By Malin James
“You absolutely cannot make someone come just by spanking them.”
I say this with an authority that I, admittedly, don’t possess. Still, the idea that you could orgasm just from having your ass sufficiently smacked seemed ludicrous—the stuff of erotic stories and porn. Max is completely undisturbed by my lack of faith.
“Yes. You can.”
He leans back in his chair, long-legged and lean, the shadow of a smile pulling his mouth. It’s easy to miss, but I’m a very observant girl, and I like observing Max.
“Really,” I say, skepticism quirking my cherry-red mouth.
“Really,” he replies. His eyes flicker over my plump bottom lip, but he doesn’t take the bait. He lights a cigarette instead.
“Well, I suppose if you do a little extra work in addition to the spanking—the clit is a magical thing....”
“No,” Max says, stubbing out the cigarette after only three drags. (Yes, I notice how many drags. Like I said, I’m observant. Max and I have only been dating for a month and there is still quite a lot to observe.)
“Just spanking,” he continues, calmly holding my gaze. “If it’s done right.”
Something flashes through his gray eyes, and I suddenly have the feeling that he knows what he’s talking about. I’m intrigued and nervous and a little bit scared. And surprisingly turned on. I lean back in my chair.
“Show me,” I say.
My chin lifts a notch in challenge. Max smiles, this time a full, real smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, warming the wintery gray.
“Stand up,” he says, warmly, lovingly, as if he’s asked me to an especially fabulous dinner.
I’m ashamed to say that the “now” came out a bit of a squeak. Very undignified. Not my best moment, but I’m wishing I hadn’t gone there—up to this point I’ve had lots of deviant vanilla sex, but never crossed the boundary to S/M.
“Now,” he says, smiling like the big bad wolf. “Don’t worry, Jen. I’m not going to eat you. Not yet.” He leans forward and catches my hand in his, rubbing the palm with his thumb. “The minute you’ve had enough, tell me to stop and I will. All right?”
I nod like an idiot.
“Good. Now stand up.”
I stand up. How bad could it be? It’s only a little spanking to prove a point. It’s not like I’m going to come....
“Lean over the table. Brace yourself with your hands.”
I lean over the table. My belly roils from nerves and arousal, a combination I haven’t felt since my first time.
Max gets up and runs the flat of his palm over my upturned ass.
“If you need me to stop, knock twice on the table. Do you understand?”
I nod, suddenly unable to speak. His voice is still warm, conversational. But there’s an edge to it that thrills me, all the way down to my core.
“Good,” he says. Then his palm lands on my ass and I shriek. He chuckles. The sound of that chuckle grounds me and I force myself still, gripping the sides of the table.
“Good, Jen. That’s good.”
His hand comes down again. This time I’m still. It isn’t so bad—after all I’m still wearing my jeans. I start to feel smug. Though I’m undoubtedly turned on, I’m nowhere near coming. I turn my head and grin. Max smiles back. Then he reaches around me and unbuttons my jeans and pushes them all the way down.
More you say!? This excerpt is from The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press. The full story, “Hard Knocks” is by Malin James. Republished with permission (and gratitude!)