The Pleasure's All Mine: Memoir of a Professional Submissive by Joan Kelly Read Free Book Online

extended period of time. I rested my head in the space between my arms as Robert started to slap my cheeks softly to warm me up.
        Soon, Robert began to increase the tempo and intensity of his spanking. He had a great technique. He knew exactly the right spot where the sensations of a thud and a sting came together to produce a satisfying jolt between my legs. Somewhere in the middle of the fleshiest part of each cheek was an area that felt internally connected to both my G-spot and my clitoris. I couldn’t tell you the mechanics of any of it; I’m just saying that a genuinely good spanking, even a hard one, never registers as real pain for me.
        When my partner knows what he or she is doing, it causes a sensation unlike either pleasure or pain, yet somehow indivisible from each.
        I could not tell how much time was passing, but after a long stretch where the only sounds were Robert’s hands landing on me and my satisfied moans, he began slowing the pace, alternating between rubbing and spanking me. After a little while, I felt his hand falling harder and harder on my skin, instead of the backing off and the rubbing that had been going on a minute before. I began to squirm, thinking I might be reaching some sort of threshold, and I felt his other hand tighten around my waist to hold me still. This sent shock waves of even greater excitement through my body, making the burning in my cheeks momentarily more tolerable.
         “Please,” I begged finally, unable to recall my safe word in that moment, but not really wanting to use it anyway.
        I didn’t want him to stop entirely, which he would have done if I’d given the safe-word signal, but I didn’t think I could take an indefinite amount of this kind of intensity either. Reflexively, I tried to rotate my hips on his lap, and again he gripped me tighter, preventing me from moving at all this time. Increasing the pace and sting just a fraction more, he held me against his body for another full minute. This time, his clasp caused something new to happen. Something akin to pleasure began to radiate outwards from the pit of my stomach up into my chest and down into the throbbing between my legs. I gasped into the cool leather of the bench beneath me, begging him one last time, but not for anything I could put my finger on.
        He stopped, finally, and I stayed immobilized across his knees even when he no longer had such a firm hold of me. Both of his hands went to my ass, sometimes rubbing with his palms, sometimes running his fingertips over especially tender areas. I stifled the fuck-drunk urge to blurt out that I loved him.
         “Jesus!” I finally breathed, as Robert helped me up to stand unsteadily in front of him.
        “That was great,” he said, and began rubbing my bare shoulders. “Would you like to lie down for a minute?”
        “Yes, thank you,” I said. He joined me, fully clothed, on the towels still laid out beneath us. He inched closer to me, until we were shoulder to shoulder staring at the ceiling like it was a star-filled sky.
        “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m curious where you got the name Marnie.”
        “Are you sure you want to know? It might freak you out…” I hesitated.
        “Now I definitely want to hear it. And I’m not that easy to freak out, for the record.”
        “Okay. I’m not comfortable with the whole fake name thing in the first place, and I definitely didn’t feel like choosing something cute or forced — sexy or whatever.”
        “I can understand that, after knowing you a couple of hours now,” Robert said, turning his head a little.
        “Right,” I paused. “So the only thing that came to mind for me was a fake name that someone else had used a long time ago. Marnie K. Reeves was the alias that Patricia Krenwinkel used when she got arrested for the Manson murders.” I took a breath. “Plus, I don’t know, something