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Baby Girl - 2/26/2017 2:13:28 PM   
doraSalonica


Posts: 22
Joined: 4/8/2007
Status: offline
There are two rooms in my apartment which hold a special meaning for my baby girl. The first one is the punishment room and the second one is the pleasure room. The pleasure room is the bedroom with the brass canopied bed. The room sports a wooden hand-painted screen in one corner and a bookcase loaded with books. On the four bed posts there are ropes which are tied there on a permanent basis, in case I desire to immobilize my baby girl. I always tie her up tightly, with her limbs stretched, in the shape of a cross.

The punishment room is rather small, more like a storage room. Through the window one can see the Thermaikos bay, but no one can see from the outside what is going on inside. The apartment buildings facing us are too far away and there is a gap between them and our building. But if one had binoculars, one could see my baby girl, naked, bending over, hanging on to a wooden chair, with her buttocks high up in the air, awaiting her punishment. The chair is hand painted, with small flowers, and is by Trimar, as is most of my furniture. The baby girl is by D and she is also hand made. It took me a year to shape her.

I tie her by her collar to the chair and leave her there to wait, while I go to the living-room to bring my cigar and the cane. The punishment room has no air-condition, no fan, nothing. If it had more conveniences, I would be tempted to exceed the justice of the punishment. Yet I do have a wooden stool for me, because I want to be seated while I explain to baby girl her transgressions, before and after the beating, sometimes during the beating too. On one wall I have placed a softer seat, with a pillow in the back, for the convenience of a third person, in case the punishment is imposed in front of an audience. The wall is decorated with a large authentic painting, a still life. On the opposite wall there is a picture of my Master, in a wooden frame. And next to it, the mantra of a good sub, also framed.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death; I will fear no evil: for thou
art with me; thy rod and thy staff they
comfort me.


This room is a small temple. A temple dedicated to all I believe in and all I wish to teach this adorable baby girl. For the time being, we are studying good manners.

“How will you ask for something you want? Will you ever make demands again?”

“I would like to… if possible… if it is not too much trouble…”

“That’s it. Ten strokes so you do not forget.”

When I correct essays I use a yellow marker pen. Here I underline using the cane. Black lines.

“And when we are given something? Do we refuse it? Do we say we don’t want it?”

“We say thank you and we accept it.”

Another ten and it will do. It’s too hot in here. Truly ingeniοus.

I untie the collar keeping her tied to the chair and take her to the pleasure room.

(to be continued)

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RE: Baby Girl - 3/1/2017 10:34:26 AM   
doraSalonica


Posts: 22
Joined: 4/8/2007
Status: offline
Two women, completely naked, on a brass bed with a lace canopy. They embrace and kiss. The younger one has long hair that falls languidly over her face. The older one has large breasts with soft, very large nipples. The older woman is leading the younger one exactly where she wants her. But this is something they both want. She shows her two butt plugs: a metal one and a black one which is double the size.

“Pick one,” she says.

The girl chooses the metal plug. She goes down on all fours and accepts it inside her without any fuss.

“You will always wear that when you are with me. It is disrespectful to me to have your ass gaping.”

Then, the older woman gives the black plug to the girl.

“This is for me,” she says. “Put it in me and make sure you do not hurt me.”

Now they are both plugged. They caress each other.

“How beautiful life is...” the older one whispers. “It was worth being born, if only just for that.” She opens her legs invitingly.

Baby girl’s fingers are thin and cool as they touch the older woman’s genitals. They edge their way into the folds of her flesh, as if they were baby crabs, exploring. They drive her crazy. She explodes within minutes, moaning loudly. How strange… She usually has a hard time to orgasm…

She pulls the girl onto her and kisses her tenderly. Baby girl smells of honey and cinnamon. There is the exquisite aroma of something else too, something that is just being born.

Yes, it was definitely worth it.

