When I’m in the middle of getting a spanking, nothing else matters.

I don’t think about what I’m making for dinner, or whether the clothes need to be transferred from the washing machine to the dryer. I don’t care about what’s on television or any of the other random concerns that might normally flicker through my mind.

All that matters is the spanking.

The last time Leslie spanked my ass, I thought only of my bare bottom and my girlfriend’s palm. Her hands appear delicate. Her gestures are elegant and refined. However, all of that changes when she delivers a spanking. Then her hand becomes an implement of pain — and pleasure. There is nothing delicate or refined about it. She’s a machine in motion, and the goal is to punish my ass.

But sometimes, like our previous session, she chooses to use something other than her hand to up the intensity and make my pussy hum.

That night, without warning, I heard the whisper of wood as a paddle whistled through the air. I cried out as the toy made contact with my already stinging ass cheeks. Oh, that hurt. But it hurt so perfectly, so sublimely, and the pain dissolved into an immediate form of bliss.

“You love being spanked, don’t you?” Leslie crooned.

“Yes,” I managed to respond, my voice shaky with lust.

After she spanked me several times with the harsh paddle, she started to rub my cunt firmly. Her fingertips made tight, firm rotations up and over my clit. I felt as if I might burst. The ecstasy was instantaneous and delicious and threatened to overtake me. My orgasm was so close, hovering just beyond my reach. I was nearly panting with desperation. Then her hand stilled. I whimpered helplessly.

“How about ten more spanks, and then I’ll let you come?” she suggested sweetly, as if I wasn’t a sweating, panting mess of desire.

I nodded dumbly and shut my eyes. She set the paddle on my cheeks. The wood was cool against my burning ass. I sucked in my breath. The two of us were both waiting. I was waiting for her to start, and she was waiting for something else before she proceeded with the punishment session.

Only when I exhaled and relaxed did she bring the paddle back and smack me once more. Rather than have me count the blows, she ticked them off herself. “One!” she cried out. A second smack followed the first. “Two!”

I didn’t mind not having to keep track. Instead, I could float away on my feelings. My ass felt as if it were on fire. She alternated spanking the right cheek, then the left, then hitting the sweet spot in the middle. I held myself as still as possible. Leslie sometimes will start over from the beginning if I don’t behave the way she demands.

When she reached “five,” she paused to give me a little preview of pleasure. She set down the paddle and stroked my swollen pussy lips. I whimpered at the way that felt, the reward of being pampered after being punished.

Then off she went with spank number six. I was also counting in my head, but when she reached what I thought was the last blow, she said, “And one more because you’ve been extra naughty.” She made that last spank really count.

I would remember that one.

Quickly, she shoved me off her lap and onto the mattress on my stomach. I didn’t know how she’d want me, so I waited for her instruction. There was none. There was only my blonde-haired girlfriend, pushing herself between my thighs, licking my pussy and then kissing my hot ass cheeks, moving back and forth until I was diving into the ocean of an orgasm that had been building all evening. It was the perfect end to a red-hot night.

Check out the Full Gallery