Bridget and The F-Word



indigo-signature-bannerBridget sighed.

Not so much of a sigh but the start of a tear that would fall if she blinked. So she did not blink, even though the computer screen shook and wobbled before her.

She traced the keys with her fingers, letting the pads race in between the letters, lingering around the “f” and the “k”.

“F” she whispered, “F, F, F, F, F.”

A tear escaped, betraying her as it fell.

“F for Fuck.” There, she said it. She said the word and nothing collapsed, and no one died.

But she was on her own and she was whispering. She was sitting on the sofa wearing pink pyjamas and drinking hot milk.

“Possibly the worst example of a kinky writer in the whole world.” She felt her whole face sink into sorrow and her shoulders dips to make her into a little ball. “I can’t even type the F word. I am the world’s biggest prude.”

That is how he found her, curled up and quiet in front on a white screen with the letter F written on it  fifty seven times.

“Oh, honey,” was all he said, sitting next to her and putting one huge arm around her to draw her close.

“I just can’t do it,” she wet his tee shirt with her sobs. “I just can’t be like the other girls. I can’t talk about my p .. my p.. . Oh, my girl bits, You see? I can’t say that even to you. I can’t write about f … f.. fucking or willies or anything. I can’t. I even say ‘willies’ no one says ‘willy’ after they grow up.  I am a total failure. I can’t write, I am rubbish.”

“Shhhhh,” he softened her with his voice. He understood what made her so sad before now. This was the third time he had found her upset about this although this was the first time she had cried about it.

Bridget moved closer, sitting on his lap and made a cave from his arms and chest, warm and dark she hid inside with her fears and insecurities left at the entrance. She would not think about it now. She would not think about how different she was compared to the others, how in awe she was at the way they spoke and declared themselves how she knew she would never amount to anything until she could speak without blushing and stammering the words that many of them could type out over breakfast.

“Am I ok?” she asked his ear with her lips, such a gentle question it was almost a prayer.

He answered with his hands, in her hair and then around her face, pulling her to face him. He said nothing but instead took her into his blue grey eyes and kissed the tears from where they rested on her skin.

She kissed back, a relief to feel love instead of shame, quiet little nips of kisses at first, her lips blossoming on his stubble but growing as she warmed to his comfortindigo3

“And you love me like this?” she asked, “Even though I can’t do what the others can do?”

He surprised her every time when he reacted so fast to her.

“Arggh” she called out as she seemed to fly from the safety of his arms to find herself flat on her tummy with her bottom raised over his knees.

“But I need a cuddle” she started to weep again, “Please let me up.”

“I will let you up this much,” he told her as he lifted her bum and yanked her pyjamas down, “Other than that you are right where you should be. See how long it is before you can tell me why I am spanking you.”

Of course she knew right away but she would not say. She could not say. Her shyness made everything impossible.

indigo1And so he spanked her. Hand followed hand, slap followed slap. She could feel each strike and each time her pink bottom jiggled in response. She knew how ridiculous she looked. Her swelling bottom getting pinker, her moving and kicking to try to escape his hard spanks, her pyjamas falling lower and lower and her totally unable to make the horrid stinging spanks stop.

And so he continued. Up and down her thighs and in between when she kicked, her whole bottom covered with a care that would have seemed like love if it had not been so damn painful.

“Ok ok,” she capitulated, “Please stop.”

“Tell me then.”

“Because of course you love me,” she sniffed, “You love me how I am or you would not be here.”

“Quite right.” He gave her another four loud, terrifying hard swats each one making her shout out.

“Please stop now. Please stop. I will be good, I promise.”

“Show me.”

She scrabbled off his lap, no need to be told twice lest he start again for being slow. Without adjusting her pyjamas she knelt in front of him, waggling her stinging, red bottom out behind her as though she were a bee doing a dance.

He opened his trousers, and released his hard self to her open mouth. She took it all in, deep and secure, angling herself so that in moments her lips touched the base of him and he shuddered at the sensation.

She had never told him where she learned how to please him like that, it made her blush to talk of it but watching her down there, loving lips hard around him moving in the natural rhythm, he saw her look up at him.

She looked for all the world like a school girl bringing her homework to be checked by her school master. Her cheeks swollen with him, her tongue licking around his tip and then down and around but her eyes begging for his approval, when he gave it it was just a touch, his hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking her.

