“A Real Life Experience”

 Real Life Experience

The following account is a true-life experience of what happened to me one Saturday evening in autumn 1999. All details are as they happened; only the name of the gentleman concerned has been changed.

Richard and I had been planning our meeting for some time. I’d met him through a chat room on the Internet, and we had spoken late into the night on many occasions, not only on-line, but also on the phone. Despite him being a few years younger than me, he had a very authoritative voice, which made me melt into a submissive abandonment when he spoke. He worked in a managerial position, so was quite used to taking the lead and being in control of a variety of situations. We would have met sooner, but for the fact that he lived near Manchester and I am in Surrey.

Finally finding a weekend suitable to us both we agreed to meet up and go for a meal, followed by a drink and a chat about our common interest in adult spanking. Now the day was actually here, my stomach was churning. He’d seen my picture, but did not have one of himself to send to me. I’d built up this image of a stocky guy with a round face and receding grey hair, despite the fact that he had assured me he was younger than me (he was early 30’s and I was 37), his voice definitely made him sound older. I did worry slightly that he might have been leading me on, and that he could have in fact been approaching 50, but as things turned out, I needn’t have worried.

Since he had taken the trouble to drive all the way down here, it was agreed (and I actually felt safer) that I would pick him up from his hotel and drive us to the restaurant for dinner. The hotel he was staying in, although very smart, was down a dark un-lit lane, and my heart was beating so strongly in my chest I was sure I could literally hear it. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves that someone would jump out of the darkness at me, or the build up of tension over what the evening ahead had in store. Seeing the welcoming neon sign of the hotel ahead of me, I breathed a sigh of relief that the darkness was now behind me as I pulled into the sweeping gravel driveway.

Parking the car, I checked my watch. I was 20 minutes early. I remembered our conversation the night before when he had said to me “don’t be late Sara”. I had no intention of making a bad start, although deep down inside I had a little voice telling me that maybe if I was late, he would use that authoritative tone that I had come to admire, to tell me off for the first time face to face. In the end I decided that there would be plenty of other opportunities for me to create a situation for him to have a little go at me, and decided that by turning up late, it might make an over all bad impression for myself. So, there I sat in the darkness and quiet of my car, my nervousness growing by the moment, looking at the hotel lights.

Eventually I started to shiver but wasn’t sure if it was with the growing apprehension or the cold. Still a few minutes to go but I figured that to be a few minutes early and have to wait would be better than dashing in and finding him looking at his watch.

I made my way to the hotel reception area where we agreed to meet. There were no single men standing around looking as if they were waiting for someone, so I went to the enquiries desk. Trying to match the etiquette of my present surroundings I asked the receptionist to “please tell the gentleman in room 105 that Sara is waiting in reception for him”. I waited and listened as she dialled his room and passed on my message. There was something about the way she said “Good evening Sir, we have Sara waiting for you in reception”, that made my heart skip a beat. I think it was the very word “Sir” that caused the reaction. I wished at that moment, that I had been the one to use the word “Sir”.

Thanking the receptionist, I moved away from the counter and stood nervously watching people coming and going around me. A few minutes later, Richard came round the corner. He recognised me straight away and came over. I was instantly attracted to the way he was dressed in a smart suit and tie, and my attention was instantly drawn to the leather belt at his waist. I did wonder if he had worn the belt on purpose, as seeing a man wearing a belt is a particular turn on for me. I always feel that a man wears a belt in readiness for disciplining his errant female partner, rather than as a means of holding up his trousers. However, I wasn’t sure if I had mentioned this to him during our conversations or not, so it could have been entirely co-incidental.

Smiling warmly, Richard held out his hand and took mine. His grip was firm and as he held my hand in his momentarily, I felt what resembled an electric charge pass from his body to mine. We stood and exchanged pleasantries for a few moments, during which time I studied his features. He was nothing like what I had imagined, and although there was no instant physical attraction, he was not unattractive. He was obviously much younger than his voice made him seem. He was taller than me, which I was also pleased about, as again, I think it adds to the air of authority.

