Lisa Spanks Elliott

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A Revision of a Scene from an R-rated Movie.
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escriterra
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What follows is an imagined revision of perhaps the sexiest spanking scene in any Hollywood film. A recent cable broadcast of the 1994 film version of Anne Rice's Exit to Eden (she wrote it under the pen name, Anne Rampling) prompted this script style story. The film stars Dana Delany as Lisa. The actor playing Elliott is not a name or face I've since seen in other films.

(Perhaps the primary talents which landed him the role were those on display in the scene which I've rewritten below—delectable, toned, beautiful ass cheeks and a willingness to show them in this integral-to-the-plot scene. He is credible as the character, however, in addition to possessing those amazing talents that must surely have inspired any number of women to remember how stunning he looked as he was positioned and ungarbed during this scene.)

For those not familiar with Exit to Eden, suffice to say that the film is very different from the novel. Keeping within the strictures that will garner an R-rating for theatrical release quite obviously prevented the more explicit and arousing scenes that Ms. Rice wrote from ever making it into the movie. For the purposes of setting up the tale below, however, accept the premise that a hedonistic island exists where men and women who want to free their inhibitions and be either dominated or served by those who want to be dominated go for intriguing vacations. Elliott visits the island in the role of a male who is offering himself for the enjoyment of women, and is entranced by Lisa. That's enough to make the scene below make sense—you can rent the film or catch it on cable to find out how Rosie O'Donnell and Dan Ackroyd figure into the plot, which also includes a gang of criminals, etc.

Better yet, curl up with Exit to Eden as written by Anne Rice, keep one hand free as necessary to tend to any activities the reading may prompt, and enjoy!

***

Scene begins with Elliott standing nude, arms stretched wide as his wrists are roped, the ropes secured to hooks in the wall on opposite sides of Lisa's boudoir. The interaction between Lisa and Elliott in the moments before has included his serving her pleasure by bathing her, shaving her legs, drying her off. As he begins combing her hair, she intuits a truth about Elliott as he pauses with the hair brush in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes. That intuition prompts Lisa to set the stage for a different way to use Elliott for her pleasure, and perhaps in the process, please him, too—something she is eager to find out.

In short order, Elliott is completely naked and totally helpless before her. She lingers behind him, saying nothing as she enjoys the view, his muscular ass rounded and delectable, cheeks perched firm, proud, and high atop strong legs. A chain between the shackles at his ankles is long enough to allow him to spread his legs to shoulder width. On the opposite wall is a mirror, and Lisa enjoys seeing the reflection of the full-frontal Elliott in complete nakedness, helpless before her. She begins her interrogation, moving closer behind him, drawing her lips to his ear.

Lisa: You know, Elliot, women sometimes don't know how men think about them. That's a shame, really.

As she prowls slowly behind him, close enough that he can smell her hair, his eyes remain looking forward.

Lisa: But I know, Elliott. I know that some men are turned on by long legs. They love to fantasize about running their hands up those legs, kissing behind the knees, dragging their lips up a gorgeous woman's thighs, moving their mouths closer and closer to the woman's pussy.

Her monologue is sexy, a throaty, half-whispered description. Elliott wonders if she enjoys saying things like this to him.

Lisa: Other men like big breasts, don't they, Elliott? Yet others are not so much concerned about breast size as they are fascinated by long, hard nipples, indicating the woman's arousal. These men fantasize about closing their lips around succulent, erect nipples straining forward in desire, hard, begging to be sucked.

Elliott shifts his weight. Lisa's arousing monologue is having an effect.

Lisa: Long hair, pretty feet, slender waists . . . it varies for men, but you know what, Elliott? No matter what turns a man on about a woman, seeing that woman naked—the woman who possesses the traits that excite him—makes his cock rise, makes him lust to put his hands on such a woman, to press his naked body against her, press his hard dick between the woman and himself as he kisses his personal vision of female sexual perfection.

Lisa presses herself against Elliott's back, reaches around his hip, and closes her fist around the shaft of his cock, now hanging heavy between his legs, not yet tumescent, but lolling in pre-arousal, blood beginning to rush there as a result of Lisa's monologue.

Lisa: But that's about all the foreplay a man can endure with these fantasies before he begins masturbating, isn't it, Elliott?

She begins stroking Elliott's shaft slowly as she whispers into his ear, pressing herself tightly against his back.

Lisa: Like this, Elliott? Is this how you stroke your cock when you fantasize about a woman with the kind of body that arouses you the most?

He says nothing. A bead of sweat has formed on his brow. Elliott chews on his lower lip, fighting to maintain composure. Lisa reaches her other hand underneath him, between his legs, to cup his balls, continuing her slow, tortuous tease of his rapidly hardening cock.

Lisa: Some men play with their balls as they stroke their cocks, I suppose, Elliott, but I'm not a man, and I can only guess at these things.

She presses his sac gently upward, knowing just how far to go before the first uncomfortable feeling of pressure would begin. Elliott holds his breath, waiting. Worried. But she feels the rigidity of his now erect cock in her grip, not abating, continuing to throb inside her fist. She holds him in this state, a millimeter away from discomfort, feeling the heat of his balls within their sac as they cradle in her palm. Finally, she releases him, drawing both her hands away from him. Looking over his shoulder, she notes with satisfaction the state of his aroused penis before turning her gaze to the mirror, seeing his eyes track hers as she enjoys the view. His cock is pointed to the ceiling, pulsing with each heartbeat.

Lisa: But what about women, Elliott? What do you think we like in our fantasy men?

She traces a fingertip across his shoulder blade, fascinated at the goose bumps rising at the nape of his neck.

Lisa: I can tell you, Elliott, that many women like to see naked cocks. Hard, pulsing, naked cocks. Big cocks, not-so-big cocks—they're all quite arousing to women who enjoy seeing male erections. Women like to see a man at attention, aroused and wanting to fuck them.

She again reaches around him, closes her fist around his hard shaft.

Lisa: Whether they allow the men to fuck them, though . . . well, each woman is different, I suppose.

She squeezes his cock.

Lisa: I'm sure, however, that a woman who imagines herself doing what I'm doing to you now, Elliott, plays out her fantasy in her own particular way.

She again squeezes his cock. A small droplet oozes from the tip. Lisa notices the glistening liquid in the mirror's reflection.

Lisa: And it must surely be the case that . . .

She draws her fist slowly upward, releasing her grip in order to drag the pad of one finger across the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath the head of Elliott's cock, and slides her fingertip across the head of his cock in a way that transfers the droplet of pre-cum from his cock to her finger. She pauses there, enjoying the velvety texture of the head of his dick as she smears a bit of the pre-cum across it.

Lisa: Yes, I'm sure of it, Elliott—it must surely be the case that in some of these female fantasies the women test the men's willingness to please them, to arouse them, to set aside silly macho posturing and abandon themselves to giving the women sexual pleasure, no matter what these ladies ask of them.

Lisa draws her hand slowly upward, peering over Elliott's shoulder, nuzzling her mouth closer to his ear so he will hear her very quiet whisper.

Lisa: Some women, Elliott, thrill to the thought of seeing a man . . .

Her fingertip hovers an inch from his lips. He is looking straight ahead, well aware of the unspoken implication from the woman behind him.

Lisa: . . . take and appreciate any offering presented to him, receive any gift from the woman that will thrill her to know her fantasy man has accepted.

She angles her head, her lips now brushing his ear, causing an involuntary shiver. She smiles, then continues in a voice so soft that only the closeness of her lips ensures that he hears.

Lisa: This kind of fantasy thrills these women, Elliott.

Her lips grazing his ear, she watches the mirrored reflection from the corner of her eye as she slowly presses her finger closer.

Lisa: Oh, yeah, Elliott. Mmmmm . . .

He parts his lips an instant before her fingertip makes contact.

Lisa: That's it, Elliott. Just like that. Some women get turned on intensely as they fantasize about this.

Elliott has closed his eyes, lips parted, barely breathing. Lisa very gently runs her fingertip across the softness of his lips, his pre-cum lubricating the motion, the small amount of the sexy liquid quickly forming a light sheen. She draws her hand away from his lips, then encircles his chest with both arms to press herself tightly against his back.

Lisa: Do you taste good, Elliott?

The question shames him yet excites him at the same time.

Lisa: Have you ever tasted yourself, Elliott?

Barely moving his parted lips, Elliott answers her, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

Elliott: No.

Lisa: Then this will be the first time, won't it?

His cock bobs. Its motion in the mirror's reflection is insanely sexy and arousing to her, knowing what caused the reaction.

Lisa: If you knew how very, very sexy this is to me, Elliott, if you knew how wet my pussy is becoming, if you knew the effect it would have on me to see-

Elliott moans to interrupt her, squeezes his eyes shut, and presses his lips together, rolling them inward. Lisa draws in a quick breath, seeing his actions in the mirror on the opposite wall. She watches, entranced, as he runs the tip of his tongue across his lips, cleaning them of the liquid she had spread there.

