Message-ID: <7018eli$9803171829@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: genericjoe@vnet.net (Generic Joe)
Subject: REPOST: A Hope and A Prayer, (/f, voy, Spank, F/m, cons (all adult)) (8,9,8)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <350ecf80.97044409@news.vnet.net>


[Author's Note:
This story contains sex scenes between consenting Adults.  If you are
a minor then you shouldn't be reading this story.

It contains some spanking and some other sex, so if that bothers you,
you can go away too.

Permission is granted to anybody who wants to archive or post this
here story, so long as my email and attribution goes along, and dis
here dis-claimer is kept intact.  O' course, I don't want you to
archive it ifn' yer gonna make money offa it, without gettin' my
consent.  Thanks.

Generic Joe (genericjoe@vnet.net)

Also, thanks to Andy with some of the proofreading help.


Thanks to Mark Aster for Reviewing this story.  At least *SOMEONE*
commented on it.]


Story:  "A Hope, and A Prayer"
F/f, voy, Spank, F/m, cons

I've seen stories here about people who get out of tickets by having
sex with the arresting officer.  Certainly people in uniform do
something for me too.  These stories vary throughout most of the
normal "Story Codes", with the possible exception of "inc" and "peda".
Some are even marked "romantic".

I had no such hope with the officer who arrested me.   I'm a bisexual
male, and the officer was male (and not bad looking), but he had
obvious backup, and I wasn't cute enough to do it -- or in a mood to
be beaten by a homophobe.  There was never any doubt in my mind I was
going to be pulled over-- my tags had expired, my license had been
revoked, and my luck drained out through my own incompetence.

There are even some stories -- although I haven't seen any in quite a
long time-- which take place in jail or prison.  Since my license had
been revoked I found myself spending the night in jail.  To pass the
time, and keep my spirits up, I sized up the sexual possibilities of
my cohorts behind bars.

We started out mixed together, male and female, separated only by an
invisible line enforced by an attentive guard.  This is the only time
in my life I've seen a hooker and known what I was looking at, so I
stared across the line at the prostitutes.  Excuse me, they were
self-employed ladies.  We were all innocent until proven guilty,
right?  These women were at least decent looking.  Still, something
put me off--probably their profession.  The remaining women were all
emaciated, obviously poor women.  They inspired more pity than lust.

Needless to say, the side I was on had more options--or rather, more
discrete choices.  But once I narrowed it down to the decent looking
guys who I'd have something to say to, I was left with men in for
"Assault on a female."  This just led me to be concerned about my own
self.

No, I'm afraid the judicial system doesn't offer many chances for hot
sex.  At least not in reality.  OR rather that's what I thought, until
I saw the judge.  She looked a bit different in her robes, but I'd
recognize those eyes anywhere.

I remember when I first saw them, at the munch.  I don't know the
origin of the term, but a munch is a get-together of online bdsm
folk--the people who read and/or post to alt.sex.bondage or
soc.subculture.bondage-bdsm.  I had read about the local group's
meeting and decided to go.

I'm not really sure what I expected.  I knew that my ex-gf and I had
done some things, and read some things that interested us.  I knew
that it had been almost a year since I'd gotten laid.  I knew I was
desperate for someone.  Anyone.

So I went to the munch. Unsure, doubting, hoping.  My nighttime
fantasy life was great.  Nothing, of course, like what I found in real
life.  Or those eyes.

The meeting was held at a local Quincy's.  They were cheap, had a
buffet, and a room that could be closed off from the restaurant.  When
I arrived I was running a little late, but they hadn't closed it off
yet.  I quickly scanned the dining area for the group.  I saw the back
rooms, then I caught her eyes.

Blue, icy eyes that just bored through my soul.  I was trapped in them
for just a few moments, until I realized she was with the group.  She
was a dirty blonde, with a firm jaw and straight nose.  She was in her
mid-to-late 40's--not as attractive as she obviously once was--but
still compelling.  I think it was just the energy she exuded.

