Subject: Story: Laura (Sp, F/M, con) Kfr
From: Kfry2k@aol.com
Date: 22 Aug 1996 12:09:48 -0400

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction containing adult themes. If you are not of legal age and unsure about your reactions, discuss it with your parents before reading. Any similarity between characters depicted in this story and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.



She was waiting at the traffic light when I walked up, doing my evening fitness thing. From behind, the view was sensational. Raven black hair cascaded down her back, spread over a white T-shirt that fit in all the right places. Under a trim waist was a glorious bottom, encased in brief denim shorts which sprouted two of the best sculpted legs I had ever seen. Red striped crew socks fitted into lady-sized aerobic shoes, completing the tour my eyes had taken, enjoying every inch of the journey. A fully grown Doberman was at the end of a short leather leash, held firmly in her left hand. As I came up to stand by the curb, she looked at me, revealing a quite pretty face with the most magnetic brown eyes I had ever seen, very slightly flecked with amber. It s like looking into a warm wood fire, the embers smoldering, waiting to flare at the least draft of air. Medium red lipstick highlighted a full, sensuous mouth, and matching polish adorned the long tapered fingers at the end of arms that were sculpted as least as well as her legs. The total effect on me was like getting hit between the eyes with a billiard ball. For a moment, our gaze held, and I struggled mightily with my tongue, which seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Hello. I said, in a friendly but not familiar way.

Her eyes never wavered, and she replied Hi. in a tone that implied something more might be coming. The dog sniffed at me, curiously, and she firmly but patiently gave him a smart slap on the rump with the leather leash. The dog, whose name I came to know is Riley, sat immediately, looking up at her with respect. My breath quickened, and my eyes must have widened a bit. A bit lower, another reaction was taking place that I struggled with. Swallowing hard, I grinned nervously, feeling like Inspector Clouseau. A thin wisp of a smile appeared on her lips, and in her eyes. She had my number, and it had taken less than ten seconds. The light changed and she winked a farewell, trotting off across the intersection with Riley, leaving me standing there in complete vapor-lock.

Fingers fiddled with the buttons on my shirt, pulling them slowly apart. Jesus! I thought, overwhelmed, This is like something out of a B movie. Soft lights, even softer, dreamy music surrounded us in a cozy cocoon. Squirming against me on the overstuffed sofa, Laura nibbled at my ear and whispered huskily Don t fight it, you don t want me to have to spank your naughty little buns, now, do you? Her hand went to my pants, and the colossal erection there told her what she wanted to know. I was captured. The scent of her was intoxicating, a low-key perfume, expensive, made me feel like I was wrapped in duct tape. Slipping out of her tight sheath, she stood revealed in black bra, sinfully brief panties, garter belt and stockings. Glistening black four-inch pumps accented the sculpting of her legs, turning my knees to jelly. With only token resistance, I allowed her to strip me down to my briefs, and then lead me trembling to her bedroom. I can t remember when I d ever felt so vulnerable, short of being inducted into the Army. Crossing to a large armoire, she opened it and took out a thin wooden paddle, running her hand slowly over its smooth blonde surface. Swallowing hard, I realized intuitively that I was about to find out what Riley felt like.

W-what is t-that for? I stammered, nervously.

You know exactly what it s for, little man. She said wickedly, with a predatory glare, her amber-flecked eyes glinting. I always find that a man is a much better lover after he s had his naughty bare bottom warmed.

I almost had an accident. My face, already crimson, became nearly apoplectic. Laura s smile broadened as she witnessed my increased excitement, then she resumed her stern demeanor. At five feet nine inches tall, she was far from being a small woman, and more than my equal in heels, as I stood an inch taller in my bare feet. Now, of course, that s exactly how I was dressed, wearing only my underpants. The beautiful woman that had so recently become a stunning dominatrix tossed the paddle on the bed, then took a seat on it herself. Crooking a finger at me, her brown eyes simmered as she commanded,

Come here, little man.

On legs that barely worked, I obeyed, tottering over to stand by her knee. Touching the bulge that protruded from my groin, she queried slyly,

Well, well. What have we here?

I blushed even deeper, if that was possible, but didn t resist as her slim fingers pulled my underpants down past my knees, her glittering eyes holding me like a leopard holds its prey. I was shaking like a leaf, tremendously excited and not a little fearful. Laura had a power over me I didn t quite understand, and still don t.

I dumped my spare pocket change into the tip box, catching the eye of the detail boss, letting him know I d paid my tariff. The crew was toweling off a red Beemer, and doing a particularly thorough job.

Hello again. A mellow voice sounded in my right ear. Surprised, I turned to see the vision from three days ago standing uncomfortably close to me.

Woof! Riley, the Doberman, said his hello before I could reply.

The vision laughed, a melodious sound that rippled my spinal cord. Patting the dog, I laughed along with her, saying Woof to you, too, pal.

Rob Kelly. I announced, offering my hand, smiling at the lovely face before me. The face wore sunglasses, stylish ones, and dark enough so I couldn t see those remarkable brown eyes with the golden flecks. As if sensing my disappointment, or perhaps knowing how they affected men, she pushed them up on top of her raven-hued hair, tied in a pony-tail which swayed gently in the summer breeze.

Laura Miller. Her hand took mine, and as I looked once again into those captivating eyes, the effect was like a reactor scram. My insides started to sweat.

