"Please spank me. Please."
When you first said those words, in the heat of the moment, I think it was something secret you'd wanted to ask me for years. Something you'd wanted for all that time but never dared to ask. And then, when you finally summoned up the courage to blurt it out, I'd stopped and tittered. It had hurt you. You'd trusted me enough to say those words and I'd found it funny. I didn't guffaw out loud or make a comment, but you read enough in my eyes and response to know that I didn't find the idea alluring and just couldn't take it seriously. You'd tried to laugh it off as a joke, too quickly afterward. But I could read your eyes and the disappointment in them.
A bit of frost settled into our relationship that night. Not relationship-destroying permafrost, but a kind of distant chill - most obviously during sex. Maybe I was imagining it, but I felt that you were withdrawing a little from me.
I hated that.
I wanted us to be open and honest. So as you slept during the night, I would creep out of bed and begin to look around to find out more about what you might be after. What I found startled me. Women (and men) bent double, over other people's laps, touching their toes, displaying their arses in anticipation of a pain and a punishment they actually desired. I sat by the flickering blue light of the monitor in thoughtful seclusion - a succession of naked women with pink marks, red welts - even blood - striped across their rears. I read forum after forum where people admitted to loving the pain, and finding - for the first time - their most perfect expression of pleasure to be in the moments when their lover was administering pain to their naked skin. Binds, and gags. Handcuffs and chains. Ropes and silk.
Although I found the concept odd, it was hard not to be aroused by the images of submission that I was finding. I could picture you over my lap, your bare arse looking up at my, soft and yielding, and waiting for the first smack of contact. Tales of "naughty schoolgirls", "masters" and "mistresses" were seeping into my conscious. I found myself wondering what it would be like to hear you telling me that you'd been a naughty girl and needed bringing in line. I wondered where such games might end.
Did I want it now? Of course I did.
One night - a Saturday - some friends called a night off and we decided to get in a couple of bottles of wine in, kick back, take in some telly and maybe have a little fumble. Even as we sat down, I was hard and horny and hoping I would have the courage to go through with my little plan. Over a few glasses, we snuggled up closer and closer until you were nestling under my arm, my hand casually slipped under your top toying with your bra strap - running up and down a little bit, lightly. You nuzzled into my neck a little bit and let a hand run down your back, casually unfastening your bra. You murmured into my neck as my hand slipped all the way around and playfully tweaked your nipple.
You pulled away from me and busily started to strip, pulling your bra and top off in one fluid motion, before wriggling out of your trousers and knickers and leaving them in an untidy heap in front of the sofa. We kissed, my hands roaming over your back, while your hand fell into my lap, and began to knead the hard, urgent length that was stirring ever more as I thought of what was to come.
"Someone's pleased to see me..." you said playfully as you pulled and pushed at my cock - rubbing my intently through the denim. Suddenly, I placed a firm hand on your chest, between your naked tits and pushed you away a little - breaking the kiss.
"That's very naughty." I said, simply. For a second I almost saw the same look of laughter that I had greeted your suggestion with two weeks previously. The look was gone in an instant. Then you folded your hands in your lap and shyly dropped your gaze.
"I'm sorry." You said, simply. "Did I do bad?" I nodded - although you weren't looking even looking at me. I tenderly cupped one of your cheeks in my hand, amazed by how quickly you'd fallen into the role. I was distantly aware of my cock throbbing painfully in my jeans.
"You understand I've got to bring you in line, don't you?" I asked - my voice tremulous with excitement. You nodded, your hair bobbling up and down over your eyes. Then you looked up - the need in your eyes burned into mine.
"What will you do with me?" You asked.
"Over my knee!" I said, trying to inject some sternness into my voice. The words were hardly out of my mouth when you were scrambling awkwardly into position over my knee. Within seconds, you were laying across my lap, squirming with anticipation. Your arse looked so beautiful. Smooth, round, unsullied buttocks. I ran my hand tenderly over them - tracing a finger along the fine crease where they met the top of your legs. You shivered pleasurably, but I heard you whisper: "Please..."
I raised my hand up, pausing for a second as I did so - noticing that it was trembling slightly. I saw you tensing and held my hand there for a moment longer. Then suddenly, I brought it down with a hard crack - my palm landed flat on your naked skin. A harsh slapping sound in the quiet of the front room. Instinctively, I wanted to recoil - unused to delivering pain to someone I loved - but something in my stirred powerfully.
You moaned. You body squirmed. "More... please..." your voice a mere whisper. I raised my hand, still trembling. I could see a faint trace of fading pink where my hand had landed. Excitement coursed through my veins like the sweetest adrenalin.
Again I swung my hand down. Harder this time, wanting to feel the pleasure of your pain. A cleaner contact. I felt a numb sting in my palm as it met your flesh with a meaty slapping sound. You let out a soft 'whhuuf' sound as you exhaled with the impact. Your hips writhed... a sensuous meeting of skin in a fraction of a second. I could only imagine how you felt, exposed to me. You squirmed some more... "Please..." Again, I lifted my hand - and this time the pink mark was more vivid and fading slower. With barely contained wonderment I saw the outlines of my fingers etched in rose against your skin. My cock was pressed awkwardly against your belly, caught in folds of denim, trapped - but surging with desire.
This time I struck you with devilment. My worry was gone. All I wanted to know was how much pain you wanted, and to give it to you at any cost. I felt a sharp sting followed immediately by tingling in my hand. A surprisingly erotic echo of the feelings I knew you must be feeling in your buttocks. This time, you held your breath. I could feel your heart yammering - pulsing through your whole body. Finally, you released your breath in a lingering sigh of wanton pleasure. I lifted my hand. A heart-stopping pink, unmistakeably a hand, so tender and beautiful in the half-light of the room that I couldn't stop myself bending in to plant a cool, lingering kiss on it.
Again you shivered. Then suddenly, you got off me and kneeled in front of me, taking my shoulders in your hands and looking into my eyes. What looked like tears were in the corners of your eyes. At once I felt shame, just knowing that I'd gone too far... hurt you too much. You took my chin in a hand and forced me to look at your face.
"Thank you." you said simply, and I realised the shine in your eyes was gratitude. Gratitude and love. We kissed, our tongues wrapping messily around each other - all pretence of control gone - as you unbuckled, unbuttoned and stripped me.
You pushed me back on the sofa, and straddled me - your bare thighs around the outside of mine as you knelt. I felt your hot cunt swallow my cock. Deep and slick, it's folds yielded to the tip of my cock as you sank yourself onto it, biting your lip and grunting in wordless pleasure. You tits hung in front of my face, and I took them in my hand, pulling your taut nipples into my mouth, kissing and licking them, nibbling and teasing. You pushed backwards and forwards so far that my cock almost came out of you - its length running along the whole length of your cunt as you leaned back, before ploughing back in.
You reached between your legs, and I felt your fingernails on the tip of my cock as you rubbed your clit hard and fast.... stroking it hard... squashing it in your desire to cum on my cock. Abandoned to lust. With every move I could feel myself coming closer to the brink, my breath coming in spasmodic bursts. Grunting, I locked me legs and pushed against you, trying to spear you with every inch of my iron-hard cock.
I could hear your breath coming in great racking heaves and your movements taking on a random pulse. Together we came. Bucking our hips in powerful union. A sudden liquid gush spilled into you and hot sperm and cunt juices flooded across my balls. I raised you up on my cock - impaling you as I came repeatedly - your squeezing and pulsing muscles sending uncontrolled jerks through into my hips. For what seemed an age, I held you there, legs locked, back arched upwards, as the pulses steadily diminished. The wet evidence of our love leaked carelessly between us - warm and languorous - smeared between us, clinging to our naked skins.
Finally, spent, you leaned back on me, your face buried in my shoulder. My hand ran over your back - feeling your sweat traced in delicate beads all the way up to your hairline. Still your breath was uneven and hot on my neck. Your hair brushed my face liked barely-whispered intimacy.
I smiled. Pleasure and pain. Nearer than I had ever expected.