Chapter One

"You had the man spank you!" Will charged at me. His eyes were as fierce as I'd ever seen them, the dark glimmer I rarely saw because I wouldn't let him get that angry with me.

"It was really strange, I couldn't help myself?"

"How the hell did you find this man?" Will's voice was shrill. "Just pluck him off the street, and say 'please spank my bottom?'"

I bit my lip, knowing that this would never sound right to him. But I had to explain.

"I saw his name in an ad. In a magazine that I have." My face was hot and flushed, likely beet red. How did I get caught in this disaster in the first place? Foolish, totally foolish, coming home looking as distraught as I was. I've never been a good liar. Will wasn't suppose to be home in the first place; but once he saw me, I knew I was in trouble. He read my face like an open book.

"A personal ad?" He was astounded. "Where the hell did spanking get mentioned in a personal ad?"

"It was in a spanking publication, so it was pretty much part of the deal. In fact, it was the whole purpose." I'd hidden my magazines from him, they were my little diversion, but I thought he would get too many ideas if I let him see them.

"How convenient," he said smirking. "Just order up any little fantasy you desire?"

"It's not really like that," I said meekly.

"So how many times have you been with this guy?" he continued probing.

"Three."

"Three! And you say it was awful!" That was the first thing I'd told him, but he obviously he didn't believe me.

"There was something about the whole thing, I couldn't stay away."

"Like what, what couldn't you stay away from?"

Will was hurt, very hurt, even though it came out in the form of anger. I bit my lip again, blushing like a naughty kid. How could I tell him, how could I even begin?

"You know my fantasies." I thought that should explain it all.

"You wanted to be punished?" he guessed.

"Yes."

"And you didn't come to me?" Will said flatly.

It had been over three years since I'd been "trained" to follow my submissive inclinations, Will having taken me to his good friend Reggie for the full treatment. When we began our relationship, I'd frustrated him. One day I'd say I wanted something sexual, only to make an about face the moment Will tried to help me realize my desire. Reggie, not being emotionally attached to me the way Will was, didn't let me get away with changing my mind on a dime. Once I agreed to be submissive to his whims, I had no power to work my whining way with him. It was a fierce lesson.

Maybe I'd had enough for a while under Reggie's control, but after my months with him, I wasn't ready to let Will punish me the way Reggie had. I wanted something softer and more intimate than what Reggie gave me; though I wasn't sure what it was. For months I wavered back and forth in a strange vacuum. The one consistent thing, I ignored Will's attempts to exert his control over me. I claimed I'd been "healed" of my need for such things, and the two of us basked in the more easily acceptable aspects of our relationship. Will was fooled. He loved his new found sexual siren, who liked to dress in sexy clothes, who would tease him mercilessly, and would have sex with him almost any time he asked. My openness thrilled him even though submission was shoved conveniently under the rug.

However, when I stumbled across a copy of a spanking magazine, I found myself drawn to those advertisements, wondering what it would be like to be submissively held in a man's lap, and be spanked. It was a different kind of submission than at Reggie's hands.

Choosing Keith's ad, I had no idea what I was getting into, but I had to do it. It was almost an obsession. Keith's ad led me to believe that this dominant man was experienced, sensitive and interesting. What more could I ask? After all, it was just spanking, nothing more.

I met Keith at a hotel restaurant on an evening three weeks ago. I was initially apprehensive, of course, thinking as I waited for him in the hotel bar, that I was being totally foolish for meeting a stranger like this. Yet, our conversations over the phone had been delightful; the tingling rush hearing his stern voice reminded me how much I yearned for that kind of interaction with a man.

On first glance, I found Keith reasonably attractive and yes, very stern. He was a professor at the university, telling me he taught medieval literature. His interest in spanking was completely "recreational", a term I thought amusing, but perhaps apropos for the relationship we were contemplating. Purely platonic. I insisted on that.

Keith bought me a drink which settled me down, and for nearly a half hour we talked about nothing in particular. My hands were sweating, and my face was flushed the whole time, not to mention that my bottom tingled in anticipation.

"So Alex, I think it's time we got on with the correction," Keith said looking at me in a very formal way.

"Okay," I replied.

"Answer "yes sir," to my instructions," he corrected me gently, though his stern control was evident.

"Yes sir," I answered immediately.

Keith led me upstairs to the room he'd reserved: a cold sterile hotel room that I remember only for its unremarkable appearance. To its credit however, it did have an armless straight back chair that became the focal point of the night, along with my bottom.

Keith, being the no nonsense kind of man he is, pulled the chair out and sat down, motioning me to stand in front of him. I thought we were going rather fast, but then I hadn't been spanked like this before.

"You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?" he scolded me. Shades of childhood reprimands rang in my ears, and I shivered.

"Yes sir," I replied meekly.

"And you deserve a thorough paddling."

"Yes sir." I lowered my eyes, allowing myself to get into the mood of the night, feeling as I had when I'd been submissive to a man before.

It struck me for an instant, that this should be Will not Keith sitting in that chair. I should have made my apologies right then, and left; but I was too excited to go this far and suddenly stop. I couldn't. For all the screaming in my head, I couldn't stop.

"I'm afraid this will have to be a bare bottomed paddling, as naughty as you've been."

"Yes sir," I agreed to his request. I suppose I wouldn't want it otherwise.

"I want to be sure you learn your lesson," he advised me.

"Yes sir."

The fact that my misdeeds were not clear to me, that this was in a sense a very "bogus" event didn't seem to bother either one of us. Keith and I had an understanding, and were following through with this scene to meet our complimentary needs, to punish, and be punished. It didn't need to be anything more than that.

When he mentioned bare bottomed I did hope he'd pull me over his lap before my skirt went up; and I was very relieved when he did. Once resting on his strong thighs, his left arm went around my waist to secure me tightly. With his right hand, Keith reached down and drew my skirt up over my thighs, pushing the wool garment to my waist. I'd worn a garter belt and stockings to make Keith's job easier. For him to have my bottom bare, all he had to do was pull down my black cotton briefs.

I trembled all the way to my toes when he lifted the waist band and drew them back. This was "naughty" all by itself, draping myself over a stranger's legs and allowing him free reign to punish me like a child. Yet, once the first smack struck, I wasn't thinking anymore, sexually, submissively or otherwise.

Keith wasn't kidding, he had a very commanding way of laying on his hand. He literally pelted me with one sharp smack after another, and my bottom was instantly hot. I suppose I suspected something easier, since I was a first time "spankee", but Keith saw otherwise.

One after another I took the smacks, finding myself naturally wiggling in an effort to get away from the burning sting. After several minutes, he stopped.

It seemed a little abrupt, until I realized that he wasn't finished.

"Now for the real thing," he announced.