I wasn't the only one who sensed it.  The body language of the people
sitting around her was deferent and respectful. Still though, there
was a seat open next to her.

I knew she was a Domme.  How could I not? She fascinated me in a way
not unlike a moth is fascinated by a flame.  She was dangerous. And
scary.

I walked over to the table, and said hello to everyone, told them who
I was, and the coordinator waved to me.  I'd sent him a few emails, at
least.  Then, more boldly than I felt, I settled into the seat next to
her.

She turned, fixed her icy stare on me, and waited.

I smiled and said, "Hello"

"Well?" she asked archly.

"I'm Doug," I said, "I go by Canyon online."

"You just said that.  Do you normally repeat yourself?"

"No..."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Aren't you going to ask if you can sit beside me?"

I was supposed to ask?  There weren't *that* many open seats.  "Well,
is it all right?"

"Is *what* all right," she asked again.

"Is it all right if I sit here?"  She had to be the most intractable
woman I'd ever met.  Worse than my ex, even.

"I suppose," she said. "This time." Then she turned and rejoined the
conversation she was having with the others at the table.  A
conversation that had completely ignored our interchange.

"She's something else, isn't she?" asked a voice to my right. 

I turned and said, "Yes..yes, she is."

A woman two seats to the right of me smiled, and put out her hand, "Hi
Doug, I'm Ashley. I'm a pain slut."

I blinked a couple of times.  "A *what*?"

"A pain slut.  The difference between a pain slut and a submissive is
that when they stop beating you, a submissive is happy, but a pain
slut wishes they wouldn't stop."

I chuckled.  "OK, I've never really gotten into pain."

"You're into D and s aren't you?"

"I..think so."

"You'll like Mistress Hope, then."

"Who?"

She pointed with her chin to the lady to my left.  I turned and looked
back into those ice blue eyes.  I watched as a wicked grin spread
across her face.

A grin that was missing as I stood in front of her in *her* court
room.  "Doug Jeffries." she said, looking up from her paperwork.

"Yes, Your Honor?" I replied.

She squinted, looking down at me.  I knew she knew who I was.  "What
am I going to do with you?"  I'd heard her say that before.

I had gotten lost on the way to the play party after the munch, so I
was late to that too.  I took the only open sitting area--a seat on
the hearth between two people I'd seen at dinner.  We had been
chatting for a few minutes when Ashley, the self-proclaimed pain-slut,
walked up to Hope, got down on one knee and lifted up a paddle to her.

Hope asked, "What am I going to do with you?" with a wry smile, and an
evil gleam in her eye.

Ashley said, "Please use this, Mistress Hope," indicating the paddle.

I finally got a good look at it, then.  It was shaped like an
elongated ping-pong paddle.  One side was covered with leather, the
other with some soft fabric. My guess it was satin or something like
that.

Then I watched wide eyed as Hope took the paddle from Ashley, and
motioned for her to move into the room's center.  Ashley got down on
her knees, her ass pointed directly at me.  I was a bit embarrassed as
she lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her bare ass ready for
spanking.
Embarrassed, yes, but more fascinated with what I was watching.
Guiltily, I watched.

Hope slowly ran the satin side of the paddle over Ashley's ass,
warming it up.  Ashley giggled, and wiggled her ass, pushing it back
against the paddle. Then Hope quickly pulled back, flipping the paddle
and smacking it against Ashley's ass.

"Oof," said Ashley.  "Yes, more!"   I was beginning to see what a
pain-slut really was.

Hope then added a series of three or four quick  paddles, bringing out
momentary paddle-shaped red marks on Ashley's ass.  Then she flipped
it over and rubbed her ass some more with the satin.  Ashley sighed,
and pushed again against the paddle.

Then  Hope started with earnest, regular strokes. Wham, Wham, Wham,
Wham, Wham.  She carefully covered all of Ashley's ass, until it had
an even rosy glow.  All throughout this Ashley was rocking on her
hands, pushing back to give Hope a good shot at her ass each time.
Ashley cooed and giggled as Hope smacked her ass with the leather
paddle.


