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“Now, if you don’t mind,” he said seriously, “I hate to see good food go to waste.”
He bent over and finally claimed the errant drop of sauce that had trickled its way down to her nipple. It was a long time before either of them spoke again.
It was nearly dawn when she told him her most shameful secret. She didn’t know why she did it—it just came out, and she found herself grateful for the dark while she spoke.
“I don’t think I ever really liked sex before,” she blurted out into the night. The darkness helped, as did Spencer’s quiet breathing and patient silence. The up-and-down movement of his hand on her arm never faltered.
“My first lover—not first boyfriend, I’ve had a lot of boyfriends. I haven’t slept with most of them.” She cleared her throat after that awkward confession. “Anyway, my first lover—Jake—he was charming and nice. He seemed perfect. He was an out-of-towner, one of Shar’s friends. Great background, wealthy family, the works. Everything a stupid twenty-year-old girl aspires to. He was a good kisser.” She could feel Spencer starting to tense beneath her, obviously not keen on hearing about Jake’s kissing prowess. She patted his chest comfortingly, mutely begging for patience, and she could feel him force himself to relax.
“When I thought I was ready, I let him know that I was willing to, you know . . . ?”
“Hmm.” It was all the encouragement she needed, and she gulped before continuing.
“He took me to this place he was renting in Knysna. It all started pretty innocently, the kissing and petting and stuff. I was relaxing, enjoying it, but when I was naked he . . . he picked up his brush and spanked me.” Spencer tensed again, and she patted him once more. Feeling the need to comfort him, because nobody had ever comforted her. Nobody had ever even known about this until now. It was a lot harder to talk about than she’d expected, but she’d started this and she would tell him the rest of it.
“I don’t know why. He made it seem normal and said something about all girls loving a good spanking.” Spencer’s hand had stopped stroking her arm and just lay there. Not moving at all. “I felt . . . well, I don’t know how I felt. I was confused. I didn’t like it. It had taken me out of the moment, so to speak. He went back to kissing me and playing with my breasts, but he pinched my nipples too hard. It hurt. He kept asking me if I liked the stuff he was doing, and I suppose saying I did made him escalate it a notch every time. But I liked the kissing and the stroking. Not the other stuff. He would kiss me and lick me and say, ‘You like this, don’t you?’ and just when I said yes, he’d pinch me, or slap my butt, or do something painful. It was so confusing.”
Spencer’s breathing was no longer even and quiet; it was starting to sound ragged and labored, and she wasn’t sure if she should continue.
“What happened?” he asked after she’d lapsed into a silence that lasted a beat too long.
“He flipped me onto my stomach, kissed me some more, touched me, played with me, made me feel good. Then he said, ‘This is okay, right?’ I remember feeling more relaxed, finally enjoying it and saying that it was fine . . . but he had a b-ball gag just slightly in my line of vision. I didn’t notice it. But when I said it was fine, he said he knew I’d be game and put it in my mouth. He tied my hands to the headboard and spanked me again, with something else. I don’t think it was the brush.” She took a deep, bracing breath. Reliving it made her feel so dumb. Why hadn’t she known how manipulative he was being? Why hadn’t she seen it until years after it had all ended?
“And then he d-did his thing,” she said hoarsely. She hated telling Spencer—good and kind and gentle Spencer—these things. She didn’t want him to know her as this awful, stupid person who had allowed these things to happen. Didn’t want him to recognize her as a fraud who acted tough but submitted to such degradations. But at the same time, she needed him to know every ugly detail about her. Needed him to understand what he was getting into if he insisted on being with her. So she forced herself to continue.
“I didn’t like it. It was my first time and I hated it. It hurt, it was humiliating and awful, but he acted like it was completely normal. Afterward, he untied me. Snuggled up and said I was amazing, but maybe I could move a bit more next time, squirm a little, get all the way into it. Girls loved it once they got used to it.”
