardest over while I am still fresh?
Spanking is hard work you know. All you have to do is lay there
and relax." I was not amused at the time but she did have a point
considering what more she did for me with every real spanking.

     By the time she started gently touching my soreness my tears
had started to flow. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" I sniffed a
bit and assured her it was not.

     That was the way I was required to answer, always agreeing
with her. "Lets get on with it then." Next I think it was the
hairbrush that started flaming the fires back there.

     This time she was established a rhythm of medium speed, very
hard spanks from outside top right to outside right thigh then
starting again top center and working down. Then the same on the
left and then starting the pattern over again.

     I went from crying and yelping to sobbing and wailing and
quickly to trying to get pleading and begging out between my sobs
even though they would be useless.

     "Please stop, please." "It hurts so." "I can't stand any
more."

     All the standard entreaties and a few extra creative ones
that always sprung to mind but I doubt she could understand a one
of them through all my sobbing. I hope she knew it was the
thought that counted.

     By the time she paused I was a blubbering mess. The soft
folds of my blindfold were soaked with my tears. My nose was
running. I was actualy wahhh-wahhhing.

     As I started getting some control of myself I started
begging, "Please no more. I can't stand any more. Please,
please, please." I was learning how to sound abject and pitiful.
And what better teacher than a lap session to practice it. But I
had yet to be good enough at it for it to work.

     "You always say things like that, silly. In a few days
you'll be good as new and think of all the wonderful memories
you'll have." As I gritted my teeth to keep the pain under
control she ran her nails roughly over my sore places. "Lets try
this toy. You said it was only a bracing sting the last time."

     What had I described like that? Oh, God! The hundreds of
loops of fine fishing line made into a flogger. "I said that when
it was the first thing used ... " my voice trailing off trying to
shut my mind to what was going to happen.

     The first swipe came and brought a fresh flood of tears. It
brought the pain back just like it had been at its peak. It
didn't really hurt on its own it just renewed what had been. She
worked it down twice over every sore spot I had back there. I was
freely crying again.

     "This isn't much work at all. I can go all night like this."
I knew she was teasing me. At least I was hoping she was teasing
me. "Stand up now," she said softly as she helped me to my feet.

     I just stood there and cried, wincing a little as the lace
of my slip brushed my bum as if fell into place. I was huddled
over, my shoulders shaking in sobs. She removed the hobbling
scarf from my ankles and walked my over to the fireplace mantle,
pausing a moment get my panties back to my knees when they fell.

     She stood me there facing an antique, loudly ticking mantle
clock and removed my blindfold. "This is so wet. Looks like you
had a really good cry. You got it all out of your system. I'm
happy for you." I could see her in the mirror over the mantle
looking me up and down, "How are we going to do this?"

     I was silent not quite wanting to know what she wanted to
do. I reached around back as far as I could with my bound hands
trying to rub what little I could. "Now, now, none of that,"
pushing my hands away.

     "Will you rub then? just a little?" Again that pleading
voice through crying and tears hoping she would take pity on me.

     "No, silly, we aren't finished yet." She hobbled my ankles
again and said, "You just wait right here," as she headed off to
our bedroom. I squeezed back extra tears from the loss of hope,
she wasn't just teasing me.

     I just stood there, collapsing forward, supporting myself
with my hands on the mantle. I could not get the pain and burning
out of my head and just kept crying.

     "Here we go," she said as she draped a long black scarf
between her spread hands to show me in the mirror. She ran the
scarf across my back, under my arms and to the back of my neck. I
was puzzled until she raised my bound wrists high and back down
behind my head. She tightly tied that scarf to my bound wrists. I
could not remove them from behind my neck.

     Next she raised my skirt and slip put their hems in my
hands. "You hold this real tight and don't let go." I got
weak-kneed then. Everything that had been spanked and more was
exposed.

     "Very good, now lets see ... " Reaching under her skirt she
pulled off her panties and balled them. "Open wide." I did
willingly accepting her panties. "Now keep them there so I don't
have to tie them in place."