We went out to my car and drove off to the restaurant, exchanging small talk on the way. This time I felt more confident driving down the dark lane as I had company, despite the fact that we had only just met. I felt like I had known Richard for years because of our somewhat lengthy phone calls over the previous months. Once we arrived at the restaurant, we were taken to our seats where we ordered our meal and drinks, and then sat chatting whilst waiting for our meal. I was glad that our table was fairly secluded as I had no doubt that the subject of spanking would turn up sooner or later in the conversation.

However, Richard was the perfect gentleman and despite talking about it, was careful how he worded things so as not to cause embarrassment. We talked about how we had initially got into the scene and how much experience we had each had and so on, and this continued throughout the meal.

When we had finished eating, we decided to go back to the hotel bar for a drink and to continue our chat. We found a quiet corner and settled down. At first, the chat was pretty much the same as it had been at the restaurant, but as things wore on, it became more intense. I did wonder what sort of time I should make my move to go home, but to be honest; I was rather scared of going back out into the darkness and driving along the unlit lane once more. Just thinking about it made me shudder and I decided in any case, that the conversation I was having was so captivating, that I was in no rush to leave; the darkness would still be there, whatever time I left.

Although I felt fairly confident chatting to Richard, I was rather nervous about our surroundings, especially when more people came to sit close by. Our conversation was deepening and I could feel myself blushing. I was rather glad that I was seated with my back to the other people so they could not see me blush.

I noticed that as Richard spoke and asked me questions, his posture had changed. He no longer looked as casual as he had to begin with, now sitting up straighter in the chair and he was talking quieter and with a more pronounced air of authority creeping in. His face looked sterner and he wasn’t smiling or laughing along with me so much as he had earlier; yet still I wasn’t frightened of him. He told me that he had this overwhelming urge to discipline me. He asked me how long it was since I was last disciplined and I told him that it had been quite a few months. He said that was a long time and that he thought I needed to be disciplined now. I knew what he was getting at, but was slightly apprehensive, which I think he sensed because he put his hand on my arm and immediately he smiled and his manner changed back to the friendly chatty person he had been when we first met that evening.

He reassured me that he would not do anything against my will, and that if I wanted, we could just say our goodnight and I could just walk out there and then, and with no bad feelings on his part. However, he did say that if I wanted, he would discipline me that night. I sat and thought about it for a few moments, thinking of how I didn’t want to go back out into the darkness, how I wasn’t in a rush to go back to my empty house, how I might regret it if I didn’t just see what this very authoritative man had to offer. I slowly nodded my agreement and Richard went on to explain that he had a cane out in the boot of his car and that if I wanted, we could go upstairs and he would discipline me with it, but the choice had to be mine. I could stop him at any time. He said he would nip upstairs, go and get something to camouflage the cane with as he could hardly walk through reception with it, and then he would be back. If when I got upstairs with him I changed my mind, then he would not think any less of me and we would call it a night.

While he was gone, and I was left sitting in the bar, lots of things went through my mind. Was I doing the right thing? Would he hurt me? Would anyone hear what was going on? All these questions and more went through my mind, but I satisfied myself with the fact that there were security cameras everywhere in the hotel and that he and I would have been caught on them and that if he did do anything, the hotel had this evidence etc. I just couldn’t resist the authority he had over me. He had been the perfect gentleman all evening, and I had no bad feelings about him so far. When he returned with the cane, concealed within a pair of trousers, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I wanted to come upstairs. Without hesitating, I got up and followed him up to the room. Walking past the reception area, the girls behind the counter smiled their forced welcoming smiles at us as we passed. I wondered if they had any idea what was about to happen to me. Smiling back I carried on and began to follow Richard up the stairs.

Halfway up, he turned to me and said “I hope you realise you are about to be thoroughly disciplined”. It was clear from that moment on, that the role-play had begun. I looked up at him, swallowed and carried on following him. I’d come this far; I was not about to give up now.

