Note to readers:
First off, this is a longer read. Like most authors here, I am tying to write a work that I might like to read myself. I am put off by stories that jump right to the climax with no build up. A description of some performative or routine spanking/pegging, whatever is not really interesting to me. I write femdom stories and for me, there is a great deal of inherent emotional tension in this sort of relationship that I want to uncover and explore. When I read about this stuff, I want to feel what the characters feel as they delve into a part of their personality that they either did not really know was there or a part they kept sublimated for reasons of self acceptance. To me, the thrill comes with the realization one has when they like something society tells them they shouldn't. Consequently, I don't read stories that begin with a guy going to see his "mistress." I hope there is something in this you might enjoy.
This is primarily about self discovery, losing control and spanking.
I think I give it a pretty wet ending, though. Hope you think so.
All characters in this story are well over 18 years of age.
These are completely fictional characters. In fact, this story takes place in a fictional, somewhat parallel universe in which people live on average to the age of 2,000 years. It is not a sifi story. While people develop physically at a rate comparable with what we experience here on earth, "children" often live with their parents until the age of 200 years. 18 year old + "children/boys/girls" who choose to remain and live at home, accept being dependent on their parents and live by their parent's rules. Beyond 18 years of age, they often attend a few hours a day of "under-school" (18-160) years or to "over-school" (160-200 years,)in which they continue their education and which provides them a supervised environment. The planet they live on is the same size as earth and in consideration of their lifespan, they take a mindful approach to sex and procreation. These people do not want to over populate their planet and instead, seek sustainability. Intercourse or even all but basic sex education is strongly discouraged until the age of 200 years. Parents here are generally very strict on this particular issue. While technically an adult at 18, sex prior to turning 200 years old is a profound taboo for these people and universally disallowed by parents of dependent "children." Beginning at 200 years of age, individuals are allowed to enjoy what we on earth think of as an adult lifestyle.
Older age is a profound status symbol.
This is a strongly patriarchal society.
Older men are at the pinnacle of social status.
For a few more details on this world, read the preface on my story The Perfect Beginning.
***
She appreciated the attention. Marjorie had steered clear of men since her divorce. Her ex-husband was a cold man who was angry and by extension, emotionally abusive. She felt tremendous relief to be free of the relationship and while a part of her wanted to just bed the first hot guy to pick up on her, another part of her just wanted to savor the sense of freedom. Without consideration, she steered away from men, preempting any sort of come on. She was still very young and there was time enough for guys when it felt right.
Her freedom was sacred and she'd not trade it for anything. Her only resentment about the divorce was that Mark kept Pookie, her dog. She kept his picture on her desk along with the customized dog-tag that had come to her in the mail too late to use. She missed her little doggie.
She liked attention and had no problem getting it when she wanted it. At 230 years, Marjorie was young, pretty and athletic. Her hard body was honed by hours of distance running. There were plenty of men in the running scene to choose from, but sometimes the runners were not her type. She liked a little more bulk, a bit more muscle on her man.
And she had a strong sexual appetite. Even when very young, she liked her orgasms. She wanted to be wanted and she wanted to feel her own pleasure. While she possessed powerful sexual desires, they would not possess her. She had no need for random, continuous attention, but she did love being wanted by her guy. She enjoyed being the focus of her man's attention and having his undivided sexual attention was a satisfying validation she looked forward to enjoying when the time was right. Good things came to those who could wait and she'd enjoy these treats when it felt right. All in good time. Until then, independence suited her just fine.
It was not a conscious decision. One day she just became aware of the fact that she was doing it. She realized she was avoiding eye contact and not responding to the more subtle inquiries. It dawned on her that she was staying single and then she realized why. And that was good enough. So she stayed alone.
And then one day at the farmers' market, she met Tim. He was attractive but not her normal type. He looked more like a runner than she cared for. Yet after having been married to the angry slob for as long as she had, that seemed a little less important. He had a nice, fit body. And his attraction to her was obvious and eventually revealed itself to be profound. Yet his attraction did not stiffen his tongue as he was charming and funny. He found a reason to stroll the market with her and she let him. And he was harmless. Just a harmless boy, she mused with a smile.
Also not her personality type, but perhaps what she needed under the circumstances. She liked a little edge on her man. She cared not at all for a man who put on airs of being a tough guy but was in fact a man who was kinda tough. And she liked a man with a cool disposition, not like her new little Chatty-Kathy, tag along.
Tim did not possess the sort of cool reserve she was attracted to. He filled the gaps in their conversation like the needy boys she usually avoided. It was clear to her that there were men and then there were boys who only looked like men. Marjorie was clear on which she preferred.
