Tap! Slap! Snap! Whap!

I agreed to this. Now I hesitate.
I don't want to stand here naked, lamps on me, showing every imperfection.
SLAP!
Jeans can cushion the blow but not the shivers of excitement.
My first time, the belt and cutesy paddle do not count because there was no enthusiasm or fear or excitement.
Two swats do not count.

I stand here, quivering with anticipation.
My arms and legs spread, waiting.

The light, slow taps begin, just to redden, just to prepare.
I relax into the rhythm.
My eyes lashes drift low as I enjoy the beat.
A cool hand caresses the heat across my back, making me wonder "is that it?"

Slap!
No, not yet.

Heavier, the rhythm goes deeper, a bit faster, more erratic.
I breath through, letting my body find it's way to absorb the beat.
Tensing, releasing, reaching for the next.
All thoughts are focused, narrowed on the heat, the quick strike of a match and the slow burn.
A harsh song that throws the me in to the next step.

Snap!
Snap!
Snap!

I lose rhythm, I lose composure, I lose the delicious heat.
Liquid fire in tiny drops, the whistle before it lands.
I shiver, my emotions are creeping in, threatening.

"yellow"

Somewhere beyond my thoughts, "are you ok?"
It takes to long to answer, the hand in my hair, pulling me back,
"are you ok"
I breathe out a small "yes,"

I did not like that song, the quickness of my undoing. It took me too fast.
"green", that cool touch, soothing, soothing.

The deep, heavy rhythm.
Slap.

Ah, the heat. It moves me, makes me want to beg for more, but all that comes out is a moan.
My body once again absorbs the fire, turning pain in to the slow burn of pleasure, until...

Whap!

I fall, I break. I beg, I cry, I release.