Richard let himself into the hotel bedroom and I followed. The room was much more luxurious than I had ever stayed in before. It was about 15ft by 20ft with one corner next to the door taken up as an on-suite bathroom. There were two twin beds, and sufficient fitted furniture to insure a comfortable stay for any guests.

After a quick glance round the room, I decided I wanted to use the bathroom, not only to relieve myself after drinking coke all evening, but to also remove the cycle shorts I had been wearing under my skirt. I excused myself and went into the bathroom, locking the door. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the accommodation and not wanting to feel that I wasn’t up to the standard of my surroundings, I took a few moments to comb my hair and check my appearance before removing the cycle shorts and stuffing them into my handbag. It was while I was doing this that I heard Richard call.

“Sara” came the voice through the door.

Thinking he was just enquiring if I was ok, I cheerfully replied, “Yes?”

“Don’t keep me waiting” was the all too stern reply.

Although I rolled my eyes upward, I was also once again aware of the distinct authority in his voice. This was the first time that he was actually speaking directly to me as if he were in charge. I hurriedly finished stuffing the shorts in my handbag, washed my hands and came out of the bathroom. I turned straight to the right, looking for the switch on the outside to turn off the bathroom light; I did so and then turned round to see Richard standing beside the end of the furthest bed, flexing the cane in his hands. He had removed his jacket and had adopted what he must have felt was a very imposing position for me to see him in as I came back into the main room. Looking at him standing there, feet slightly apart, ready to administer discipline; it made me shudder with anticipation of what was to come.

I found I couldn’t take my eyes off the cane that he was flexing in his hands as I slowly and carefully put my bag down on the end of the other bed. Not quite knowing what to do next, I stood there, fiddling with the hem of my blouse.

“Take your shoes off and place them neatly over there” he ordered, pointing to the space between the two beds with the end of the cane.

Without saying a word I did as I was told, then turned round to face him.

Again, using the cane as a pointer, he indicated a spot at the end of the far bed and sternly said “come and stand over here, and hurry up, I haven’t got all night”.

Once again, I obeyed his command. I found that all my fears of this man doing something to hurt me had gone, even though I knew that if he used the cane on me, it would undoubtedly hurt, it was because I agreed to it. I wanted this to go on. He was so realistic about it all. There was certainly nothing about it that felt remotely like either of us was acting.

He went on for a few minutes about how much I deserved to be disciplined, and that he intended to do it, and do it thoroughly.

Although I didn’t feel worried, I was conscious of feeling rather helpless and started to once again fiddle with the hem of my blouse. It didn’t take Richard long to notice and he broke off from his lecture to chastise me about it.

“Stop fiddling and stand up straight” he directed, raising his voice slightly.

Immediately I dropped my hands to my sides and stood up straight. I was so nervous. I had a strange feeling within me that made me unable to disobey him, yet at the same time, I wanted to test him a little, just to hear him raise his voice at me again or punish me more for wilful disobedience.

“Hold out your hand” was his next order. This worried me, as I had not been expecting him to cane my hands. I began to worry about being able to hold the steering wheel to get home. Thoughts of being able to sit comfortably had not yet occurred to me.

I offered one hand forward slightly, but he was not satisfied “higher… higher… Come on, higher than that, and keep your palm flat!”

He tapped the back of my hand up until he was satisfied with the height. “Now the other one, come on, both together”.

I began to wonder what he had in mind, and could feel my heart pounding again as I stood there, one hand on top of the other, high in front of me and waiting for… whatever he saw fit to do to them.

Richard still had the cane in his hand and supporting my hands he drew it back over his shoulder then whipped it down a few times in the air beside my outstretched hands. At that moment I drew a sharp intake of breath and held it for a second, shutting my eyes tightly, sure that he was about to land the cane on the flat of my palm with full force.

“Years ago, this is how naughty girls like you were punished” he informed me. “You would have been beaten across the palms until you bled”. I gulped and swayed slightly as I stood there, my arms beginning to ache from holding them out for so long. Still I said nothing.

