The feel of rope as it heats in my hands, sliding over skin. The smell of the natural fibers, the undertones of the personal recipe I use for conditioning my ropes. The hiss and sigh as the rope caresses and glides. The sounds of pleasure, yearning, pain, suffering, startelment and joy from my partner.
The sight of them bound before me, the excitement as I yank them against me, jerking them this way or that, press a pressure point here, pinch there or nibble here.
Bliss.. I love rope.
Tuesday 31 December 2013
Monday 23 December 2013
Is that you, Santa ? Oh no!!
The usually prim lady sprawled on the couch, tipsy from the Bailey's
and flushed with expectation. Her lover had promised to pop by this
evening, and in a burst of alcohol fueled courage she had dressed up
rather tartly for him, her hair swept up, lipstick dark red, and a
slutty little outfit sure to widen his eyes. A patent leather under
bust corset cinched her waist, her breasts bared and a matching patent
skirt that barely covered her butt clung to her curvy body. The black
stockings that encased her legs were sexy as heck and spiked heels on
her feet finished the look, even if she was a bit wobbly in them.
She grinned as she imagined the look on his face, and her naughty thoughts made her body tingled and tighten in the most delicious ways. She let her thoughts wander, and was just beginning to imagine all sorts of sinful fun when she heard it... the jingle of bells, the booming sound of "hohoho".
She giggled, thinking her dear lover was playing around, and flounced to the door to let him in.
Except..
It was not her lover at all, but ...
"Santa?" she gasped, staring in wonder. Santa here? What on earth!
Santa was staring too, but in horrified shock. His eyes raked over her and his demeanor changed quickly from jolly to stern and disapproving. "Miss!! Have you NO shame?"
She gasped in horror as she remembered he state of... cough undress. Her hands flew up to cover her bare breasts and she blushed a fiery red. "Oh my!! I, um, that is.. uh." She floundered, at a complete loss how to deal with this startling development. She flashed a tipsy grin at the lovely man and giggled..."Obviously I was not expecting you!!"
Father Christmas, however, was not amused. He took her by the arm and led her further into the house. Closing the door he turned back to her and shook his head in disappointment before herding her before him up the stairs. He scolded her as he shooed her into the living room, scooping a kitchen chair as he passed the table. "Miss!!! That skirt is so short your backside flashes as you walk!! What sort of lady wears such an outfit!!"
She stammered, giggled and stumbled, with half hearted excuses, apologies and sassy comments as Santa plopped the chair in front of the tree and sat down, tugging her to spill face down over his knee which elicited a startled gasp of protest from the tipsy lady herself.
"Santa!! Really! (giggle), um, usually a girl SITS on Santa's knee you see, I think you have this ALL wrong!!" She tried to stand up, but Santa placed his white gloved hand firmly upon her back.
"Good girls sit on my lap, Miss.. Not tarts!" Santa adjusted the squirming ladies body and then brought his right hand down upon her upturned cheeks.
"Naughty girls get spankings.:"
"eek!!!" She squealed, mortified as her childhood here began to swat her. "Santa, really, i must, ack.. uh.. "
"You (smack) must (smack) nothing!(smack)" Santa retorted, stepping up his pace and swatting harder to boot. "I (smack SMACK smack) didn't even (smack smack SMACK smackety smack) raise (SMACK SMACK) your (SMACK) skirt, (smack smack) you naughty (SMACK) thing, (smack smack smack) it is so short (SMACK SMACK SMACK) that it (SMACK) raised (SMACK) itself!!!(SMACK smack smack smack smack SMACK" He focused on turning her cheeks red, ignoring her protests while he scolded her.
"I cannot (smack smack)hardly (smack SMACK smack) fathom (SMACK) what has gotten (smack smack smack) into you!! (smack smack smack) Dressing like a tart (smack SMACK smack) sassing Father Christmas (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) and you are intoxicated (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) are you not?? (smack smack smack)" Santa declared.
