Wet Dream: a fragment

Jennelle overslept and awoke suddenly from a wet dream which left no images, only a palpable need she had no time to satisfy and pajama bottoms soaked with girl cream. Based upon fragmentary thoughts which intruded upon her foggy mind it had involved both pain and pleasure. The result was a kind of horny which left her mouth slick with thicker than normal saliva and a pussy sloppy white with unused lubrication. Without time for finding panties, she wiggled her pungent, puffy, pink into some jeans lying on her bed, the seam of which nestled deep between her labia as a rude reminder of her dream and how long the day would be.

 

In spite of being a good student, calculus was kicking her ass. Her mind was already resigned to the fact that she’d have to retake it in the summer, probably with a tutor. It wasn’t that she didn’t try. She just wasn’t getting it. She’d done poorly on an exam Monday and anticipated the result today. Any grade below a C, she knew, would earn her some strokes when she got home. Her mother was very strict about school and used corporal punishment to enforce her philosophy.

 

At the beginning of 4^th period she got her exam back, and as she’d guessed, it was a D. As though the poor grade weren’t enough, she now had a beating to look forward to. Nevertheless, the thought of being spanked reminded her of something in her dream, something just out of reach, something she couldn’t quite articulate, something which made the seam of her jeans tighter against her clit, causing her to stop by the ladies room between classes to wipe and see if there was a visibly wet spot soaking through her jeans. There was.

 

When she got home, dutifully, she laid the exam on her mom’s desk, went to the cupboard and chose the whip, a nasty cat of 9 tails with vicious knots tied irregularly along each thong. She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen it over the other pain producing instruments there. There were no easy rides, each instrument hurt under her parent’s skillful touch, and each brought its own flavor of pain. Yet, a whipping today seemed exactly right, evoking a virgin, feral urge Jennelle felt in her pubic bone - and jeans.

 

This choice of implement was the one luxury she enjoyed when being disciplined. While the final choice of objects lay with her mom, it was a veto she’d exercised only once in Jennelle’s life, and given the occasion, rightly so. Given her state of undiminished arousal, she hoped that the whip would not only be less severe somehow, but also, soothing, sensual, and satisfying. The last property made her shudder in anticipation. Confident in her decision, she laid the scourge on top of her test to alert her mom what lay beneath. 

 

Resigned to her fate, she began to undress. In doing so the ache in her overly tender loins roared unmercifully. However, instead of jumping back into bed and relieving her need, she opted for the shower she’d missed earlier. Once naked, shadows from her dream resurfaced in an avalanche of arousal causing her to wonder how painful discipline would play out in all of this. Pain and pleasure: that had been the sequence. She contemplated what this meant, questioning if pain could satisfy her lust in some previously unexperienced way, answering to what she sensed metaphysically in her dream but now felt gnawingly between her tender thighs.

 

In the shower she shaved her mound silky smooth for the first time in months. After removing the tangle of teenage undergrowth, her crotch felt cool, alive, bare, and sensitive. Then, dressed only in her robe she went back to her room to await her fate. Soon she heard her mother enter the kitchen. There was a general rustling of objects and paper, followed by an eerie silence. Almost immediately, she heard determined footsteps approaching her door. Without a knock, the door opened. Clearly her mother meant business tonight.

 

Exasperated, her mother waved the whip and test paper in her hand while giving the usual speech about grades, disappointment, and her own good. Jennelle nodded humbly without making eye contact. After laying both items on the dresser, she reminded Jennelle that she was due 15 firm strokes on her bare bottom. While rolling up her sleeve she flatly ordered her to remove the robe and assume the position.

 

Obeying, Jennelle stood and let the robe drop to her feet, revealing her naked and now nervous body. She just as quickly sat back down on the corner of her bed facing her mother, one leg on each side of the point. Taking a breath, her mother looked at her daughter, picked up the whip, and demanded again that her daughter assume the position.

 

Jennelle slowly shook her head before falling back in resignation, staring at the ceiling, praying she hadn’t left a wet spot for her mother to see. Her hands lay limp above her head, her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, tip toes barely touching the floor. Impatiently her mother “ahem-ed” again, while Jennelle closed her eyes and shook her head defiantly as impulses, desires, and fantasies awoke inside her. She abandoned herself to these primal urges, not knowing what else to do. Yes, something was alive and swelling just below the surface, desperate to be found – desperate to satisfy this hedonistic hunger. Irritated, her mother emphasized that she wasn’t in the mood for power games tonight, and that any more delay would earn her double strokes.

 

With a smirk, she ignored the warning until her exasperated mother made good her threat and reached out to roll her over. But Jennelle was having none of it and raised her legs as if to hug them, then deliberately pushed her knees apart and held them wide.

Then begged softly, “whip me here . . . before I change my mind.”