When Amy walked into the room, everything changed, just like every other time in the last year. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but each time is fresh, new, a surprise. Light seems brighter, lines seem sharper, everything is more clear. There is a very subtle vibration in the air, an expectation of something magical about to occur.

The first time she walked into my office I sensed it, but it was covered over by a thick layer of sullen, late teens pissed off at the world facade. She had recently moved to a small town with Mom and was overshadowed by a popular older sister. A very confusing mix of abandonment by a beloved father and a strict, fundamentalist church upbringing threatened to propel her into a disastrous decade or two of rebellion, pain and suffering. Her mother reluctantly brought her to me in a last-ditch effort to avoid that as I was the only viable option around here. Anyone else would have her on antidepressants, covering up what was really going on.

Amy was a petite girl, shoulder-length straw gold hair, pale blue eyes and a few small freckles across her cheeks. She had that natural, rancher girl look not often found in the city. In a group, people gravitated to her more outgoing, extroverted sister, who I found somewhat shallow and self-centered. Beyond the simple exterior, Amy's eyes showed a depth that I found compelling. I didn't know if she was aware of that depth, understood or could feel it, but she had landed on my patch of the desert and there was only one way to find out.

Our first visits were textbook. I saw the potential, the patterns and stories were obviously clear. Her only option seemed defiance and one-word responses basically, fuck you and everyone else. I stayed focused on the potential.

Probably because there was no force or judgement, unlike her mother and church, slowly she started opening up. We found some common ground in art and nature. Sessions moved to my art studio. She drew and painted, I made prints. One session was a day hike to an alpine lake at 7000 feet where, despite herself, she let go, had a great time and started being real. It was a turning point.

In the next few months, she peeled off enough layers to realize the root of all this and slowly started to find herself. She was ripe for it and did more than some people do in a decade. At that point, I felt she got what she needed and sessions weren't necessary. I could also feel a deeper connection forming and didn't want money or roles to interfere. It was a risk; she seemed totally worth it.

After a while, we started getting together outside my office, hanging out, doing art, skiing, hiking. Her mother didn't approve, but couldn't deny the positive and welcome change in her daughter. Our talks were deep and genuine. When she asked questions, I didn't hold back. She read from her journal and we talked about her dreams, what they meant. Her natural curiosity led to deep, vulnerable places that she could feel and gradually express. This went on for most of the summer. A few weeks went by without hearing from her, which sometimes happened. She took time to process things. On this day, she called and asked to come over.

I stood as she walked toward me, her eyes downcast, clutching a box to her chest. Sitting on the couch she pulled me down next to her without a word, snuggling under my arm, her head on my chest. I let the silence be, a smile forming, sensing the potential unfolding. It had been growing since our first visit, in its own natural way. Patience is a virtue.

Feeling little quivers, I pulled her closer. She tucked her head into my neck. We were quiet together.

"I brought you two gifts," she said as she placed the box on my lap. There was a folded piece of paper on top that she handed me. "This wouldn't fit in the box."

Unfolding the paper revealed her neat, cursive script. Reading the few short sentences, my whole body relaxed, melting into hers. Gently stroking her head, I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"That's beautiful," I said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I didn't know what to say."

"You did wonderful, like usual."

She snuggled closer, her quivering lessened. She started to say something, stopped, tried again, "Umm."

"Yes?"

"Well, what do you think?"

I pulled her up, turning to look eye to eye, handed her the note and said, "It's lovely, wonderful. You have a way with words." She smiled, blushing slightly, looked down, gently biting her lower lip. It's enough to melt my heart. "Now, I want you to read it to me."

Her head jerked up, the smile disappeared. "I don't know if I can," she stuttered.

Gently stroking her face, like a frightened colt, I reassured her. "Yes, I know you can. Saying it out loud will take it deeper."

Fumbling with the paper, folding and unfolding it, looking up at me and then down, she took a deep breath and began.

"Dear Sir,

I've written and rewritten this a dozen times. It never comes out the way I want. You've taught me to make it simple, one word. OK.
Yes.

There. It seemed so hard. It took me weeks to get there. Now, it feels simple, a relief.

And, scary.

I don't know where this is going.

And, yes, I want to find out.

When we first talked about me being an empath, highly sensitive, yielding and receptive, I felt something opening inside that felt familiar. When you described submission as a gift, it clicked. I'm starting to accept what I feel, who I am deep inside is OK, natural, regardless of what anyone else thinks.

So, this is my gift to you, too big to fit in a box. It's for the gift you've given me.

kisses,

Amy"

I held her close to let things settle. "Good job, little one." She smiled, her pet name reassuring her. "Makes it more real, doesn't it?"

