This is the true story of meeting my online Dom/Lover and how he gave me my very first spanking. It's an exploration of the emotional and physical aspects of my desires and needs. If you're looking for a quick sex scene, look elsewhere. I hope you enjoy reading my story as much as I've enjoyed living it. Please read chapter 1 so you know how we began this amazing time together.
*****************************
Kunal stared down at me pinned beneath him as he sat astride my chest, one hand holding my arm to the bed and the other methodically groping my breast. I held his eyes, unflinching. I was surrendered to him in body and mind, but unwilling to wilt under his intense scrutiny. He liked a submissive woman, but one that also had some spirit to her. I had learned that much from our hours of chatting online. As suddenly as our test of wills had begun, it ended. Kunal slid his hand out from inside my shirt, grinning wickedly as he sat up and moved over to his side of the bed, laying on his back next to me. I felt very empty, the weight of his body no longer pressing me into the bed, the warmth of his insistent hand gone from my breast. My head was spinning with emotions and questions.
"We should get some sleep now," he said. "We have a busy day tomorrow."
"Yes, we should," I replied. I was in a daze as I turned my head to look at him. An innocent smile greeted me and I smiled back at him. "Good night," I said and turned over, pulling the down comforter up around me. There would be time to sort all this out later.
*****************************
We awoke the next morning , two friends who had been more than friends online, but who were attempting to be just friends in person. Neither of us said anything about what had transpired, finding comfort instead in mundane routine things. After last night's events it was obvious that we couldn't deny the history that we had built online. It was the elephant in the room. We had clearly crossed the platonic boundary and I didn't want to go back. I had a taste of what it was to really be under someone's control, if only for a moment. For months we had indulged in D/s talk and explored each others needs and desires from a distance through a computer screen. It paled in comparison to flesh and blood.
"Come on," Kunal urged. "Get up. You have to make my breakfast and I will get ready while you do that."
I groaned and tried to bury my head deeper into the pillow, pulling up the covers. "Noooo," I whined. "It's too early."
"Get up, Belle." Kunal's accent made the stark words even more clipped and serious.
I rolled over to face him. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to. Now get up." Kunal softened the commands with a little smile as he climbed out of the bed. I watched him disappear into the bathroom, hearing the door click closed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slid to the edge, reaching my arm out to rummage for my brush in my carry on that sat on the floor, trying to prolong the inevitable need to leave the warmth of the covers and begin the day.
"Darn it," I muttered to myself. My efforts to avoid getting out of bed were useless if I couldn't get anything done. If Kunal finished and there was no breakfast ready, I knew he wouldn't be happy. I sat up and grabbed the brush that had eluded me, running it through my hair. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I got up, staggering the few feet to the small kitchen. I went straight to work and breakfast was successfully finished with time to spare.
As Kunal ate, I grabbed my one fresh shirt and headed for the bathroom to shower. My luggage was still lost in the airline abyss. There are things you don't appreciate until they are gone, like conditioner when you have long hair; a change of clothes; nice body wash. As I stripped out of my clothes I looked down at my creamy skin and noticed the angry, black and blue marks across the top of my breast.
"Kunal," I yelled. "I told you I bruise easily."
"What?" he yelled back.
"You made a bruise on my breast from where you were squeezing so hard last night."
"Good," he said.
"I hope this goes away before the week is out. I don't know how I'll explain this to my husband if it doesn't." I looked at it in the mirror, pride and a little bit of glee overtaking me. He had marked me. I couldn't help but smile as I stepped into the shower.
I made do with what I had and came out of the bathroom clean but still rumpled in my one change of clothes. My jeans were stretched out from being worn for a few days. The tank top was clean but wrinkled from being crammed into my bag. I was silently cursing all incompetent airline employees. The sight that greeted me only made things worse. There was Kunal, even more good looking than the day before. He had a button down shirt on, dark hair perfectly styled, jeans (a fresh pair), and a smile that made me feel like a Southern girl ready to swoon. In true Southern girl fashion I channeled my inner Scarlett O'Hara and made the best of a bad situation. I put a smile on my face and grabbed my purse.
"Do you think my luggage will be here today?" I asked Kunal as I applied the pink gloss to my lips. " They said it would be."
"I'm sure it will be," he said. "We'll come back and check the apartment this afternoon."
We left the apartment and headed out on foot, sometimes walking side by side and talking about the people or the city, sometimes in our own worlds, taking in everything. Our morning was taken up with visits to some of the old cathedrals that fill Paris. By noon our energy was fading as the heat was beginning to take it's toll on us.
"Come, Belle," Kunal said. "Let's have lunch and then go back to the apartment. We can rest and then go out again later when it's cooler."
As we navigated the narrow streets I spotted an Indian restaurant ahead. It was appropriately decorated with vibrant colors and ethnic knick knacks. My mouth watered at the thought of what I could get to eat and I breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing that Kunal would undoubtedly find something here that would appeal to him.
"Let's go to that Indian restaurant up there," I said. "I can't come all this way and meet you and not share a meal of Indian food. You can tell me what I should get."
"Okay," Kunal smiled big in agreement.
We settled into our seats in the small restaurant. It was the very definition of "cozy" with only seven tables for seating. We could've eaten off the plates of the people next to us, but that is typical for Paris, where space is at a premium. Kunal ordered entrees for each of us and some naan - the delicious Indian flat bread that is so popular everywhere. We talked about the day, what we had seen so far, and what we still wanted to see. The waiter brought out the basket of naan and Kunal and I both looked at it critically.
"That is not naan," he whispered to me. "Does it look like naan to you?"
"No," I said.
Kunal called the waiter back to the table. "This is not naan."
"This is naan." The waiter's look was unapologetic and annoyed.
Kunal quickly lapsed into Hindi. I only understood bits and pieces of the actual conversation, but the body language said it all. His words were clipped and his accent was pronounced. He hardly looked at the waiter, dismissive of him even in the conversation. Every muscle in his face was taut. When he turned and looked at me when the waiter left to get us new naan I saw the tension and frustration bubbling just below the surface. His eyes were dark and the ease that had characterized most of my time with him was gone.
"It's okay," I said, trying to make things lighter. " Whatever we have is fine. It doesn't really matter."
"No, it is not fine," Kunal replied. "We should get what we ordered." This was the other side to him - decisive in his judgments and unrelenting in his pursuit of what was right.
The waiter returned with the naan and set it on the table with the rest of our meal. Kunal barely acknowledged him with a nod. After he left I caught Kunal's eye across the table and let my smile cut through the tension.
"That was great watching you argue with him in Hindi!" I barely contained my whisper. "You were so you - so authoritative and surly."
"What are you talking about?" Kunal asked incredulously. "I wasn't like that. I just told him that he did not bring us the right thing."
"Maybe you don't see it. Your Dom characteristics were coming out." I grinned at him as we ate the delicious food. "It was so fun to watch!"
He gave me a little smile. "Now eat your food."
We finished up the meal and stepped out of the restaurant, back into the hot sun. My hair was beginning to cling to my neck and little beads of sweat dripped down my back. I was anxious to get some relief from the heat. Within a few minutes walk we were back in our sanctuary, the apartment cooler than the stifling heat outside. I walked over to the large, floor to ceiling windows and slid the curtains closed to shut out the heat, standing for a few minutes to look out at the people walking on the street below.
