I ran away from him that night, but I couldn’t stay away. Not really. He was constantly on my mind, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. And the experiment I’d tried, the one where I’d tried to change my sexual fantasies? Well, I guess it was a success in some ways. Just not in the ways I’d hoped. Instead of fantasies of faceless, dominant men and faceless, submissive women, my thoughts had simply focused on him. It was very frustrating.

One day, I was at it again, trying to get myself off, and every time I closed my eyes, the same image would pop into my mind. Me and Aaron, lying in bed, kissing, my hands stroking his hair, his arms wrapped around me, pressing me against him.

I’d stop. Clear my mind and begin again.

The same image would pop into my mind.  Aaron is here with me. We are kissing.

I stopped again, completely frustrated. I counted to ten, hoping he would go away. But no, I can tell that he is still there in my mind.

Fine.

I close my eyes. Begin again. And there is Aaron, in bed with me. But we are not kissing. He is lying on the bed, face down. I am kneeling beside him.  I see that he is naked. Sunlight has come in through the blinds and his skin is glowing like a pearl. On each of his wrists, there is a leather cuff. The leather cuffs are connected to chains that bind his arms, stretched outward and immobile, to the head of the bed. He is completely helpless. He is mine.

I run my hand down his back and watch him squirm. He wants me to do something to him. To turn him over and mount him.

I will not.

I run my hands all across his body, enjoying the way that he moves, silently begging me to touch his bottom, to reach beneath and grasp his cock. My hand does finally touch his bottom, but it is not to stroke or pleasure him. I slap his butt, hard, and feel a slither of pleasure at the sound of surprise and pain that he makes. I smack his butt again. Once more, I feel a surge of pleasure at his little sounds of pain. Now I have a rhythm of smacks going, and I can see that he is tensing and releasing his buttocks with each blow of my hand.

I look up to find that his face is flushed. A sheen of sweat is on his brow and shoulders. I think to myself how, with every blow, he is rubbing himself against my blanket, squirming against it, rubbing his cock against the smooth cotton. And I know that he is turned on, as turned on as I am, and that he is about to come.  I can feel his humiliation at being made to come like this, helpless and spanked. That really turns me on. I love to think about his feeling of helpless humiliation and arousal.

I grab a handful of his hair. It is damp with sweat, tendrils sticking to my fingers. I give it a hard yank and he groans out loud. I yank it again, now in time to the rhythm of the spanking.

His body is shaking slightly. Trembling.

“Please,” he whispers, but I ignore him, all my thoughts are focused on his round bottom, his reddening cheeks.

This fantasy has me so excited, I’m about to come any second now, he looks so fucking good in my mind.

I want to. I want to.

I’m reaching for that moment.

With a final smack of my palm, Aaron’s body tenses and he is cumming, making pretty little groaning sounds. Back in the real world, so am I. It feels so damn good! My body is electric. Twisting.

I open my eyes and I think, Yes, that is what I want.