"Ummm, yes. Very real. Scary real."

"Now, I want you to look me in the eye and say it from your heart." As she looked up, tears began welling in her eyes. "It's ok. I'll help you. Stand up." I took her by the hand, guiding her in front of me. "Sit on my lap." She turned to do so. "No, not that way. Here, like this." I pulled her in so her legs straddled mine and lifted her forward. Her eyes got very big taking in this new position. "It's ok, relax," I whispered in her ear.

Slowly she did, letting her weight sink into my crotch, our noses touched, her breath quickened. I felt little jerks against me. Leaning forward, I gently touched my forehead to hers, a traditional Asian way to honor the heart and soul of another. I could feel her yielding, dropping deeper and said, "Good, little one. Relax, breathe, feel." Pulsing began flowing between us as her pelvis rocked back and forth. She started sinking deeper. "Open your eyes and tell me what you wrote."

As she did, our gaze locked and I saw farther into her than before. It was like looking into a deep pool of water, clear, vibrant, strong. Slowly, she repeated the words, dropping a few, adding others, her breath communicating more than the sounds. The words trailed off to silence, the pulsing between us intensified. I moved against her and she responded. It was a dance, a very subtle and flowing movement. Leaning forward, I gently placed my lips to hers. She gasped, a sharp intake of air then, a long exhale and letting go. Small shivers radiated from lips downward. It seemed timeless.

I pulled back slightly, saying, "I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir. That was..." her voice trailing off.

"Yes, it was." She pressed her face into my neck, rocking against me. "When you give a gift like that, it goes deep, very deep." She nodded in rhythm with the rocking. I'm not sure how long we sat like that. Time doesn't seem relevant in those moments when something is sealed.

Slowly, I pulled back to see her face asking, "Was there another gift to go with this one?"

Smiling broadly, she blushed, nodded and handed me the box sitting beside us. Inside was a large antique hairbrush with a single word hand lettered in gold on it - submission. I turned it over, running my hands over the polished wood, tracing the letters with a finger.

I smiled broadly and said, "You are so talented, this is beautiful work and compliments the gift you just gave me."

"I wanted it to make it special."

"You did, little one, very special." I leaned over to kiss her, this time more deeply. She moaned. I rubbed the back of the hairbrush against her cheek, then rotated it to brush her hair. She leaned her head back, sighing as I kissed her neck.

The hairbrush had come up often in our sessions and conversations. Her father, who she adored, was strict and would discipline her when needed, sometimes spanking her with his hand, other times with a hairbrush or belt. She wasn't naughty often, but when she was, she knew what to expect. She also knew afterwards there would be soothing and he would hold her tight, telling her he loved her. As she got older, she noticed craving that feeling and would sometimes sass back just to sit in his lap after, feeling the tingling, burning and shivers bouncing around her body. She remembered the hairbrush the most because of the intensity, but also because the excited feelings lingered longer.

After stroking her hair, nibbling her neck, I brought the brush around to her lips. She kissed it then me.

"I love this precious gift, little one," I said. She blushed deeply. "And, I will put it to good use." She smiled. I stood her in front of me and drew her close. "Seems like those jeans are going to be in the way, what do you think?" She nodded enthusiastically. I reached forward to unsnap then unzip and reached up for the waistband, gazing into her eyes. She had been wanting, needing, craving, dreaming of this of so long and it was the time. Her face radiant, her eyes sparkling, the sullen and angry girl was long gone.

As I pulled down on her jeans, she wiggled her hips to help. She stepped out of them and I leaned into her exposed skin, kissing her navel, shivers radiating outward. She placed her hands on my head pulling me closer as I explored all around her belly. As I got lower, she gasped and rocked forward. Her need was rising, the smell of her excitement was intoxicating. A damp spot on her panties was obvious.

I guided her across my lap, adjusting her hips just so. Gazing down at her small, firm bottom, barely covered by panties, I heard her breathing quicken. Gently, I ran my hands up and down her back, legs and finally, across her cheeks. She wiggled, sighing contentedly.

"Arch your back, like this," I said as I pushed firmly down on her lower back raising her hips higher.

"Present your bottom to me - reach for it."

She did, raising up, trembling as she did so.

"Lovely, little one. Now, spread your legs."

As my hands roamed across her bottom, she shifted and opened more. I tapped her inner thigh.

"Open more."

She did and arched just as my hand lightly grazed her pussy. Gasping and pushing against my hand, she squeezed her thighs together as my fingers continued exploring, rubbing her wet panties against her lips. My other hand moved to her head, stroking, pulling her hair, turning her head to face me. Her expression was the essence of sensuous. She kissed and licked my finger as she rocked harder against my fingers.

