A Stan Kent teaser
Stan Kent is one of my favorite writers and I'm SO thrilled he's going to grace us with his sexy British accent and HOT HOT HOT story "Solemate" from Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 2 on Wednesday. Come on out for cupcakes, candy canes, and sexy stories! And thank you to the New Yorker for listing us again!
Here's an excerpt from "Solemate" by Stan Kent:
I moved the shoes in small circular patterns, getting the feel of the shoe leather on her skin. She seemed to like it because she gently rocked her ass to encourage the motions. It gave me confidence so I decided to try a little slap. Using my right hand, I raised one of the Choos a few inches and brought it down softly. Her ass jiggled and accommodated the shoe as I pressed the sole into her skin. Next I tried my left hand and then back to the right, getting my rhythm with each harder slap. It was just like playing the drums. I could do this.
“Harder. I want Jimmy Choo tattooed on my ass. I want to feel like you’re dancing on my butt.”
I thought I’d been doing damn good for a novice, but if she wanted more pain, who was I to protest? I raised my right hand high and brought the Jimmy Choo down with all the force I could muster, hitting her right cheek square on its sweet spot. The sound was awesome, like a loud clap, and as I pulled the shoe away and raised my left hand I saw the results of my handiwork. A shoe-shaped imprint with the Jimmy Choo name glowed pale pink against her China doll skin. I gave her a matching one on her left cheek and repeated the spanking from left to right until her ass was a tapestry of Jimmy Choo tattoos.
As I’d been flailing away, she’d been wiggling her ass, raising it towards me, uttering mews of encouragement and little moans of pain and delight as she arched her back like a cat, her fingers dancing over her pussy, patting her clit as I swatted her ass with a continuous rain of shoe spanks, her moans growing in intensity over the thunderclaps of sole on ass until I recognized, “Oh Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. Yes, that’s good Jimmy. Beat my ass, Jimmy. Beat it good. Leave your mark on me.”
I was going to correct her as to my name, but then I realized she was praising the shoe designer, not me. So I gave her what she wanted. I was a blur of swinging arms and pounding Jimmy Choos.
Here's an excerpt from "Solemate" by Stan Kent:
I moved the shoes in small circular patterns, getting the feel of the shoe leather on her skin. She seemed to like it because she gently rocked her ass to encourage the motions. It gave me confidence so I decided to try a little slap. Using my right hand, I raised one of the Choos a few inches and brought it down softly. Her ass jiggled and accommodated the shoe as I pressed the sole into her skin. Next I tried my left hand and then back to the right, getting my rhythm with each harder slap. It was just like playing the drums. I could do this.
“Harder. I want Jimmy Choo tattooed on my ass. I want to feel like you’re dancing on my butt.”
I thought I’d been doing damn good for a novice, but if she wanted more pain, who was I to protest? I raised my right hand high and brought the Jimmy Choo down with all the force I could muster, hitting her right cheek square on its sweet spot. The sound was awesome, like a loud clap, and as I pulled the shoe away and raised my left hand I saw the results of my handiwork. A shoe-shaped imprint with the Jimmy Choo name glowed pale pink against her China doll skin. I gave her a matching one on her left cheek and repeated the spanking from left to right until her ass was a tapestry of Jimmy Choo tattoos.
As I’d been flailing away, she’d been wiggling her ass, raising it towards me, uttering mews of encouragement and little moans of pain and delight as she arched her back like a cat, her fingers dancing over her pussy, patting her clit as I swatted her ass with a continuous rain of shoe spanks, her moans growing in intensity over the thunderclaps of sole on ass until I recognized, “Oh Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. Yes, that’s good Jimmy. Beat my ass, Jimmy. Beat it good. Leave your mark on me.”
I was going to correct her as to my name, but then I realized she was praising the shoe designer, not me. So I gave her what she wanted. I was a blur of swinging arms and pounding Jimmy Choos.
posted by Rachel at Monday, December 18, 2006
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