Ella Ford in topic Lesbian Erotica and Captions · Imgur.com · Edited
I don't know why I lied about the stupid vase.
It was an accident, a simple slip of my hand as I was dusting the shelf, an unfortunate vibration that caused the ancient ornament to topple over and fall to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. It wasn't even that pretty. I'm sure that Miss Ford wouldn't have batted an eyelid if I'd only come clean about it and told her what happened in the first place.
But I didn't. I lied. I looked her in the eye and told her that I didn't know anything about it, that it must have been the wind, that I'd been in another part of her vast house at the time and hadn't even heard it fall. The words fell from my mouth as a ceaseless torrent of untruths. I was barely able to believe that I was being so dishonest, wilting beneath the intense scrutiny of her icy glare. But I really needed this job, even if I was just a humble maid. Life after college hadn't exactly been the roaring success that I'd hoped it would be, finding out quickly that art history graduates are not as highly sought after in this small corner of the Midwest as I'd hoped! Who knew?
"Come to my study before you leave tonight," she'd answered with a shake of her head. Then she'd brushed past me and stalked out of the room, leaving me standing there, quivering with a fear that I couldn't quite explain.
That was six hours ago and the time had come to face the music. With my heart hammering in my chest, I knocked on the door of her office, an imposing, dark wooden portal with ornate brass handles.
"Come in Stephanie," she said, her voice even and measured.
I pushed the door and stepped into the plush study, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Would she tell me off? Would she dock my pay? Would she fire me, sending me home without money or a job? Oh god, I thought, what would I do without a job? Would I have to move back to my mom's?
"Stand there please," said Miss Ford, gesturing with her hand. The older woman was sitting in her old wingback chair beside the window, bathed in the long golden light of early fall. She wore her usual immaculate skirt suit, perfectly pressed, not a single button out of place. Her chestnut hair was held behind her head in a neat bun, delicate reading glasses resting on her pretty nose.
I moved across the room, the quick click of my heels on the wooden floor matching the fast beat of my pounding heart. With trembling hands, I smoothed out the white apron that she had me wear and distantly hoped that the thick seams of my sheer pantyhose were perfectly aligned, a fussy little detail that Miss Ford insisted that I get right.
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. The soft swish of her nylon stockings sounded impossibly loud in the silent room.
"I'm going to ask you once and only once," she said, appearing distracted as she brushed a piece of lint from her skirt. "Did you break the vase?"
I sighed and lowered my eyes. I considered compounding the lie, sticking to my story and hoping that she believed me. She would have no idea whether I broke the vase or not, and surely couldn't prove it one way or the other. But I caught myself before I spoke, a wave of guilt and self-loathing washing over me as I felt the weight of her gaze on my trembling body.
"Y-yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "I broke the vase."
My words hung in the air between us, an electric tension amplifying the silence until it was unbearable. I willed her to speak, to shout, to scold me with her words. But she remained deathly quiet, staring at me with those deep blue eyes, dark pools of pure night.
Then she spoke. "Did you lie to me, Stephanie?"
"Y-yes, Miss Ford," I stammered, staring rigidly forward.
The older woman sighed and sat forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs and touching her knees together.
"Please lie down over my lap, Stephanie," she said calmly, the kind of voice you'd use to ask a close friend to take a seat at your dinner table.
"I-I'm sorry? I-I don't understand..." I said, shaking my head.
Her neck snapped around and she fixed me with her icy stare. "What don't you understand, Stephanie?"
"I..."
"Do you understand that you lied to me? That you've been a very bad girl?" she snapped.
"Y-yes... I..."
"And do you understand that bad girls need to be punished?"
I remained silent, unsure how to answer. I felt a hot flush of shame rising from my neck to warm my cheeks.
Miss Ford didn't wait for me to speak. Her face softened, a golden radiance replacing the sharp glare in an eye blink. "I just want you to be a good girl, Stephanie. I want you to do as you're told. Do you understand?"
To my surprise, I did. "Yes, Miss Ford," I replied, nodding.
"Then lie down over my lap," she said softly, patting her knees with her fingers.
Breathing quickly, barely able to believe what was happening, I stepped across the room to where she sat. Then I bent my knees and lowered myself down, stretching my body out over her lap, reaching my hands across and placing my palms flat on the hard floor. I shuffled forward until I felt her hand on my back. Even at this point, lying there across her lap, I still believed that she was joking, that she couldn't possibly be serious.
