Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

N A T
H
e’s got one of those perfect, hard, round man
asses you see on elite athletes. There’s not an
ounce of fat on it. Paler than his back or thighs,
the skin there looks soft, tender, and unblemished.
I bet if I smacked it hard with my brush, it would glow
cherry red.
I swallow because my mouth has gone bone dry. There’s a
strange buzzing in my ears. I feel a bit lightheaded. My fury
has flown out the window, leaving me jacked up on sex
endorphins.
No wonder he wants to spank me. Just standing here
contemplating the idea of doing it to him has me vibrating all
over like one of my toys.
He says, “Don’t worry about hurting me. I have a high
tolerance for pain.”
“It’s kind of defeating the whole purpose if you can’t feel
it.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be able to feel it. I just don’t want
you to hold back.”
His voice is soft and hypnotic. Or maybe I’m feeling
hypnotized from all the adrenaline flooding my veins.
When I told him I’d only let him spank me if I could do it
to him first, I didn’t think a hypothetical would turn into
reality. It was a hollow threat, because what man would let his
girlfriend whack him on the ass?