After a few moments, he told me to put my hands back down by my sides. I breathed a sigh of relief, as I had been sure he was about to cane my hands and I was not looking forward to it.

I stood there, subconsciously playing with the hem of my blouse once more. Again he noticed it.

“Stop fiddling. put your hands on your head”, he ordered.

Yet again I complied with his order. I simply didn’t seem able to disobey him. He stood there for a couple of seconds before telling me to remove my blouse and fold it up neatly and place it on the end of the other bed. I obeyed him yet again, before being told to remove my skirt and place that with my blouse. I stood there before him in just my underwear, feeling rather self-conscious. I don’t like my body at the best of times, but all I could think of at that time was that I dared not disobey him.

He walked round me, still scolding me and telling me that I was about to have the most severe caning I could imagine. It still didn’t seem real, at least not until he told me to lay face down on the bed.

This was it, I was getting into position to be caned. It still didn’t register that in a few moments; I would feel that cane whipping down into my flesh. My mind was just enjoying the sound of his authoritative voice too much to register what was about to happen.

He made me lay flat down on the bed with my arms stretched out ahead of me. I buried my face into the cover, looking away from the side where he was standing. I didn’t want to see when he was about to raise the cane to use it.

It wasn’t long before I felt him tapping the end of the cane against my backside. I was just glad that I still had my knickers on. At least that would give me some protection. I felt my mouth go dry as he told me that he was about to cane me and that I deserved every stroke.

The room went silent for what seemed like ages, but was in fact only one or two seconds, until I heard the swish of the cane cutting through the air before it landed across my waiting backside.

Although I flinched, I did not cry out, as I am not a very vocal person when I am being spanked/disciplined. However, to say it did not hurt would be far from the truth. I’d only experienced a couple of strokes of the cane before in my life, and they had hurt immensely at the time, but that was with a really light willow cane, the kind purchased from Ann Summers.

Richard was using a senior rattan cane, about three feet long with the crook handle sawn off. As I lay there, the second stroke landed just below the first and as I flinched, I also wondered how many strokes I would be able to take before I used my safe word. Would I be able to take much more than my previous record of two? I wanted to, not only for my own sake, but also for Richard. I would have felt terribly guilty if he had driven all the way down country, only to give me two strokes of the cane.

Before I could think anymore, the cane landed a third time and I clenched my teeth and eyes, as well as my fists. The pain was beginning to build.

Richard obviously meant business and also knew what he was doing as after those three strokes, he moved round to the other side of the bed to deliver more strokes from the opposite angle.

I turned my head in the opposite direction as yet again I didn’t want to see when the stroke was about to land. I didn’t have long to wait before the cane whipped across my flesh for the fourth stroke. The fifth and sixth strokes followed shortly afterwards. I’d beaten my record and taken a true ‘six of the best’. Despite the searing pain in my backside, I had a sense of pride that I could now say to other spanking friends, that I had actually had a proper ‘six of the best’ caning.

I lay there for a moment, not knowing if Richard intended to deliver any more strokes, but then I realised that he was allowing me time to recover from the strokes he had just delivered, probably taking in the sight of me laying there at his mercy.

Moments later I heard him speak.

“Stand up” he ordered, still in his stern voice but I could just detect a hint of concern for me. He knew as well as me that this was an achievement for both of us, and I think he wanted to check that he was not going too far too soon.

“Go and get a pillow off the other bed and place it over here” he indicated with his hand where he wanted the pillow.

Picking it up off the other bed I realised that one would not really raise my hips very high, so thinking he might be grateful to me for pointing it out, I said casually “do you just want one or two?”

He was not impressed by my interference with the proceedings and opening his eyes wider, he looked directly at me and said “pil-low!!

Realising he only wanted the one; I pulled it from under the cover of the other bed and placed it where he had requested.

“Tidy up that other bed” he snapped.

I yet again obeyed him, not daring to answer back, even to confirm that I would do as he told me.

