A Sting in the Tail

19Aug15

1 indigo1indigo-signature-bannerIt was perfect, better than she could have imagined.

Glancing once more at the door to check it was shut ad holding her breath to check the house was still silent she gave another twirl.

Just as before it swung out behind her, better than a pony tail, she laughed at her own joke, because of course, that is what it really was.

1 indigo2It had taken her an age to find it. Well, the first few months had been spent squeezing her eyes shut whenever she thought of it. What kind of girl should want such a thing? Not her, that was for sure. She had seen girls all dressed up as ponies on the TV and they made her shake her head. Too much, too much- not what she wanted at all. The mouth gag and harness seemed far too much, the suggestion of being a pony made no sense to her but that one item kept returning to sit on her shoulder and whisper in her ear.

She did not know why she wanted one so much. The long tail seemed somehow glamorous and childlike all at once and the way it fitted. She blushed and hid her head in her hands, covering her face as though she were playing peek-a-boo with her own reflection.  It fitted snugly, so snugly in fact that it had taken her many minutes to fit it in.

She had panicked a little. She had had something in her bottom before, several times in fact. But Robert always did it. She would be laid down, or bent over the bed and would hear him opening the little box with those things in it. She would always beg him not to and at best he would tell her to be good and quiet, at worst he would spank her all over again and then carry on just as before.

She would be good after he had done it. She would lie and look at him with wide eyes and her mouth just a little open.  It was one of those feelings she did not understand, on of those feelings she would not try to. She just accepted it because Robert told her to.

Except here she was, all on her own wearing one of those horrid little things, one that she had hunted down and ordered all on her own, and one that did not end in a little square or a fake jewel. No she had chosen one that ended in a tail.

She turned again and watched it swirl behind her like a dress at a ball. It looked so perfect that she forgot to feel guilty and tilted her head over her shoulder all over again to look at her bum and its new adornment.

That was how he found her, as though she was posing for him. Pretty blonde bob facing away from the door so at first he saw her naked front but a moment later he saw the rest of her reflected in the mirror.

She heard him then and saw part of him in the mirror. She jumped and turned to face him, one hand trying to cover her front and the other, woefully inadequate little hand trying to cover her tail. She looked at his face only for a moment and then at his shoes. With a little sigh she looked left and right at the floor trying to think of a way to escape.

She did not see his face then, not the surprise on it followed by raised brows; she did not see his eyes travel the length of her body in appreciation nor did she see the three steps he took to look at her from the back.

She heard him though. She heard his shoes travel the polished wooden floor and she heard his intake of breath as he saw her tail for the first time, fully. She felt him move her hand away, it only touched the top of it anyway it only hid the bit that hid itself inside her, in that shameful place.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” She whispered to herself as Robert stayed just as he was. He must be horrified, disgusted with her. This is like one of those moments where people realise the person they love is being all odd and disgusting behind their backs and then they run away.

She looked at the door. It was too far to get too. And where would she go? She was naked with only a long tail that dangled to her ankles to hide her shame. It would not be the thing to hide her shame, maybe just increase it.

And then she felt him, his hand still cold from being outside as he traced alog her collar bone and rested in front of her neck. She breathed out, her nipples instantly hard from the touch She tried  to tell herself it was from the cold but even she knew that was a lie. His other hand crept around her waist and she found herself pulled into him, as though he wore a cape and this was long ago. Her feet almost left the floor and she knew without looking how striking her pale skin was against his black coat.

She was half carried across the room and laid, face down so her top half rested on the Victorian chest of drawers in the corner. The wood felt solid and foreign against her legs and her arms reached out and held on the edges of the top, just like she was holding onto the edge of part of her.

He whispered then into her ear. Sometimes his chin would scratch her a little, a rasp on her soft earlobe but she did not move. She hardly breathed so keen was she to hear his every word.

He spoke of many things; of how it felt to come home to find his girl dressed like that, or how he had assumed such accoutrements were always a test for her but no more, or how her bottom looked dressed as it was and of how she was so perfectly framed in the mirror it was as though she was waiting for him.

When she objected, just a whimper, she was shushed and he continued to talk. His hands never left her, cupping first the curve of her bottom, then her hips, her breasts, her shoulders and down again. There was not an inch of her that was not his and he touched her knowingly.

When he unbuckled his  belt she did not ask why, just as he did not offer an explanation. She merely arched herself out for him, offering her bottom up so prettily that the tail jutted out as though it had been designed to do just that.

He had to turn it of course, twist it gently inside her so he could drape the tail over one hip to the side. And then he striped her, softly at first but with a building force as he covered her from mid –thigh to the top of her bottom, the leather was poetic, as though all along all she had needed to complete what she was the application of leather below that pretty little tail.

Afterwards, he gently turned it back so that it hung down again and dropped a cushion to the floor to protect her knees as she knelt before him.

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4 Responses to “A Sting in the Tail”

  1. Delicious.

  2. Re the last drawing: Her mouth, like the financial market he is reading about, is about to be awash in liquidity.

  3. Why do I have a sense of deja vu when reading this? Did you post this somewhere before? Did I have a dream like this?

  4. 4 MrJ

    Nice!


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