Then she started varying the stokes, some harder, some softer.  Some
faster, some slower. Ashley had stopped giggling, and was breathing
harder.  She curled one hand under her head, which now was on the
floor.  This put her ass higher up in the air, and gave me a really
good look at her shaved pussy--not to mention her reddening ass.

Then I saw where her other hand was--she was masturbating!  I was in
shock.  Here was this woman I'd never seen before, half-naked, ass in
the air, masturbating four feet in front of me.  My cock was rock
hard, and I was hot and bothered.  My face was probably as red as
Ashley's ass.

I got up, and walked to the back door for some cool air.  As I opened
the door I heard Ashley's explosive come.  I caught the eye of one of
the men sitting by the door.  He gave me a wry grin as I stepped
outside.

A few minutes later Ashley came outside too.  Her face was ringed with
sweat, and flushed red.  She arched her back and sighed.  "This cool
air feels good."  Her nipples showed through the dress top.

"Yes it does. You looked like you enjoyed yourself."

"Yes, although I'm glad it's over. It hurt like hell."

"I thought pain-sluts just want more, " I said grinning at her.

"Everyone has limits," she said.  "Mistress Hope is good at bringing
them out."  She gave me a knowing look. "You'll see, " she added after
a moment.

I felt my cock harden still more, as it pressed against my jeans.  I
knew she was right.

"Well?" said the judge, waiting. "What am I going to do with you?"

I blinked out of my reverie, coming back to the present.  "I..don't
know," I said.

Glancing at her papers, she said, "I see you've got an unpaid ticket,
and that's why they revoked you license."

"Yes, that's true," I said.

"Can you pay the 200 dollar fine?" She looked at me with that piercing
gaze of hers.

"Yes..I can pay it today."

"OK, pay court costs, pay your fine.  I'll grant you a Prayer for
Judgment Continued provided you bring the receipt for the fine by my
chambers this afternoon.  I'll be there by 4pm, in room 4237."

"Thank you, Your Honor." 

As I walked out of the courthouse it was as if a great weight lifted
off my shoulders.  It could have been much, much worse. 

A Prayer for Judgment Continued meant they'd give me a reprieve--so
long as I didn't commit any more traffic violations.  That was
straightforward.  But why see me in her chambers?  That was a bit
outside normal protocol.

I was finally done waiting in line, and paying my fines around 3:30,
so I decided to head on over to the Judge's chambers.  The sign
hanging on room 4237 read "Judge Jane Hopewell."

"So that's her name," I thought.  I'd missed it when the bailiff
called it out.

I knocked, and I heard her say "Come in."

I opened the door and went in. "Hello Judge Hopewell," I said. "Here
are the papers you wanted."  I handed her the receipts I'd just gotten
downstairs.

"Sit down," she said, motioning for me to sit in one of the chairs in
front of her desk.

She looked over the paperwork, and smiled.  "OK, that's good," and
handed them back to me.

She leaned back in her chair, and made a tent out of her hands.  "You
could have caused me trouble, you know."

"Oh," I said, not getting her meaning.

"Sure, just tell them what you saw.  Assault and Battery is a crime in
North Carolina, you know."

"I...I wouldn't do that."

"I know, now," she said. "I wasn't sure, but I was hopeful."

"Why?" 

"Why? Because I saw your eyes at the munch.  I knew what you wanted.
Knew I could give it to you."

"But why would you?" I was puzzled.  Didn't she know she was way out
of my league?

"You know that attraction you feel towards a really strong Domme?  The
way it pulls at your gut?"

"Yes." I knew about that all right. "Like a moth to a flame--a
dangerous attraction."

"There is something equally attractive for a Domme.  A willing
sub--someone who wants to take what you want to dish out.  Someone
like you."

"I don't know what I want..." I dissembled.

