Beneath the Gloves

February 2007

Beneath the gloves the fingers could be anyone's – his, hers, a stranger's she'd never met? But then beneath the blindfold she could be anyone as well, so perhaps the potential presence of someone else, someone new, was inconsequential...

In the thin dressy leather gloves she could feel Cat's slender fingers; sometimes in the heavier rough leather sports gloves or the fur-lined ones the power and thickness of Matt's wrist was obvious, or his grip. She liked the way he handled her, deliberately but firmly, cupping his hand to pull a thigh toward him possessively, cupping a cheek to position her for spanking, cupping her at the base of the ribs to move her however he wanted without resistance. And at times with resistance – he had a way of holding her wrists, mostly, though ankles and other locations saw the same treatment, thumb and forefinger just above her hands, pinky and ring finger like a vice higher up on her arm so that he could leverage her arm – and the rest of her – wherever he wanted; even across his knee he would keep her in place with one arm and a leg. At times like these she could fight all she wanted, particularly once she was held in place, with no worry of escaping, no holding back, no wondering how hard she could pull or push. If she got carried away he would pin her down to free one hand and slap her – lightly, mockingly – or if he wanted to punish her she might be tickled mercilessly. But released? Never.

At the moment one fur-lined glove covered her petite womanhood, the fingers almost too fat to enter, the touch unrecognizable. A hand, undoubtedly his, gripped her ankle, raising her leg while fingernails raked upward from cheek to thigh to calf and down the front again. It was this last touch that didn't register, Cat didn't have long fingernails and certainly they weren't Matt's – if they were real at all. Another touch was everywhere, lightly, under her arms – her hands were bound atop her head at the moment – down her side, from her navel to her chin... interspersed with sharp strikes, some a line of fire and others a narrow stripe, so close in time to the touch that it seemed to require a fifth hand, or sixth, or, for an instant here and there, even more. Just as she had decided that the glove between her legs was unfilled it became animated, a finger pressing into the crease of her leg and torso on each side, the middle finger dividing her lips, widely...

Normally she would listen intently for audible clues of what was going on, where he was and where Cat was and what either of them might be planning or what he might be telling her, but today she was wearing earphones and the music, though not loud, covered any other sounds. As always the blindfold, while perfectly comfortable, was also perfectly effective and well-secured. So the game was raised a notch and she had to rely on what she had seen them do, those times when she had not been blindfolded and it had not been unimaginably dark and she had not been too distracted to take any notice. And those times had been few. His grip on her ankle was replaced by a tug on her cuff and she no longer knew who was holding it or how she was being secured. At times he had used a short heavy dog leash with a spring on the end but its tell-tale tinkle, if any, was lost to her tonight; other times she had seen a frightening stick half the size of a baseball bat conventionally used to wrangle horses but also available to guide her cuffs from a foot-and-a-half distance. So the presence now of grips and hands and touches beyond counting or all plausibility became impossible to even contemplate and besides her focus kept returning to her ever-rising excitement.

The touches were by no means just hands and grips as she was brushed and swept and rubbed from head to foot and seemingly beyond, floggers both sharp and sensual and at times spanks and strokes for chastisement or focus often painful or unexpected but thankfully never both. No lips so far and she writhed as she noticed this, hoping that maybe they were saving that for later.

Matt's hand returned to her ankle – heel, actually, as he took it between his thumb and forefinger, and then her left heel between his middle and ring finger, this hold she recognized as he pressed her legs forward, folding her and her calves would press against his chest or shoulder. Her knees were still together but she realized that this was subject to change. Her bottom was rising and then she felt it, between her cheeks almost between her legs, not a feather-light touch even but a feather duster maybe or something even less substantial. It almost tickled and she squirmed but moved very little and the touch jumped to her tailbone, blissful torture she just couldn't stand and then back to the bottom and then sweeping her from one end to the other, slowly, quickly with a pause, slowly again.

She knew it wouldn't stop there, soon it would be a touch between her cheeks, the same type of stroke, and then they would touch her bottom – not her cheeks but her bottom-bottom - and then they would play with it and then she would have to be spanked for it, that was the rule. A hard spanking, not angry but firm, solid, with the hairbrush – the "real" hairbrush – painful. She had a love-hate relationship with the hairbrush, loved thinking and hearing about being spanked with it but hating to actually be so; loving to see it sitting atop the dresser or in Cat's purse but hating to have to retrieve and present it to be spanked. She should have known but she had several other spankings she would be having to get and had hoped to avoid this one though she had no desire to avoid the light touches that seemed to sweep over her insides just as they swept over the most intimate parts of her bottom.