I looked in her eyes and said, "Let's begin." She smiled and nodded. I pulled her panties tight against her pussy leaving both cheeks bare, my hands firm and incessant, kneading, spreading, playing her body like a piano, her moans and signs were the music. I paused, she stilled, holding her breath.

"Arch more."

She complied.

"Is this what you need?"

"Yes," she whimpered in a small voice.

"Louder, little one."

Panting hard she obeyed, "Yes, sir, yes please, this is what I need."

I brought my hand down firmly several times and paused, her pelvis rocking against my cock, moving back and forth.

"Arch when you're ready for more," I said. Quickly, she arched, reaching toward my hand. I moved to the other cheek, with five sharp slaps. She moaned, wiggled, and arched back again. I massaged her reddened cheeks.

"Excellent, little one," I praised.

"Thank you, sir, but, please don't stop."

Chuckling, I reassured her, " No, we're not stopping, this is just the beginning."

I loved feeling her hip movements against my cock and then back to my hand. I delivered another round of spanks, with increasing intensity and alternating cheeks, focusing several in a row on the same spot. Her body jerked and twisted matching the intensity.

We fell into a rhythm, spanking, rubbing, arching, grinding down and repeating again. She took it all and reached for more. I stopped and ran my hands all over her body, returning to her red cheeks, caressing every spot, tracing my fingers across her bottom and between each cheek. Low moaning signaled her pleasure.

I helped her stand in front of me, her eyes shining, licking her lips, panting. Her panties, now thoroughly soaked, stretched tight against her pussy outlining the lips. I motioned her closer, spread her legs, pulled her to straddle me. As her pussy met my cock she moaned and leaned forward, rubbing up and down, my cock pushing back with every move. I kissed her deeply, her body melting into mine.

I traced her face with a finger. "You are so beautiful and sensual, little one. You are precious."

She blushed, held my gaze, bit her lower lip saying, "Thank you, sir."

"Anything too much," I asked.

"Oh, no. Intense, sometimes but, I liked it."

"It's obvious watching how you respond."

I ran my hands down her back, cupping and squeezing her warm, spanked bottom. She pushed back into my hands, then forward into my cock, rocking, shifting from one pleasure to another. Her head fell backward, she sighed deeply.

Kissing her, I helped her to stand, bringing my hands to her waist. "Let's get these out of the way." She nodded, looking down, watching intently as I slowly lowered her panties revealing fine, glistening hair and swollen lips. Raising a finger to gently trace her exposed mound and spread her creamy moisture brought a sharp inhale. Her legs trembled as I lightly rubbed in circles, gently flicking her clit. I looked into her eyes as my fingers played with her, teasing, drawing out her desire. She pushed toward my finger, spreading wider, asking for more. She seemed immersed in the feeling, swimming in an ocean of sensation flowing from her open, pulsing pussy.

I continued, "Hand me the brush, little one." She smiled and found it next to us on the couch. Holding it in both hands, she offered it to me. "Tell me what you need now."

She gave me that look: downcast eyes, biting lower lip, a mischievous smile. With a little girl voice and a fully aroused woman's body, she whispered, "I need this, sir. Please spank me with this." I knew I would do most anything for this girl.

"Show me where," I replied. She turned, looking back over her shoulder, pushed her bottom back and ran both hands over and spread her red cheeks. I wondered if she knew how incredibly sexy she was. I doubt it.

"How does your bottom feel?" I asked.

"Hot, sir, and stingy. It feels good."

I ran the hairbrush along her back and over each cheek as she leaned over placing her hands on knees. She whimpered as it grazed her inner thighs and teased her pussy. Tapping her inner thighs, I moved it up to her cheeks, watching how they bounced with each stroke, her hips rolling in rhythm.

Sighing, she whispered, "I can take it harder, sir." My cock twitched in response.

I grabbed her hips placing her across my lap. She arched and spread her legs wide, learning fast. More firmly now, I pressed the brush into her lovely ass as she pushed back. I raised the brush and paused, everything still and quiet, expectant, then brought it down sharply with a crack, flattening her check and holding it there. She tensed, was still, then relaxed and exhaled. I brought it down again on the other cheek. She got very quiet, but her movements intensified.

I kept up this steady pattern, allowing her a moment to recover, arch and do it again. She pushed harder against my cock. I brought her arm behind her back, grasping her hand and delivered 5 in a row on one spot. She jerked and tightly clenched my hand as I gave her 5 more to another spot.

