Spank or Treat 2014

by Anastasia Vitsky, et. Al.

  “Missy,” Regine’s arms came around her from behind, “what are you worried about?”

  She tried to think of them in a coherent way as Regine’s palms slip up to cup her breasts, their heat transmitting through the veils. To list the things that worried her. But as she brought each one to her lips, it slipped away under a wash of limpid desire.

  Was this woman a threat to their marriage—doubtful. And would Kevin allow her to cause her harm, even if that was her intent? No. And was she repulsed by the thought of making love to a woman? No.

  It came down to uncertainty, to not knowing what would happen, but as the blonde sucked softly on the side of her neck, Missy decided to go with the flow for once and not worry. She shrugged. “I’m not worried at all.”

  Regine nipped her and she squeaked and then giggled.

  “Good, then let’s join your husband and see what he has planned for us.”

  “Aren’t you a Dominant?” She’d never met a woman with a stronger energy.

  “A switch, and tonight I’ve agreed to let Kevin make the plans, I will be whatever he has laid out.”

  So she didn’t know what was going to happen either. Comforting. “Kevin always makes the best plans.”

  They held hands and tripped down the stairs into the basement. As the door clicked closed behind them, the sounds of the music from the party next door faded away into the stillness of their private dungeon. She tried to see it as the other woman must. Had she been to “real” dungeons? Theirs was not very big or very well equipped yet. The St. Andrew’s Cross stood to one side, instead of in the middle of the room where she expected it. Instead a new item took pride of place.

  “Kevin…what did you do?”

  He patted the leather topped surface of a table. Rings were welded into the metal sides, where cuffs or other restraints could be attached. As she approached he flipped down a kneeler covered in the same black leather as the table. “A second surprise. I had it delivered while you were at work. What do you think?”

  “A spanking bench?”

  He grinned, a happy little boy with a new toy, but the fire in his eyes was pure Dom. “Spanking bench, rack….” He demonstrated the pull outs that would keep her stretched in that mode then flipped open one side to show a cubby underneath with its own chains and hooks. “Even a place where you can spend a little alone time when you’ve been a bad girl.”

  She licked her lips. “Wow.” What else to say?

  He took her hand and led her over to his new toy. “Disrobe.”

  Their relationship, while not strictly Dom and sub, had a lot of the elements, especially in the bedroom and the dungeon, and she suppressed any embarrassment and reached for a veil but Regine cleared her throat.

  “I’d love to do that.”

  Kevin stood back and waved a magnanimous hand. “Go right ahead then.”

  Regine approached and murmured, “Just hold your arms out. and we can give Kevin a show.” She unwrapped her like a gift, twisting a scarf around Missy’s wrist, almost but not quite too tight for comfort and tying it in a knot then doing the same with the second on the other hand. When she finished, Missy stood naked except for the silky fabric binding each wrist and ankle. The other scarves pooled at her feet, a rainbow puddle on the padded floor.

  The witch lifted Missy’s hands by the trailing fabric and Kevin applauded. “How clever. They will work beautifully with the table.” He guided Missy to kneel on the spanking bench and took hold of her wrist bindings, looping them through a couple of the eye bolts so her upper body lay stretched over the table. He shoved a leather bolster pillow under her abdomen, raising her buttocks in the air and did something—she couldn’t see what, but she heard a clicking—to bring her knees higher as well.

  Kevin gave her right cheek a friendly pat and rested his palm on it. “Silkier than those veils, Missy. Regine, feel her bottom.”

  Missy Sue quivered under his hand. “I think….”

  “Hush.” All traces of friendly Kevin were banished as his strong, dominant voice echoed in the enclosed, windowless space. “I am speaking to our guest.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. Heat rose in her cheeks.

  She’d been planning seduction. The result of her planning was a bare bottom exposed to not just her husband but a virtual stranger. Even a think bit of lace would have been preferable; a thong would have lent the illusion of something protecting her.

