(2) I guess he wasn’t oblivious to my arousal. Instead of “s..

(2) I guess he wasn’t oblivious to my arousal. Instead of “spank, spank, spank”, he switched to a pattern where he’d spank me once, then gently run his hand between my legs and over my private parts. I’m sure the first time he did this, my wetness gave me away, and in short order, my painful cries became mixed with moans of pleasure. By now, instead of trying to pull away in pain, I was thrusting my pelvis against his hand whenever it got close to me. Little by little, he started paying more attention to my female parts. At first, it was just a spank then a light glancing touch…eventually, it got more serious. He started massaging my clit for a few moments at a time, and soon after, I felt his fingers sliding deep inside my vagina. My belly was on his lap and I could feel that he had a serious erection going on too…I was loving the overall sensation, a mix of pain, powerlessness, humiliation, and surrender. It was so intense…the pain mixed with the pleasure of intimate touching and arousal. I’d been with a few boys by that point in my life, but I never felt anything even remotely like this. And sure enough, before I knew it, my body erupted into what was easily the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had. I very nearly passed out as wave after wave of pleasure rocked me. After that, the spankings stopped and he rubbed me now quite a tender bottom in what felt like a loving way for a few minutes. He pulled my skirt down and helped me to my feet, quietly telling me I could go. By this point, I was feeling all sorts of things. I was confused about what had happened and how my body reacted to this man - I didn’t know the first thing about masochism until then, never mind that it might be part of who I was. I labored a pretty strong desire to give him something in return…I mean, he managed to play my body like a musical instrument in a way nobody ever came close to - why wouldn’t I want more with him? I hoped he wasn’t finished with me quite yet. His desk was right there, and I found myself wishing he’d lift me onto it and have his way with me, right there. I also seriously thought about dropping to my knees and taking him in my mouth. I could see his healthy erection, and I doubt he would and have denied me had I tried, but I didn’t quite have the nerve to take that step. Part of my newfound submissive personality, I guess. As consciousness returned and the haze cleared, I was also pretty embarrassed. What kind of slut must I be to engage in this sort of thing with a strange man that was probably twice my age? And what self-respecting girl gets aroused to the point of orgasm by a good spanking? In the end, I found I couldn’t even really look him in the eye…I just said something like “thank you” under my breath and walked out the door. Even though I had some sort of lingering desire for him, I don’t think we said two words to each other the rest of that school year…thankfully, it was almost graduation time when our little episode happened. I left home for college not long afterward, and for a while, I tried to put that day out of my mind and pretend it never happened. But on every lonely and dark night, my mind would replay the little erotic details, and little by little I learned to embrace my submissive and masochistic tendencies. After my freshman year at college, I spent the next summer at home. I was over 18 now, and I realized that I was still crushing on this man that taught me so much about myself in that school office. More than anything, I wondered if he had any sort of feeling for me, or if I was just some sort of vessel for his amusement. What he did to me profoundly impacted my life – I wanted to hear his side of the story too. I suppose it surprised him, but I managed to track him down, and we did have a profoundly impacted on my life - I while. For me, it was a summer of soreness, and I don’t think a day went by that I didn’t have a bruise or a welt somewhere on my body - and I wore them with pride. It wasn’t exactly that every get-together was a big ordeal - sometimes, our sessions were simple, tender, and loving. That’s the point…we ran the spectrum from basic sex to some pretty extreme stuff, and it all just felt “right” to me - I never felt like I had to do anything, other than be there and be my authentic self. There was no acting going on. What was unique was that it was so limitless and natural between us. Somehow, he recognized what I was long before I ever did, and in time, I learned to love submitting to him - no matter what he wanted. It wasn’t one of these negotiations where two people talk about who does what to whom and safe words and all that…it just flowed. In many ways, it was bliss. Of course, most 30-somethings don’t want a long-term relationship with an 18-year-old, so our relationship didn’t last. Still, that summer was a coming-out time for me. Under his stern hand, I learned to fully embrace my BDSM traits. More than 18 years old, he helped open my eyes to my darker desires. It’s been about ten years, and I accept that part of myself more than I ever thought I would. I’ve been with my share of men in that time, both vanilla and otherwise. I’ve tried satisfying myself with “nice guys”, and more than one has put me on a pedestal and worshiped me like a total queen. Sadly, as much as my mind tells me to embrace the vanilla lifestyle, my heart says otherwise…yes, I can be the gentle loving girlfriend - but that’s not all of me, and eventually, the lie catches up with me. My teacher showed me that being the little submissive masochist that I am is a gift, and what a sin that a gift like that should go unused. Someday, perhaps I will get my forever master, but until then, I always look back to those first moments in my BDSM journey with fondness and amazement.