It was enough. She did not need him to say ‘Good girl,’ because she knew that was what he meant. Satisfied she was pleasing him she lowered her eyes and raised her bottom to busy herself giving him every moment of satisfaction she could. She used every aspect of herself to please him her soft cheeks, her dextrous tongue, her lips, even a soft touch of her teeth, greedily, absorbed as she was, she took him inside her seeking out the moment to make him release into her throat.

When he pushed her head off him she groaned. “But why?” she asked him, so forlorn to have lost him .

“Shhh, stay exactly where you are.”

She watched him disappear from view. As she knelt on all fours before him it took only a moment for him to get rid of the pyjamas that had fallen by her ankles and then to position her.

He knelt behind pushing her knees apart with his knees and moving her bottom to his satisfaction. He tipped it up and down and she arched her back for him keeping her just as she was placed, keen to offer whatever he wanted to take.

He nudged his way in with ease, she was so eager that her tightness accepted his straining hardness with a short push and they both gasped. Slowly he took her, using his hands to tease and pinch her nipples as she gyrated against him pushing herself hard back onto him and moving as his hips instructed.

“Touch yourself.” He grunted the command as he took hard hold of her hips knowing she would need his stability. He could tell the moment her fingers found their target, he heard her swear, he felt her shudder as she climaxed mere moments later.

“Again” he told her.

And without a moment’s hesitation she obeyed. He watched himself this time, sick as he dove in and out of her, hard muscle beneath the hard muscle of his stomach he felt her muscles contract around him, vice like ripple as she came.


Not a word from her as she lifted her hand to herself and gyrated against him, pushing and retreating like waves on rocks and this time he came too, holding her shoulder as he shook into her.

The silence came for them, letting them pant a little and sink lower to the floor. She found him again, little lips against his ear.

“Was I rude? Don’t tell anyone please. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No,” he kissed the top of her head as he held her, “I won’t tell anyone. You’re a very good girl.”


22 Responses to “Bridget and The F-Word”

  1. I think/know from this story that using or saying the F word in front of parents was a no no and they waited for the appropriate timing to spank usually as Bridget was in her pyjamas. Then orders pull them down and get over here. the rest is as related in the story pushed of and up to bed with you lying on the tummy for a time soothing the bottom was the norm. then checking in the morning was my bottom still coloured. Yes, the other part of the story is an addition. It was always straight spanking

    • 2 DJ

      Sorry Frader but I think you missed the point here – this is about shyness and not a parental thing at all. I know this is fiction and you can read into it what you want – but if you are going to comment then I hope you don’t mind if I point this out.

      No doubt Indigo will have much more to say on this…

      • much appreciated and thank you for pointing this out to me, It is fiction, with adult imaginations reading. I accept correction on this matter: I am sorry for indiscretion in my comment. point well taken Thank you DJ

    • Hi, to clarify – nothing I write is ever connected to parental discipline or the punishment of a child.
      This story is about two adults in a relationship.
      I am extremely uncomfortable with your suggestion that it may be otherwise.

      • Sorry Indigo, Thank you for making it ever so clear that what ever you write is not parental discipline or punishment of a child: It is adult content only, Sorry, for for my total indescretion in my reply Now that you and DJ have pointed this out to me I am extremely grateful’ It was not my intention to upset or make you extremely uncomfortable: I respect your correction in pointing this out. It won’t happen again.

  2. DJ another story well done and I liked the pictures too.

  3. Perfect. Every note rings like a bell. Xo

  4. I love Indigo Wednesdays!
    Such a sweet story and I think it demonstrates the crippling doubt any creative person encounters once in a while. Thanks for sharing!

  5. 13 MrJ

    Great story!

  6. A lovely little story. Her inhibitions finding comfort and release through spanking… Well done!

    Sent from AOL Mobile Mail Get the new AOL app:

  7. 18 Svetlana

    This story is so touching! I’m afraid I lost much (not all) of my own shyness the more I got into kink, but I’ve known women like Bridget who somehow maintain a spirit of innocence on their journey. It is really beautiful. The last part of the story proves that great kinky writing can even benefit from the complete absence of vulgar words.

    • 19 Aila

      I have been reading this site for quite some time and only now felt the courage to reply. This story clearly defines shyness and all the negative aspects that accompanies it. It is an inhibition to a greater or lesser degree. It can prevent the person afflicted from performing the simplest of tasks to expressing oneself openly and honestly in a relationship. It then becomes a burden in the relationship that need not be. The story covered this story so eloquently! Just loved it.

    • Thank you so much – you made me blush. We are all on this odd journey and it helps to know we can each take different paths. X

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