ALI1A--Part 1.....   The Circle of Light

    She stood in the center of the room with her hands at her sides.
    Even at a distance of eight feet the heat from the fireplace at her
    back was uncomfortable.  She felt a trickle of sweat run from her
    left armpit down her left side.  Despite her effort to remain
    motionless, she shivered.

    "You were told to be still."  His voice was in front of her.  He
    spoke quietly, but the sound of his voice rekindled some excite-
    ment.  Her hands grasped the sides of her skirt in an effort to
    keep her  arms from moving.  She tried to slow her breathing, to
    regain her composure.

    His voice, so familiar from the hours on the telephone, now so
    strange sounding in-person, helped her to endure the waiting.  Not
    seeing him made her uneasy.  When she'd rung the doorbell she'd
    expected him to be there, but instead the door opened on an empty
    corridor, empty but for the note on the threshold.  She'd read the
    note and followed the terse instructions.  She walked the length of
    the corridor, found the large room, then stood quietly in the
    center with her back to the fireplace.

    The longer she waited the more foolish she felt.  The room was
    sparsely furnished and the high, flat ceiling made her feel small.
    Then the spotlights illuminating her became brighter so that she
    couldn't see beyond the lighted circle.  The perimeter of the room
    was hidden in shadow.

    When his voice sounded again, it came from far to her right.  She
    started, glanced over to the shadows, saw nothing.  "Are you
    ready?"   Oh, was she ready!  But when she tried to reply her
    throat was constricted and she found herself nodding her head.

    "Undress."  Again, from the right.

    She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse then let it slide from
    her arms to the floor.  His voice, suddenly on her left, told her
    to fold her clothes neatly.  She retrieved the blouse, folded it
    carefully, then placed it on the floor in front of her.  As she
    undressed she felt as nervous as a teenager, but secretly she
    relished the anxiety and so perhaps undressed faster than she had
    planned.  Yes, she had planned this!

    Finally she added her panties to the small pile of clothing, moved
    her shoes to the top of the pile, then stood straight again with
    her hands at her sides. She guessed that he was examining her. She
    heard footsteps as he walked around her in the shadows and knew
    that he was appraising her.  She shivered again and turned red as
    goosebumps appeared on her flesh.   God! Was she ever this nervous
    before?   Surely not in her teens or in the twenty years since!

    He'd said her appearance was not important, but she'd not believed
    him.  But she expected some reactions from him, some compliments or
    other sounds of appreciation.  She received silence.  An occasional
    footstep as he moved around her, but no vocal sounds.

    She did not hear him come up behind her until his hands seized her
    shoulders and turned her to face him.  He drew her into his arms
    and held her quietly.  His lips brushed her hair and moved down to
    nuzzle her throat.  He slid his hands down her back and clasped
    them  together behind her ass to press her tightly against him.
    His left arm went around her waist and squeezed her closer.  Then,
    very slowly, his right hand spanked her.

    At first the sudden stings caused her to try to squirm out of his
    grasp. Her hands flew behind her to block the spanks.  He whispered
    a reminder for her to stand still with her hands at her sides.
    She really looked at him now, at his glaring eyes and the firm line
    of his mouth.  Then, she stood erect and  moved her hands to her
    sides.  The spanking resumed.  He struck her flesh with the flat of
    his hand in a slow cadence, but he struck harshly and confined the
    smacks to the base of her ass.

    She willed herself to accept the punishment stoically. She never
    displayed weakness before any man and she believed he would not be
    an exception, especially if he thought he could impress her with a
    childish  punishment.  She had not counted  on the severity of the
    smacks or on the cumulative effects of the prolonged spanking.  As
    her buttocks became hot she started to wince.  Soon she was
    whimpering.

    She felt her loins push against him under the force of the spanks.
    She knew he was enjoying  her discomfort;  as each smack drove her
    against him she could feel his cock twitch against her lower belly.
    The spanks seemed to get harder, the sting to get hotter.  She
    started to cry.  But as her vision blurred she felt herself push
    her ass back to meet his palm and so became an active participant
    in continuing her travail.  He responded by tightening his grasp of
    her waist and increasing the speed of the spanking.

    She broke into sobs then and cried against his shoulder. He paused,
    delivered an especially severe spank, and held his hand pressed
    into her smarting skin.  She continued to bawl as his hand slowly
    relieved the pressure and gently rubbed her tender ass. He lifted
    her chin and kissed her eyes, tasting her tears before pressing his
    lips on hers and kissing her deeply.

    As he stepped back from her she found it difficult to stand. Her
    legs seemed unstable, her ass burned, and yet she felt alive and
    excited.  When he told her to lie down she did so with too much
    enthusiasm; even soft carpeting feels harsh against freshly spanked
    buttocks. Then, as she stretched herself out she became self-
    conscious  again, watching  him stand above her, feeling his eyes
    on her. (So intense! Did her never smile?)

    At last he knelt beside her, took her left wrist in his hands and
    raised it high above her head.  She couldn't see how he tied it,
    but she felt him wrap something soft about her wrist before
    stretching her arm up and out and securing it to something at floor
    level.  When he did the same with her right wrist she strained to
    watch him, but she couldn't really see anything.  Her apprehension
    increased momentarily when he reached for her right ankle, extended
    her leg wide, and tied it tightly, but when he tied her left ankle
    she resigned herself to helplessness and found that she trusted
    him.  When he rose and gazed down at her the open vulnerability of
    her spreadeagled position resurrected her nervousness,  but she
    found she was excited to be so exposed to him and so helpless to
    prevent him from using her as he wished.


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