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Story: The Stable

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Mike Hitchen

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Feb 5, 2000, 3:00:00 AM2/5/00
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Did you really think that you could deceive me? My poor sweet child, do
you not know me better by now? Do you not realize that I know what you
are thinking, that I can foresee your every move. Poor sweet child, you
have been deceiving yourself, not me.

I call you "child" because you are whatever I wish you to be. A child, a
slave, a whore, the choice is mine and mine alone. You are here under
your own free will, but you yield to my will. Look at me, you thought
you could get away with it did you not? The lure of the open fields,
proved too much for you, as I knew it surely would. I knew you would be
heading for the stable, although expressly forbidden to do so. I put
temptation in your way by telling you I would be away for the day, and
like a child waiting for the teacher to leave the room, you could not
wait. Now you await your fate.

Oh child, if only you could have seen your face as you brazenly walked
into the stable. You did not expect to see me did you? How your heart
must have sank at the sight of me awaiting your arrival. I noticed your
eyes transfixed by the riding crop I tapped against my leg. What a
delicious look of fear my eyes beheld!

You stutter an explanation, and inwardly I laugh at your feeble attempt.
Bend over child, bend for my eyes to have the pleasure of seeing your
riding breeches, stretched tightly across your beautiful bottom. My eyes
are pleased and a message is sent to my loins. Alas, for now my manhood
must wait for the pleasure to be found in your Garden Of Eden; for I
have other matters that need my attention.

You flinch as the crop strikes across your thighs, first the left, then
the right. Foolish child, your buttocks were clenched in anticipation, a
futile defence against the onslaught of pain. You did not know that I
had no intention of marking your bottom whilst clothed, that I want your
flesh unmarked as it lies across my knee.

Please do not assault my ears with your pleas for mercy, you deserve
none and will be offered none. Do not struggle as I lead you by the ear
to the bale of hay that I have chosen to sit on - a pleasure that you
will be denied for a long time. Remember my chid, when you are here with
me, the pleasure of sitting comfortably is regarded as a privilege, not
a right, and a privilege that can be withdrawn by a mere whim.

Your tears have little effect I'm afraid. They certainly will not impact
upon the progress of your breeches and panties, as they are guided by my
hands towards their inevitable destination, the sawdust covered floor.
Why do you make such pitiful attempts at resistance? do you really think
I will take any notice? Is it just instinct or some sort of formality?
Whatever the reason, it is a waste of the energy you will need for your
unavoidable performance of the Dance Of Pain.

Oh, what a delight! Constable could paint no landscape so fine as the
sight of red stripes across your white flesh, Mozart could compose no
sweeter music than the sound of your cries, screams and pitiful begging.
These sounds are no longer an irritating attempt at avoidance, but a
delicious symphony reflecting your plight. Cry my child, let me savour
the sound of your torment, for it gives even more power to the arm that
wields the crop.

Now sweet child, stand before me so I may continue to undress you. Let
me hold you in my arms to show my love for you. I note the smile that
battles with the tears, and I sense your heavy breathing is caused not
just by your exertions across my knee.

A smile crosses my face as I point towards the ladder. You remember the
ladder well, tilted at about 45 degrees, leading to a loft covered with
a bed of hay. You remember being tied to the ladder, as I took the
riding whip to you, to break you like a wild horse. Your eyes glow with
terror, "surely not" you are thinking. I admit, for a while I am
tempted, but my manhood can wait no longer. The ladder which was once
the vehicle for your torment, will now be the road to our mutual
pleasure upon the hay covered floor. Come my child, let me walk behind
you, as you lead me to the Garden of Eden.

Mike H
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New Perspectives - R.O.D: Adult Guidelines and Discipline
http://www.angelfire.com/ma2/confessions

waywa...@aol.com

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Feb 5, 2000, 3:00:00 AM2/5/00
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Mmmmmm....very hot! Thank you.

...Missy


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NYIrishRed

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Feb 8, 2000, 3:00:00 AM2/8/00
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Wow, Mike... this certainly pushed a couple of my buttons....

Thanks!

IrishRed

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