Lovely Jean Marie of Butt Stuff posted about tan lines here. Since I'm a huge sucker for tan lines myself, I replied with a snippet, JM picked it up and took it further, and on we went. Then JM got busy and I just finished the story with a twist.
Aaand, the Saturday Spankings are around the corner, so I linky linked it, see the link at the bottom.
Sore is more:
He dragged his tongue across her cheek along the sharp tan line that divided it perfectly in half, wondering if it would taste differently, and yes, it did indeed. The paler, almost alabaster triangle, was smoother and more tender to the touch than the few shades darker part on the other side of the border, roughed up by unforgiving Mediterranean sun.
Jean Marie:
He takes his cue from that unforgiving sun. He would “rough-up” the tender, alabaster skin for her. He begins to spank her, but not like you would a naughty child. This was a very adult disciplining, hard slaps across both ass cheeks, making her cry out, making her beg and plead. She sees that this makes no difference, so just hides her face in the crook of her elbow, and offers her ass up to his hiding, this tanning where she wasn’t tan.
When he finally stops, they both cannot help but rub the abused flesh, magnetized by the radiating warmth, mesmerized by the rosy color. He rubs lotion into the skin as if it was sunburned. It was Sirburned, and she got down on her knees to thank him. She worshiped his erect dick as he had her erotic derriere.
Sore is more:
“A proper young lady –” he scoffs and withdraws with a growl.
“Shut up,” she cries out at a sudden loss, sensing some further scolding, and then blushes at her own outburst, and he let it slide for a quick moment.
“– shall never call the gentleman’s cock a dick”, he finishes in his lilted accent as he puts it securely away, behind the buttoned fly of his low-rise jeans. Deliberately slow, inch by inch, he pulls the belt through the loops, with the holy sound that makes her squirm and rejoice all at once into a full body shudder; a triumphant grin stretching her lips morphs into a hesitant frown when she sees him folding the belt in half. An eyebrow raised in a silent question and an outstretched hand, he waits for her to rise on her feet and put her hand in his, and that’s the only confirmation he needs.
The swift shift in the mood is so palpable, his eyes, kind and playful just a few minutes ago, now flooded with disappointment and hurt.
"I'm so sorry," she lets out in a whisper.
"I'm sure we'll get there, but for what, pray tell?" He squeezes her hand to still the shakes.
"For saying 'shut up'."
"Huh, that. Let's deal with the profanity first." He leads her towards the bed. "Why so grim now?"
"It's the punishment."
"No, darling, it's a preview of the punishment, if you will keep using such language." Calm and somber, he nudges her shoulder. "On your back and legs up."
No, not the diaper position, she bites her lower lip to not mention the specifically forbidden d-word to him and falls on her back, pulling her knees up with her hands to give him full access to her already swollen bottom.
The wrong shade of pink hides the tan lines he was so fascinated with when it all started tonight. He drags her to the edge of the bed and places his left hand just under her knees, on top of hers to keep them from flying off.
"Just six," he rubs his forehead with the back of his hand that holds the belt. "Look at me, I want to see your face."
"Six of the best?" she offers with a meek smile.
"Just six." Deep breath out. It seems like all her jitters and anxiousness passed on to him. No matter how much they discussed and agreed that she needs it, when it all came to this single moment that he needs to step up, preview or not, not in a playful way as many times before that, but this time for real, all his certainty evaporates, and he's on the verge of bailing out.
He doesn't look down, he doesn't aim. Six strokes rain down on her dreadfully fast, too fast to let her apprehend or absorb the pain, tanning the tan lines all over again into the sacred scarlet. The unwanted chore that fell upon him, the whole ordeal takes merely seconds, and then it's suddenly over.
He falls on the bed next to her and pulls her closer and away from the edge. He's drained like he ran a marathon, forehead pressed against her shoulder, her gentle fingers threading through his hair, cooing the words of comfort into his ear. "It's over, it's all good, it's over."
When his free hand wonders along her curves again, he rises on his elbow and latches to the other set of tan lines, surrounding her small nipples. His fingers travel the familiar route to sharply sink inside her, followed by her welcoming moans, taking her closer, closer, closer, and over in a record time. Whatever happened, whatever it is between the two of them, whatever you would call it, doesn't matter now. They have their whole lives to figure it out.