But then I felt her free hand grip the hem of my dress and in a single motion she pulled the black material up over my bottom, gathering it around my waist. I gasped and started to speak, but before I could protest, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my pantyhose and pulled them down, along with my panties, bunching them around my knees.
I tried to stand, tried to squirm off her lap and free myself, but she held me in place with her hand on my back. I felt cold air touch my bottom, felt a sting of shame as I realized that my pussy was visible to her between my legs. My heart began to hammer, fear and embarrassment washing over me in alternating waves. How could she possibly do this to me? I was a grown woman! I hadn't been spanked since I was a little girl!
Then she touched her hand to the soft flesh of my bottom and began to lightly caress me there.
"Now, hold still, and this will soon be over," she purred. I swear I heard a note of sultry longing in her voice.
I tried to control my breathing, tried to ignore the feelings that were running roughshod over my thoughts. I knew that I had to stand, had to get free, had to get out of there. But I didn't attempt to move, because beneath all of those frantic thoughts was a maddening awareness of her gentle touch's soft warmth, provoking rashes of gooseflesh wherever her hand stroked my skin.
All of a sudden, her caress ceased and her hand departed. I gasped at the sudden absence, shocked by how much I'd been relishing it.
Thwack!
Her hand came down on my ass with a sharp crack that echoed around the room. I cried out and lifted my head, shocked as the harsh pain that radiated out in pulsating spheres from my bottom. The discomfort faded quickly and I blinked, unable to believe that she'd done it. I felt shame, remorse, embarrassment, a complex cocktail of emotions that swirled around in my racing mind.
Once again, she caressed me, her soft palm moving in gentle circles on my burning skin, soft words whispered to calm me down. Then she raised her arm again and I instinctively braced myself.
Thwack!
Louder this time, harder, the pain stabbed outwards with icy fingers and I cried out. Warm tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. But I still didn't attempt to stand. I still didn't attempt to free myself. I felt an intense craving for her gentle caress, her warm hand on my stinging ass. When it came, when finally she touched me in that most intimate way, I sighed. "Thank you, Miss Ella," I breathed, an unconscious reaction to the moment of respite.
Thwack!
Again, her hand struck me. Landing in the same place, intensifying the red hot ember that burned there.
Thwack!
Once more, with no warning or chance for recovery. I howled out loud, screaming at the agony that roared through my body, guilt and shame and intense discomfort flushing my face till it glowed. But there was something else, a subtle backdrop of feeling, unexpected but insistent, growing with every sharp strike, radiating outwards from my pussy with slender tendrils of pleasure. Was I enjoying this? The thought disgusted me and delighted me in equal measure.
Thwack!
"Thank you, Miss Ford," I sobbed, breathing quickly, tears streaming down my face. My ass felt like molten lava, spilling liquid fire into my veins. My pussy ached, throbbing with an unfamiliar longing that grew with every second. I felt a wetness between my legs, thighs slipping together as I squirmed and writhed on her lap. Then her hand caressed me and I moaned, exhaling deeply and squeezing my eyes shut as a supernova of sensation exploded in my mind.
Thwack!
She lifted her hand and brought it down harder than ever. I screamed and arched my spine upwards, dizzied by the pain and the pleasure, mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. I felt overwhelmed by it all. The touch of her hand, the pain of the spanking, the closeness of her body, the smell of her, the burning heat on my skin, the insistent throb of my sex. From somewhere far away, I heard a voice and I realized with a hot sunburst of surprise that it was mine. A single mantra, repeated over and over. "I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl."
Thwack!
Her final strike caused the orgasm to explode within me, a blossoming fireball of utter pleasure that radiated out of my pussy and set my nerve endings afire. I craned my neck upwards, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I began to quake and rock, shuddering as the liquid wave of pleasure washed over my body. And then it ended and I fell forwards, sliding off the older woman's lap and falling limply to the floor, shivering as the energy of the climax left my body like a departing storm. I felt myself curl into a ball, drawing my legs up to my chest, feeling a cool kiss of air on my stinging bottom.
From a universe away, I heard a voice, the calm, measured tones of Miss Ford.
