"Spank me sometime?"

-Cherry

I have never been one for subtleties. I like getting straight to the point, and I like getting what I want. Why waste time beating around the bush? Life's too short. These are the phrases I repeat in my mind. That's my philosophy.

Sure, it's blunt, but it's a method that works for me. When I want something, I go for it. What I wanted was to be bent over a man's lap, feeling his strong hands on my ass. To enter a submissive state. It is where I feel most natural.

This is how I quickly drew the attention of my target. My target was an attractive man in his late forties named Joe. Almost twice my age, yet he didn't look a day over thirty-four, or at least that's what people tell him. He had a nice lean body and piercing blue eyes. He had a full head of hair, and a full beard that he kept trimmed nicely and evenly. I would be lying if I said my mind didn't drift to thoughts of feeling that full beard on my pussy lips as he licked me until I came... but that is a story for a different day.

He was amused by me being so straightforward. He told me he would oblige me and give me my "maintenance spanking". I asked him what that meant, and he simply said, "Sometimes, you just need something. For some, it is a spanking that is needed. A maintenance spanking."

We chatted back and forth and set our expectations.

Joe: "How do you prefer to be spanked? Bent over a chair, over the knee, or across my lap?"

Cherry: "Any works, Sir. Whatever you decide is best."

Joe: "You will be across my lap then. Would you prefer to do it on the couch or on the bed?"

Cherry: "Either, Sir. I am fine with whatever you choose for me."

Joe: "The bedroom will be more comfortable."

Cherry: "Yes, Sir. That is where it should happen."

We made plans to meet up at a local bar and chat over drinks.

"Meet me at 6:00. I will be waiting outside for you, and I expect you to be on time. Tardiness is unacceptable."

I felt a mix of emotions from that statement, excitement, anxiety, a bit of fear even. Maybe a bit of defiance? Boldness was in my nature. Obedient wasn't usually a word used to describe my submissive role. I enjoy a power struggle and watching someone slowly lose their composure. To make a man angry, makes him hungry. Hungry for me and the gift of my submission that he so craves.

I decided I would not talk back, this time at least. I typed "Understood, Sir," and sent the message, to which he called me a good girl. If he only knew.

I began the process of preparing myself, wanting to look my best. Applying my makeup, spraying my favorite perfume in all the right places, and slipping into my submissive mindset.

I wore a short black skirt, a crop top, and my leather jacket over top. I debated wearing my sheer black thigh-high stockings, but decided against it as it might be a bit too much to wear them out in public.

When I was finished getting ready, I shot him a quick text that I was leaving and would see him soon. As I drove, I realized there was no way I would be there on time for him. I honestly feared I would anger him, and that he would give up on me before I was even given a chance. I was kicking myself at the thought of losing him before I even got a chance.

My heart raced as I willed the traffic ahead of me to accelerate so I could get to my destination faster. I kept glancing at the time in my car. Each minute ticked by, and I became more aware that I would be late. There was no way I would make it in five minutes, four minutes, three minutes, two minutes...

I texted, "There's a lot of traffic up my way, I will be there in less than 5 minutes. I'm really sorry."

He quickly responded, "That's fine. For every minute you are late your ass will pay the price. 1 minute is 1 lick of the paddle."

I continued driving. I was so close but it seemed like some supernatural force was making the time go by faster. One minute felt like one second. It was now 6:04.

My phone buzzed and I picked it up. "4 minutes... 4 licks."

My pulse quickened. I pulled around the corner and saw the car that might be his. I finally parked my car and quickly sent him an arrival text as I started walking. I turned the corner, heard the beep of a car locking, and watched him step out. I quickened my pace, remembering his last words: "4 minutes, 4 licks."

When I was in hearing range, he reminded me. "That's four licks."

"I know... I'm very sorry," I held back the urge, newly forming habit really, to say "Sir" at the end. We were out in public after all.

"There was a lot of traffic. I'm not usually late, I promise," I stammered.

"You should have planned for traffic, shouldn't you?" he replied sternly.