     I just stood there looking at myself in the mirror through
my tearing eyes. My mascara was all down my face. My eyes and
cheeks were puffy and red. Bits of jade green panties protruded
from a terrible frown on my lips. I barely had enough attention
left to notice the soreness starting in my shoulders.

     I was startled when the clock began to chime 9pm. Sally
announced, "It's time," picked up the flail of fishline loops and
approached me. I tried to scream No! without pushing out my panty
gag.

     I yelped into my gag with the first stroke. "My ... it is so
much easier to swing hard standing up." She relit all my flames
and renewed my tears then placed it on the mantle. "I have some
things to get ready. I'll be back when its time" she explained
as she left the room.

     I knew it was not over. How will she know when it is time?,
I asked myself. The regular tick, tick, tick came into my mind.
Again I tried to scream no.

     The ticking had never seemed louder. The minute hand clicked
lightly to the next minute. Every fiber of my being tried to will
that clock stop.

     The quarter hour chimed. My tears had finally slowed to a
trickle. Sally returned. I was in flames and tears again. The
maddening ticking continued as though nothing had happened.

     There was nothing but my flaming bottom exposed to the cool
air of the room, my tears running down my cheeks, the tick, tick,
tick of a clock sealing my fate as though nothing were happening.

     My body froze as the whisper quiet mechanism drew back the
striker for the half hour chime. I felt like I was living a
lifetime, hearing between the little sounds that made up the
cocking mechanism. It stopped and must have offered a thousand
prayers between its release and the chiming strike.

     "Hi there," she said cheerily, "Still comfy?" She rubbed my
shoulders a bit and readjusted the hems of my skirt and slip in
my hands. Picking up the flogger, "You're a big girl, don't look
so sad." My poor, poor backside was lit up again.

     I could barely cry this time, just racking heaves. This time
it was just ticking. Just a sound in the world I became part of.
Obediance, waiting, pain, an endless cycle, obedience, waiting,
pain.

     The quarter hour chime came to repeat the cycle. I was
there, some place in my head. Images of life, death, rebirth
passing endlessly back into my past and forward to my future.
Golden segments of a centipede paraded passed me.

     The sun arose in golden glory, lit the day, lay to slumber
in beautious reds and golds, the cold, silent beauty of the
night, then the sun again.

     There was love and birth and maturity and love again, the
endless cycle of life. I saw myself as an infinitely small part
of it; I saw myself as all of it.

     My mind was overwhelmed with the images. I barely heard the
clock strike ten.

     Sally whispered in my ear, "Are you ready again?" I nodded.
My nod was part of it all. I was part of the cycle. The cycle was
part of me. I was just playing my part it in.

     Though I barely noticed it, the scarf slipped from my
ankles. In the dream time of the cycle I was turned and the
panties removed from my mouth. The hems of my clothes were pried
loose from the grip of my fingers.

     Arms were around me. My face found its way to Sally's
shoulder and some place inside me I found a secret reservior of
tears. I had some strange thought that I was all wet inside as I
should be.

     One arm never leaving me, the other loosed my arms and
unbound my wrists. I felt a terrible ache as I brought them
forward to clutch Sally. Clutch her so tightly that if I let go
for a moment, I would fall away from the golden glory of the
cycle.

     She moved us to sit on the couch. As I sat I felt and
watched glory of the cycle flame more brightly from below me. I
embraced the feeling, no longer anything I could call pain. It
was something as ineffible and the spaces between the ticks of
the clock, the nothingness between the red and the gold, and as
concrete as the paddle strikes that drew it forth from the
darkness and into the light.

     I cried for joy as images flowed through my head. I can not
remember them all. At the end there was a jarring one.  The image
a necklace came with little bells that were jingling. The tones
became sharper and louder till I was shaking with them.

     "Time for bed, honey, it's almost midnight." My shoulder was
being ever so gently shaken. "Lets go. You were snoring."

     "I don't snore," I said with a smile and shifted to reach up
to kiss her. My thigh slid a bit on the couch. I marveled at the
explosion of gold that came from her eyes.

                         END

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