"Thank you Stephanie, that will be all. Please don't be late tomorrow."
It was an accident, a simple slip of my hand as I was dusting the shelf, an unfortunate vibration that caused the ancient ornament to topple over and fall to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. It wasn't even that pretty. I'm sure that Miss Ford wouldn't have batted an eyelid if I'd only come clean about it and told her what happened in the first place.
But I didn't. I lied. I looked her in the eye and told her that I didn't know anything about it, that it must have been the wind, that I'd been in another part of her vast house at the time and hadn't even heard it fall. The words fell from my mouth as a ceaseless torrent of untruths. I was barely able to believe that I was being so dishonest, wilting beneath the intense scrutiny of her icy glare. But I really needed this job, even if I was just a humble maid. Life after college hadn't exactly been the roaring success that I'd hoped it would be, finding out quickly that art history graduates are not as highly sought after in this small corner of the Midwest as I'd hoped! Who knew?
"Come to my study before you leave tonight," she'd answered with a shake of her head. Then she'd brushed past me and stalked out of the room, leaving me standing there, quivering with a fear that I couldn't quite explain.
That was six hours ago and the time had come to face the music. With my heart hammering in my chest, I knocked on the door of her office, an imposing, dark wooden portal with ornate brass handles.
"Come in Stephanie," she said, her voice even and measured.
I pushed the door and stepped into the plush study, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Would she tell me off? Would she dock my pay? Would she fire me, sending me home without money or a job? Oh god, I thought, what would I do without a job? Would I have to move back to my mom's?
"Stand there please," said Miss Ford, gesturing with her hand. The older woman was sitting in her old wingback chair beside the window, bathed in the long golden light of early fall. She wore her usual immaculate skirt suit, perfectly pressed, not a single button out of place. Her chestnut hair was held behind her head in a neat bun, delicate reading glasses resting on her pretty nose.
I moved across the room, the quick click of my heels on the wooden floor matching the fast beat of my pounding heart. With trembling hands, I smoothed out the white apron that she had me wear and distantly hoped that the thick seams of my sheer pantyhose were perfectly aligned, a fussy little detail that Miss Ford insisted that I get right.
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. The soft swish of her nylon stockings sounded impossibly loud in the silent room.
"I'm going to ask you once and only once," she said, appearing distracted as she brushed a piece of lint from her skirt. "Did you break the vase?"
I sighed and lowered my eyes. I considered compounding the lie, sticking to my story and hoping that she believed me. She would have no idea whether I broke the vase or not, and surely couldn't prove it one way or the other. But I caught myself before I spoke, a wave of guilt and self-loathing washing over me as I felt the weight of her gaze on my trembling body.
"Y-yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "I broke the vase."
My words hung in the air between us, an electric tension amplifying the silence until it was unbearable. I willed her to speak, to shout, to scold me with her words. But she remained deathly quiet, staring at me with those deep blue eyes, dark pools of pure night.
Then she spoke. "Did you lie to me, Stephanie?"
"Y-yes, Miss Ford," I stammered, staring rigidly forward.
The older woman sighed and sat forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs and touching her knees together.
"Please lie down over my lap, Stephanie," she said calmly, the kind of voice you'd use to ask a close friend to take a seat at your dinner table.
"I-I'm sorry? I-I don't understand..." I said, shaking my head.
Her neck snapped around and she fixed me with her icy stare. "What don't you understand, Stephanie?"
"I..."
"Do you understand that you lied to me? That you've been a very bad girl?" she snapped.
"Y-yes... I..."
"And do you understand that bad girls need to be punished?"
I remained silent, unsure how to answer. I felt a hot flush of shame rising from my neck to warm my cheeks.
Miss Ford didn't wait for me to speak. Her face softened, a golden radiance replacing the sharp glare in an eye blink. "I just want you to be a good girl, Stephanie. I want you to do as you're told. Do you understand?"
To my surprise, I did. "Yes, Miss Ford," I replied, nodding.
"Then lie down over my lap," she said softly, patting her knees with her fingers.
Breathing quickly, barely able to believe what was happening, I stepped across the room to where she sat. Then I bent my knees and lowered myself down, stretching my body out over her lap, reaching my hands across and placing my palms flat on the hard floor. I shuffled forward until I felt her hand on my back. Even at this point, lying there across her lap, I still believed that she was joking, that she couldn't possibly be serious.