This onslaught continued, turning her buttocks first a sweet pink, then dark pink then red, until she was kicking her feet and little crocodile tears escaped her eyes.
Then Santa snugged her in tightly and spanked her hard and fast, leaving her breathless, as he ominously queried, "Do you know what Santa does with sassy, naughty, tarty girls?"
"Spanks them?" she guessed, wryly, in between her gasps and whimpers.
"Naughty girls might get a spanking, but You, Miss" Santa replied, "have earned far more than that." He jostled her so she was more securely held and she felt something cold and hard pressed flat against her very warm cheeks. She barely had time to wonder before he lifted the item and brought it down smartly.
"Ack!!! owww!!" She flailed, trying to get off his knee as he brought the mean paddle down again..slightly harder yet. "nooooo!!!!!, stop please.. Santa!!," and again, harder still, as she kicked and squirmed. Santa paddled her now tender cheeks thoroughly, until she quit struggling and lay limply over his lap, crying softly. Then he finally lifted her off his lap and let her weep into his shoulder a moment.
Once she began to calm a bit, he stood her up and led her back into the kitchen.
"Almost done, brat. I am sure, Quite Sure, that when I am done you will not be greeting Santa EVER AGAIN in such a shameless outfit!!" With that he bent her over her table and drew off his belt. "How many days of Christmas?"
"uh.. twelve?" she said, slightly dazed..
"Twelve it is, hohoho!" Santa chortled as he brought the belt down upon her backside. "Eleven days, HoHoHo!" Thwack! and so on until the last lash had landed.
"Now, Miss" Santa said, not unkindly, as he stood her up and walked her to the corner. "You will stand here." He turned her so she was facing the corner. "Until he comes"
She stood there, feeling confused, shamed and yet... exhilarated too...
Wonder what her lover would think, to find her standing there?
She grinned as she imagined the look on his face, and her naughty thoughts made her body tingled and tighten in the most delicious ways. She let her thoughts wander, and was just beginning to imagine all sorts of sinful fun when she heard it... the jingle of bells, the booming sound of "hohoho".
She giggled, thinking her dear lover was playing around, and flounced to the door to let him in.
Except..
It was not her lover at all, but ...
"Santa?" she gasped, staring in wonder. Santa here? What on earth!
Santa was staring too, but in horrified shock. His eyes raked over her and his demeanor changed quickly from jolly to stern and disapproving. "Miss!! Have you NO shame?"
She gasped in horror as she remembered he state of... cough undress. Her hands flew up to cover her bare breasts and she blushed a fiery red. "Oh my!! I, um, that is.. uh." She floundered, at a complete loss how to deal with this startling development. She flashed a tipsy grin at the lovely man and giggled..."Obviously I was not expecting you!!"
Father Christmas, however, was not amused. He took her by the arm and led her further into the house. Closing the door he turned back to her and shook his head in disappointment before herding her before him up the stairs. He scolded her as he shooed her into the living room, scooping a kitchen chair as he passed the table. "Miss!!! That skirt is so short your backside flashes as you walk!! What sort of lady wears such an outfit!!"
She stammered, giggled and stumbled, with half hearted excuses, apologies and sassy comments as Santa plopped the chair in front of the tree and sat down, tugging her to spill face down over his knee which elicited a startled gasp of protest from the tipsy lady herself.
"Santa!! Really! (giggle), um, usually a girl SITS on Santa's knee you see, I think you have this ALL wrong!!" She tried to stand up, but Santa placed his white gloved hand firmly upon her back.
"Good girls sit on my lap, Miss.. Not tarts!" Santa adjusted the squirming ladies body and then brought his right hand down upon her upturned cheeks.
