It’s a hazy, hot August afternoon and he’s found me dozing in the bed, the fan overhead turning slowly, keeping the heat moving. There is little relief to be had when the sun bakes everything it touches and the air feels thick like this. I’m aware that he’s in the room, I don’t open my eyes but I hear him undress and feel the bed dip as he crawls in.

I’m sweaty and tired, somewhere between sleep and awake as he spoons me. It’s too hot and sticky to be so close but his lips on my shoulder, my arm, my back, make me forget everything else. He licks the salt from my skin and blows softly across the wet patch made by his tongue and I shiver. My body feels heavy with heat and fatigue but richly alive, every nerve primed for more. His touch is soft and sure. His hands are beautiful, sculptural and strong, and he moves them softly across my skin until I shiver: a single fingertip from the nape of my neck to the small of my back. He pushes my hip forward from behind me, and I follow his silent order, rolling over onto my stomach. He pets my hair, wordless and calculated, my skin growing ever more sensitive in anticipation, my scalp prickling as his fingers wrap themselves in my hair and he pulls with a long, slow, firm motion. My head is pulled backwards, making me arch. I pull my knees up slightly so I’m in the position I know he wants me in: ass up, head back, shoulders down. The kiss on my shoulder confirms that I am as he wants me. I know what’s next.

Without a word, the first strike lands, hot and furiously sharp. His palm spanks the meatiest part of my cheek, then the other, hard enough to get the blood rushing to the surface of my skin, but not hard enough to make me yelp. That will come in time. He’s still laying on his side against me, and he turns my face to his and kisses me, pulling away to stare into my eyes as he spanks again. No words, just his eyes, gleaming darkly in the low light. I nod in consent and desire and he kisses me again before the next pair of slaps land. His hand caresses my throat and presses in at the sides of my neck and I feel my eyes roll back. The ecstasy of his hand across my ass and haunches swirls through my body and I settle in, knowing the pleasure we both derive from this.

He quickens the pace, giving me less and less time between strikes, listening carefully to my breathing and watching my face. I follow him, matching his intensity, giving in to the searing hot pain of his ministrations, and riding the wave of pain. We meet at the peak of it when his hand welts my bottom and I finally cannot help but shriek. The yelp is high and broken, my voice cracking in the hot air of the dark room and I know that we are finished when he presses my face to the mattress and kisses my temple. His breath on my face and neck is a comfort as he pulls me closer, laying back and bringing me to his chest. I float in the damp heat of our excitement, and press my cheek to the damp of his shoulder. I sleep quickly, powering down as he holds me close and once again, runs a single finger up and down my spine, caressing the welted canvas of my ass with is warm palm. Safe against him, high on his power, I drift, floating somewhere between worlds, where there are no words, only pain, comfort and love.

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.