To My Spanker

To the man who spanks me, When you spank me, I will be wet. I will be wet before you start and soaking by the time you finish. This is not naughtiness, but call me naughty anyway. We both delight in the consequences. There will be times when I say no, and I will mean it. You will hear it in my voice; you will read it in my eyes. You will recognize the wall of resolve and you will respect it because you are my spanker, because I’ve chosen you, because you understand. There will be times when I say no, and I won’t mean it. I may say it softly, while staring at my toes and hiding behind my hands. I may say it loudly, while kicking and squirming and pounding the carpet. You will see my bottom and you will think, yes!, because you know I need it hard. You know I need it long. You know I need it. A day will come when you spank me because, after a joyless day, you seek joy in my jiggle. You need not explain. You need not be gentle or thank me. Take me by the arm, pull me over your lap, and spank me until you are satisfied. I am yours to spank, at your whim, at your discretion. A day will come when my actions disappoint you. My body is not fragile, nor is my spirit. You cannot break either with the palm of your hand […]


This is not sexual, I kept telling myself as the strap struck my bottom — not sexual but punishment. So why was I wet? Although he kept his hands at a professional distance, the state of my in-between could not be ignored. Beyond damp, I was the kind of wet that was heard with each jiggle of my cheeks, the kind of wet that required a panty change less than half-way through. In outlining the details of this punishment spanking the week before, I knew that arousal was not a risk but a guarantee. He would question me in that intense way he has, and I’d pulsate a response. He would describe what he was going to do, and my pussy answered in a clench. “Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Excuse me while I finger myself. Sir.” No, he did not fuck me because this was non-sexual. But afterward, before I even touched the bed, with barely any pressure, my thumb released the climax that’d been threatening for days. Perhaps not for others, but for me, sex and spanking are inextricably linked. That link grows louder with every lick of the cane not followed by a tongue; it grows more urgent with every thrust of his hand and denial of his hips. Non-sexual spanking? With him behind me, measuring my color, assessing his work, I’ve already imagined tightening around him as my tender bottom grinds against his stomach. For me, it’s always sexual, even when it’s not. Once my pants come […]

She Will Be Spanked

On the way to her bedroom she pauses at the wall where she will stand. Briefly, she places her elbows against the plaster and casts a look behind her. Like this? she wonders. Will he make me stand like this? Sighing, she leaves the wall to stare at the bed. Another indulgence — placing the pillows in the center, she positions herself over them. With her bottom high and back arched, she eases her hands in the waistband of her pants and slips them down. Cool air whispers over her cheeks. I suppose it will be like this. Her skirt hangs from the armoire, waiting to be filled. But there is time, she thinks, as she curves against her finger. The stockings are in their drawer, limp silk yearning to be stroked. She strokes harder. She pictures him, then, standing and watching her while unbuckling his belt. Through her breathing, she thinks she hears a buckle chime. It won’t be like this, she concludes, but keeps on going. No, it won’t be like this. Where there is emptiness in her room, there will be his presence: a firm, astonishing grip on her back, a hand against her bottom, a paddle. She will be spanked standing. She will be spanked over his knee. She will be spanked over the foot of the bed. She will be spanked over the pillows that now prop her hips and absorb her climax. She will be spanked. She is certain.

The Disciplinarian

The chair must be in the center of the room, the implements to be laid out in front, meticulously queued for his use. She must face the wall, bottom out, back arched, legs together, and lips sealed. The punishment, dutifully chronicled in her spiral notebook, was shakily penned days before: hand spanking, paddling, strapping, finished by another hand spanking. Strokes to be determined; additional measures may be taken. She left blanks by each entry, for later notes. Infringement: Reckless Behavior It would be a spanking she would feel, he promised. Long overdue, he stated with a clucking of his tongue. What you need, he said. “Here are your rules,” he instructed as her insides quaked. “Write them down.” Rules, she repeated, feeling the delicate roundness of the word in her mouth, learning its new definition. Until this hour, a rule had been a challenge: how could she twist it to her own liking without the rule-maker noticing — or caring? His rules were soldiers marching across the page, in full gear and brandishing consequences. Neatly numbered and aligned, these rules stood guard against her frivolity. They were mathematical by nature — if, then statements — and held only one answer. Obey. In the margins of the page, she wanted to tell each numbered soldier how she felt. But how does one enunciate the stillness that comes with certainty? How does one express quietude and peace married with anxiety and anticipation? As it was not instructed, she did not attempt to […]

Ready Red

She does not turn red, she insisted. She glowed fuschia on the rare occasions she’d reached her limit, but never the deep red as seen in videos or photographs. And to make her that red…well, it was a scary, if not impossible, endeavor. “You’ll see,” he said last night, over the phone. “I’ll make you red. A nice, ready red.” Disbelieving, she still shivered at his confidence. “And what will I be ready for?” She purred. “Ready to stop? Or ready to fuck?” “You won’t want to stop,” he laughed. “And I’m not going to lie. You will want to fuck.” Oh yes. He had that right. The last time they met in private — outside of work — he pushed her up against the wall, rocked his hips between her denim-clad legs and worked wonders over her clothing. He teased her ear with descriptions of how he would spank her and then take her. His teeth grazed her neck, his hands pulled at her buttons but didn’t unsnap them. It was dry-humping at its finest, a whole body hump that made her wet for days. “What makes you think you possess the magical redness powers? Why are you so darned special?” She teased, but if anyone had such powers, she’d lay odds that it was he. “When you’re on your knees on the bed, and I’m using my hand — just my hand — you won’t doubt me…” he began. “Just your hand?” The skeptic asked. “Let me finish…do […]

Black Boots

Someone else entered the kitchen. Black boots. That’s what she saw as she lie splayed on the table with her arms tied to the corners. A tilt of her head and she saw the stranger’s groin beneath her blindfold, which lent her no clues beyond worn denim. Black Boots maneuvered around her, tracing a finger down her side before his whole hand roughly claimed her ass. Who was he to take possession of her nakedness like this? And where were the stockinged feet belonging to her lover? “Who are you?” She asked, sure that she was breaking some as-yet-unspoken rule by breaking her silence. “Shh…,” was all he said. “Where is Dan? He should be here,” she whispered as she felt the stranger push her feet apart with his boots. A firm smack landed on her butt; her head snapped back in surprise. “Shh…,” he said again. There was silence in the kitchen. She counted the seconds in breaths, her mind scurrying along with her racing heart. They had talked about this: acquiring a “second opinion” during one of their play sessions. But nothing had been agreed upon, no third party had yet been chosen. And never had they discussed a surprise visit — but she guessed that that would defeat the purpose. Her thoughts and breathing stopped when she heard a belt rushing out of loops. Where is Dan? He should be here, she thought but didn’t say. Earlier, Dan had warmed her over his knee, and briefly at […]