"Naughty girls get spankings.:"
"eek!!!" She squealed, mortified as her childhood here began to swat her. "Santa, really, i must, ack.. uh.. "
"You (smack) must (smack) nothing!(smack)" Santa retorted, stepping up his pace and swatting harder to boot. "I (smack SMACK smack) didn't even (smack smack SMACK smackety smack) raise (SMACK SMACK) your (SMACK) skirt, (smack smack) you naughty (SMACK) thing, (smack smack smack) it is so short (SMACK SMACK SMACK) that it (SMACK) raised (SMACK) itself!!!(SMACK smack smack smack smack SMACK" He focused on turning her cheeks red, ignoring her protests while he scolded her.
"I cannot (smack smack)hardly (smack SMACK smack) fathom (SMACK) what has gotten (smack smack smack) into you!! (smack smack smack) Dressing like a tart (smack SMACK smack) sassing Father Christmas (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) and you are intoxicated (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK) are you not?? (smack smack smack)" Santa declared.
This onslaught continued, turning her buttocks first a sweet pink, then dark pink then red, until she was kicking her feet and little crocodile tears escaped her eyes.
Then Santa snugged her in tightly and spanked her hard and fast, leaving her breathless, as he ominously queried, "Do you know what Santa does with sassy, naughty, tarty girls?"
"Spanks them?" she guessed, wryly, in between her gasps and whimpers.
"Naughty girls might get a spanking, but You, Miss" Santa replied, "have earned far more than that." He jostled her so she was more securely held and she felt something cold and hard pressed flat against her very warm cheeks. She barely had time to wonder before he lifted the item and brought it down smartly.
"Ack!!! owww!!" She flailed, trying to get off his knee as he brought the mean paddle down again..slightly harder yet. "nooooo!!!!!, stop please.. Santa!!," and again, harder still, as she kicked and squirmed. Santa paddled her now tender cheeks thoroughly, until she quit struggling and lay limply over his lap, crying softly. Then he finally lifted her off his lap and let her weep into his shoulder a moment.
Once she began to calm a bit, he stood her up and led her back into the kitchen.
"Almost done, brat. I am sure, Quite Sure, that when I am done you will not be greeting Santa EVER AGAIN in such a shameless outfit!!" With that he bent her over her table and drew off his belt. "How many days of Christmas?"
"uh.. twelve?" she said, slightly dazed..
"Twelve it is, hohoho!" Santa chortled as he brought the belt down upon her backside. "Eleven days, HoHoHo!" Thwack! and so on until the last lash had landed.
"Now, Miss" Santa said, not unkindly, as he stood her up and walked her to the corner. "You will stand here." He turned her so she was facing the corner. "Until he comes"
She stood there, feeling confused, shamed and yet... exhilarated too...
Wonder what her lover would think, to find her standing there?
Saturday 14 December 2013
My Letter to Santa
Dear Santa
Merry Christmas!! How are you?
With Christmas fast approaching I figured I had best write, partly out of fear and partly out of my love for you.
I have tried so very hard to be a good girl this year, Santa, I really did! But it is so very hard to be good when I am surrounded by so many perverted ladies and gents who want to be rigged and bound, teased and photographed. I couldn't help myself Santa!! To be blunt and honest, I am not sorry for my ropey times and rigging fun.
I didn't mean to sass Sir those five hundred plus times. But Santa, he sets me up, I swear!! He says the most leading things and my mouth opens and my wit pops out. Truly, not fair to count this as naughty! Besides, he enjoys my wit, my bratty sass. So... this doesn't count as naughty, right Santa? Right?
I guess though I have no excuse for the defiance on at least three occasions. I know I need to learn to put pride aside and just do what I am told. But of the four times this year he gave me a directive, I listened at least once! That counts for something, hey Santa?
I know that my school work is behind. I have a list a mile long for excuses, but really, I need to learn to prioritize things, to not take on more than I can do. Sir has kindly pointed this out a few zillion times Santa. (Should nagging perhaps be put on Sir's list of naughty behaviours?) Sir already made me pay for this, with his disapproving sighs and mini lectures on looking after myself. So we are good, Right Santa?
The only other really naughty thing I have done this year is to fantasize much about your visit this year. I love you Santa! I Love your snowy beard, your jolly laugh, your sugary kisses, your firm hand, your dashing black belt, your shiny boots.. Just thinking about you makes my belly quiver and a delicious wet feeling happen 'down there'. What girl doesn't fantasize about Santa bending her naughty self over a chair back, thrashing her jiggling backside with his world famous belt, chanting, "Now Dashit it, you Bratling! You naughty Vixen! On Christmas you'll pay, for naughty behaviour!" Knowing that once she's paid she gets her reward, forgiveness and jolly good fucking. That is how it goes, right Santa? I know I am on your blacklist but...
I have done many good things too, Santa! I have cared for my loved ones and respected (mostly) my Sir. I have given of my heart freely, learned not to fear love. I have learned to love my larger sized self, to reach out for help and not to yell. I am working on the cutting comments, and learning not to use sarcasm as my communication tool. Surely these things are worth a treat or two? All I want is rope Santa, and bunnies to tie. Perhaps more time for my Sir and a collar that I can abide.
I will stay up waiting for you Santa, all Christmas eve if need be! Perhaps I will wait, bent over a chair!!
Merry Christmas Santa!
Love from
Naughty and Nice Aropedeevil
Merry Christmas!! How are you?
With Christmas fast approaching I figured I had best write, partly out of fear and partly out of my love for you.
I have tried so very hard to be a good girl this year, Santa, I really did! But it is so very hard to be good when I am surrounded by so many perverted ladies and gents who want to be rigged and bound, teased and photographed. I couldn't help myself Santa!! To be blunt and honest, I am not sorry for my ropey times and rigging fun.
I didn't mean to sass Sir those five hundred plus times. But Santa, he sets me up, I swear!! He says the most leading things and my mouth opens and my wit pops out. Truly, not fair to count this as naughty! Besides, he enjoys my wit, my bratty sass. So... this doesn't count as naughty, right Santa? Right?
I guess though I have no excuse for the defiance on at least three occasions. I know I need to learn to put pride aside and just do what I am told. But of the four times this year he gave me a directive, I listened at least once! That counts for something, hey Santa?
I know that my school work is behind. I have a list a mile long for excuses, but really, I need to learn to prioritize things, to not take on more than I can do. Sir has kindly pointed this out a few zillion times Santa. (Should nagging perhaps be put on Sir's list of naughty behaviours?) Sir already made me pay for this, with his disapproving sighs and mini lectures on looking after myself. So we are good, Right Santa?
The only other really naughty thing I have done this year is to fantasize much about your visit this year. I love you Santa! I Love your snowy beard, your jolly laugh, your sugary kisses, your firm hand, your dashing black belt, your shiny boots.. Just thinking about you makes my belly quiver and a delicious wet feeling happen 'down there'. What girl doesn't fantasize about Santa bending her naughty self over a chair back, thrashing her jiggling backside with his world famous belt, chanting, "Now Dashit it, you Bratling! You naughty Vixen! On Christmas you'll pay, for naughty behaviour!" Knowing that once she's paid she gets her reward, forgiveness and jolly good fucking. That is how it goes, right Santa? I know I am on your blacklist but...
I have done many good things too, Santa! I have cared for my loved ones and respected (mostly) my Sir. I have given of my heart freely, learned not to fear love. I have learned to love my larger sized self, to reach out for help and not to yell. I am working on the cutting comments, and learning not to use sarcasm as my communication tool. Surely these things are worth a treat or two? All I want is rope Santa, and bunnies to tie. Perhaps more time for my Sir and a collar that I can abide.
I will stay up waiting for you Santa, all Christmas eve if need be! Perhaps I will wait, bent over a chair!!
Merry Christmas Santa!
Love from
Naughty and Nice Aropedeevil
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