But then I felt her free hand grip the hem of my dress and in a single motion she pulled the black material up over my bottom, gathering it around my waist. I gasped and started to speak, but before I could protest, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my pantyhose and pulled them down, along with my panties, bunching them around my knees.
I tried to stand, tried to squirm off her lap and free myself, but she held me in place with her hand on my back. I felt cold air touch my bottom, felt a sting of shame as I realized that my pussy was visible to her between my legs. My heart began to hammer, fear and embarrassment washing over me in alternating waves. How could she possibly do this to me? I was a grown woman! I hadn't been spanked since I was a little girl!
Then she touched her hand to the soft flesh of my bottom and began to lightly caress me there.
"Now, hold still, and this will soon be over," she purred. I swear I heard a note of sultry longing in her voice.
I tried to control my breathing, tried to ignore the feelings that were running roughshod over my thoughts. I knew that I had to stand, had to get free, had to get out of there. But I didn't attempt to move, because beneath all of those frantic thoughts was a maddening awareness of her gentle touch's soft warmth, provoking rashes of gooseflesh wherever her hand stroked my skin.
All of a sudden, her caress ceased and her hand departed. I gasped at the sudden absence, shocked by how much I'd been relishing it.
Thwack!
Her hand came down on my ass with a sharp crack that echoed around the room. I cried out and lifted my head, shocked as the harsh pain that radiated out in pulsating spheres from my bottom. The discomfort faded quickly and I blinked, unable to believe that she'd done it. I felt shame, remorse, embarrassment, a complex cocktail of emotions that swirled around in my racing mind.
Once again, she caressed me, her soft palm moving in gentle circles on my burning skin, soft words whispered to calm me down. Then she raised her arm again and I instinctively braced myself.
Thwack!
Louder this time, harder, the pain stabbed outwards with icy fingers and I cried out. Warm tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. But I still didn't attempt to stand. I still didn't attempt to free myself. I felt an intense craving for her gentle caress, her warm hand on my stinging ass. When it came, when finally she touched me in that most intimate way, I sighed. "Thank you, Miss Ella," I breathed, an unconscious reaction to the moment of respite.
Thwack!
Again, her hand struck me. Landing in the same place, intensifying the red hot ember that burned there.
Thwack!
Once more, with no warning or chance for recovery. I howled out loud, screaming at the agony that roared through my body, guilt and shame and intense discomfort flushing my face till it glowed. But there was something else, a subtle backdrop of feeling, unexpected but insistent, growing with every sharp strike, radiating outwards from my pussy with slender tendrils of pleasure. Was I enjoying this? The thought disgusted me and delighted me in equal measure.
Thwack!
"Thank you, Miss Ford," I sobbed, breathing quickly, tears streaming down my face. My ass felt like molten lava, spilling liquid fire into my veins. My pussy ached, throbbing with an unfamiliar longing that grew with every second. I felt a wetness between my legs, thighs slipping together as I squirmed and writhed on her lap. Then her hand caressed me and I moaned, exhaling deeply and squeezing my eyes shut as a supernova of sensation exploded in my mind.
Thwack!
She lifted her hand and brought it down harder than ever. I screamed and arched my spine upwards, dizzied by the pain and the pleasure, mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. I felt overwhelmed by it all. The touch of her hand, the pain of the spanking, the closeness of her body, the smell of her, the burning heat on my skin, the insistent throb of my sex. From somewhere far away, I heard a voice and I realized with a hot sunburst of surprise that it was mine. A single mantra, repeated over and over. "I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl."
Thwack!
Her final strike caused the orgasm to explode within me, a blossoming fireball of utter pleasure that radiated out of my pussy and set my nerve endings afire. I craned my neck upwards, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I began to quake and rock, shuddering as the liquid wave of pleasure washed over my body. And then it ended and I fell forwards, sliding off the older woman's lap and falling limply to the floor, shivering as the energy of the climax left my body like a departing storm. I felt myself curl into a ball, drawing my legs up to my chest, feeling a cool kiss of air on my stinging bottom.
From a universe away, I heard a voice, the calm, measured tones of Miss Ford.
"Thank you Stephanie, that will be all. Please don't be late tomorrow."