“Now lay across the pillow,” he ordered.

Once again I laid face down on the bed. I felt his fingers against my back as he hooked one inside the waistband of my knickers and pulled them down, exposing my tortured flesh. He left them just below the crease where my bottom met my legs. It felt undignified and humiliating but there was nothing I could do. He was in command. I could have used my safe word, and easily got out of the situation. I had no doubt that he would stop if I used it; yet I didn’t want that. I wanted him to carry on. Something within me made me want to obey his every word.

I didn’t think that the pillow beneath me would make much difference but it did arch my body slightly, which I noticed when the cane landed its seventh stroke across my backside, quickly followed by the eighth. I buried my face into the covers and clenched my teeth, breathing heavily as best as I could through the covers. My bottom felt like it was on fire and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Maybe if I could get to 12, he would feel that his journey down here had been worth it. I prepared myself for the ninth stroke, which was not long in coming, making me wriggle and squirm. I reached back with my hands to try to soothe my throbbing flesh. He allowed me a moment to do so, before ordering me to stretch out again so that he could carry on. Changing sides, he delivered the 10th and 11th strokes in quick succession. Again my hands sprung back to comfort myself as best I could. The 12th stroke landed moments after I had moved my hands away, and I yelped and grabbed my rear end again. I was almost crying by now, but still managed to hold it back. I wanted the pain to stop, but I wanted my punishment to carry on. I still didn’t feel that I had been disciplined enough, despite having taken 12 strokes of the cane.

He let me rest for a moment, indicating to me that he was also counting the strokes. Then I heard him step forward and felt him pulling at my clothes.

“Lets have these off,” he said, as he pulled my knickers clear of my legs and cast them onto the other bed. I didn’t utter a word, just lay there feeling the burning in my ass getting deeper than fading away, then coming back. It was a weird sensation but I was feeling like I was being ‘thoroughly disciplined’ as he had put it when we had been on our way up the stairs earlier. He then made me stand up and take off my bra. The only piece of modesty I had left. Still, I figured he had already seen my most intimate parts, so carefully I unclipped my bra and without waiting to be told, I folded it and put it on the other bed. He made me stand there in silence for what seemed like minutes, but was in reality, only seconds.

Despite the room being heated, I could feel the cool air on my body, and longed to get back on the bed to feel something warm against me.

He ordered me back onto the bed and to move further up, which I did; then he pulled the other pillow off the other bed and made me rise while he put it under me. All the while, he had the cane in his hand. I didn’t look directly at it, but could see it there, and knew that it was the ultimate instrument of punishment. The very instrument that had caused the searing pain in my backside. The very weapon that he was about to continue disciplining me with.

I lay myself back over the covers, welcoming the feel of them against my skin. I was beginning to feel cold and shivered but if he noticed, he never mentioned it. In any case, he had the perfect way to warm up at least one part of my body.

I drew a deep breath as he resumed position once again, and measured the swing of the cane against me. He let it rest on my bottom and the room was silent. I could hear the sound of people passing by outside in the corridor. He waited for them to pass before raising the cane again and bringing it down on my totally naked body. I murmured and screwed up my face and fists. He was obviously intending to lay the strokes on harder now we had passed the landmark of one dozen. He waited until I relaxed again before landing the 14th stroke, which made me cry out. It stung like a line of fire from a blowtorch and I immediately put my hands back to ease the pain. I kept them there, rubbing and trying to soothe the pain, until in the end he became impatient and ordered me to “get back in position”.

Reluctantly, but still not wanting to use my safe word, I did so. He waited a couple of seconds before cracking the cane down on me once more. It felt like it landed in exactly the same place as the previous stroke and tears sprang to my eyes. I forced them back as I once again soothed my rear end. Again I heard him tell me to move my hands. I moved them to my sides just as he landed the 16th blow, which caught me unawares and I shifted out of position in my attempt to avoid another stroke. I could feel myself reaching my limit and cried softly but with no tears “no-no-no”.