Lisa: Oh, Elliott . . .

His cock is straining upward. The head is a deeper pink than the shaft. He is aroused more intensely than at any time in his life.

Lisa: Yes, such a fantasy of a man with a pretty, hard cock is surely something many women indulge in, Elliott.

She steps away from him and to the side, now locking her gaze on his in the mirror. She lowers the top of her negligee. Her nipples are hard. She moves one hand to a breast and squeezes the nipple as Elliott watches her action in the mirror.

Lisa: Other women, Elliott, probably like pretty eyes, and strong jawline, a broad chest . . .

She saunters slowly back behind him as she continues.

Lisa: . . . and other physical attributes of men who excite them. But Elliott, I like . . .

She drags the fingers of one hand down his back, a feather-light touch between her fingertips and his skin, until she rests her fingertips on one of his ass cheeks. She then presses her palm against his naked flesh.

Lisa: . . . butts. Men's firm, sexy, delicious, naked bottoms. Their nude asses displayed for my pleasure, flexing for me to demonstrate their eagerness for my touch.

She brings her other hand to the opposite cheek and plants it there, gripping him firmly, pressing her fingertips into the pliant flesh.

Lisa: Flex your butt for me, Elliott. Let me feel these strong, sexy muscles.

His gaze locked on hers in the mirror, he does as she requests.

Lisa: Mmmm. You have a very nice ass, Elliott. Has anyone ever told you that?

He blushes.

Lisa: Oh? They have?

She squeezes his cheeks again, insinuating that he is to answer her.

Lisa: Tell me.

He looks away from her gaze in the mirror.

Lisa: Tell me.

He coughs nervously. She grabs his cheeks more aggressively. Getting a firm grip, she makes clear her ownership. In a more demanding tone, she presses for his confession.

Lisa: Tell me, Elliott.

He sags forward a bit, his arms held in place by the ropes.

Elliott: Our maid. Gabrielle. She was a grad student from France who had been an au pair in Europe. She worked a few hours a week. One of my father's colleagues at the college knew she needed money, knew of her experience.

Lisa: How old were you, Elliott?

He continues looking away from her gaze in the mirror.

Elliott: Maybe ten.

Lisa squeezes his ass cheeks hard.

Lisa: No, Elliott. Not, "Maybe ten." You know exactly how old you were, don't you?

He glances at her gaze in the mirror, a blush of crimson working quickly up his neck and onto his face as he struggles for enough self-control to speak of this.

Elliott: I was ten. It was sixth grade. It was springtime, late April.

Lisa relaxes her grip on him. Her tone softens.

Lisa: And what happened, Elliott? Tell me exactly what happened.

He swallows hard, drawing his gaze reluctantly, guiltily back to Lisa's in the mirror.

Elliott: I was, um, doing something wrong, something I knew I shouldn't be doing.

Lisa: Why, Elliott?

She slides one hand from one of his butt cheeks and snakes it around the front of him to again close her fist around his cock, which is now deflated in shame. She begins manipulating it. Her other hand remains firmly on his ass.

Elliott: Gabrielle was beautiful. She wore these snug tops. In warm weather she would unbutton the top few buttons. I could see the swell of her breasts.

His cock is responding to Lisa's attention. He continues.

Elliott: Even at ten, I had thoughts.

He pauses, a pained expression on his face. Lisa whispers encouragement.

Lisa: Thoughts of . . .?

Elliott: Oh, damn me, damn me! I wanted to see her tits.

Lisa: Did you ever ask, Elliott? Did you ever ask to see them?

Elliott's eyes fly wide open in shock.

Elliott: No! Of course not!

Lisa: Why not, Elliott? Were you ashamed?

Elliott's expression says everything as he reluctantly looks at the reflection of Lisa's expectant gaze in the mirror.

Lisa: Elliott?

Elliott: Yes. Yes, I was ashamed that I wanted to see her tits.

Lisa: Why? Didn't you think it was normal?

He answers quietly.

Elliott: No.

Lisa pauses her strokes on his cock. Her tone takes a hard edge.

Lisa: Look at me, Elliott!

Startled, he looks at her gaze in the mirror.

Lisa: You'll relate this tale, leaving nothing out, and I'm going to masturbate you while you do it.

She steps away from him, walks to a drawer at the sink, pulls it open and withdraws a bottle of lubricant. Popping the top as she walks back to him, she continues her instructions.

Lisa: I know you, Elliott. I know your demons. We will exorcize them here and now.

His expression is pained, worried, surprised—all at the same time. A shiver of excitement runs through Lisa. Pressing again tightly against his back, she brings the hand with a fistful of lube to his cock and traps it in her grasp. The cool, slippery gel is thrilling to her as she coats his naked dick.

Lisa: Gabrielle was beautiful. She had fantastic breasts, didn't she, Elliott?

She begins stroking him with a now lubricated and slippery fist.

Lisa: Your ten-year-old, little-boy mind wanted to see her breasts, wanted to see her naked. Is that right, Elliott?

He is squirming in anxiety as well as arousal.

Elliott: Yes, dammit! Yes! Gabrielle was so beautiful.

Lisa: So you baited her, didn't you, Elliott? You did something naughty, hoping she would bend over in your face to chastise you, shake her finger in your face as you gazed into her open top to watch the sexy motion her breasts made when she wagged her finger at you. Is that what you did?

Lisa's words have an immediate effect on him. His faraway gaze tells her he is seeing Gabrielle's bosom in his memory at this very instant. She smiles to herself.

Lisa: She has glorious tits, doesn't she, Elliott?

Elliott moans in resignation, surrender, lust.

Elliott: Yes.

Lisa: Then what happened, Elliott? Tell me.

He looks briefly at her in the mirror, drops his gaze to see her fist sliding up and down his naked cock, then draws in a huge breath. Closing his eyes, Elliott continues.

Elliott: She had me backed up against the counter in the kitchen. After telling me how bad I'd been, she surprised me by saying that bad boys get punished. She spun me around, bent me over the counter, and jerked down my shorts. I was mortified when she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of my undershorts and jerked them down, too. I was bent over in front of my beautiful Gabrielle, my little naked butt staring her in the face, and she began to spank me with her open palm.

Lisa is breathing heavily as she listens to Elliott's tale. His erection in her lubricated grip arouses her intensely. She reaches the hand that is not occupied with his cock to her breast and pinches a nipple. A moan of satisfaction escapes her lips.

Elliott: I was so embarrassed! My vision of female beauty was spanking my naked ass for being a bad boy. Gabrielle must have only smacked me five or six times-

Lisa: No! How many, Elliott! How many, exactly? You remember every detail, don't you?

He spits out the answer in exasperation.

Elliott: Yes! Yes, I know. Six smacks on my naked butt. Gabrielle spanked me six times with her hand.

Lisa: That's better, Elliott. I know you. I know you remember every detail.

She draws her hand away from him, drops the other hand away from her breast, and steps to the side of him to look at him in the mirror. His cock is throbbing, erect, pointing to the ceiling.

Lisa: And that's when Gabrielle told you that you had a cute little butt, isn't it?

In total dejection, but with his relation of the story exciting him powerfully, Elliott looks defiantly at Lisa in the mirror's reflection.

Elliott: Yes. She said I was a bad boy but that I had a cute little bottom and that I should pull up my pants and leave the kitchen and that I was never, ever to do again what I had done.

Lisa's next comment surprises him.

Lisa: I wish I could have seen it, Elliott. I'll bet you did have a cute little butt, and I bet it was a nice, satisfying shade of pink after Gabrielle had finished spanking you.

She is satisfied with the reaction her comment has on him. His glistening cock bobs in instant reaction to what she has said.

Lisa: You see? All these years of your silly repression, and now, when a woman who knows how to own a man takes control and uses your tortured memory to make you hot and bothered and incredibly horny, your hard dick gives you away completely, Elliott.

Elliott cranes his head around to look directly at Lisa.

Lisa: You've masturbated to thoughts of Gabielle spanking your naked butt, haven't you?

His expression provides all the answer Lisa needs.

Lisa: You've imagined her naked as she spanks you, haven't you?

Again, his expression is all telling. He looks quickly away.

Lisa: Look at me, Elliott!

He draws his gaze to hers in the mirror. Lisa slides her negligee completely off, now standing nude, the flimsy fabric puddled at her feet. Her nipples are tight and aching. The unmistakable scent of her arousal reaches his nose.

Lisa: You've stroked your hard dick and you've shot your cum while thinking about Gabrielle naked, spanking you and talking to you, telling you how naughty you've been, how much you must be punished. You've seen her beautiful tits in your imagination as you've jacked your cock, getting closer and closer to orgasm, haven't you? You've even thought about her leaning forward after your spanking and kissing your little pink ass cheeks—isn't that right, Elliott?

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