She tossed her head side to side and started sobbing, still arching back, still wanting more. I continued with sets of 5 as she held my hand like a lifeline, her sobs increased and tears began to flow. Setting the brush down, I briskly rubbed her burning skin, her hips bucked up, then settled down. She sobbed gently, rotating her hips into my hands, her bottom in constant motion.

I massaged her cheeks, pressing, rubbing, running fingernails across her sensitive skin. One hand trailed between her cheeks to rub her pussy. She pushed against one hand then the other, her breathing became faster. I turned her head to face me, wanting to see her expression. She smiled, kissed my hand, licking and sucking each finger. My thumb split her pussy more deeply and circled her clit as her eyes squeezed shut then opened wide.

"Oh, sir, yes...," she hissed. I teased her, gently tapping then rubbing her very slick clit. She cooed, whimpered and humped my hand.

"How are you, little one?"

She just smiled, tossing her head, pumping her hips, "Dreamy, sir."

"You took the hairbrush well."

"Thank you, sir. It was intense. It hurt, but the good kind of hurt. Now, it feels good, really good."

"One more round, little one."

She looked at me questioning, "Did I do something wrong, sir?"

"No, just the opposite. This is for doing so well" She nodded, visibly relieved, brought both hands to her bottom and rubbed, pressing, feeling the sensations, spreading her cheeks open.

"Yes, sir. I want to please you."

I guided her hand underneath to her pussy, watching her rub the slickness. Moving my finger lower, I circled her opening, pressing firmly. She moaned, her fingers frantically moving across her clit causing her breath to quicken. I pulled away and stopped her fingers.

Frustrated, she said, "But, sir, I was just starting to cum"

"Not yet, little one." I rubbed her bottom vigorously, slapping each cheek. "There's one more round with the hairbrush."

"Ah, oh, yes, sir."

Getting her back in position, I tapped the hairbrush everywhere I could reach. "Ready, little one?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir."

Raising the brush, I began with 10 strokes on one cheek, not very hard, but all in one spot, the intensity magnified by the repetition then repeated 10 on the other cheek. Her sobbing started immediately, her already hot skin super sensitive from before. I stopped and rubbed, leaving time for her to feel it deepen. Parting her cheeks, I saw her pussy creaming in response.

When she calmed some, I gave her 2 sets of 10 more and paused, rubbing the pain in with my hands. Now the tears started flowing freely. Sobbing she moved her bottom, seeking my hand and more stimulation. I pressed a finger against her pussy and she instantly pushed back taking it in with a gasp. I could feel her muscles quivering, small spasms gripping my finger.

Withdrawing my finger, I quickly gave her 2 more sets of 10 that pushed her over the edge and she finally let go. She let out deep sobs and grunts, followed by whimpering and breathing hard, moaning intelligible words interspersed with whispered thank yous.

I let her cry and rock against my cock, rubbing her inflamed bottom with one hand and teasing more nectar from her pussy with the other. She began climbing again, gasping, panting, squeezing her bottom as her pussy clenched around my fingers.

I pulled her up. "Straddle me." She did. "Now, kiss me." Her tongue toyed with mine, sucking me in, breathing my breath. I cupped her pussy with one hand and she ground firmly into it. I looked at her tear-stained face and shining eyes while caressing her bottom. My finger easily slipped in to her pussy and I added one more. Her panting increased as she pulled my fingers deeper inside. Her whole body began shaking, the intensity increasing as her hips moved faster against me. I kissed her closed eyes and she opened them, a look of sensual bliss flowing out.

"Sir, ah, sir, I'm going to cum," she moaned.

"Yes, little one, cum for me, cum for me now."

She threw her head back, her mouth open, her pussy squeezing even harder on my fingers as I pumped them in and out. I found the hairbrush and brought it against her bottom. She froze for a moment as I lightly and continuously tapped the most sensitive spots. She redoubled her movements against me. Staring into my eyes she finally peaked, moaned deeply, and began crying as she collapsed into me.

I stroked her hair for a long time, running my hands up and down her back. She curled around me, sniffling and whimpering into my neck. My hands felt every tremor and spasm as slowly she calmed. It took awhile, but finally, her breath was soft and relaxed and it was quiet.

I lifted her chin to see her lovely, sweaty face and kissed her gently, licking the sweat and tears away. "You are so sweet, little one."

She leaned up to kiss me, a light, sweet touch, her tongue tracing my lips.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered. "I...don't quite know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, little one. Seeing you like this tells me everything."

I kissed her again. All signs of the sullen, angry girl were gone, replaced by a content, sensual submissive curled up in my lap. It had taken some time, but I had seen it on our first visit when she entered the room and everything changed. All it took was patience to uncover what had been there all along.