Natalie and Me
By Susan Greenway
[This story involves spanking and caning, as well as play involving bodily functions. If any of this offends you, please read no further. All characters are 18 or over.]
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I woke up refreshed and stood up and got myself together. Lately I do have to do this when I stand after lying for some time because I am dizzy and might lose balance if I didn't give myself a moment. I hate the fact that this means I'm getting older and losing some of my capabilities. I made my way to the bathroom and sat down after pulling my pajama pants down.
Even though as usual in the morning, I had a full bladder, it took me a moment here as well for my stream to start. Then I was able to look down and see and hear my pee splashing into the bowl. I knew I would likely be ready to move my bowels after I'd had my usual several cups of coffee, so I did that and wiped myself carefully, front to back, and then stood up, got my bearings, and pulled up my pajama bottoms.
Then I spent some time at the sink, performing all my morning ablutions to my face and hands and body. Just as a lark, I even sprayed some perfume into my luxuriant bush, which is still red. I then returned to bed where my young lover and dominant was just rousing herself. I'm mostly dominant myself, mostly with some great friends who like me to take charge of them, but I do have a part of me that wants a young, strict woman to take me in hand. I only want this every so often so this was one of the occasional, almost monthly visits from Natalie.
She stood and I admired her lovely shape through her almost transparent short nightgown. She has that young, lithe, impudent body, with pert breasts and a shaved pussy that women my age, just about to go into menopause, cannot help but admire, even though I'm neither jealous nor envious. I'm mostly happy with myself and even my aging body. Her blondish, sandy-colored hair was cut into a neat bob. She motioned to me to lie down on the plastic sheet we had placed on the carpet at the end of the bed.
I knew what was in store. She took off her gown and was gorgeously nude. Then she squatted over my face and I stared up at her split, her lovely vulva with the nice-sized but not protuberant labia and her cute little button of a clit, as well as her small, sweet bottom-hole. She knows I am transfixed in this position, even though I knew she was about to pee, because I love staring up and not knowing at other times which of her holes might open and deposit its contents on my face.
I never tired of staring up into Natalie's gorgeous quim and demure little anal opening. Her pudendal beauty was totally intoxicating to me. I savored my view of her lovely region between her legs. I realized that all she had to do to dominate me was to allow me to gaze on this delectable vision.
It didn't take long for her strong stream to shoot out of her urethra and douse my face before I could keep my mouth open to receive her strong, golden pee. It had that smell of morning concentrated urine. I couldn't contain such a heavy flow of strong-tasting urine in my mouth so some of it dripped over my chin onto me and onto the plastic sheet. The pee on the sheet cooled quickly and I thought of the first lines in Joyce's Portrait of the Artist when he says how when you wet the bed, first it's warm and then it gets cold.
Natalie told me to lick her dry and I could tell she was annoyed that I had spilled some of her pee. I went to extra effort to lick her lovely split clean and when I lay back down, she told me that I would be disciplined for failing to swallow all of her sweet pee. She stood up and had me bend over the side of the bed. I am required to keep my face forward so I did not see her find her favorite thin cane. Then I heard her whistle it through the air in a test swing. She lay it on my bare bottom and drew it back. Then with a flick of her small wrist, she gave me the first stinging stroke and I let out only a small moan of surprise as well as pain.
Despite her youth, she was an expert at caning and carefully placed her strokes beneath each other as she proceeded down my bottom. She eventually reached the tender area of the crease between bottom and thigh and when she struck there, I did scream. I could tell she was annoyed as she had been in a bad mood since she awakened. We had made love last night and I had thought we had fallen asleep in each other's arms happy and content.
She clearly felt differently, however, and I knew it wasn't just because I hadn't managed to ingest all of her pee. After all, that often happened and it didn't always result in a severe caning for me. But now she had me stand, let me get my bearings again, and made me spread my legs widely apart. I now began to have true fear because I knew what would come next.
Having me in this position with the thin but whippy cane in her hand meant that she was about to punish me with a very scary punishment. She placed the cane down near the ground right between my legs and then snapped it up, lightly, so it struck me right in my pussy. We both knew from the erotic stories we both enjoyed that this was what was called a Mistress's Stroke. I did scream from both the shock and the pain.
I did know that when she decided to award me one of these strokes that did inspire a kind of terror, she would hit lightly, to avoid injury to the sensitive places, not just my labia, clit, peehole, and entry to my vagina, but to less familiar organs that can be injured by a cane stroke. I once had my Bartholin's gland get irritated when I was younger and it blew up like a tiny balloon and hurt terribly.
"You're going to be a good girl today, aren't you?" Natalie then asked me. I responded by saying calmly, "Yes, Miss Natalie, I will behave properly and follow your directions at all times."
"Yes, you will," she said bluntly, "or you will get more of those. I realize that I need to get you past your pride and resultant resistance to submitting totally to me. Tomorrow you will be put back in diapers and if you are good, I will then let you wear little girly panties that will be quite tight. Bras are for big girls, not little ones who get spankings, so you will go without your bra until I decide to allow it to be worn."
I was getting used to this punishment, because I knew she believed in this as a way of first shaming me but then instilling submission and appreciation for privileges that might be then allotted based on my behaving in a manner which she approved and expected.