If you haven’t read Part One—the night I first slipped into a succubus role—you might want to start there. It explains why this man and I ended up circling back to each other, why his fantasies always carried this edge of danger and play.
I’ve always liked when someone comes back for more. It’s flattering, but also… it means they trusted me enough the first time. This one had been different from the start. The last time, he wanted me as a demon, something dark and teasing. Now, he’d asked for more discipline. Spanking. Control. I didn’t mind—it wasn’t always my style, but sometimes stepping into that skin feels powerful in a way I don’t expect.
He left the key at reception again. Same ritual as before. I walked in, found him lying there as though asleep, though his breathing was far too deliberate. Pretence is part of it, I suppose. I leaned down, brushed his lips, whispered something sharp enough to wake him. His eyes shot open, wide, half-fear, half-hope. That’s the look I live for.
I pulled the covers away and let him see that I wasn’t about to play gentle. My nails pressed against his chest, light at first, then harder. He gasped—not resistance, but release. I smiled to myself.
Spanking is never really about the strike. It’s the pause before. The silence when someone doesn’t know if your hand will land soft or sharp. It’s theatre. And he played his part well. Begging, eyes wide, voice cracking in all the right places.
I told him what I wanted, but made him plead for it anyway. That’s the trick, really. He thought he was asking for punishment, but what he really wanted was permission to surrender. And I gave it—on my terms.
Later, when it was all done, he whispered, “thank you.” People never expect that part, but it always comes. Gratitude. Not for the sting, but for being allowed to let go.
Spanking isn’t crude. Not if you understand it. It’s a kind of dance—sting and soothe, command and comfort. Marks fade. The memory of being seen, and handled, stays much longer.
If stories are your thing, you might like Three Girls in Earls Court Start the Night—wilder, messier, full of tangled energy. And if you’re curious about the serious side of all this, read How dominatrixes protect boundaries. Boundaries are what make play safe enough to push, after all.