Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

The leaves that were once a lush green now have turned a beautiful golden hue. As those leaves fall to the ground, so does a blanket of cool air, leaving a closet full of summer dresses to hibernate until a warmer season. I knew fall would come, and yet I feel unprepared… desperately avoiding a uniform of jeans so early into the cold months. A compromise is reached in this couture crisis: leggings under a minidress…though it wouldn’t be the first time the tights made an appearance. The very first time I was spanked by the Englishman I wore a thin linen dress with leggings underneath. I remember excusing myself to strip them off in private before he offered to take them off for me. That immediately brought forth a rush of blood to my cheeks… it seemed so forward. Looking back on it seven months later, the exchange seems so very innocent.

Though it had only been a few days since we last saw each other, there was an immediate need to hold one another. The initial embrace was long and hard, never wanting to let go. He spins me around, his hold on me tighter than ever. He tugs at the fabric that sits in a perfect bow at my hip, slowly unwrapping the gift he has suddenly been presented with. The black leggings highlight my bottom, emphasizing its dramatic curves, as the rest of myself is literally pale in comparison. A quick swat to my bottom inspires him to bring the cane out early. He bends me over and leans behind me, meeting my bottom with a firm handshake. I inhale sharply, wanting to ride this sudden wave of such pleasure. He smooths out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric, running his hand across my bottom one last time as he prepares the cane. He cuts the air with it…twice, the redundancy presumably due to the cold air. The thin fabric offers no protection as I feel the intensity of each stroke… convinced the threads, like me, will surrender to the cane’s will. I feel his hunger as he roughly tugs my leggings and panties down at the same time. I begin to stand up to assist him, but he is quick to correct me, using his free hand to keep me bent over while using the other, cane in hand, to finish what he started. My lowered leggings now bind my thighs, my bottom bared, his backswing fierce, my mind…quiet. The only thing I can hear is the song of the moving branch as it persuades my eyes to close. The lullaby’s rhythm is graceful, like the last leaf of autumn floating to the ground. And just as slowly, I fall into sweet dreams.