"Okay now, breathe," he told her and she let out a long stream of breath as she knelt, sitting back on her heels, trying to relax everything. "Back tall, push the crown of your head, push it toward the ceiling," he directed and she felt her ribcage open up. "Now - hands forward, bend at the hips, reach out, face to the floor..." His hand was on her shoulder, in a non-sexual way. Non-sexual, at least, as much as his touch could ever be... at first she thought of it as proprietary, claiming, owning, controlling - but now she recognized that it just had an element of privilege, a right to access, a promise to guide. Still, a strong, thrilling touch, even in a "non-sexual way"...
Not that she should need any help leaning forward, though her face wasn't going to make it to the floor... his hand rode her shoulder forward and down, into "prayer" position, the mere name of which always send a shudder through her - not so much for its inherent supplication...
"Lengthen the spine... raise your head... push the crown forward..." bringing it up even farther from the floor. Which she was tempted to point out, but resisted. "And breathe..." Hard to relax, she thought, and hard not to - her mind racing, her body softening.
"No... like I showed you. In through the nostrils..." he waited for her to comply, noisily. "Roll it off the roof of your mouth... roll it, send it straight down over your chin..." At her age she'd think she'd be trusted to exhale for herself, but not in this case. Still, his hand massaged the small of her back, which was very nice indeed... and a touch lightly at the base of her neck, to one side... "exhale... that's it... and down..." Miraculously, the floor got inches closer. "Long back... raise your head..." he cycled through again, hand on her side, on her ribs in the back... her thong, no doubt, was making a whale tail above her waistband, but she sure was flat... stretched and relaxed...
Until, that is, a hand on her bottom made her jump... not far, a hand on her shoulder braced the other end. "Use your hands to push yourself back, deeper onto your heels," he commanded, and she did so, separating from the floor once again. "Long back... big breath... exhale..." His thumbs felt like they were arching her themselves, though of course it was just the implication. Still it worked... She couldn't argue, her first attempt was nothing close to this - in retrospect maybe more like a ball, and now she was a sandwich, a sandwich of her own making, pressed flat... and soon to be a lot flatter, she surmised, like those grilled sandwiches... without being told she pushed back again, much flatter than before, extended, chin to the floor, inhaling and then pressing out all the space, back lower and flatter... lower and flatter... muscled relaxed and stretching... twinges interrupting at regular intervals... she stopped trying so hard and just relaxed in the position, thinking of prayer, thinking of subservience, thinking of stretching, thinking of release - and breathed. How long had this taken, a few minutes? Very satisfying. She was sure it would be most appreciated... impressive submission. His touch rode on her like a butterfly, it was so nearly weightless. Her back felt good arched. Her breasts felt good pressed against her thighs, the undersides, mostly, pressed upward toward her chin. His touch left her and he moved to stand before her. Like this, she thought. Not just bowing, bringing her face to the floor. Something special. Completely, intentionally flat.
"Ready?" he asked rhetorically as she watched long strides carry him to where the cane leaned in the corner. Chin still on the floor, she reached back for her waistband, holding it in place while she raised her bottom out of the loose pants. Arch, arch more. Her breasts slid down her thighs, past her knee. Head up a little, she thought as her forehead met the floor. In position it was - breathe. In... full... out and stretch and lengthen and arch all the more, easy; trying to relax, impossible. One more push even as her brow furrowed and trembled in anticipation. He would let her leave her thong up. But he caned so very, very hard.
Not that she should need any help leaning forward, though her face wasn't going to make it to the floor... his hand rode her shoulder forward and down, into "prayer" position, the mere name of which always send a shudder through her - not so much for its inherent supplication...
"Lengthen the spine... raise your head... push the crown forward..." bringing it up even farther from the floor. Which she was tempted to point out, but resisted. "And breathe..." Hard to relax, she thought, and hard not to - her mind racing, her body softening.
"No... like I showed you. In through the nostrils..." he waited for her to comply, noisily. "Roll it off the roof of your mouth... roll it, send it straight down over your chin..." At her age she'd think she'd be trusted to exhale for herself, but not in this case. Still, his hand massaged the small of her back, which was very nice indeed... and a touch lightly at the base of her neck, to one side... "exhale... that's it... and down..." Miraculously, the floor got inches closer. "Long back... raise your head..." he cycled through again, hand on her side, on her ribs in the back... her thong, no doubt, was making a whale tail above her waistband, but she sure was flat... stretched and relaxed...
Until, that is, a hand on her bottom made her jump... not far, a hand on her shoulder braced the other end. "Use your hands to push yourself back, deeper onto your heels," he commanded, and she did so, separating from the floor once again. "Long back... big breath... exhale..." His thumbs felt like they were arching her themselves, though of course it was just the implication. Still it worked... She couldn't argue, her first attempt was nothing close to this - in retrospect maybe more like a ball, and now she was a sandwich, a sandwich of her own making, pressed flat... and soon to be a lot flatter, she surmised, like those grilled sandwiches... without being told she pushed back again, much flatter than before, extended, chin to the floor, inhaling and then pressing out all the space, back lower and flatter... lower and flatter... muscled relaxed and stretching... twinges interrupting at regular intervals... she stopped trying so hard and just relaxed in the position, thinking of prayer, thinking of subservience, thinking of stretching, thinking of release - and breathed. How long had this taken, a few minutes? Very satisfying. She was sure it would be most appreciated... impressive submission. His touch rode on her like a butterfly, it was so nearly weightless. Her back felt good arched. Her breasts felt good pressed against her thighs, the undersides, mostly, pressed upward toward her chin. His touch left her and he moved to stand before her. Like this, she thought. Not just bowing, bringing her face to the floor. Something special. Completely, intentionally flat.
"Ready?" he asked rhetorically as she watched long strides carry him to where the cane leaned in the corner. Chin still on the floor, she reached back for her waistband, holding it in place while she raised her bottom out of the loose pants. Arch, arch more. Her breasts slid down her thighs, past her knee. Head up a little, she thought as her forehead met the floor. In position it was - breathe. In... full... out and stretch and lengthen and arch all the more, easy; trying to relax, impossible. One more push even as her brow furrowed and trembled in anticipation. He would let her leave her thong up. But he caned so very, very hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment