La Fessée

The first inkling of any proclivity towards BDSM came via an open palm.

Flint has me face-down in a pillow when he spanks me – hard and on my right thigh – for the first time.

My first time with Flint wasn’t my first time with any man. I had always assumed it was something all men reverted to when fucking doggy-style: a deeply-felt, animalistic imperative.

Flint turns my head to the left so I can see us in his bedroom mirror. I am shocked by the complete juxtaposition of our two bodies: mine arched impossibly, obediently; his towering over me. His hands are in complete control, bending me, moving me, pulling my hair. He raises his hand to spank me again, and I resign myself to the fact that this is good.

When I’d previously thought about spanking as a sexual act, I’d never come to a distinct conclusion. I had a vague notion that men just liked it for some reason, but had never thought much further on it. I’d enjoyed it before, and I enjoyed it now, but I felt uncomfortable actively asking for it.

A different night. Flint is on top of me telling me to grab his ass. I do, and it’s all muscle and thrusting and a sense of power from a submissive position. I realise I can manoeuvre his thrusts and dictate the pace – jack-hammer rapid or slick and slow. 

‘Spank me,’ he urges. I do, not tentatively, catching the side of his ass and wondering if his neighbours can hear the connection. The reaction it provokes in him is intoxicating. I know I’ll do whatever he asks just to hear that stifled groan into my shoulder.

Afterwards, alone on the sofa at five in the morning, I have to confront our different approaches to spanking. I’d never asked to be spanked; it was something done to you accompanied by fear and dread. I was smacked as a child. I was hit once by an ex. Those memories come with shame from doing something wrong and embarrassment from not knowing what.

To ask, openly and without shame, to be spanked was an entirely new consideration, yet it had come to Flint without overthinking or drama. An easy request made solely to heighten an already electric experience.

The next time we’re in bed, he encourages me to turn over. I think he knows I like doggy-style best since I saw how my body contorted in the mirror. More than that, though, I’m making an effort to be present in pleasure. I am here for his weight moving against my back, sweat dripping from him to me.

‘Spank me,’ I say. He does, and my ass stings, and my body reacts and the pieces tumble gently into place.

It’s the first time I feel submissive to him.

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