(to be continued)


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(in reply to doraSalonica)
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RE: Baby Girl - 3/3/2017 8:28:19 AM   
doraSalonica


Posts: 22
Joined: 4/8/2007
Status: offline
Today I put on the long pink dress and the pink high heeled shoes. Baby girl arrives at seven, as usual. She is wearing a white shirt and a pair of checkered shorts. High heels, peep toes. Today is going to be special. I told her I would punish her without any reason, just for my pleasure.

I haven’t seen her in ten days, she was away on holidays. Despite the fact that we talk to each other every day and she always has her tasks, tasks that are of great service to me and give her the necessary framework so she can get by her day peacefully, our encounters are absolutely necessary to us. We are women, real women, with real bodies which we honor.

After an hour of chatting and after she has given me her gift, a lovely necklace with purple beads, in the same color as my eyes, I ask her to take off her clothes. She is now in her bra and panties, white on tanned skin. She is beautiful. I ask her to remove everything.

I remain fully clothed. I am smoking a short fat cigar. I am drinking vodka but I am completely sober, in perfect lucidity. I have to be, so I do not harm her. I have promised to “take her for a stroll”, to the place my Master often takes me. And in order to go there, drastic measures are required. Different measures for each girl, but always drastic.

I make her kneel in front of the wooden stool, which I have brought here for the occasion, from the punishment room to the living room. I ask her to place her breasts on the stool. Her breasts are rounded lemons, thoroughly distinct from the rest of her body. They are like the afterthought of a benevolent god, who decided to offer one last gift to an already gifted creature.

“Why do you want me, D, and not someone else?” she asked me one day.

“Because you are kind, truthful and beautiful.” It was an easy answer, spontaneous.

She does not believe me. Like most subs she feels insecure, though her insecurity does not affect her belief in the uniqueness of her offer. The way to combat this insecurity is always the same. Calm support, love and acceptance, constant presence, tasks, consistency in demands, demands that suit her daily life and her personality. And of course, frequent visits to the land of the ultimate pleasure. But above all, the sense that she is unique, the chosen one, the best. Naturally, she is. For me she is.

When she is certain of herself and she begins to love herself as much as I love her, then all the rest will follow…

But we are still at the beginning. I whip her small breasts with the cane made from the branch of a peach tree. I do it as is required. Not too hard, but not too softly either. Just right.

I place her on the couch, on all fours. I bring three implements. Three keys for the three gates to pleasure. The cane, the flogger and the cable. I rest my cigar in the ashtray.

“A hundred,” I announce.

Baby girl does not complain. She is calm and very determined. I like that. Bold little girl. I get annoyed with people who chase dreams from the comfort of their room, without ever lifting a little finger. A dream must be given flesh. It must sweat. It must bleed.

“Do you know how to count?” Tribute to my youth. That is how I began too, a long time ago, in a warehouse in Athens.

She counts out the first twenty strokes. They are good strokes, well-balanced, on target. The target is the beautiful buttocks on this slim body which is being offered to me with so much trust. I put my hand in her genitals. She is soaking wet. The first gate has opened.

I change the key and go for the second gate.

The flogger is a convenient implement. It stings, it does not hurt too much and it does not leave bruises. And yet, by adding strength and stability, one can walk on a certain path, step by step, to surrender. I think it is due to the repetition, more than anything. It is a type of brain washing. The sound of the lashes echoes in the large living-room. The clock strikes the seconds and baby girl counts her steps, in the darkness, with me. Don’t be scared baby girl, I know the way. I will not let you get lost.

I lick my finger and put it in her anus. A warm, perfectly formed little hole. She takes it easily, but closes her legs instinctively.

“Open your legs. Don’t you dare close them again.”

She opens her legs. When she opens them wide, as far as they go, I put two fingers in her anus. She keeps her legs open. I think that no one in Thessaloniki is having a better time than us tonight.

