Spanko’ween (Just because it’s a funny word.)

Rihannas S&M song starts pounding through the room.

I smile at my date. “Well, that song doesn’t fit at all.”

“No, not at all. Not in this crowd.” She grins at me and the grin becomes a grimace when she feels my fingernails on her back digging into her skin, slowly finding their way higher up her back, up to the shoulder and down her chest. She shudders a bit and I watch fascinated before I start stroking her neck, chest and arms. I find a bit of skin under the upper arm and pinch it. She gasps.

A pirate walks past us.

We are celebrating Halloween together with a lot of kinky people. The place is full of spider webs, spiders, dark cloth, flashing lights and loud music. The people is dressed up as vampires, pirates, school girls, dead people, animals, secret agents, trolls and other monsters. There are also some people in quite ordinary fetish wear, but almost everyone is dressed up in one way or another. Personally I really, really like to dress up; every time I get the chance I make the most of it.

This is the first time my date and I experiment with stuff like scratching, hair pulling and pinching. Not so much biting, though, I want to keep my lipstick for a while longer. Besides, I have already bitten her, on earlier occasions. I know I will give in to the urge of biting her again, before the night is up, she is so damn cute; she is edible.

Originally we had planned to try this at my home before going to the party, so the first time wouldn’t be public. We didn’t get the time and ended up in a sofa at the party instead. That worked just as well, for my part, and I’m sure she agrees.

I grab her hair, turn her face towards me and caress her face and throat while watching her eyes and expression. Slowly I let go of her hair while continuing to caress her. My hand wanders down her arm, and instead of fingertips, I caress with my finger nails. Once down her arm, twice. The third time I dig my nails in before dragging them downward, leaving long, red marks. She shudders and small sounds escape her; so beautiful.

We continue with the caressing, scratching, hugging, hair pulling, pinching and cuddling for a good long while before she asks if I want to try to hit her too. I’m not entirely sure what I think of hitting and she knows this, but hitting her while she gives a lot of feedback is safe enough and tempting enough that I want to give it a try. No floggers, though, a small and solid shoehorn is the right implement.


If anyone had asked me how much time went by from the moment we started in the sofa to the moment I gave her the last whack, I couldn’t have given a good answer, not even a good guess. More than fifteen minutes, but less than an hour is my best guess, and I really don’t know. Time went by fast that night, as time is wont to do when one is having fun. And I had a lot of fun that night, a great, big heap of fun, both before starting to hurt my date, during the time I gave her pain, and after. There was so much fun and so much hugging and cuddling.

The next day I woke up with a big grin on my face, I was almost spilling over with sappy-happy, even if I had had far too little sleep. It lasted the whole day. I had cuddle abstinence’s, and that was no fun, but other than that I was fine, more than fine. In the evening I chatted with my date. She had had a good day too, but she had gotten hugs for her cuddle abstinence’s, the lucky bastard. We both agreed that we wanted to repeat the evening before.

The tears came while I was reading in bed, just a few tears, but more than I could understand. I was happy, my date was happy; there was no reason for tears. They continued to trickle anyway. I’m not sure why I cried. It could have been because I missed her, because we had had such a good time and it would be a while before I saw her again or that being alone after being so close and intimate with her made me unhappy. I don’t know; I just know that the tears were there and that they had stopped before I turned my light of.

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