Anaín Bjorkquist

pain. pleasure. play.

***This is a fictional erotic story inspired by reality.***

My jeans were too tight and there we were a lot closer to where he had planned to be since our first date. The contrast between us was noticeable even in the dark. Me: white too tight jeans, red lipstick, white ribbed tank, red nails, nude stilettos. Him: loose but fitting blue jeans, black dress shirt, elaborate belt buckle, polished black boots. His clean black boots were almost up against my nude stilettos. Almost. I stepped back to take in his carefully put together ensemble and I giggled. There we were a lot closer to where he had planned to be and I had the guts to giggle in his face.

He backed up a little then reached around behind me, grabbing more than a handful of hair and pulled it hard enough to make me stumble back a little then he pulled me forward. His kisses made me forget all about the pain. I had come to him for an elaborate scene that we had negotiated. An elaborate scene that would put me fully in charge of the sex. I was to step out of my usual submissive role and take charge. No girly giggling or insecurity. And I had the guts to giggle in his face not because I was stepping back into my usual role where the giggling was masking my lack of confidence but because in the darkness of his room I clearly saw all our apparent differences and our similarities. Similarities that seemed unspeakable.

And there we were yet suddenly I had forgotten all that we had planned, all the boundaries that we had discussed and all the fear that had accompanied me there. The tenderness of what couldn’t be said enveloped me with wonder, hope and courage. Into his eyes I boldly looked with a wide smile on my face. I stood before him unafraid of being as feminine as ever and maybe a notch more just to test his patience. What would he do if I played the role of bratty femme. I burst into a fit of giggles.

He commanded, “Take your pants off.”

I looked down, crossed my arms, bit my lip and did not take off my pants.

As if he knew that I wouldn’t fulfill the role we had negotiated he took the lead unlike he usually did. This wasn’t going to be about me but about some carnal desire that he had yet to explore with his other lovers. He grabbed my hand forcing me to unfold my arms and yanked me towards a green leather armless chair in his room in which he sat then unbuttoned my too tight white jeans pulling them just below my ass. He bent me forward over his lap.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“Mostly.” I answered.

“Good enough. You remember our safe words?”


He rubbed on my ass and with his right hand smacked the side of my right butt cheek firmly but without extreme force. There I was taking a spanking from this man that claimed it wasn’t his thing and he seemed to be enjoying it. We both were enjoying it. His palm traveled all over my ass alternating rubbing and spanking movements. He reached right where my buttocks and thighs meet and he struck me harder than before. I almost screamed out the word that would make him stop but I decided that the fine line between pain and pleasure was worth navigating.

Would it really hurt so much that I couldn’t take anymore? Would I want the pain I could bare to stop if he managed to cause me pain that made me think twice? I wasn’t sure but I kept my mouth shut. He went on and on. Then when I was thinking that this was more pleasurable than painful he stopped spanking and only gently rubbed my butt.

He caressed it. Massaged it. He made sure to gently rub the areas that he had been the harshest on. I thought this was the end of my spanking. Then that’s when he asked me a question that I thoroughly thought about as quickly as I could.

“What’s your favorite number?”

Instantly I thought twenty-eight, but twelve is my lucky number but I was born on the eighth. Fuck 28, 12 or 8? Wait. Was he going to spank my ass that many times? That’s why he wants to know.


“I’m going to hit you eight times. I want you to count them out loud.”

He hit me. It wasn’t as bad as I expected.


The next blow came quickly.


The next one faster.


They were getting harder to take.




I was thinking of stopping him.


I almost said it in Spanish because I was so disoriented lost somewhere between wanting the good hurt to stop and the pleasure to be greater than.

He took his sweet time then WHACK!

“Eight.” I said almost out of breath.

He rubbed my bottom and asked if I was okay.

I sat on the floor on my knees next to him. I placed my head in his lap. He played with my long curls and again asked if I was doing okay.

“Yes but I do want you to hold me.”

He joined me on the floor. His big legs around each side of me. I crawled into his arms and stared at my nude stilettos up against his black boots.

His big black boots underneath my tiny nude stilettos. His big bearlike body underneath my tiny fairylike body. He held me for what seemed like forever.

“You didn’t come here just to be spanked and held.”

He gestured towards his huge bed. Again he tried to get me undressed but this time I was going to do what he loved best.

It was time to attempt to wrestle with a man that was used to tackling others for sheer joy. I did my best to fight him off, to try to take control over his huge body, to pretend that I could overpower him and the audacity of the visual got him to laugh the loudest laugh I had ever heard come out of him. He was smiling and all I could see were his beautiful teeth. His smile immaculate. His lips thick. Into his mouth I wanted to jump. My tongue would be enough until he bit my lip. Hard.

I reached to smack his face. He grabbed my hand.

“Time for the games to stop.” He said.

Out of a drawer came out a vibrator and condoms. We undressed.

In the middle of his bed he assaulted my clit with eloquence. To the edge of an orgasm he took me then pulled back all the way. He looked into my eyes and I thought if he could clearly see the things that had caused me to step out of our negotiated roles?

I forgot what I was thinking as he leaned forward to kiss me passionately. He got on his back, condom went on cock and he invited me onto it.

Not being a size queen what he had for me was more than I could pleasurably take at first. I could tell that a future fucking him would entail a lot of toting that fine line between pain and pleasure.

Little by little I took every inch of that cock into me. Inch by inch while staring into his eyes watching him bite his lip got me wetter and wetter.

He grabbed my breasts then yanked my hair pulling my body forward towards his.

The big bear with the little fairy on top of him. His hands tugging at my hair. My pussy full of cock. My head forced back. What didn’t hurt felt pleasure like I had never felt.

That night. He brought me pain. He provided me pleasure. We played.

We fucked. A lot.

It was a night of multiple orgasms for two.

I had come to him for everything… pain, pleasure, play and forgotten all that we had negotiated.

At the foot of his bed his clean black boots were almost up against my nude stilettos. Almost.

And in the bed there we were closer than he had planned.

© Anaín Bjorkquist July 25, 2012 ~ All Rights Reserved.

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