If you’re a spanko, do you remember your first time getting a spanking as an adult? I suppose this could apply to any kink, but spanking is my first love so I’ll ask about it.
I know I’ve talked about it before, so I’ll spare you rehashing the details. What sticks out is how much that shaped me. How those feelings lingered and how much I wanted to do it again. I wanted to have that experience, that rush everyday. I was addicted. I daily think about my desire to be spanked and lament my inability to be spanked on demand. Life doesn’t present such possibilities, sadly. Le sigh.
I think, too, about my first time spanking someone else. That was the flip side of the same coin. Enjoying having someone over your lap and tending to them on a certain level. That perfect power exchange.
My experiences have been so good and I love spanking and being spanked. I want to do both more because they’ve been so awesome. In all my experiences, I’ve never been someone’s first. I mean, I’ve tried to tempt vanilla partners into spanking, but it’s usually during sex. Not the same thing as spanking for the desire to spank. This is shaping someone’s feelings about spanking for the future. To truly pop someone cherry who has been wanting to spank? Definitely new to me…
I’ll guide you, don’t worry.
God, let me stay focused. Don’t let me go back on my word here because I’m over his lap and the experience takes me away. How could it not? I love to be spanked and being draped like this is an act of submission. I can’t help pressing my face into the comforter, drawing a deep breath, and letting the anticipation take me.
That first spank lands, not on bare bottom, but dimmed a bit by the protection of my leggings. Then more land and it takes conscious effort to remember I need to be checking in with him.
“You doing okay?”
There’s barely a pause and he’s back at it. Though it isn’t yet to the intensity of my usual spankings, I can tell right away he’ll be good at it.
We go for a while before I ask if he’d like me to take my leggings down. I lift up and do that, strip down to my panties. To shed a layer increases the vulnerability, and with it comes an increased intensity too because there is nothing like a hand landing on a bare bottom. As the spanker, it’s hearing the sound it makes, both my hand landing and the reaction of the person I’m spanking. As the spankee, it’s how it all feels. It hurts and excites, it puts a certain electricity into the air between us that’s different.
The spanks are harder as he’s found his rhythm a bit. I’m trying to enjoy my spanking, but also think about whether he’s enjoying it. Is he enjoying hurting me? I’ve long since stopped worrying about the stretch marks or the attractiveness of my ass, but it is a passing thought as I bare more of it. Does he like looking at and spanking my ass?
This is good though, so perfectly good. The hard, loud spanking I like, and I’m sinking right in to it.
“How are you?”
He’s asking me. Oh, I’m good. Starting to squirm just a little because it hurts and I love it. One cheek and then and then back over and over. It’s enough to jolt and make me gasp. I want more of this.
“How’s your hand?”
My ass is padded and pretty resilient, I’ve blistered my share of palms. No one, not even the experienced is prepared for that. I feel bad I didn’t warn him of that or about pacing himself, but this is a lesson for both of us.
“Should I take off my panties?”
There’s that shift again. That ramping up of tension. This erotic energy that comes when I’m mostly naked over someone’s lap. It’s only one layer, but does it ever make a difference. He seems to hit just a little bit harder. I squirm and yelp and move over his lap more. It hurts, but it turns me on so much. Can he tell? My inner thighs are certainly wet.
“I’m going to regret this, but let me introduce you to a good place to hit.”
That spot where ass and thigh meet. He learns about it and now I’m a jumping bean. I feel bad on some level with how much I’m moving, but it hurts. I’m lifting my ass up more to take it, but I’m also trying to get away from it. Fuck me, I love it.
I don’t know if I’ve even asked how he likes it. Maybe I have. He seems to be in to it if his energy is any indication.
His hand probably feels like fire at this point, my ass certainly stings.
“Just one more round.”
I brace because I know it’s going to be hard. I wasn’t wrong.
After, when my head stops spinning, but I’m still swimming in those lovely chemicals. I’m cuddled up against him, aftercare for us both.
“Did you enjoy it? Was it what you expected?”
I don’t know if I’m asking if I was enough or if the moment was good enough. Was his first time with me what he’d hoped?
“Oh yeah, definitely everything I was hoping it would be.”