"No..." I said, confused at first, mishearing him.

"Yes, you should plan for traffic in your driving time."

"Yes," I corrected myself. "I should have."

He seemed to sense my fear and nerves, and relaxed his stance and smiled at me. "I'm just playing. I'm not mad. But you're still getting four licks." He chuckled and held up four fingers.

"I know," I said, putting my head down.

At our table, we chatted about our lives and music. We also quietly talked about our roles and what we expected to get out of this encounter. After a drink and appetizers, he asked me if I would like to get another drink, or if I would like to skip right to the spanking. I knew my answer very early on. He paid the check and we left for his home.

*****

He showed me into his home and instructed me to take my jacket and shoes off. I removed the choker I was currently wearing so he could replace it with the new collar that I hadn't worn yet. It was a black collar bedazzled with crystals on a chain leash. I felt it suited me and I was excited to try it on. He fastened it snugly around my neck and grabbed hold of the leash. Giving a gentle tug, he tested its strength. I adored the feeling of being collared and leashed. It is one of the best ways for me to feel submissive.

He wrapped the leash around his hand and said, "Come." I followed.

He led me up the stairs and to his bedroom. He walked me in and stopped about halfway to the foot of the bed.

"Stay," he ordered.

I waited obediently for him to gather his implements. He retrieved a briefcase and revealed to me what was inside and offered me to choose what would be used on me. There was a small paddle, a large wooden paddle, a leather riding crop, and a handmade whip. I pondered what each tool would feel like against my flesh. I was both intrigued and a bit fearful. I chose the small paddle and picked up the riding crop, but he advised me against the riding crop, saying it wasn't meant for beginners. I set it back down.

He sat on the bed and instructed me to lay across his lap. I happily obliged and spread myself across him, arching my back so that my bottom was at the perfect angle for his hands to strike me. My skirt rode up, showing just a little bit of cheek, but he quickly flipped it up so that all of it was exposed for him.

With my skirt lifted, my ass in my cute pink panties was at his disposal. He pulled at the fabric, bunching it to expose more of my skin. His hands roamed over my butt and thighs.

"That is a nice bottom," he complimented.

"Thank you," I replied

"Remember to mind your manners."

"Thank you, Sir," I corrected.

He softly tapped me several times on each cheek, moving the position of his hand after each hit. Perhaps he was testing my reactions, or how much my butt would jiggle depending on where he spanked. Regardless, it was odd, almost a warm-up to the real spanking that was soon to come. He kept the same rhythm but his taps became increasingly harder. Soon they were not taps, but slaps on my ass. At this point, it didn't hurt. I was challenging myself to see how much I could take before it started turning from amusement to pain.

He slowly increased the intensity of his strikes but kept the same pace. Each hit came quickly, one after another. There was no pause in between. At this point, I was feeling a bit of a sting, but nothing I couldn't handle. The sound of his hand coming down on my ass was getting louder also.

I finally started feeling the pain when he focused his assault on one spot, striking the same soft spot on my rear over and over. I could feel the blood rushing to it. The pain was blossoming. The spanking was a crescendo of sharp sounds and sharp pain. After a few more strikes, he paused his assault on my ass.

"How is that, baby girl?"

I took a deep breath. "It is good, Sir, thank you."

"Good girl," he praised.

He scooped coconut oil out of a jar and rubbed it together in his hands and then spread it onto my ass to soothe my stinging skin. He massaged the oil into my skin and again asked how that felt.

"Good," I mumbled.

"Manners, young one," he corrected.

"It feels good, Sir. Thank you."

I felt good at this point. More than good, energized is a good word to describe the feeling. I relaxed my body and put my face into my arms.

He kneaded my muscles for a few more minutes. I felt his hands move away from me, and sensed his hand hovering as if he was figuring out the best trajectory for maximum spanking efficiency. As quickly as his hand left me, it came back down again and again. I tried counting in my head how many times it came down on me, but he was moving so swiftly, it was hard to keep track. I winced at the pain and gripped the sheets. Whack. Whack. Whack. He didn't go easy on me whatsoever. He gave a few more hard strikes and then paused.