"Yes you do." She stared into my eyes with that blue penetrating glare
of hers.  She arched her eyebrow and said, "There is something behind
the panel in the bookcase over there." She motioned with her head
towards the particular book case.  "Open it and bring me what's
inside."

I walked over to the bookcase and pressed on the panel opening it up.
Inside was the white cat.  I picked it up and hefted it, feeling the
soft leather against my skin.  "I'm the one who made it," she said.

They--the organizers of the munch and play party--had passed around
toys for everyone to look at.  Collars, chains, paddles, crops.
Whips.  Sometimes someone would take one, and walk over to one of the
dominants--like Ashley had done-- and a spanking or bondage scene
would soon follow.

One of the toys was a white cat--a whip that was about two feet long,
with several strips of leather.  The leather on this cat had been dyed
white, and was so..so sensually soft.  Even as I held it I imagined it
running over my body.  Hitting my ass.

After the party, I looked around, and caught Hope's eyes.  She shot me
an intense look.  Then she grinned wryly as though she could see what
I was thinking.

I couldn't hold her gaze.  I was too frightened to ask her then.  I
wasn't sure I wanted it any longer.  No, that's not true.  As I held
it again, in her office, that desire came over me again.

As I held it, still facing the book case, I heard her behind me.  "We
Dommes aren't supposed to admit that we want your submission.  That it
feeds our egos and arouses us.  But it does.  I tell you this now, so
you'll understand why I do what I do.

"But there is more to it than that.  As you saw with Ashley --yes, I
saw how you watched, fascinated--I'll Domme or top women.  But I only
have real relationships with men."

I turned to her, finally realizing what she was offering.  Trying to
decide whether or not to run.  "It may not work out," I said.  "I
might not like it, or be who you want."

"That's always the risk, isn't it?  We can find out about some of it
now, anyway." Her eyes flicked to the cat I was holding.

"What?"

"Look, Doug, I get a docket the day before.  I knew you would be here,
now.  I brought the cat especially for you--you don't think I keep it
here all the time, do you?"  

I *had* thought that, but I managed to stammer, "N..no."

"Ok, then.  Do you trust me?"

It was hard to imagine trusting her after knowing her for so little
time, but I realized something important.  We were in a place where
she could lose a lot if she was found out.  Her risk was greater than
mine.  So, perhaps I could trust her, here. "Yes, here and now, I
trust you."

"OK, then, strip."  When she said that, something clicked in my mind.
I wanted, needed this.

I handed her the cat and began loosening my tie.

There have been times when I've had my clothes torn from me in a fit
of passion.  Times that I've quickly and thoughtlessly disrobed.  On
occasion, I only took off the necessary clothing, or unzipped my fly.
Sometimes I just joined the party naked.

In Hope's chambers, under her gaze, I was methodical.  Shoes under the
chair; socks rolled into a ball, and stuffed in the shoes; shirt
neatly folded over the back of the chair; pants folded across the
chair arms; tie and underwear folded and placed on top of that.

I turned to face her, naked.  She hadn't moved or spoken the entire
time.  Her eyes flicked to my erection, then back to my face. The
corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, and one eyebrow rose.

"Stay there," she said, as she got up, taking the cat in one hand.  I
turned to face her as she came around the desk.

"No," she said, softly, but firmly. "Don't move unless I tell you.
Now, face the desk again."  I turned back the way I had been standing.

She walked behind me, just to my right.  She put her mouth near my
right ear, and cupped my asscheek with her left hand.

"Most people think this is about pain." She spoke, softly, directly
into my ear.  I could feel her breath, hot on my neck.  "But really,
it's about sensation and control."

She paused and then said, "Now, the sensation can be bad." I gave out
a yelp as she unexpectedly pinched my asscheek.

"Or it can be good," she said as she gently caressed my ass, soothing
the pinch.  "But *I* choose which--and you let me.  That," she said,"
is the control." 

I could feel her moving behind me, now.  I felt the cat, tickling,
soft moving from my shin, up my leg.  It touched and caressed my cock,
and then my chest.  I sighed in pleasure.  She held my hip with the
hand holding the cat, gently shaking the crop so it lightly brushed
against my cock and balls, and my inner thigh.

