I’ve described myself as a “former sex worker” but am hesitant to use that term, because it suggests I’ve retired, that I’m totally off the market. And while it’s been at least two years since I last saw a client (we’ll call him John), the same guy has kept in touch and has been trying to make our schedules coincide. For two years. So technically that means I’m still active, just extremely part time. This afternoon we finally managed to hook up.
John is pretty much the only type of client I would even consider seeing, in my current state of mind. Never say never, but I work more than 70 hours a week running a club and porn company, and even though I’m still in need of extra cash, doing more genital-oriented sexual forms of sex work would drain me. What John likes is to be spanked. Ferociously spanked, for as long as an hour. The reason he keeps coming back to me (which is good for my ego) is that he can’t find anybody else who can do it as hard and relentlessly as me.
I meet him at the door and let him in. I’m like “How’s it going? Been a long time…” He warns me that he might not be able to take as much as I used to give. I acknowledge that I too am out of practice. The skin on my palms is not built up like it used to be. When I’d see him monthly, I always had a layer of callous. Today I have set out my leather gloves and a paddle, just in case I can’t keep up with him.
He bends over and I start exploring his ass through his expensive dress pants. I start slow, keeping his pants on. I work my way up, giving him little breaks (something I never used to do much of but which I know is necessary today). He is a wuss for the first while, then starts to get more brave. The way he acts during spanking reminds me of how I am during tattoo sessions — it’s mind over matter. You have to just submit, and take the pain, but eventually you reach a point where your mind can’t take it any more and you have to take a break.
What a physical workout! I could have broken him down in five minutes if I wanted to, but I made it last 40 minutes. That’s what differentiates me from someone who doesn’t know what they are doing, or from someone trying to hustle a guy for a quick buck. I still remember my first session with John, probably eight years ago, when I didn’t have the experience. All I knew about him was that he wanted to be spanked, as hard as I could do it. We went into the middle of a wrestling pit, and I started spanking him. About five minutes into it he started to sob, almost hyperventilating, then got up on his knees and shot his load without touching himself. I was shocked, and while part of me was overjoyed to have just made $200 for five minutes of work, I have ethics. I was determined to learn how to build him up so that future sessions would be longer. I was fascinated to have met somebody who wanted me to take him so far, so brutal and with very little of the softness that often balances SM relationships. I’m a true sadist, to be honest, I enjoy someone who can just take a lot of pain, who doesn’t need much reassurance or breaks.
As my sessions with John continued, I learned how to not break him. Oddly enough, it didn’t involve me giving him a lot of massage and nice moments, it required me switching from his back to his front. When I could tell he was approaching his breaking point from spanking, I’d flip him over and smack his cock and balls. That gave him a breather, long enough to get back the courage to roll over and take more beatings on his ass. I prefer to do barehanded spanking (I find that using paddles is almost lazy, because it takes 10 times less strength), but with John I needed to work with paddles and belts because he could take so much and my hands couldn’t take it right away. Eventually though, I built us both up to the point where I could spank him for an entire hour, almost uninterrupted, with just my bare hands. Trust me — that takes a lot of endurance, shoulder muscle and arm strength. He just left ten minutes ago, but my body is still shaking from the endorphins, and my arms feel like I just got back from the gym and my palms are pink.
During his spanking today, I make it to about the 30-minute mark before switching to a paddle because my arms almost give out. I push him as far as he can go with the paddle, then tell him that I’m going to take him to his point of no return, barehanded. He is instructed to say “Mercy,” at which point I will stop.
I crouch down behind the spanking bench and get into my “bongo drum” stance. I start pummelling him, counting in my head. I lose count but it’s somewhere around 120 before he breaks. I’m sure if I was in better shape I could have finished him off at 50, but hey, as I said, I’m totally out of practice. Maybe a personal trainer would have some special exercises in mind for someone into spanking? (Comments can be left below this article.)
It took a couple years to get this organized, but it was fun, it was mutually beneficial (rent’s due next week) and it makes me proud that I can now say that I am a sex worker, present tense, again.
John obviously put a lot of thought into today’s session, because when he is getting dressed, all shaky and sweaty, thanking me profusely for the encounter, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue magic marker and says “Can you do me one last favour? Can you write something on my ass and take a photo of it so I can send it to my friend?”
“Of course,” I say. I write “Freshly spanked” on the left cheek and “By TK” on the right. I take his Blackberry and get a good shot. He then tells me he’s going to go to the gym to prance around in the shower. It gives him a thrill that other guys see his ass reddened. I wonder if he’s going to wash the “Freshly spanked by TK” off before he reveals himself to the other executives in his posh gym.