When Regina found the box I’d hidden at the back of the closet, my heart sank. It was bad enough that my girlfriend had insisted on spending a perfectly good Saturday cleaning our apartment. But when she hauled out the box, I thought our weekend was over before it had even begun. And as I gazed into Regina’s cold blue eyes, I wondered if our relationship would even make it to Sunday!

“What’s this?” she asked, even though the box’s contents were perfectly obvious from the word I’d scrawled on it in black marker: PORN. Underneath it, I’d added: BEWARE: XXX. I think it had been an attempt at humor on my part, but Regina wasn’t laughing.

“Just… stuff,” I said awkwardly.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, after pulling open the box’s flaps. She stared at the mass of video boxes, DVDs and magazines inside. “Rick! Are you kidding me? You said you’d gotten rid of all these.”

She was right. I had, in fact, promised Regina I would trash my porn last year. It was supposed to be my final farewell to bachelorhood when we moved in together. But when the time came to haul my stash to the dumpster behind our building, I balked. Oh, I’d gotten rid of most of my collection, the stuff I’d bought in a heat of Friday night horniness and seldom even glanced at afterward. But that box contained the cream of my jack-off fodder. Items I’d accrued over the years between graduating from college and meeting Regina. Most of the magazines were dog-eared; if you wanted to see which pictures I’d been ogling, all you had to do was let the magazines fall open. The cardboard video sleeves were likewise tattered from all the times I’d pulled out the tapes to view.

It soon became obvious Regina wasn’t going to stop glaring at me. Those baby blues of hers could really do a number on me. I wouldn’t call Regina a bitch or anything, but she didn’t play around when it came to fibs. I knew I had to tell her the truth and not screw around with half-truths or white lies.

“I just couldn’t do it, OK? I did promise, but… those things mean a lot to me,” I said. Then I lamely added, “You’re always talking about movies you love.”

She laughed a little, which relaxed me just a bit. I could tell the ice was, if not broken, then at least cracked.

“You sure you want to make that comparison, babe?” She pulled out a video. “Spanks for the Memories? That’s your version of Doctor Zhivago? Or this… Mistress Zeena’s Ass Palace? Or this… ”

She pulled out three or four other titles, while my cheeks grew steadily hotter. I knew it would only be a matter of time before a certain theme became evident to her. I wasn’t exactly dreading the moment when it dawned on Regina, but I wasn’t really looking forward to it, either.

Sure enough, it came a minute later.

“You’re into spanking, aren’t you?” Regina asked, looking up from the magazine she’d been flipping through. It was a true classic, a beloved old issue of Dominant Spankers. The photo sets had so perfectly replicated my fantasies I had actually had to buy a second copy when my original got… soiled. Oddly enough, the “Dominant Spanker” who had turned me on most was a dead ringer for Regina, who I had yet to meet at the time. The model had curly black hair, long legs and similarly intense blue eyes.

“A little,” I said sheepishly.

“‘My Life as an Ass-Slave,’” Regina read, running a red-nailed finger down the table of contents. “‘Paddle Queen of His Dreams.’ ‘The Lady with Hungry Hands.’” She looked at me again. “This really is a thing with you.”

She didn’t look angry anymore. Instead, she looked fascinated — and even a little excited.

“For as long as I can remember,” I confessed.

“Did you ever do stuff like this with anyone?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“And you never even told me you were into it,” she mused. “So, it was just a fantasy. You poor thing.”

“I guess,” I said, squirming uncomfortably.

Much to my relief, at that moment Regina pushed the box back into the closet. Dusting her hands off, she suggested we take a break from cleaning and order pizza.

Needless to say, I was relieved. But I didn’t realize the incident wasn’t over. In fact, it was just beginning.

When I got home the following Friday it was well before five, so I decided to treat myself to a nap. I stripped for a shower and then sprawled out on the bed. In a minute or so, I was in a deep sleep.

I woke up suddenly, feeling a bright burst of pain as something struck my defenseless butt. I turned and was startled to see a tall, black-haired woman in a short leather skirt, matching bustier and very high heels standing over me.

