Just as the rocks that insolently stand up against the tide, and the trees that bear the brunt of a horrific fire take with them an indelible mark of their journey through time, so do other objects keep certain images with them. Absorbing history as sand collects water and then making an impression of it upon the mind of a sensitive soul only too willing to take it all in....
****
Her fingers caressed the soft, aged leather with tender consideration. As she gripped the saddle horn lightly in her hand, she smiled gently at the notion that she had grabbed him like this several times as well. Out of all of the artifacts in the beach front antique store, her attention was drawn to the old English saddle and now she stood molesting it sensually with her fingertips. She traced all of the fine lines and rubbed her leg against the scratchy cinch...
Suddenly she was transported to a green meadow, the wind in her hair, her legs swept to the side thoroughly incased in a long flowing gown. She did not have the reigns; however, he held them tightly next to her, an unknown man with ruffles at his neck and a ribbon in his hair led her horse from his own.
They cantered to a sparkling river where he grabbed her face roughly and kissed her hard and deep. He did not speak a word to her, he simply pulled her onto his horse, and over his lap so that her face was pressed up against his saddle, her arms draped helplessly towards the ground. He smoothed the silk fabric across her bottom as he swirled his hand lightly in circles over and over.
She felt like she should know this place, this man, but other than the familiarity that she felt to him she could not name him. She felt she could not move less the images disappear so she allowed herself to dangle over his hardening lap, her breasts spilling out over the top of the baroque neckline.
CRACK! His hand came down hard on her derriere and the horse reared a bit. Her heart began to pound with fear, with uncertainty, with untamed excitement. CRACK! A tightening in her chest and an impossible fire in her face and cheeks provoked a soft aching between her legs. CRACK! She bit her lip and.....
"Kelsey!" Still biting her lip she jumped to face him. "You looked a million miles away, come here and look at this old couch...it's got to be Victorian." Her teeth slowly released her own plump, pink bottom lip and she fairly floated over to the green velvet sofa that her Uncle was now contemplating all too aware that the ooze in her panties threatened to smear all over her legs. She self consciously pulled at her mini skirt, could he see or smell her little secret? "Look at the curve in that arm?" He pointed ecstatically.
"It's beautiful Uncle Joel, "she whispered as she knelt softly on the sofa by the arm and stroked it as one would stroke a leopard.
"I've told you a thousand times! Dinner is to be ready when I get home at precisely 6 o'clock!" he lectured as he pummeled her bottom with stinging spanks in quick succession.
"I..I..I'm sorry." She managed to gasp under his unrelenting barrage.
"Sorry just doesn't cut it anymore young lady! Maybe you'll remember with my hand print permanently emblazoned on your pink behind?!"
If it was possible he spanked faster and harder as he over enunciated the last few syllables and she was immediately embarrassed to realize that he was spanking her on her bare bottom, though something was dangling next to her legs. Her ribs were being sternly supported by a plain white corset and her hair she could feel was tumbling down her back in monstrously large curls.
As her feet pressed against the plush velvet of the settee, she could feel that she wore some sort of heeled boot. Not even the heels of the boot could keep her from pitching forward from each whack of his hand and soon she was supporting herself with her own hands on the floor as her bottom lifted more and more helplessly heavenward accompanied by her shamefully dripping sex.
She closed her eyes as she could feel that she would spill over any second and realized that his hand had taken a hold of her hip and that he was pressed up against her and pushing his way....
Her Uncle shook her hard, "Kelsey?! What were you thinking about?" He looked around nervously and then whispered, "For God sakes you were pressing yourself into the sofa...what are you doing?"
"Oh God, um...nothing Uncle Joel...sorry." She couldn't think of any excuse, she felt like it was just better to apologize and hoped he'd forget it.
She rushed off the couch and ran over and sat on a bed, an art deco piece with a fine walnut headboard. She needed somewhere to sit and fight back the building chaos in her loins.
She sat for several seconds just breathing and trying to think of something else, she imagined the red, meaty woman by the door wearing a bikini, then she imagined her jumping rope naked, wiry red curls bouncing with her floppy breasts and then....that was all it took, she was completely calm and threw herself back on the bed, a silly, shit eating grin on her face as she smiled at the frowning cow who eyed her suspiciously and then stuck her tongue out at her as she walked away.
"While playing off, a game of golf, I may make a play for the caddie...but when I do I don't follow through, cause my heart belongs to daddy..." she sang sweetly through half closed eyes, her feet swinging childishly behind her, feet up in the air, be-ruffled rump cheekily perched towards the ceiling, thigh high stockings each set off by a devilish little pink bow.
He smiled wistfully; completely bemused by her he giggled every few words and licked the lollypop that she waved in his face. God he was handsome, she thought to herself. His chiseled cheekbones, his dimpled chin, he was like Robert Mitchum and he smelled like orange water. "If I'd invite some boy some night to dine on my favorite wine and haddie, it's just a boast cause my daddy knows that my heart belongs to daddy..." She huskily crescendo-ed as she stuck the remainder of the lolly in his mouth and kissed his chest and bit his nipples.
"Little girls shouldn't sing those kinds of songs little missy..." he warned with a broad smile. In truth, Ella Fitzgerald was not allowed to be played on her phonograph at home and her father always shut the radio off when her songs came on, there was too much sensuality in her ballads, too much suggested for young girls to listen. She liked to listen to her records at her Uncle's house, he seemed to delight in her depravity.