  A second hand, smooth and smaller, stroked the curve of her other butt cheek. “Yes, lovely, but all of her is exquisite.” Fingernails scraped along her skin and sent shivers up to her shoulders. Missy squirmed, unable to hold still until a sharp smack from Kevin brought her down.

  “Thank you, my dear. Now, while my wife didn’t lie to me, she did…leave me hanging so to speak. We had planned on matching costumes, but as you can see, that didn’t happen.”

  “I’m still sorry about that.” Regine accompanied her apology with a swat to Missy’s other cheek, and her nipples hardened further.

  “You needn’t be, and, in fact,” Kevin gave her a harder spank, “Missy and I hate that you feel badly. It’s not how we want our guests to feel. Right, dear?”

  She nodded, unsure if she was allowed to speak.

  He moved to stand in front of her and stroked her hair back from her face. “I think we need to do something to make Regine feel better, don’t you agree?”

  Missy nodded again, and he patted her head in a friendly way.

  “So there you go.” He stepped out of sight and though she lifted her head as much as she could she couldn’t see what he was up to. “Regine, although a punishment spanking isn’t strictly called for, there have been embarrassment and hurt feelings and therefore, I would like you to take this and apply a little correction to my wife’s behind. That is, if you would like to?”

  “If you’re sure…I wouldn’t want to step on toes?”

  He chuckled. “We don’t normally do anything with toes, but we can make an exception. For now….” Missy strained to see what they were up to, and a sharp smack on her buttocks quelled her. “I think I need to take care of something.”

  He reappeared at her side and held up one of her veils.

  “I think we need to keep you from getting a stiff neck, so I’m going to blindfold you.” He tied the silk over her eyes and while it didn’t completely shut out the light, it did keep her from seeing anything distinct. She let her head fall to the leather with a whimper. “I’m enjoying your costume after all, my dear. Shall I apply another as a gag?”

  She parted her lips to reply, and he slipped the soft material between them.

  “For now, anyway.” He stroked her cheek. “We may want that mouth free in a bit….”

  Missy Sue struggled to make the gag more comfortable in her mouth but he tied it quite tight behind her head and she gave up, her tongue suppressed, lips stretched in an awkward grimace. As long as she could breathe, she could endure. A moment later, she felt her upper thighs parted and fastened, probably with more of those scarves that had seemed like such a good idea when she’d donned them.

  She lay there, bound to the table, naked, blindfolded and gagged, unsure what would happen to her, but not afraid, exactly. Nervous, yes

  Trembling with arousal, absolutely.”

  A hand, soft, cool…Regine’s, rubbed circles on her cheeks and fingertips dipped into her crease and traced her outer lips. “Oh, Kevin, you were right, she’s so wet.” A finger circled her clit and she squirmed, held fast but desperate for more. “Not yet, Missy.” The touch withdrew. “First we have some spanking to take care of.”

  “Missy will raise one finger for caution, two for stop…since she cannot use her usual safewords gagged.” He spoke much for her as to inform Regine, she was sure, and she was grateful for the reminder. The doubling up was overwhelming.

  She groaned, wanting to beg for more for someone to touch her, for Kevin’s cock or someone, anyone’s mouth,
hands touch…to come.

  Then the first real smack slapped on her rear. Regine’s palm didn’t cover her whole bottom like her husband’s larger one, but it packed a wallop and she moaned and jerked. One, two, three…faster, harder they came, with no rhythm, so different from what she was used to when it was just the two of them, then nothing…it stopped.

  And she breathed, deep slow breaths waiting. It couldn’t be done. Kevin would have gone on much longer, her bottom would be barely pink. But perhaps…

  Footsteps moving away and back and another long moment of silence then the slither of cool leather down her back, the trail of the flogger before it began its work. She tensed and the first blow came.