The other hand pushed against my spine.  "Lean forward," she said.
"Grab hold of the desk."  I felt my cock jerk slightly as I leaned
forward, arms outstretched, holding onto her desk.

If you've ever given or received a good sensual massage, then you know
what she did next.  She took the cat, and let it's little leather
strips caress, and lightly touch my back and ass.  Letting me feel it
run over my back, or slide down.  Letting me feel the cat, but without
hitting me with it.

Then she started slowly hitting first one asscheek, then the other.
Harder than the massage, but still it didn't hurt.  Not anymore than a
pillow fight, anyway.  Of course, the leather felt different than a
pillow.  She kept this up, slowly, gradually increasing the tempo, but
not force of the blows.  I could feel my ass getting warm.  I wondered
if this was how Ashley felt when I noticed how red her ass had been
getting.

Then she started hitting me.  She'd only been playing around before.
"Ow," I said.  It really stung.  

"Shh, try to keep it down," she said, not letting up from her regular
strikes.  "Unless you want me to stop."

I had to think about it, but knew there must be something more to
this. "Nnnnno. Uhg. Keep *gasp* going."

After a few more minutes something happened.  I've read about it
since, and I know the endorphins must have kicked in, like a runner's
high, but for me it seemed as if the universe shifted.  I went from a
moment where I had this stinging pain in my ass ever few seconds to a
dull thrum.  But the main change was the way everything seemed
*right*.  

I was calm, clear-headed and not in pain.  I just closed my eyes, and
arched my back.  I could still feel the cat slapping me in the ass, it
just wasn't important to me--except to maintain that feeling.  

I felt her stop, and go back to running the cat over my body.  I felt
her hand on my cock, caressing it's hardness.  I didn't care.
Something in my mind told me that this was different than what Ashley
went through, but I couldn't explain it, nor did I want to.

Hope leaned forward, holding me, "Are you OK?" I could hear the
concern in her voice.

I just nodded and smiled.

"Here," she said, "let me help you down."  She pulled me straight
again, and then helped me to sit, and then lay down on the floor.  The
carpet stung my ass, but I was still too out of it too care.

Hope got down next to me, and started gently caressing me, letting me
come down a bit off the endorphin high.  As my mind settled
down--cleared really, I looked up at her with love in my eyes, and
smiled.

She said, "I really need this."  Her right hand grasped the base of my
cock.  "If you are up to giving it to me, that is."

I took a deep breath and said, "Yes. God...take it."

She smiled down at me, and lifted up her skirt.  She pulled aside her
panties, and settled down on my cock. I gasped, breathing in.  The
combination of feeling her wet warmth engulf my cock, and her weight
pushing my bruised ass into the carpet was extreme.  

I loved it, but it balanced my passion between those two extremes:
pleasure and pain.  She slowly rose, and I felt a similar feeling, if
less intense: Losing both her warmth, and the pain.  She slowly rocked
on my cock, giving and taking away the pleasure and the pain.

She reached forward, and gently caressed my face, and then *and only
then* she lost control, and started riding me like a woman possessed.


I gasped in and lolled my head to the side, and spread out my arms,
just taking it.  There was nothing I could do--the pleasure of her,
and the pain of the carpet were both too great.  And there was no way
I was going to stop her.  

Finally she came, biting her finger to keep from crying out.  I felt
her pussy muscles clamp around my cock, milking it, and just a few
moments later I came too.  She collapsed on me, and then kissed me for
the first time.

"Thank you," she said.

"My pleasure, "  I said.  "And pain."

She smiled, and got up, brushed off her dress.  "Get dressed, and be
at this address at 8 tomorrow."  She handed me a slip of paper.

"OK," I said, sliding on my underwear.

"That's, 'OK, Mistress Hope'," she command.

"OK, Mistress Hope," I said, smiling.



-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |