textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/terms.txt

                              The Terms of the Agreement

 I'd been seeing this man, Karl, about a month when I explained my modus
operandi.  "I don't have sex a man unless we're exclusive."  Karl took
this well, especially considering I'd stopped our passionate kissing
mid-smooch to let him know it wasn't going to go much further that night. 
Timing has never been my strong suit.  But he took it surprisingly well,
even going so far as to laugh and try to assure me he wasn't interested in
seeing anyone else.  I'd held up a silencing finger.  "I'm not ready to
hear that kind of commitment and I'm certainly not ready to make it."  So
we agreed to simply "date" for a while longer.
Within a month, I'd changed my mind.  I was crazy about Karl, he was
everything a girl could ask for.  Considerate, passionate about many
subjects, fierce about others, an all around man's man.  The kind I swoon
for.  And he was still calling nearly every day, sometimes teasing,
sometimes irreverent about my "rules," but always letting me know by word
and deed he was hanging in there. I was pretty certain he was still
interested in shifting into a higher gear with me and planned on telling
him that night I was ready too... very ready, very wet ready.
 He'd invited me over for a home cooked meal (another point in his favor)
and I kissed him at the door, just in time to hear his answering machine
click on and a female voice thank him for the dinner the night before.  I
pulled out of his arms, suddenly cool.  "I'm sorry you heard that," was
all he offered as he took my coat.
 "Who was it?"  I tried to sound casual.
 "Cynthia Hazeldean."  He said over his shoulder as he poured me a glass
of wine.  I hated her.  I barely knew the woman and now I hated her.
 "Mm.  Don't you work with her?"
 "Used to.  How was your day?"
 "Did you do her?"
 He nearly choked on his wine but I will give him credit for making a
quick recovery.  "According to the rules you laid out, sweetheart, that is
none of your business."
I could have kicked him.  Yes, I had said I didn't want to be quizzed on
who else I was seeing and what I was doing with them.  But this was
different!  For the first time in over a year, I'd planned on taking that
next step with someone.  I didn't want to be desert after some other
girl's stint at entree.  I picked at my dinner, tasted nothing and got
pissier by the second.  I was frustrated sexually, furious and jealous,
and humiliated for having all those feelings.  I wanted him to die a
miserable death.  I wanted revenge.  He picked up on my  bad mood, of
course, and finally asked if it was about Cynthia.  I shrugged.  Grinning,
he asked, "When are you going to start trusting me?"  Trust him? I wanted
to dump my plate of linguini on his head!  Then I was hit with an idea.
 "Do you trust me?"  I tried, suddenly sly.
 "Yes."
 "Really?  Would you be willing to prove it?"  I asked as we moved into
the livingroom with our wine.
 "Of course."  He really was too confident, too amused and too too
ignorant of how really mean I was feeling right then.
 "Would you be willing to do whatever I said for a short while?"
 "Like what?"
 "That's where the trust comes in."  I said setting my wine aside with a
sweet smile.  "You don't know what I'll command but no matter what, you'll
have to do it."
He studied me, which was a surprise, I'd expected him to trip into this
one easily.  I actually got a little uncomfortable under his penetrating
look but just as I was about to call it off, he agreed.
 "You have to give me your word, you'll do anything I say."  I reminded
him.
 "You have my word but this game only lasts until ten o'clock.  I'm not
into subservience."


                                             TERMS - Part II
No, I expected he wasn't.  And his time limit only gave me about fifteen
minutes for what I had planned.  I turned on my stiletto heel and picked
up my purse, withdrawing a large wooden backed hairbrush.  I turned back
to face him.  He had looked comfortable in his wing-backed chair until,
that is, he saw what I held in my hand, then his every muscle tightened,
slightly, almost imperceptibly.  And, more importantly, he wasn't amused. 
I got a thrill seeing that wary look come into his green eyes.  I sat
myself on his black leather sofa and patted my thigh with the hairbrush,
beckoning him with my other hand.  He didn't move a muscle.
 "What are you up to, Ginger?"
 "Isn't it obvious?"
 "I'm not into it."
 "You said you'd do anything..." I taunted.  His full mouth, tightened
into an angry line.  The bratty part of me sang with joy: I am going to
make you so sorry you even looked at another woman! "If you don't come
here now, I'm going to stop the clock."  He didn't budge.  "You gave me
your word."
 Slowly, furiously, Karl stood up and sauntered over to me with the grace
that comes from being in superb muscular condition.  "Take your pants
down."  I murmured.  Actually, I was getting a little nervous about the
cold way he was watching me.  I could have guessed he'd hate being in this
position.  It was why I was doing it, wasn't it?
 Karl stood inches in front of me unbuttoning his jeans, allowing them to
fall to his thighs without ever bending.  He wasn't wearing underware.  I
liked that but didn't dare tell him so, not with those murderous
intentions brightening his gaze.  I also noticed that although he wasn't
hard, he wasn't totally soft either.  I resisted the urge to stroke him,
saying instead, "Over my lap... please."
In slow motion, Karl sank to his knees on my right and stretched over my
lap, resting his forearms on the seat of the couch to balance himself.  I
handed him my watch over his shoulder.  "So you can call out when the time
is up."  He said nothing but I didn't care, not with such a sweet male ass
balanced across my knee.  His golden tan line just dipped to the top of
his rounded cheeks.  I wanted to lean forward and kiss his smooth skin,
then I remembered why I'd arranged this scenario.  I rubbed the back of
the hairbrush against his soft flesh and pictured him making love to
Cynthia.  It was easy to bring that brush down with a resounding crack.
He didn't make a sound, not until the fifth smack, and even then all I
heard was the air hiss between his gritted teeth.  His now rosy cheeks
danced lightly under my swinging brush.  As I smacked back and forth, from
right to left, he shifted his weight across my thighs and occasionally let
out a soft grunt.  I pressed my left hand into the small of his back,
feeling the warmth of his skin, knowing how much hotter it must be lower
down.  Too tempted, I set aside the hairbrush and rubbed my palm over each
cheek, reveling in their scorching heat.  I then brought my palm up and
began a hot little hand spanking, that only made him shoot me a glance
over his shoulder.  By now my own cheeks were flushed from the exertion. 
My hand was beginning to hurt so I picked up the brush again and after the
first solid thwack he spilled forward slightly, fingers biting into the
leather of the couch.  I delivered half a dozen more when I heard him say,
"time."  Not loudly either, instead he spoke an emotionless voice which
totally belied the discomfort he was surely experiencing.
Karl dropped my watch and stood up.  Did I say he sounded emotionless? 
Had I thought this little act of mine would humiliate or shame him?  Mmm,
wrong, big wrong.  No, when that muscular frame straightened in front of
me, every virile inch of his 6'2 body radiated fury.  He fastened his
jeans while keeping laser hot eyes pinned on me.  I lost a small measure
of my earlier cockiness under his look.  He turned away, swept up my coat
and held it out to me.

                                          
                                          TERMS - PART III
"What's that for?"  I gasped.
 "You're going home now."  He stated in a tight voice made low with anger.
 "But why?"  As if I really needed to ask.  "You agreed to do whatever I
wanted."
 "And I did.  But I see no reason for us to continue this.  We do not
share the same tastes." 
 "But this isn't about--"
 "Save it, Mistress..."  He snarled, with a particularly nasty slant on
the last word.   "Now take your coat and go."
 "But Karl, I don't want to dominate you.  I didn't spank you for a turn
on."  I decided it was best not to mention that although I hadn't expected
or intended to get hot while warming up his rear, it certainly had had
that surprising effect.
 "Then what was this about, Ginger?"
 "I- well--"  I really ought to learn not to be quite so impulsive in the
future.  It's just this damn Irish temper of mine.
 "Answer me!"
 "Cynthia.  It was about Cynthia."
"Go on."  He said as if if I hadn't just explained everything.  I lifted
my hands in a helpless gesture.  What else was there to say.  His eyes
narrowed.  "Are you telling me you pulled this because you were jealous?"
 "Angry.  Not jealous."  As though that made it better.  Karl tossed my
coat aside and stepped a little closer to me.  "I was mad at you and
well... I didn't think punching you in the nose would be a very good
idea."  For a second I thought I saw the shadow of amusement cross his
face.
 "How very perceptive of you."  He settled himself in the corner of the
couch as though he had not a care in the world.  "Go on."  I noticed he
hadn't even winced when he sat and I thought I'd swung that hairbrush
pretty hard.  He must be good at hiding things, I thought peevishly.  "I'm
waiting."  He said in a mild tone that did not fool me for an instant.
"I don't know what you want me to say.  I was angry.  Still am if I think
about it."
 "Why?"      
 Alright, if he wanted to know, I had nothing to lose.  I refused to be
embarrassed about my desires.
 "I wanted, I'd planned on tonight being, well... I was ready to see only
you.  To be exclusive.  And I wanted to make love with you and now you've
ruined it."
 "How's that?"
Was he being purposely dimwitted?  "Because you went out with Cynthia last
night."
 "But according the rules, rules you set up, dating other people was fair
until we discussed the issue again."
 "Yes, but you didn't have to sleep with her!"
 "Was that against the rules?"
 "No," I grouched, "but it certainly puts a damper on my mood.  I thought
we were getting along great."
 "We were."  He interjected in a dry tone.
"Then why couldn't you wait until I was ready, instead... instead of
acting like some dog on the scent, humping every--"
 He cut me off, eyes glittering dangerously.  "I did wait for you."
 "What?"
 "I did not sleep with Cynthia."
 "Bullshit.  You wouldn't have pulled that 'none of your business' if you
hadn't done anything."
 "You said it was against the rules to quiz the other person, remember?  I
was just reminding you of your own bullshit attempts to control emotional
areas."
 "Oh."  I was surprised.  "So you didn't... uhm."
 "No."
 Then I turned sceptical.  "Why not?"
 Karl propped his elbow on the back of the couch and leaned his head into
it casually.  "Because it isn't polite to "hump" one woman when you're
thinking about another."
"Oh."  There was a long silence between us where I tried to bite back the
question on my tongue.  No, you are not going to ask!  "Who were you
thinking of?"  Yep, I asked.  He gave me a searing look.
 "Someone who has kept me dancing along while she made up her mind what
she wanted.  Someone who has laid down her terms every step of the way
without ever asking me what I thought.  And someone who thinks it's okay
to act out on her temper without bothering to find out if she has all the
information."
 "That someone would be me, huh?"


                                   TERMS - PART IV
 He didn't bother to answer, just continued to look at me in that droll
way of his that I found irresistible.  "Would it help if I said I was
sorry?"
 "It would be a smart place to start." 
 "Oh Karl..."  I was on my knees and crawling across the couch toward him
even though he still looked annoyed as hell.  If I could just get my hands
on him, I figured I could turn his mood around especially because now I
was feeling absolutely buoyant.  He straightened suddenly.
 "Do you really think it's going to be that easy, Ginger?  That you can
pull a stunt like that and then kiss me and I'll forget it."
 "What if I hug you too?"  The stern line of his mouth told me my humor
was misplaced.  "All right,"  I sighed as I sat back on my knees, "How do
we get past this?  I screwed up.  Big time.  And I'm crazy about you
so.... what?  What do we do?"
 "Stand up and take your clothes off."
 I supposed I could pretend not to understand him.  Or I throw myself at
his chest and beg for mercy.  But the unyielding look on his face told me
no hedge I could come up with was going to work.  Besides, if I was
absolutely honest with myself (and I do try to be) this was exciting.  The
white blaze of fury he had exhibited earlier was now just a manageable
simmer, still hot but controlled.  He watched my face intently and I had
the sense of being a small animal trapped in the glare of onrushing high
beams.  He wasn't going to just let this pass and I knew it.  My pulse
jumped into my belly and a hot flame raced under my skin. 
 "Couldn't you at least try to see the humor in this situation?  We could
laugh it off and --"
 "Get undressed now or get your coat.  Your choice."
 I hopped up.  "Okay, okay.  I'm undressing."  He didn't move from the
couch, just sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee to watch with
seemingly detached interest.  "You know, I strip much better to music." 
No answer.  So I shimmied my tight short skirt down my hips and kicked it
aside.
"Keep going."
 I took in a deep breath and grabbed the hem of blouse, pulling it up over
my head.  A button caught on my long hair and for a moment I was trapped
inside the white silk cocoon, struggling to unwind the errant curl.  I'm
sure I made quite a picture with my bare legs spread wide, trying to keep
my balance on high heels while wiggling to free myself.   Finally the curl
came loose and I pulled the blouse over my head, throwing it aside too.
 Now I've always been pleased with my body.  I have good tight creamy baby
skin that keeps my curves firm.  But standing there with an annoyed man
perusing me at his leisure was making me a tad insecure.  Jittery even, so
I crossed my arms in front of my breasts.  Bad move.
 "Drop your arms."
 Okay, fine, whatever.  I stared at the ceiling and considered whistling
to pass the achingly long moments that followed.  I wasn't going to move
until he told me what he wanted.  After all there was still the chance I'd
like whatever was about to follow.  I snuck a peek at him when the silence
became unbearable.  Okay, I probably wasn't going to like what what
coming.  He was still glaring at me, legs now uncrossed, with one arm
thrown across the back of the couch.  He raised his eyebrows as if asking
a question.
 "The bra."
 "Uhm... look, we both know where this is going and I'd like to say now
that--"
 "The bra."  It was a command.  My throat was dry but I swallowed several
times anyway and then unsnapped the damn lacy black thing.  I threw it in
his lap and then was instantly sorry.  However, he didn't seem to get any
angrier.  Instead, he lifted it to his face and ran it lightly under his
nose.
 "I've always loved your perfume."  Then, "Alright," he dropped my bra to
the side and patted his knee.  "Come here."
"On it or over it?"
 He smiled for the first time since this all started and it didn't
reassure me in the least.  "You guess," he purred.  I started to shuffle
off one of my heels but he shook his head.  "Leave them."


                                          TERMS - PART V
There was nothing else to do but start forward.  Karl held out a hand to
help me kneel at his right side.  How very gallant of him, hmmm?  I
studied the blue of his jeans, the strong thighs they encased and
absolutely couldn't do it.  I just couldn't lay myself across that lap.  I
rubbed two fingers over the denim on his right leg to smooth out wrinkles
in the material.
 "Are you going to put yourself in position or do you need help?"
 My eyes flew to his and I saw the smug amusement there.  Oooh, I could
have screamed.  Instead, I grit my teeth and ground out, "I'll manage."  I
inched my knees forward and very tentatively stretched across his lap,
holding the edge of the couch with my left hand.  Just as I was getting
settled, he grabbed me round my waist and hefted me forward so that my
backside was exactly over his right knee.  I spilled toward the floor, my
hands bracing it, hair puddling around them and all my weight pressing my
belly into his thighs.  "Wait!"  I cried.  My knees were no longer
touching the ground, my legs were only partially bent.
 "Just so you know," Karl said as he patted my upturned bottom, "I'm going
to thoroughly enjoy this."  With that came the first smack, hard and meaty
right at the bottom curve of my ass!   I gasped from the surprise of it! 
I had no idea how awful the sting was.  And then he smacked me again.
"Ow!"  His hand was so large it must have spanned almost both of my bottom
cheeks. And when he brought it down in exactly the same place a third and
forth time I thought I would scream from the sizzling pain.  Instead I
clenched my teeth, determined to see this through with my dignity in tact.
 Four more hard smacks alternating from right to left disabused me of that
notion.  "Wait!"  I shrieked.  "Wait!  I'm sorry."  I was kicking now, as
best I could, the pointed little toes of my shoes making muffled thuds on
the carpet.  Miraculously, Karl stopped.  His hand caressed my burning
backside for a moment.  I struggled to look back at him over my shoulder
and was just in time to see his fingers slide under the elastic band of my
black panties.  "Nooo!"  I squealed.  "No wait!"  He simply yanked them
down, right to my bent knees and I began to squirm again.
 "You have an incredible ass, Ginger," he said with another little pat. 
"And it looks great with color."  He quirked me a wicked smile as he
lifted his hand as high as his shoulder and swooped it forward to land a
mighty spank right where my thighs creased into my bottom cheeks.
"Ahhh!  Karl, please, I am so sorry.  Oh!  Sorry about every- No! Ow!
Please!!  Owww!"  My pleading, begging, squealing and shrieking continued
right through every spank, smack and thwack he landed.  I was kicking my
feet so hard my bottom was jiggling as much from that as the spanks
themselves.   The burn was intense and I was tried to crawl right over his
knees and off his lap, but he would have none of it.  His left arm pressed
firmly across my shoulder blades, keeping me solidly in place.  I
struggled to grab hold of the edge of the couch again with my left hand,
trying to leverage myself into a better position, all the while keeping up
my lusty cries with his every slap to my bottom.
Now he was raining the spanks down randomly, from cheek to cheek, hard and
fast, like hot little bursts from nowhere.  That was bad.  But when he
went back to the slower, steady smacks landed exactly at the lower curve
of my ass, spilling onto my tender thighs, I hollered out at the sizzling,
exploding pain, rocked my hips from side to side, tossed my curls wildly
and pounded the couch with my fist.  "Nooo, pleeeeeease!  Please, Karl! 
Please stoooop!"
(Continued)

From alt.sex.spanking Sun Jul 17 21:20:44 1994
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From: ginger30@aol.com (Ginger30)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking
Subject: Terms - Part VI
Date: 15 Jul 1994 02:44:05 -0400
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                                      TERMS - PART VI
Tears poured down my face, blurring my vision.  I fought my way to a
diagonal position across his lap.   It didn't slow him in the slightest. 
He just tucked my head and shoulders under his left arm and continued
whacking away at my sore, sore bottom.  The difference was, however, my
clit was now pressed into his right knee and my fussing and his spanking
were making for an intense friction against the denim.  I couldn't help
it, I began to wiggle my bottom, pressing myself right into the hardness
of his knee.  Within seconds I came, explosively, while still sobbing,
kicking and squirming.  Then I collapsed like a wet heap across his lap,
my head buried into my hair and outstretched arms, my breasts pressed into
the cool black leather of the couch.
He stopped the spanking then and straightened me across his lap so once
again I had to balance my hands on the floor.  He cupped my right ass
cheek and rubbed it gently.  Then trailed his fingers down to my hot thigh
and slipped his fingertips between my legs.  I opened my thighs wider and
lifted my ass up to let him push his fingers in deeper.  I knew I was
sopping wet.  I could even feel the slickness smeared down the insides of
my legs right to my knees.  From above me I heard a groan which echoed
what I was feeling.
 "God woman, what am I going to do with you?"  It was the first thing he'd
said to me since he'd started spanking me without my panties, which by the
way, had been kicked to the other side of the room.  He flipped me over
and pulled me to a sitting position on his lap.  I started to protest
because the burning, tender skin of my backside could not bear to make
contact with anything but before I could form the words, his mouth crushed
to mine.  His kiss was wild, plundering, as his right hand, still warm
from spanking me, seared up my belly and squeezed my breast.  I ground and
rubbed the heel of my palm across my clit, my fingers sliding down into my
pussy and came again right there.
His cock was so hard I could feel it pressing up against my poor, hot ass.
 Ignoring the pain, I wiggled down on his erection as I played with
myself, loving the noise he made in the back of his throat.  He laid me
back on the couch and slid out from under my legs to kneel between them,
pulling his shirt over his head fast.  My mouth watered just looking at
his chest with its crisp, dark curls.  I struggled to sit up, starved to
touch him, but he pressed a hand between my breasts and pushed me down,
all the while devouring me with his eyes.   Clearly, even breathing was
becoming difficult for him.  As he tore open his jeans for the second time
that evening, a faint smiled played across his mouth.  "I guess our tastes
aren't so different after all."  My answer was to slide my hands around
his hips to crush my fingers into his still warm skin and pull him forward
and into me.  I don't know who groaned louder, him or me, but I do know I
thought I'd die from the pleasure of it.