The glove was rubber now, thin as a condom and she did feel a touch on her bottom, warm and slippery. In her mind's eye she saw Matt reaching in his pocket where he kept the lube so that it wouldn't be cold, squeezing it onto his finger or Cat's – was it his pinkie or one of hers? In either case there it was, her spanking was now a fait acompli though she didn't know when she might get it. Even with the lube and even in her excitement she felt a stab of pain, sharp, piercing, but that was right, it was as it should be; she knew she shouldn't be doing this so the hurt felt right. Then a second finger nudged her lips apart once again and began to draw circles on her clitoris, even in the dark of the blindfold she felt her eyes unfocus and the sensations build until suddenly her voice called out, "don't let me climax, I haven't been good, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Nothing stopped at that moment but she must've said the words aloud because as she approached the brink she was pulled back by the cold of ice against her thigh and then the ice water running between her cheeks, upward, it seemed like, in her inverted state. The stroking pumping circling slowed enough to keep her honest and then slowed some more and finally stopped.

Cat had tied her so that she could be turned over easily and now she was, it was a good time for her to be spanked, she needed it, and soon she felt Cat's leather paddle, not punishing, just medium but still hard enough to suit her. She was lying flat which is hard but Matt's arm crossed her hips underneath her and when she'd had enough like that he lifted her into a kneeling position to smooth out Cat's target. The spanking continued but was easier to take until Cat increased its severity. Her knees were apart for balance and Matt removed his arm, pressing down on her back and she resisted intuitively, immediately regretting it but he took no notice, just steadily bent her until her cheeks stuck out sharply behind her. The spanks hurt more in this position and she assumed that was their intent though she was already absorbing them without difficulty. She knew she'd be sore later and sensitive when she had to be spanked again but for the moment she relaxed completely.

When the spanking stopped the brushing and sweeping and stroking resumed briefly until she felt her feet being spread and when she tried to rise a strong insistent hand kept her where she was. She could feel breath on her most intimate spots and suddenly she remembered her thoughts about strangers, she hoped it was only Matt and Cat because at least they'd seen her like this before.

Everything stopped for a moment and hands were just on her, maintaining contact and she could feel them moving around until a weight descended onto her back and she was well and truly held in this revealing position between someone's – probably Matt's – thighs but whoever it was she wasn't going anywhere. So completely was she held that it came as no surprise when now she was truly invaded, front and back and broadly, the rough leather instead of rubber this time but even as she was entered in both places another unseen hand flogged her sharply across the cheeks. The direction, and possibly wielder of the flogger, changed and there was no deliberation this time, her clit was caught between a stimulating finger in front and a backstop of another finger inside of her, the flogging turned to spanks, no glove for once as Matt's bare hand assaulted her cheeks and she went up, up, and up, shooting out into the weightless void of irresistible climax.

By the time she could think again the weight was off of her back and the fingers were rocking gently inside of her before slowly retreating like a deflating erection. Her cheeks hardly seemed sore as they were graced with a few last pats and then she was lying between the two of them recovering.

Time ticked slowly by and, knowing what was coming, her anxiety rose but just before she could ask their weight suddenly shifted and she was being turned over onto her back again. Cat lounged across her chest, cradling her but pinning her down at the same time and Matt, still in his jeans apparently, threw one leg across her waist. Before she could figure out what he was doing she felt her legs lifted and folded across the leg in question and his right leg came up under the small of her back.

She said "Please don't spank me like this, I hate it, really I do," and Cat stroked her face but she felt the tap-tap-tap of the dreaded hairbrush just the same. Suddenly wanting to cry she gritted her teeth but it did no good, the hairbrush hurt every bit as much and more, and then much more. It was hard and it was low and she knew that's where she'd be spanked later on when they talked about things she had done and she already wished she hadn't. It wasn't fast so it took a while and she tried to remind them that she was sorry and that she didn't like this one bit. She didn't want to cry because she knew it would wipe her out and they weren't done so she just hoped it would be over before she had to and fortunately it was. Despite a few protests she had been good and soon felt little kisses marching up her thigh and the anticipation immediately made her feel better and for a little bit she forgot about how much her bottom hurt and just basked in the quickening tongue-lashing. Matt took his time and she took her time until the thought occurred to her that if she didn't hurry she'd have to be spanked again though maybe just a little and the moment that thought appeared she bucked and thrashed, caught by surprise by the very thing she'd been patiently building up to.

Even though she was untied and let up the blindfold didn't come off which kept her from moving around much or dressing but still she was touched and kissed on the shoulders and neck, face and breasts and Cat kissed her on the lips. They dressed her and when they were done she could see again at last as they headed out to dinner before coming back to dealing with her behavior.