  Smack. Crossways on her buttocks, again, the same spot and the third, heat, burning in its path. Still Regine, although nobody was talking and the silence between strikes was endless. But she’d been flogged often enough by Kevin to recognize a different touch. Ten, eleven, twelve, now on her thighs, where he rarely went…more painful, searing, she could imagine the welts rising, but she only groaned, not ready to ask them to stop. And then it did stop…for another moment or year or eternity, silence except for her own breathing, heart thudding, and Regine’s deeper breaths of exertion.

  A low hum and thick, rough fingers, her husband’s, drew the small vibrator, the egg, along her swollen tissues, pausing. “Don’t come, not yet,” he intoned and she tried to focus on the pain of her marked buttocks, her stinging thighs, anything but the buzzing pressed to her clit, pushing her higher and closer. Her hands fisted, nails digging into her palms, and she sucked air, trying so hard to obey, almost failing when he took the egg off her clit and slipped it inside her to torment her from there. Her whole body vibrated with it and her mind concentrated on not coming…not yet.

  “Not yet.”

  Crack. Horror drew some of her focus. But the sound was not to be denied. Oh God, not the whip. Kevin almost never used it, not comfortable with its heft, fearing marking her.

  “I didn’t tell you, my dear.” His voice came right next to her ear. “Regine is an expert with the bullwhip. She even won an award once for her skill.” On people or cattle? She would have asked if she weren’t gagged.

  The whistle of braided leather through the air preceded the tip landing between her shoulder blades with a pain so precise, so intense, she screamed into the gag. Then again and again and she lost her breath, screaming herself blind with the bee-sting agony. Still, she didn’t stop it, beyond understanding the difference between pain and pleasure, the buzzing inside with the bee-sting outside, one on top of another and she whined behind the gag, whimpering and moaning and making every noise she could until Kevin said, “Just a little longer.”

  Regine said, “I think that’s enough.”

  And Kevin murmured something in return, so softly she couldn’t make it out—the roaring in her ears made anything else hard to discern. Missy teetered on the edge of orgasm. The spanking, the flogging, the whipping was over but nobody had come.

  And she desperately needed to come.

  “Please, please, please,” she chanted, although the gag made the content of her comments impossible for anyone else to discern.

  Communication had become her focus—she had to find a way to convince Kevin to let her come, preferable with his thick cock inside her or maybe…oh, yes…Regine licking her.

  Just as she began to worry they had forgotten her, footsteps returned and the table wobbled slightly. “Baby, you’re wonderful,” Kevin said, stroking her hair. Had he climbed up in front of her

  Now, and he orgasm plunged her over a cliff into shivering, shuddering darkness.

  She woke as Kevin lifted her off the table and into his arms, unbound and unblindfolded and ungagged.

  “You were wonderful, baby.”

  She snuggled against him, eyes half closed, secure and relaxed as she always was after a scene. Then she remembered…

  “Regine?”

  He chuckled. “She went to make sandwiches. She was afraid you might need sustenance after everything.”

  Missy Sue sighed. “I knew I liked that girl.”

  “She is also hoping after she feeds you that you might want to try something else…if you’re up to it.”

  Missy Sue’s eyes snapped wide. “Absolutely.”

  He carried her up the stairs, as if she weighed nothing. “Don’t you even want to know what we have in mind?”

  She shook her head. “I have faith in you. And I trust you.”

  “I’ve got your back, Missy, and your front. I’ve got all of you.”

  “And you pick the best playmates for us.” The party next door? Those people could do anything they liked but they really needed to learn the difference between quality and quantity. “Happy Halloween, Kevin, and thank you for my surprise.”

  “Happy Halloween, Missy Sue.”

  A Note from Kate

  Dear Readers,

  I hope you enjoy the stories contained in this volume. We all had a wonderful time both writing them and participating in Spank or Treat 2014. I particularly enjoyed spending more time with Missy Sue and her delightful Kevin who are expanding their horizons almost daily.

  My most recent releases, Sierra Seduction and Sensual Delights – A Cookie Club Romance are available online and if you would like to contact me, I love hearing from readers. Thank you for all your support.

