The Personal Trainer 

“Do you want me to spank you in the kitchen? You need to decide in the next ten seconds” he barks. 

I am covered in sweat and barely breathing. I have my gym kit and trainers on in the house. I have just completed a HIIT session of 30 mins, learnt to spar, squat and run on the spot continuously for 30 seconds in 8 separate intervals of something like 600 reps. He has measured my limbs, gauged my body fat and given me an eating plan, plus a routine for the gym. 

My mind is torn : is this wrong? Do I say yes? 

I nod and move to grip the worktop, a bead of sweat running down my forehead. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. 

“Pull your shorts down for me then”. His accent is almost unintelligible, staccato; a broad quick Irish lilt. 

I do as he asks and lean into his slaps as he nuzzles my neck. 


He has offered me a massage. So I accept, not knowing if this means sex. He asks for massage oil : this was the initial offer. His hands are rough but his touch is smooth and firm. My heart is in my mouth – I don’t know where this going. 

He finishes and asks me to suck my tits for him. He tells me mine are the best he has ever seen. I feel shy, but eventually I start, and then he joins me. Very quickly his cock is in my mouth and he is asking me what I want. 

I mount him but just rub myself on his cock. I want to fuck him but he stops me, saying he doesn’t have a condom. I tell him I have plenty. He comes in my mouth instead. 


This, dear reader, is probably my ultimate fantasy. Someone who will tell me what to do, and punish me to the point of no return. Someone who can push my buttons and make me cry out in pain but give me a hug when it is all over.

What the fuck am I doing? 

Watch this space.