Nice ride. I quipped, nodding at the red Beemer, now almost dried off.

Thanks. She said, simply. It gets me around.

She waited for me to say something else, but my brain was too busy trying to bring my blood pressure back to normal. With a small wave, she tugged at Riley and headed for her car. Once again, the back view was as sensational as the front. Clingy white short-shorts under a pale yellow blouse, her long legs going all the way down to a pair of open-toed canary-yellow sandals. I noted her toenails were painted to match her fingernails, a smart medium red. She got into her car, giving me a dazzling smile and another small wave as she drove off. Damn! I raged at myself. Nice going, dork. She s obviously interested, and you let her get away.

Turn over my knee. Laura intoned, the command in her voice implicit and firm, but not harsh.

I - I - was all I could manage, almost panting with excitement.

Don t make me tell you twice, she warned, or I ll see to it that you regret it.

Her manner was stern but tolerant. Patting her knee for emphasis, she stared up at me, the eyes almost pulling me downward. I caved in, part of me screaming What are you doing?! , and part of me thrilled beyond belief. Laying across her knees, I awaited her pleasure, dimly aware that it would be my own, as well. Her hand slapped my bare bottom smartly, surprising me with the sting of it. Not too bad. I thought, as another slap landed. After a few dozen slaps, however, it began to get uncomfortable, making me squirm a bit. She hit hard, and her palm was firmer than the softness of her fingers implied. A brief pause, and then a solid whacking sound reached my ears at the same time a family of hornets stung my well-warmed backside. I had never before felt the impact of varnished wood on bare skin, and it amazed me. The surprise of it even took my voice away. That lasted only a moment, because when the second whack landed, I yelped stridently, looking back over my shoulder to see what was going on. I was in time to see the next spank coming, a bit of timing that even made it hurt more. Gritting my teeth, I protested,

Owww. Christ! Laura, stop! That hurts.

Her answer was more swats, sharp wrist-snapping whacks that scorched my unprotected rear. She paused for a moment, then chided me, The way you fuss, anybody would think you d never had a good spanking! I didn t want to tell her the truth, that I never had. I realized as the paddle continued its stinging journey that I could have stopped it anytime I chose, because I was physically stronger than Laura. Strangely enough, I enjoyed being under her control, submitting to what was to be a real tanning. As tears started in my eyes, I let myself go, riding the wave created by the smarting, burning sting of the paddle.

While I was looking at the produce, my grocery cart collided with another, pinching my index finger. Oww. I yipped, sticking the wounded digit in my mouth, then whirling to say You stupid moron! Watch where you re going. , but the words never left my lips. There, once again, stood Laura. She grinned at me, her eyes laughing. Realizing she had done it on purpose, I grinned back, my irritation vanishing in the rush created by her beauty.

Awww! she lamented sympathetically, Did my little man hurt his finger?

I turned red as a salad onion, embarrassed but stimulated by even her feigned maternal attitude.

We seem to be crossing paths regularly. I stated, hating myself for being so bloody obvious. Looking into her carriage, I remarked,

Looks like you have the makings for an excellent dinner. What s on the menu?

Chicken Marsala, She replied, with linguini, fresh zucchini buds, and vintage Chianti. Interested?

There was a distracting humming in my ears, getting stronger. Did she just invite me to dinner? I wondered silently. Me? Tonight? The wheels ground rapidly in my mind, not quite believing it. I fancied beads of perspiration standing out on my forehead. Alarm bells were going off in my brain. Answer her, you fool! Attention!, mouth, attention! Say something! Say anything!

Uh, yeah! Swell! Tonight? came burbling out of my face.

Oh great, My flabbergasted mind lamented, did you say SWELL? You re hopeless! it concluded, disgusted, and switched off, waiting for her reply.

Seven o clock, sharp. She returned, looking a bit amused at my discomfort. Don t be late, or mama will be angry.

She pushed her cart down the aisle, with a backward look over her shoulder that caused me to practically melt down into my shoes. The insinuation of her parting comment should have warned me, but my think tank had switched off, overloaded by her beauty and my idiocy.

The incandescence that had become my rear was fading. I found my right wrist pulled up behind my back, caught and held there by Laura s left hand when it had attempted to interfere with the paddle s employment sometime during the spanking. Her cool hand was stroking my flaming bottom, working to assuage the smarting burn which pervaded my entire backside. As the pain diminished, I found that I was stimulated beyond all previous experience. Seeing me stir, and feeling my excitement, she released me, then drew me down to her on the bed. What followed was the absolute height of my sexual encounters, up to that point. Enjoying each other with a total lack of inhibition, we explored all the possibilities until we were completely drained. Later, she confessed to me that it had been the best for her, too. We each had found our soul-mate.

I m putting all this down in my journal as best I can remember, not wanting to forget a single nuance of it. Riley sits on the easy chair in my den, watching me type away, not quite understanding, but interested nevertheless. Looks like I m going to have to stop, though. Standing in the door to the den is the love of my life. She wears an ostrich-plumed tri-corner hat (those plumes will be put to an interesting use later), a black leather vest, high-heeled thigh-high boots, and a patch over one of those gorgeous eyes. Her right hand grips a short, wicked looking martinet. Sigh. Guess it s time to play Lady Pirate and the Cabin Boy again. It s a tough job, but somebody s got to do it. Coming, m Lady.