Lucky number 7

26 May

Number One:

“No, I think you have to do it HARDER.”

He increased the impact just enough that it was finally past the ticklish whisper of his palm against my bottom.

“Ummm….yeah, that’s better. Now HARDER, I think.” I said, feeling the frustrated pull in my belly. I knew I needed something, had fantasized about this moment for as long as I could remember. It took all of my courage to finally ask my college boyfriend to spank me, “really spank me”, hoping he would know what that meant.

He had no idea what that meant. But I give him big points for being open-minded.

And so there we were, two 19-year-olds, he on the bed and me over his lap with my pants around my knees. His hand slow and tentative, warming my firm, young cheeks as I marveled at the sensation of finally being over a man’s lap.

We improved with time, but it was far from perfect. I wanted and needed more. These first moments didn’t quench my desire, but fueled it instead, propelling me down an unusual path that most don’t know exists. A spanko was born.

Number 7:

“Pull down your pants. NOW!”
The words surprised me. There we were, enjoying a glass of wine after dinner in my cozy living room on our first meeting. And the commanding tone of his voice shocked me.

I knew it was coming. I had dressed appropriately, at his request. Concealed beneath my daily wear of a scoop-neck tee and jeans was the corset, garters and stockings as he had specified.

So the shock was unwarranted, but the spreading fingers of heat through my pussy WAS unanticipated. Nobody had dared be that direct with me, not on the first meeting. And yet, his steady gaze of expectation had me fumbling for the button on my pants as I eeked out a “yes, Sir.”

Pants down and off, I glanced shyly at him, finding amusement and pleasure in his returning stare. “Turn around,” he said.

A moment’s pause, and I turned, fumbling with my stockings as I did so. I willed myself to stare at the wall in front of me, to stop fidgeting, to breathe. I heard him rise and leave the room, his footsteps across the kitchen quickly replaced with the sound of the chair in my dining room being pulled out and carried to where I stood.

This was the moment. There was no doubt now that this was happening: I would soon be over his lap, feeling his years of experience as a Dom against my neglected bottom.

I felt his fingers caress my exposed cheeks and the butterflies took flight. Gooseflesh replaced his fingertips and I gasped on an exhale of held anticipation. “Are you ready?” He whispered, close to my left ear now, his breath hot and soft. What could I say? “No”? “Give me a minute”? God, yes, I’d never been more ready or unready in my life!

I must have nodded. Or squeaked out something that resembled a “yes”, because soon he was seated and pulling me across his knees.

After some minor adjustments to my garter, a caress to my hair and a tender acknowledgment of my offered bottom, he began a slow and measured rhythm that would gradually increase to an unpredictable staccato that lasted for months (and counting).

He is often hard, harder than I knew I wanted, but he carries me across the line between pleasure and pain, pushing me further than I’ve yet been pushed. He propels me down this path, that first began as a curiosity-turned-obsession, but has now transformed into a necessity.

It’s as necessary as orgasms and sex, poetry and chocolate. It is who I am, a defining part. I am not a spanko. I am his submissive.

(Artwork by Endart.)

8 Responses to “Lucky number 7”

  1. Bumtickler May 26, 2010 at 7:56 am #

    Lucky you to have found the one.

  2. Supercock May 26, 2010 at 8:37 am #

    Lucky number 7 indeed, let me know when the number 8 slot opens up 🙂

  3. command May 26, 2010 at 3:01 pm #

    I believe that your good fortune with #7 is possible because your connection points transcend mere verbal communications on so many levels. You fully compliment each other, fitting together as 'one'. Like a coin where one side is uniquely Heads and the other is uniquely Tails, yet both sides come together equally to form the coin.It's more than you being his submissive, it's him being your Dom, too.

  4. HEDONE August 24, 2010 at 6:20 am #

    Lucky indeed."It's as necessary as orgasms and sex, poetry and chocolate."I totally get that. I am transforming to this higher level of need. I am much closer to transformed than transforming. :)-H

  5. Celine August 24, 2010 at 11:54 pm #

    I love this!! And God, I understand..I've had my own #1 and's awesome when it clicks, isn't it? When the goosebumps come in and your body begins to respond in ways that surprise and delight you? This really is stellar..I'm so glad you posted it 🙂 Celine

  6. August 27, 2010 at 12:46 pm #

    H: You do seem to be a woman transformed — although one might argue that we are always "transforming". Celine: Yes, when it clicks it is awesome. Otherwise it's like bad sex: hardly ever terrible but not necessarily worth a repeat performance!

  7. april reign May 22, 2011 at 12:05 am #

    oh … my gosh. Reading this made me relive my first meeting with Him. The rapport we have is something I was sure could never exist. My years of secrecy and disappointment had proven that, right? I wish I knew where this leads what happens when there are other things involved, and it’s not a standard relationship with this as a main idea. Juggling this and a “regular relationship” … it’s just a facade that will break soon.

    • Barely Pink May 22, 2011 at 11:45 am #

      It’s not “standard” by any stretch. But the success, in my opinion, lies in weaving the vanilla in with the kink. What we do, this thing, is so hot behind closed doors (or in front of an audience, whatever your poison), but in those quiet, regular moments, it sizzles too.

      The kind of rapport you’ve found with your Sir is a special one. I predict you will have many hot moments now that you are embracing this part of yourself. I’m excited for you, and excited to know you at the beginning of your exploration. Lucky us!

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