You’ve been fantasising about this moment for years. It started as just an inkling – something at the back of your mind that you just couldn’t shake. Sometimes you’d see something on TV or read something on the internet, and you’d wonder…

Then later it was more than that. When you touched yourself you wouldn’t think about sex. You’d think about being spanked. Hard and soundly. You’d fantasise about being held down and spanked until your ass was raw red and hot. That thought turned you on more than you could say. It lit a fire inside of you.

And yet your boyfriend at the time just wrinkled his nose when you told him. “Bu Celia,” he said plaintively. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You’d smiled, of course. It was a sweet thing for him to say. But somehow you couldn’t find the words inside you to tell him that was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to be hurt. You wanted to be held down and punished. You wanted him to be brutal with you.

Later on there were some solo experiments. Awkward things. Knelt on the bed, reaching back to spank yourself with a hairbrush. It wasn’t perfect, but the smack of the brush against your flesh and the sting you felt when it hit home were enough to get you off time and time again.

But now it’s happening. Now it’s real. You thought you’d die of embarrassment when you confessed to David about your secret fantasy – but he just smiled. “You like being spanked, is what you’re saying?” he said.

You’d nodded, blushing, unable to find the words. David – sweet, handsome David who you’d been dating for just two weeks – had looked you up and down.

“Bend over, then,” he’s said, smiling at you with a glint in his eye. You’d felt almost as though you might explode with excitement. And now here you are, bent over the edge of his bed, your face buried in a pillow, gripping handfuls of the covers in both your fists. Waiting.

And David is taking his time. He’s touching you, nice and slowly, gently. He is caressing you, running his hands down the sides of your body. Hitching up your skirt a little to expose your backside. Nothing between you and him but the delicate lace fretwork of your panties. And you are waiting, waiting, breath held, wondering when you’re going to hear his hand slicing the air, when you’re going to feel the sting of him punishing you.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” he purrs. “You should have told me you were kinky. Think of the fun we could have been having.”

You are speechless. Breath held. His hand travels to your backside. Squeezes. And then he draws back his arm. You hunch down against the bed, bite your lip, hold your breath.

He spanks you. Hard. And it is everything you hoped it would be.

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