  Katerichards09@gmail.com

  http://katerichards.wordpress.com

  Once Upon a Witch by Leigh Smith

  It was the night of the new moon, and I was walking home from an afternoon matinee at the neighborhood movie house. It was only about 6:00 pm but on this late fall’s eve it was dark, and I was alone, a scared little boy on his way home after spending all afternoon watching scary movies. One the way home, I had to pass this house that was scary enough in the daytime but at night it prickled my skin. I picked up my pace as I neared the house and was starting to run when I tripped over my undone shoelace and found myself face down on the ground. I must have screamed because I heard a door open.

  “Who’s there?” I heard in this old creaky voice. ‘I wasn’t sure I should answer.’

  “I fell and hurt myself. I can’t get up.” I didn’t even realize it was me talking; I don’t know where I found the courage. It was then I saw this eerie light coming toward me. I was terrified and tried to move but my body failed me.

  Before me stood a tall woman, dressed in a long filmy dress, her long hair splayed around her shoulders. Her hands were old and wrinkled and her nails long and curled.

  “Where does it hurt Sonny?” I heard that old creaky voice asked.

  “My knee, all the way down my leg to my ankle.” I told her. She rubbed her hands' together several seconds and then took my knee into her hands, which were as hot as coals. She held my knee for minutes until the heat abated. She rubbed her hands together again in the same fashion and took my ankle between those heated palms and held them until the heat cooled.

  “Now try to stand, Sonny.” To my surprise, I could stand, and the pain was gone. I knew then and there she had to be a witch. How else could you account for her healing me so quickly. I don’t even

  think I thanked her, just took off for home, running as fast as my legs could carry me.

  I told my parents my story when I got home and after checking my leg and finding no burns or bruises, they decided my imagination had run away with me and it was as if the incident never happened. We moved shortly after that and in my mind, it was because of that encounter.

  ***

  Years later, I am now a real estate agent, and I see a listing for 686 Mill Lane, Old Bridge. Almost certain this was the house that was once the scariest place on earth to me, I had to go by and see what it looked like. Large older houses on large lots and tree-lined streets made the neighborhood desirable and houses never stayed on the market long. As a good agent, I always tried to preview a house the minute it came on t
he market, so I would be knowledgeable if a prospective buyer had any questions. 686 Mill Lane tweaked my curiosity for other reasons.

  As I drove down the street, I could feel the hair standing up the back of my neck. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a grown man, I told myself. There are no such things as witches and ghosts. The house appeared and in the light of the day, it was practically cheery looking. Painted a pale yellow with white trim; the bushes and shrubs cut back, and the white-washed picket fence made it look almost inviting. How silly I felt. The for-sale sign on the front lawn said by appointment only. Since I was already at the site, I called the listing realtor to see if there was any chance I could drop in for a quick run through. She called the client and got an okay but told me to ring the bell first instead of just using the lock box key.

  As per instructions, I rang the doorbell and after waiting for a few minutes was fiddling with the lock box when the door opened. A tall willowy woman beckoned me inside.

  “I take it you’re the agent; my agent just called about?”

  “Yes,” and I explained that although I had no buyer, I liked to preview houses first. I also related my boyhood story, and she looked at me strangely.

  “Interesting story. That must have been my aunt. This was her house, but she has passed it on to me. Come, I’ll take you on a tour.”

  The woman had to be at least 5’8” with porcelain white skin so thin you could see the veins in her forehead and on her hands. She had long light strawberry blonde hair and the clearest blue eyes you can imagine. She was almost ethereal in her manner. She glided through the darkened rooms in a nearly ghostlike manner.

  Although the outside of the house had been inviting, the inside was anything but. True to the style of older homes, it was a warren of small rooms, all dark with massive furniture and heavy draperies leaving little outside light to penetrate. The tour complete, she asked what I thought of the house.