A Last Goodnight

I wouldn’t really describe this as a sexual fantasy, rather it is a story of love expressed in a peculiarly unique way. It may not be to all tastes but is a story I wanted to explore.

It was the end of the day. A very special day spent together as lovers and friends, but now the sun was setting and it was time for a different kind of loving.
“It’s time for your bath Little One” she told her partner as she stroked his grey hair.
He looked up at his Domme as she stood beside his chair. She looked down at him in return, her eyes full of love. She bent down and kissed his forehead tenderly.

Continue reading “A Last Goodnight”


A girl sat on the beach. She stared, slightly sullenly, across the water where her Master was swimming. Really, she thought, she hadn’t been that stubborn really, had she?

Still, she had wondered for a moment if he had been going to spank her, right there, in front of all those people. She had been almost relieved at the smaller threat of being made to kneel. She had backed down, quickly, then. She could see he meant it; that he wasn’t going to let her challenge his authority any more that day. So, not really that stubborn at all.

He had ordered her then, back to the beach, to watch, and to create a dirty story. That alone wouldn’t have been such a challenge.
“Start it”, he had ordered, “with a stubborn girl, being punished by her Master”.
She fumed silently. What was she meant to write? Was she meant to come up with a crueller punishment for a girl in her position? And if she did, would it be used against her? She knew that was always possible. Her master could be evil when he wanted.

After all, thinking up a naughty story was very little hardship. She leant back, feeling a tingle of excitement run through her. She got to lie here, and think naughty thoughts, hardly a punishment at all.

Of course, she realised suddenly, that wasn’t the punishment at all. The punishment was to tell her story. Her mouth twisted. That was in itself cruel indeed. A clever, twisted punishment, from a man who knew just how to manipulate her. But what story could she tell?

Then, in an instant, she knew; there could be only one story.

She sighed deeply, and began.

“A girl sat on the beach…”