It is early on in our relationship and HL has told me that I have a date for a spank. We have the house to ourselves so he wants to make the most of it. He has gone upstairs to our bedroom and told me to wait 5 minutes before coming up. Time seems to drag and race all at the same time and I keep looking at my watch, nervously. When the time is up I climb the stairs and go into the bedroom. He has closed the curtains and the light is ambient. He has music playing and is sitting on the bed, smiling.
He indicates for me to come closer to him and then pulls me to stand in between his legs. He raises his arms so that they sit on my breasts and then squeezes them hard. I tense slightly and then relax into the feel of him. He releases me, moves his hands to my shoulders, and then pulls me down to kneel in front of him. He tells me he wants me to suck him and asks if I want to, which I do, of course. He asks me who I belong to and I tell him that I am his and then take him in my mouth.
He knows that this will centre me and help me shift to where he wants me to be. It is still hard sometimes for me to make the transition into my submissive headspace but being used in this way always helps. After a while, when I have forgotten about the spanking and am thinking only of him, he tells me to stop. He pulls my top over my head and reaches around to unhook my bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. He tells me to stand up and he undoes my jeans and I sort of wriggle in response as I help him to pull them down.
He lets me keep my knickers on and then pats his knee to remind me why I am here. I lie across his knees and manoeuvre myself into a position which feels comfortable. I can feel the heat from his body and his hard cock pressing into my stomach. He pulls the material from my knickers into the centre so that my cheeks are fully revealed. He rubs them and then bends forward and kisses each cheek, pausing and breathing me in. I love the attention and the anticipation. He is being so gentle for the moment but I know that once this starts he will be anything but.
When the spanking begins he is gentle with that too. It is rhythmic and repetitive, almost as if he is keeping a beat, although I know that this isn’t the case. Something seems to happen to my body, as if it becomes weighty, and my relationship with it seems to change. I am losing myself to the cadence of his hand and the building warmth on my skin, as if I am separate somehow, reduced to my core. I am dreamy and so relaxed when suddenly the sharpness of his blow shakes me and I hear him laugh.
He begins a process of spanking in increasingly more challenging patterns then. Sometimes hard on each side, then all on one, then random. He skips a beat to stroke and caress me and then begins over. He has turned the music up and The Doors are blasting out the speaker. He uses it to pitch the strength of what he is doing and I try to let go to the flow of the music. I am fighting to manage the heat and the pain that feels as if it is falling in the same spot over and over. It feels too much and not enough at the same time and then he stops and I feel him take hold of my knickers and he pulls them down and off.
He pushes my legs apart a bit and then his fingers find me. I know I am wet and he swirls them around as if to prove it. I push myself into his body and his hand, searching for him in any way that I can. I am overwhelmed with need for him and for the heat and the fire. I want him to keep touching me but I also want him to keep spanking me. He tells me to lift up and he puts the wand underneath me and resumes the spanking. Each time his hand falls hard, I am forced to push myself into the wand, and I can feel myself getting closer and closer to orgasm.
I can hear someone groaning in the distance somewhere and I realise that it must be me. I feel momentarily embarrassed at how I must appear but the pleasure of the pain is taking me over. I am no longer concerned how I sound or how I look and all I care about is that this never ends. I am stuck on the edge of the over-stimulation, hovering right between the extremes of pleasure and pain. I can’t think or do anything more than wish for more and more. I am wanton and needy and I feel something inside me change as I let go and I hear him say, “Good girl, just come for me missy.”