Nineteen
Christopher had slapped my a*s many a time over the past couple of nights we’d slept together. Sometimes, when he was plunged so deep inside of me that I swore I would pass out with one more thrust, he’d strike my flesh with an open hand. Each time, it sent me reeling forward, only to come back to him for more.
Other times, he’d catch me in the process of getting dressed. He’d give me a playful thwack. That would then turn into a sensual caress. That would turn into needing to get dressed all over again an hour later.
I never pretended to be a dirty girl who liked spankings. I had no daddy issues whatsoever. I harbored no need to be punished or disciplined. But when Christopher got his hands on me, I’d melt into a puddle of wanton obedience and bow to his every whim.
Watching
