Everyday Kinky Challenge #2

everyday-kinky-challenge-artThis week’s challenge involves art just like last week. I’m an artsy kind of girl and hey, clay does involve some kinky stuff.  Here’s the second Kinky Challenge.

Dreja

By User Einarspetz on sv.wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

And now for that challenge… And remember:

©Megan Slayer, 2016, All Rights Reserved, Please Do Not Copy or Redistribute Without Written Permission

Clay is such a messy thing, especially on the wheel. The sloppy mess gets on everything. Shoes, clothes, hair, skin… Did I mention it’s everywhere?

I finished my latest attempt at a vase and stopped the wheel. The vase looked more like a contorted, saggy organ than something to put flowers in. I knew where I’d made my mistake. The walls were too thin. I don’t know how I always managed to screw up, but every one of my attempts came out the same–saggy and looking awful.

“It’s a little wobbly.” Evan stopped beside me. “Could use some work.”

“Don’t I know it.” I sighed. Work… I’d done plenty of working. What I needed was to give up. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m cut out for pottery wheels and throwing clay.” I hated to give up on my goal to learn how to throw clay and work a pottery wheel, but sometimes I also needed to know when to throw in the towel.

Evan sat behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder. My heart hammered. Was this going to be a Ghost moment? Part of me hoped not because it was so cliche, but the rest of me…maybe I wanted it more than I’d realized.

His chin dug into my shoulder. “You shouldn’t give up. Never. But what you should do is let that pot dry. It’s not as awful as you think.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” He swatted my thigh. “I believe my boy deserves punishment. You’ve let your self-esteem and pride get the better of you.”

I shivered. Oh boy. He knew how to get me back in line. “Yes, sir.” I didn’t have to give my safe word or permission to play. I knew what he wanted and I wanted it more.

“Let the pot dry. Now strip down and wait on the bed with your ass in the air. My boy needs a few swats to remind him he’s got lots of worth.”

I couldn’t leave the seat or the basement fast enough. My ass tingled from the anticipation. “Thank you, sir.” I sprinted up the stairs. My ass, his pleasure…and mine, too.

 

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