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away from the here and now. Typically, the present only revealed past mistakes or informed future decisions, so that she was always straddling the present, thinking more about the should-have-done’s and the must-do’s than what she was actually doing. The spanking demanded she forget all that. The future and past collapsed into the stinging intensity of the present. Even her worries about how she would stand the rest of the spanking were beaten out of her, literally. She could only think of one thing: the pain. Everything else was so complicated. This was simple.
    For Alex, on the other hand, her spanking was an unexpectedly reflective time. He had questions about the spanking. Should he hit the same spot again and again or vary his target, working his way up and down each cheek from her thigh to the top of her crack? How many spanks should he deliver to one cheek before he switched to the other? How often should he take breaks? How much can she take? What’s a fair punishment? Is he trying to make it hurt more or not hurt too much? Alex was making it up as he went along. In typical Alex fashion, he placed his faith in the golden mean and basically split the difference whenever possible.
    There’s no mistaking that he found aspects of the spanking arousing. Sarah’s ass was spectacular, and the view of further treasures between her legs was even better. The shades of red and blotches of emerging bruises were as thrilling to watch as her gasps, moans and sighs were to hear. He liked the squealing, pleading and crying, but they diminished as the spanking progressed, and somehow he understood that Sarah was too deep inside herself to make a big display of her feelings, no matter how intense.
    More than anything, though, how well the director character fitted struck Alex. It was a spur of the moment invention, and he had worried that it would feel too contrived. He worried, too, that it would be a cop out, a way to avoid owning up to his responsibility for this. But that’s not how it felt at all. A good director breathes life into a scene and that was what Alex was doing. The role-playing had answered the question of how a bunch of scripted lines – ‘you’ve been a very naughty girl’, ‘you need a spanking’, ‘no, please don’t spank me on the bare bottom’, etc – could feel anything but hackneyed and cliché. It allowed him to deliver lines like these without feeling ridiculous, without feeling like a sleazy pervert or a Victorian headmaster wannabe.
    Yes, it was a role, but the old acting adage felt true: sometimes you can only be yourself when you’re on stage. This was where Sarah and Alex could be themselves. Alex was the man bringing his hand down hard on her exposed ass while Sarah, beyond herself with pain, felt as urgent a need for this to continue as she felt for it to end. When it ended, this part of themselves would be forced to recede into the deep place in their head where it lived, secretly, stowed away on their otherwise normal lives. Neither of them wanted to return to their normal lives. Not yet.
    Impact is to spanking as friction is to sex. Anyone who thinks a hand spanking is the mild cousin of canes, paddles and belts has never felt the truly cruel sting that only skin on skin can deliver. It was a loud spanking. Alex resigned himself to the fact that those in the neighboring hotel rooms or passer-bys in the hallway outside would most definitely hear the cracking report of each spank. But this wasn’t a time to worry about what other people thought. Nor was this a time to accommodate the needs of others. He did enough of that in his life. This was time for him to demand similar respect. How dare she? How dare she leave without a word? How dare she make him feel like she did, make him worry that he had done something horrible?
    Sarah couldn’t know what was going through his head, but every time she thought the spanking