My man is a latent spanker. I say latent because his propensity for slapping my ass didn’t show up until the second year of our relationship.
I have no one to blame but myself.
At the time, I was studying various erotica collections from Cleis Press and trying to figure out where to submit my erotic essays
“I don’t get the spanking stories,” I said to him one night while I was reading in bed. I proceeded to read him an excerpt of a story where a woman gets off when her lover pulls down the white cotton undies of her schoolgirl outfit, throws her over his knee and spanks her into a writhing orgasm. “Does that do anything for you?”
He didn’t say anything, gave a small shrug and we turned off the light and went to sleep.
The next morning I got out of bed and ended up with a red imprint of his hand on my left butt cheek.
At first, I hated it. It hurt.
But he’s perfected his technique.
He can't resist taking a shot at my upturned haunches when I lean over to tie my shoes, but he soothes the sting instantly with a comment like, Best butt in the world!
A light slap with a lingering palm as we walk through the city conveys more than words ever could.
Or my favorite, when he lands one at the tail end of a climax and triggers a string of orgasmic aftershocks.
The other day when I was tired, hungry and running late, I snapped at him when he was trying to help me. I felt really bad about it, but I knew how to make amends.
“You get one bare-assed spank.”
His face lit up with a sadistic grin and I was instantly forgiven
I wrote a spanking essay for my memoir about our rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. It is currently under consideration with a Cleis Press spanking anthology.
Fingers crossed.
Bottoms up.
Sexy Link:
Check out the erotica collections at Cleis Press. The Best Women's Erotica series is scorching hot.
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