She was not entirely clear why she allowed him to spend the afternoon with her but he was pleasant and nonthreatening. So why not?
She was equally surprised when she gave him her number. But it was okay, she told herself, he was safe.
Don't take anything seriously. Have fun and keep everything light. Remember, none of it matters. He's a good boy.
That precise thought stood out in relief and struck her as odd.
Upon reflection she knew she went out with him because he was harmless.
And maybe he's just the boy you've been looking for.
After her marriage, a little bit of harmless was nice. And he was cute. And his enthusiastic attraction to her made him cuter and made her feel pretty. A sense of humor was nice. By the end, her ex hardly smiled. And it was the attention and his attraction to her that she liked. She almost forgot how much she liked being "his" emotional and sexual focal point. It made her feel so pretty.
Just a boy. Totally harmless.
In a way, he was perfect. She enjoyed being wanted but she knew that since he was not her type, his attention came with little to no cost to her sense of independence.
God, I LOVE being free!
So she let him tag along.
He's my new doggie, my new Pookie.
Coincidentally and not to her liking, he happened to live on her block, in the small house on the corner. As cautious as she was, she preferred access to a clean get away when the time inevitably arrived. Until then, she'd enjoy his charm, humor and enthusiastic attraction for her.
In the end, or what she thought was the end, he served a purpose. Tim seemed to kick start her desire to spend time with a man.
On Monday, they discovered their mutual interest in The Wandering Dead. Both were devotees of the show and in their shared exuberance, she invited him to her home for dinner and the next airing that coming Sunday.
Instantly she regretted having done this. She knew in her bones that he was all wrong.
What am I doing!
She was off her game and accepted it as a lesson.
I'll need to keep this in check....keep him in check.
On Tuesday, after her run, she and her best, Bethany, had a drink at the neighborhood watering hole. One turned into two. On an empty stomach, Marjorie had a nice little buzz on when she walked home. And whom did she discover getting out of his car right in front of his house?
Happily buzzed and carefree, she invited him over. Conversation quickly turned into a make out session with her neighbor boy. Kissing Tim, the sensation of it all, somehow encapsulated the entire Tim experience for her. He was a fantastic kisser. She loved his tender lips. And she soon discovered kissing this boy irritated the hell out of her as it was so gentle, soft and what she later realized, passive.
He kisses like a girl!
What the hell am I doing inviting this boy over!?!?
She was absolutely confounded by her own choices.
Nobody's making me!
But she went with it. She kept kissing him and let her aggression emerge from within. She had to admit to herself that once she took on the role of the aggressor, she discovered profound sexual arousal.
It's just been too long!
Soon her arousal was nearly overwhelming. It was the weirdest thing as he seemed to respond to her aggression "in kind." As aggressive as she became, he reciprocated by yielding to her. He became softer. She positioned him and he complied. Her tongue fucked his mouth and his response was mind blowing to her. She kept expecting (later she was not sure why) for him to man up and put her in her place as what they were doing was wrong, an affront to gender norms. Instead, he gently sucked her tongue as he moaned and even whimpered
...like a girl. Like a bitch! Oh my god!
It was disturbing. His lack of manliness irritated the hell out of her and her own arousal made no sense at all.
God, I want to slap him! Man up, god damn it!
Marjorie had no intention of recognizing it, but aroused seemed too mild, too passive of a word to describe her sexual need. She simply could not examine that she was hornier than she'd ever been in her life. It made no sense at all as Tim was not her type, thus she worked to sublimate all thoughts, feelings and examination of what was going on within, which was a tornado tearing through a fire-storm. Her skin was tight, her nipples felt like diamond cutters and her hair felt as though it were standing on end. Even her muscles felt tense and ready to strike.
Man-the-fuck-up! God damn it!
Marjorie hardly ever used foul language even in her thoughts and she knew it must have been the alcohol.
With him sitting on her couch, she straddled him and held him between her knees while she fucked his eager mouth. He moaned like a girl as she pulled his hair and roughed him up.
And he keeps letting me!
Oh my god, what's wrong with this boy?
It was far less disorienting to consider his obvious deficiencies than to reflect on her own troubling reaction to him.
As she realized a level of arousal that would lead to only one thing, she popped off the boy and put an end to it before she did something she'd really regret. "You have to leave."
Totally dazed, "What? But what..."
"I mean it, I have to get up early." While it was only 7:30 pm, this made just enough sense to the slightly drunk Marjorie.