Well, if you are asked so nicely to turn down the heat (NOT) - you have to oblige...

This tale is stand alone - but it also starts at the exact point where my Seven Swats Game left....

since I am sucker for titles - here's ...



FILL IN BLANKS ON THE WAY TO ZEPPELIN

(Dashes do NOT stand for letter or words)

He brushed her flushed face and gazed into her liquid eyes.

"What do you say...after such a lesson?"

Nike stammered "Th.... th ..."

"What? Say it!"

Nike's eyes glazed suddenly and her lips became tight line. Not a sound came from her.

"That was game, set, match. Now! Say it!"

She just stared at him as he asked again - then shook her head. He rolled her off his lap onto the floor.

"Get cleaned and dressed, you tramp. Look at you!" he said as he looked at the crumbled tennis outfit.

She scrambled towards the locked and looked back at him.

"What?!" he admonished ashe scrambled towards the locker and looked back at him.


She got down oh all fours, crawled away, intentionally giving him 'come and get it' view of her red bottom. Stoping, she turned her head and he though he saw a glint in her eye.


"Scat!"


Nike hoisted herself up and trotted briskly to her locker where she peeled off her not-so-white-anymore dress. As she opened the locker to put on her day clothes on, she looked at the Wolf. He shook his head.

"Are you a Slut, Nikita?"


"__ __", she said defiantly.


"Then dress like one."


Out came her special bag, and she dressed like one. She took her time; displaying each piece of clothing to him and putting them on slowly.

"Long latex stockings, roll them up, slowly, then, snap, snap. Thin belt-like garter to attach the stockings. But BEFORE you attach them, snap the snaps against your leg. I want to hear it."


"__ __" she said under her breath and covered her mouth quickly because she spoke out of turn.


"Now, attach them. Now, for the gloves, pull them up slowly, one finger at the time, smooth them, first one, then the other. Not a wrinkle, Nikita."

As the leather vest is pulled out, it's quilted squares are steel knobbed, very stiff, short and sleeveless. When she put it on, it reached just about the third of the way down her back and stuck out at an angle, its stiff edge away from her skin. But, in all its absurdity, it stressed the curve of her naked back, and pointed to Nike's bare, glowing ass; an ass that appeared supported by the latex stockings.


Finally, she picked up the stiletto sandals and slowly clasped each thin, blood-red band over her feet, and ran into some difficulty as the leather straps glided over her smoothly latex encased feet. The red sandals accented the black outfit and seemed to bondage her feet for Wolf.

When she finished, she cast a glance under her long eyelashes at Wolf and searched for approval on his face. She stood upright, proud, rightly proud. Her skin was pale and radiant in fluorescent glare, her breasts jutting out between the vest's wings. A trickle of sweat ran between them, over the glimpse of her ribs, then over her hard tummy, exploring the belly button sliding in tiny rivulets toward her jutting mons, drawn by glistening wetness between Nike's legs.

He tried to hide his admiration and practiced a stony look. Their eyes met; she smiled. He tried to stop his own smile-back and instead waved his hand towards her hair and face. She quickly wiped her still tear stained face, and scrambling through her bag, found a lipstick, almost purple, and applied it liberally. She pouted like a self conscious little girl who was trying on a stolen stick. She took a leather band and tied her hair in tight, smooth ponytail. Then Nike straightened up again.

"What are you Nikita, tell me!" he said gruffly.

There was a certain timbre in his voice that sounded almost choked.

"__ __ __ __"

"Yes you are. A real one."

" __ __ __ __"

"AH, but you will NOT thank me for that impudent red ass of yours?"

She just looked into the distance. He stormed towards her, his boots echoed on concrete, leather jeans emitting a squishy oiled noise. The Wolf pinned her hands behind her back. Nike felt her wrists encased with hard armbands, heard a click - she knew he locked the links directly to each other, letting the short chain dangle.. As he pushed her toward the door, he held her steady with his body. She wobbled a bit on her stiletto feet, but he held her - pushing her on.

Corridors, stairs, hallway, and finally, to the parking lot.. Almost bereft of cars, but not quite, almost dark, but not quite. In the distance, city light glared and twinkled as they blotted out the stars in evening sky.

Up above, Nike saw a zeppelin. It should say Goodyear, but somehow it spells out to the world - SlutYea. It was fitted with strong reflector swinging slowly and whenever it passed over the lot, she was bathed in the stark, iridescent glare of the cold electric light.

As Nike was pushed towards his dark Lexus, her wrists were unclasped and she was made to grasp the edge of the car roof on the Lexus, her arms straight, her body almost horizontal. She spread her legs and they were pushed even further apart. Nike's head hung down and her tightly packed breasts reached out to mother earth. He pulled her chain around the luggage carrier on the car, re-locked the clasp, bending her, turning her into half sawhorse tethered to his car. Her legs - inverted V, torso - sunk slightly in the middle, ass jutted up; she was ridding her own body-horse of desire.

Nike felt his hand on her heated ass and grew goose bumps from the chilly air. Suddenly, pain exploded on her burning flesh. The heft behind the blow pushed her into the side of the car. The Lexus rocked from the blow, the stereo kicking in, and the muffled sounds of Led Zeppelin's "Black Dog" flooded the parking lot.

As her head flew up, her mouth opened in a scream. The ponytail whipped wildly against the jacket; it's tip audibly hit the bare skin. What? She racked her brain and was hit again, the swat almost lifting her off the ground. A sobbing Nike shook her head and swung her ponytail in wild semi-arc. This was not the paddle he used on her before. What was it?

"Yes, what?" He growled, familiar with her inquisitive mind. "Tell me what is it?"

Wolf struck again and almost tattooed her against the car with the force of next two blows.

He stopped to ask her again, "What is it?"

Straightening her trembling arms she pushed herself away from the car sweat pouring over her body, dripping from forehead., running down her legs, slicking the latex even more.. And there was another drip... between her legs.