We have opened the gate to desire and the gate to obedience. Let’s go for the third gate. That is the toughest one. The ego always puts up a fight.

I pick up the cable. I try it first on the couch pillows, to see what I am doing and how hard I am doing it. But it is not enough, I have to be sure about the impact too. I try it on my leg. I am using it four-fold, because it is not convenient to me otherwise. It is admittedly painful.

Let’s see what this proud baby girl is made of.

Ten good ones with the cable. She takes them without any fuss. Well done baby girl.

And here we are, in the middle of the road. Relax. Breathe slowly. These journeys take their time. They need to allow for the relationship to become true. We have to become a “we”, made of two souls and two bodies. Otherwise we are wasting our time, we are not going anywhere. We will never reach the island where we will be alone, just me and her, the island of our freedom. Freedom from the things that have hurt us, freedom from the things we have desired and never possessed. Freedom from the insidious taste of being inadequate. Freedom from the weaknesses of our female nature, from all the lies we were fed, in our childhood years and in our youth. Freedom to experience pleasure with no thoughts, no qualms, no guilt.

(to be continued)


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(in reply to doraSalonica)
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RE: Baby Girl - 3/4/2017 12:43:50 AM   
doraSalonica


Posts: 22
Joined: 4/8/2007
Status: offline
I ask her to lie face up. She says her buttocks are in pain. I allow her to drink a little vodka to bring her some comfort. She kisses my hand. I ask her if she feels alright. She nods affirmatively.

“Has anyone every hit your pussy?”

She says yes. I begin to slap her clitoris softly with my palm. Her whole body is convulsing. I am ready to bet she is enjoying this. But enough with the break. There is serious work to be done.

I look at her eyes. The pupils are huge, dilated, dark. I turn her again face down. Now I want her with the stomach and the chest resting on the couch. I want her to be very relaxed for what is to follow. I want her to stop thinking. I want her to stop existing, so she may start to exist more strongly...

The process is the same as before. Twenty with the cane, twenty with the flogger and ten with the cable. The only difference is that the beating is now transferred to the back.

“That is how they used to beat slaves, always on the back.” I know what I am saying and why I am saying it. Baby girl is on her way, she's gone. Have a nice journey, my darling. I will be there when you arrive.

When I reach eighty, she starts to cry. Her tears are streaming down her cheeks and roll onto the cushions of the couch. I wipe them tenderly and I continue.

Breathe in. She breathes in. Kiss me. She kisses me. Count. She counts. I stop at the appropriate intervals, so she may pace her breathing, so I may touch her tender little back with my hands, so I may caress her hair...

When I reach ninety, I pick up the cable. I continue at the same tempo. The last lash is just as strong as the first one.

I help her up, I take her in my arms, I kiss her. She kisses me too but she is drowning in tears. She asks for permission to go and wash her face. I give it to her.

When she comes back, she finds me in the process of putting on my strapon.

“I will fuck you now,” I say to her.

“Yes.” I think that if I told her I would now cut her in pieces, she would have said the same thing, in the same calm tone.

I ask her to blow it first in order to lubricate it with her saliva. I am not going to use a condom, because I am a virgin. This is the first time I use a strapon. She makes herself comfortable in the corner of the couch and I push myself into her little pussy. The strapon is enormous, it will rip her up. She has a baby pussy, I have not even managed to fist her yet. She manages to take half the strapon and I try to push in the rest too.

I am not certain how I should move my waist. Luckily, baby girl knows what to do. She opens her legs and sucks me up into her, as she tilts her head back and moans. She wraps her arms around me. I feel as if I were a young man, fucking a woman for the very first time. I feel strong. I feel... joyful. Yes, that's it, joyful. I experience a tremendous joy.

I put my hands round baby girl's neck and I squeeze. Every now and then I allow her to take a breath. I know I must be smiling, in a sort of a trance. I fuck her properly now. I do it right. Not too harshly, but not too softly either.

Just right.

THE END


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