"Now it is starting to warm up nicely. It's turning a beautiful shade of red. Shall I keep going?"

I debated my answer. "Yes, Sir," I said through gritted teeth.

"Make sure you thank me after every lick," he commanded.

"Yes, Sir," I obeyed.

He rapidly smacked my ass, jumping from one cheek to the other, and even hitting the sides and the soft spots of my inner thighs. That is where it stung the most and made me jump a bit.

Smack. "Thank you, Sir!"

Smack. "Thank you, Sir!"

"You are so welcome, baby girl."

After each hit, a moan escaped my lips, which only encouraged him to keep going. The pain wasn't yet unbearable, but becoming uncomfortable. I needed to push myself to see how far I could go. I wanted him to be proud of me for taking my spanking like a good girl.

After a few more spanks, I desperately needed a break. When I could catch my breath, and get the words out, I pleaded "Sir... can you please give me a bit more time in between each spank..."

He laughed softly. "Yes, I can do that."

He gave me a relief from the spanking and rubbed me down with the coconut oil once again. How could the same hands that had hit me and bruised me be so soothing and gentle?

"You are taking your spanking like such a good little slut," he praised me.

"Thank you, Sir," I said gratefully.

He allowed me a few more moments of recovery.

"Are you ready for more now, baby girl?"

I told him I was, and he struck my ass again. Hard. Much harder than before. He squeezed the spot where he just hit, sending shooting pains through my body. I moaned and winced. After several seconds, he struck me again, just as hard. I gasped and groaned from the pain. He just laughed to himself, amused at my suffering, and carried on.

On the next hit, I jumped. It was the hardest one yet. I bit my tongue to avoid a curse slipping from my lips. I clenched the bedsheets in my fist as the waves of pain washed over me. I writhed in pain, but he gave me no release, and struck me again.

Several more hard swats later and I was holding back tears. The pain was becoming unbearable. I wanted the ache to stop but I didn't want him to stop touching me.

He seemed to sense that I was reaching my limit.

"Have you had enough, baby girl?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good girl. You did so good. You took much more than I thought you would be able to handle."

"Thank you, Sir." I was still trying to ground myself to not focus on the pain so much. I was happy that he was proud of me, and I was proud of myself for pushing myself to go further.

"You have some lovely marks on your bottom. Would you like to see your marks?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Go ahead," he said. "Get up and go look in the mirror."

I slid off of his bed and made my way to the mirror. I turned to the side, hesitated a moment, and cautiously lifted my skirt. Then I saw my reflection.

My ass was fifty shades of red. Pink, red, even a bit of purple and a bit of blue. It looked like someone took watercolor paints to my skin and painted an abstract scene. It was a truly beautiful sight. There is something about seeing marks on myself. There was a satisfaction that another human created them, with hands or other tools, a form of self-expression. I loved seeing the before and after. The before: smooth, soft, ivory. The after: a raw, bruised ass with red skin that was hot to the touch.

It felt strange, almost unnatural to see myself so bruised and swollen. Nobody had ever spanked me the way he had before, but I was proud of the marks he gave me. They felt like battle scars, a testament to how much pain I could handle and how willing I was to prove my submission. All I wanted was to lose myself in pleasure and pain and to be a good girl for him.

He watched me as I admired my reflection.

"Do you like your marks?"

"Yes... I really do... Wow..." I turned from side to side and marveled at my bruises and welts. It was so new to me to see myself so marked up. I couldn't help but stare and run my fingers over the raised skin.

"I needed this spanking just as much as you did," he confessed.

He concluded the spanking session by holding ice to my swollen areas and cuddling me. We discussed what I enjoyed and what I didn't enjoy. We planned to meet again, as soon as possible, because he wasn't finished with me yet. And if I must admit, I wasn't quite finished either. The marks wouldn't heal for quite some time, yet I already craved more. It felt like a loss, although this journey had just begun.

I know I will be seeing Sir again soon, as I will require another maintenance spanking.

To be continued...