He’d just finished with the acrylic paddle, a nasty little piece that bit hard into her lower cheek. His hand resumed, encouraging circulation to minimize the bruising, a theory she wasn’t going to argue.
When he held her, it wasn’t to keep her. It was to feel her struggle and her surrender. He looped one leg around hers, pinned her arm behind her back and plunged his finger deep.
With the crook of a knuckle, he declared his power as she relinquished hers all over his lap.
It lasted a week, that bruise where bottom meets thigh, reminding her of the euphoria of fleeting possession, of the elegance and magic of rough seduction.
From red to purple, from brown to yellow, it faded as he did.
This post is a terrifying bit of poetry. Not terrifying because it’s scary, but terrifying in its power.
Does a bruise ever really fade or is it imprinted, forever, on places unseen?
Hi, Liv, good to see you again.
It is true that some bruises last longer than others, haunting us in unseen places. But I’d like to think that they all eventually fade. That’s the optimist in me.
Oh! um! Owww! Yum!!
As I have a Top who loves the aftermath of a spanking but doesn’t appreciate bruises as much as I do, I have a problem finding the colour palate sometimes! My main issue is I’m supposed to swim three times a week, I won’t get changed in an open locker room with bruises…sheesh, what’s a girl to do?
Bruises of the soul fade far slower, but hopefully as life move on become the palest shade.
Unless you want to wear one of those swim skirts, it seems like bruising is not a good option. I did see a woman on the beach once with a definite cane mark on her lower cheeks. I don’t know that non-spankos would have recognized it…but it was unmistakable to us! I felt like winking at her…but that would have been weird, considering I’d just examined her ass as she was bent over.
All the colors of a Pink. From shy soft Pink* to bold Hawt Pink* to Magenta, a near lava red.
Each color showing another dimension or facet of the color prism.
We are a sum of our total parts. You are a rainbow of complex details, My friend.
Your fantasy prose was exquisiteness as usual.
Hugs Peach,
Kai
Amen, sister. There isn’t just one crayon in the box that fits us — we need all 68!
Hugs back to you.
It may be red, purple, brown or yellow on the surface, but it’s still Pink underneath it all.
Thank you for seeing the true color beneath my many scribblings.
XX
Beautiful as usual.
I really wanted it to be horrid.
XX and thank you, Emen.