Happy World BDSM Day! Are you one of the punishers, one of the punished- or better, both? The legendary erotic writer, Pimenta Cítrica is celebrating with a short story on spanking.
Listen to the erotic audio version of this story, narrated by author Pimenta Cítrica:
Black and Blue
My phone burned in my hand as if everyone could see the indecent instructions there. I pulled at the hem of my skirt as I shamefully dragged myself through the hallway. It seemed like that place I knew so well suddenly was meters longer. The 3-minute path was a strange kind of torture.
I now understood why he had asked me to wear a satin skirt today.
Last night I had done something I had never, ever, in my wildest dreams, thought I would be capable of.
I let a man who I had never seen before bend me over, naked, and flog my ass until it was completely bruised.
And I enjoyed every minute of it.
A shiver slid down my spine as I felt the soft satin of my black skirt rub against the tortured skin of my bottom. It was terribly delightful. It burned just a little, a reminder of the pain. In response to this, my pussy contracted in my panties, sticky with every step.
I couldn’t believe I was this horny at the office.
I used to be a good girl. I only had one man before. I was engaged to be married, I would only do missionary, and I would never moan too loud so he wouldn’t think he had proposed to slut.
Guess I was not a good girl anymore.
I closed my eyes, the red room flashing once again in front of me.
He had me spread out over a leather stool, ass high in the air. He told me to lift up my skirt (the pencil midi-skirt he had picked out after I sent him photos of a few options – the man was really into skirts) and slid down my thong all the way to my knees (I bought it a few days prior to fulfill another request of his).
Then he told me to spread my legs.
As I obeyed, he praised me for being such a good girl, and I felt the shame burn my cheeks and my clit swell.
As if to dig deeper into these confusing feelings of being embarrassed and turned on, he tormented further.
“Are you ready for your spanking now?”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes what now?”
I breathed deeply. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m not convinced. I’m gonna need you to say please.”
I whimpered. “Please” – It came out as nearly a whisper.
“Please what?”
“Please sir, will you spank my ass?”
“Ah, that’s better.”
His hand traveled around the skin on the back of my thigh. It was covered in a thick latex glove.
The texture was foreign and unexpected. I tried to pay attention to my breathing, feeling my nervous system overwhelmed with the situation.
His gloved fingers splayed over the small of my back, lingering for a few seconds before they were completely gone, replaced with strings.
Leather strings.
A flogger.
We had discussed the tools I would be willing to experiment with, and I couldn’t hide the excitement when he brought the flogger up.
Now it was about to happen.
SMACK.
A high-pitched cry left my lips. The sharp pain sparked through my whole body, leaving me tingling.
I blinked again. I was flustered, my breathing was growing shallow. My brain pulled back into the present – back to the office toilet.
I checked the stall lock – finally, some privacy.
My hands smoothed the satin over my buttocks. The sting was delicious.
I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Who was I? Where was this person all those years?
I pulled up my skirt again – the memory of the previous night still burning behind my eyes.
Then I angled my phone and took a snap of the bruises. It looked like an ocean of tones against the paleness of my skin.
I opened our chat. His last message read – “show me how it’s looking today, kitten.”
I sent the photo – “black and blue.”
Featured photo courtesy of Pimenta Cítrica.
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Pimenta Cítrica
Ana aka Pimenta Cítrica (meaning something like citric & spicy in Portuguese) is a Berlin based erotic writer and pleasure activist. Her work consists of creating sex-positive, inclusive, and feminist content for various platforms.
