Odessa
The first swat lands in the middle of my right cheek, followed instantly by another spanking on the other cheek. Immediately, my entire body relaxes on the bed as Jasper swats me to his own rhythm, to an imaginary beat only he can hear. Over and over, he spanks me. Each slap is sharp, but it warms me, and soon I feel like I’m floating. Soon I let all of the problems in my life fade away until there’s nothing left but Jasper, but me, but this moment.
I don’t even notice when I start crying, but Jasper stops and sits beside me. He pulls me into his lap and kisses me, holds me, touches me. Then he undresses me slowly, like I’m precious to him. He plays with me as he carefully removes layer after layer of clothing, and then he sets that all aside.
“I’m naked,” I whisper.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” I point out.
“Still feeling a bit bossy?” He asks gently. “Did I not spank you enough?”
“Maybe not,” I say.
He wants me to ask for what I want. He wants me to tell him what I need. Well, what I need right now is to forget everything else I’ve been dealing with. What I need is to forget for a little while that I’ve been stressed and sad and lonely. All I want is to lose myself right now, and Jasper can help me with that.
“Tell me what you want, buttercup.”
“The belt.”
For a minute, I’m nervous he’s going to back off. Maybe he’ll protest or say that’s too soon or he doesn’t want to try that outside of the club. How embarrassing would it be to ask for what I want, only to be denied?
But I don’t have to worry.
“Bend over the bed,” he says.
Instantly, I wiggle to obey. I plant my feet firmly apart on the side of the bed and I bend over the mattress. His bed is almost too high for me, but I manage to make myself comfortable as I stand there waiting for him.
“You’re beautiful, Odessa,” he says again. It almost feels like it’s his mantra of the night. Jasper is trying really, really hard to make this perfect for me and I have to be honest: he’s doing a damn good job of it.
I hear him remove his belt, and the first strike hits me almost immediately.
“Only ten,” he tells me, rubbing my sore bottom with his hands. “I’m sure we’ll do more in the future, but if we’re going to scene seriously, we’re going to do it at the club where I can make sure there are extra eyes on us, okay?”
It’s not just a kink thing, I know. It’s not about being an exhibitionist. He wants to make sure that there’s someone to watch us to make sure we don’t get carried away with a scene. Even if he’s comfortable with what’s happening, maybe I’ll feel overwhelmed and forget to safeword. Maybe he will. Playing at Anchored offers a safe space where we can explore our kinks without worrying about getting hurt.
“Yes,” I whisper. “That sounds good.”
Strike two hits, and once again, my body feels warm and heated.
Then three comes, and the pain lingers a bit longer.
When the fourth strike comes, I bite my lip. After being spanked so much earlier, the sting of the belt is a little more than I’m ready to handle, but I can take it. I can take this. I need it. I want it.
I love to be spanked hard. I love being tied up and played with and touched. I love all of it, and after today? I need this. Hell, after the last six months, I need this.
Only, it’s starting to be more than I’m comfortable with and I don’t know if I can actually make it through the next six slaps of the belt. I don’t know if I can actually handle that at all, but I know that I need to. Jasper said he was going to do ten, and I need to make it through ten.
I need to be strong.
Suddenly, I realize I’m doing it again. Have I really not learned anything from tonight? Have I really not been listening to anything he’s said to me? Jasper keeps telling me that I don’t actually have to be strong. I don’t have to be brave for him. I don’t have to put on some sort of false front just to impress him or to make him think I’m incredible.
He already thinks I’m incredible.
I feel his hands on my bottom, massaging me, touching me. He runs his hands down my spine and back to my bottom over and over, carefully playing with my body. For a minute, I think he’s grown bored of the spanking. Maybe he’ll stop on his own and I won’t have to speak up and tell him what I want. That would save me the embarrassment and the anxiety of using my safe word.
Then I feel him move away, and I realize it’s time.
There’s no getting out of this one easy.
I take a deep breath and before he strikes me again, I whisper, “Red.”