As you’ve likely guessed, it was Regina. But it was a Regina I’d never seen before. Normally, she favors casual clothes: simple blouses, jeans and bare feet. This Regina was the spitting image of the domme from that old issue of Dominant Spankers that had haunted my dreams.

The smile on her face was mischievous, almost devilish. I felt my cock hardening, and I rolled over, just enough to half-hide my hard-on amid the rumpled sheets.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Regina barked, grabbing one butt cheek and deftly flipping me back over. “Get that teeny weenie of yours back here, where I can see it!”

I had to hand it to her; she’d been doing her research. The stuff she was saying was right out of my magazine collection. I had woken up from a perfectly mundane afternoon nap and found myself living one of my hottest fantasies!

“Look at this,” Regina said, taking my dickhead between her thumb and forefinger and giving it a brisk shake. “What’s got you so excited, huh? Have you been looking at those dirty magazines of yours again? I told you to get rid of them!”

“Sorry, ma’am,” I replied breathlessly, effortlessly slipping into the story Regina was spinning. “I… I meant to, but I… ”

“You meant to, but you got distracted. Started jacking off, didn’t you?” Regina reached down to the floor and picked up something. She must have brought it with her when she’d slipped into the room. It was a riding crop, a long rod with a leather keeper at the end — perfect for slapping a bad boy’s ass. “Didn’t you?” she repeated loudly, slapping the crop against her palm. The sharp sound was as loud as a thunderclap. Upon hearing it, I may actually have moaned a little.

“I did,” I admitted, trying desperately to ignore my achingly hard cock. I wanted to rub it, to diddle my balls — anything to provide some relief. Doing it in front of Regina would have been humiliating — but so delicious.

“You got all turned on reading those silly magazines when you’ve got a perfectly good woman right here. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“What do you think we should do about this? Do you think this calls for a good ass-warming?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated immediately, so turned on I could barely think.

“Then stand up and turn around.”

I obeyed, bending over slightly and setting my palms on my knees. I heard the clicking of Regina’s heels as she walked around me menacingly and the steady smack of the riding crop hitting her palm again and again.

When the first blow struck my ass, I cried out with surprise and, yes, delight. When the second and third cracks came, I was gasping — half laughing, half moaning — with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The pain seemed to burn through my consciousness, searing through all of my inconsequential thoughts and memories and removing everything that wasn’t about that moment of being spanked by Regina.

“Are you gonna do what I tell you from now on? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

I responded to each of these questions with a loud, delirious-sounding “yes!” But then Regina asked, “Gonna throw away those dirty magazines?” And I actually hemmed and hawed.

I knew it was all part of the fantasy, but I still couldn’t bring myself to say I’d get rid of the box and its contents. How could I, when it had brought us to such a delicious moment?

Sensing my hesitation, she demanded, “Answer me.” Again and again the crop slapped my ass.

The pleasurable pain gradually grew more intense — until my ass felt like it was glowing. I was a little out of my mind, gabbling and whimpering and trying to keep from falling over. But I still couldn’t promise Regina I’d get rid of the box.

“So you won’t do it,” Regina said, stepping backward. She sounded a little breathless. She and I were also both strangely emotional, as if our actions had transported us to a whole other state of being.

“I can’t,” I said miserably.

And then Regina’s icy demeanor melted. She leaned over me, affectionately draping her slim body over my back and gently resting against my burning ass. It was the sweetest kind of relief and forgiveness.

“You’d better not,” she whispered. “Or you’ll be in real trouble, mister.” Then she laughed softly and nipped my ear.

The spanking session went on after that. But not for much longer because we were both too aroused. Regina had me stretch out on my back on the nubby throw rug beside our bed and rode my cock hard. Her motions made my poor butt rub against the rug, reigniting the sensations of her spanking — and causing me to come in no time flat. But since she hadn’t gotten off yet, she made me eat her snatch until she came all over my face — and I loved every minute of it!

We still have the box, and we make good use of its contents. In fact, we had to get a second box for the new stuff we’ve bought since that fateful weekend. And I can’t wait to get started on box number three!