Still I refused to use my safe-word. But lay on the bed, hands protecting my ravaged flesh, ignoring any embarrassment I might have felt at openly showing my womanhood to him.

He lent forward and taking my arm, gently eased me back into position. It felt like a tender moment amongst the torrent of pain that I was enduring, but it was short-lived when I heard Richard speak once more.

“If you move again the stroke won’t count” he said with the distinct sound of authority I had come to respect. I knew I was getting close to the limit of my tolerance but wanted to go on. Something inside me was pushing me further and further and I saw every stroke as another goal. If I could just get to 18 strokes, I would have achieved something. I thought of not what I had taken already, some 16 strokes, but of the two I had yet to come, just two, that was all, then I could stop.

The cane hitting it’s target once again; making me shift to one side and cry out once more, interrupted my train of thought. The pain was incredible and I buried my face in the covers to muffle my cries.

“That one doesn’t count. I warned you Sara,” he said. I was past the point of caring what he said; I just wanted it over, yet I still wanted to push myself. If I could just get those last two in I would feel it had all been worth it.

Determined not to have to repeat any further strokes, I resumed position of my own accord, mainly because I did not have the energy to put up any resistance, and waited for the cane to land once more. I tried to relax as much as I could, hoping it would lessen the pain. Either it worked as expected, or my behind was becoming too numb to feel it, or maybe he was not quite so heavy with the next stroke, but I only flinched slightly as number 17 left its mark.

I began to feel light-headed and lifted my head to look around me, but didn’t really register anything. I’m not sure if I momentarily passed out at that stage, but the sting of the cane landing on me once more soon bought me back to my senses.

I think by this time, Richard had made his own assumptions as to how much I could take, as he ordered me to get up. Slowly, and with much effort and every muscle in my body crying out, I crawled backwards down the bed and stood on the floor.

“Go and stand over there in the corner,” he ordered, pointing to the area just in front of the dressing table by the window.

Obediently I did so, unable to resist his commands, or to put up any verbal resistance should I have wished to do so. Had I just flopped down exhausted on the bed there and then (for I was truly exhausted) I know he would have stopped, but still, deep within me, I wanted to carry on as far as I could.

I stood in the corner, facing the wall where it met the curtains at the window. I was conscious of the fact that in this position he could see my punished bottom from all angles. I could hear him moving around behind me, but didn’t dare look back. In any case I didn’t have the energy.

I reached back with one hand to feel my stinging bottom and was rewarded with Richard telling me to stand still and put my hands on my head. I obeyed but the effort of holding my own arms up was almost as much torture as taking the last few strokes of the cane.

I remember trying my best to stay still, but swaying all around me and at least a couple of times I had to put my hand out against the furniture or window to steady myself. I could feel myself getting very light-headed again, and just as I felt I was about to pass out, Richard told me to come and sit back on the bed. I just about managed to get over to it but sitting down was excruciatingly painful, so I ended up lying on my side on the spare bed.

Richard sat down on the side of the bed where I had previously been receiving my punishment. He sat there mainly in silence, only speaking to ask if I was ok. He was totally out of the role-play now, as he could see how exhausted I was. It was obvious that he was concerned for my well-being, as he was continually asking if there was anything I wanted or anything he could do for me. I assured him that I would be all right, and that I needed to lie there for a moment to get my breath back.

After a few moments, Richard began telling me that he had never had a spanking experience like that with a woman before, and that he thought I was fantastic. I felt rather embarrassed at the way he was praising me so highly, especially as he kept repeating it over and over again. It was obvious that he was pleased with the way the evening had gone, and I have to admit that I was too, but I still felt that I wasn’t deserving of the praise that he was adorning upon me.

Gradually, the heat and pain in my bottom receded and I was able to sit up and get dressed. Richard lay on the bed and once I had my clothes back on, I went and sat next to him. We talked some more about what had just happened between us, and Richard kept saying over and over again “I can’t believe you managed to take eighteen strokes of the cane…eighteen strokes of the senior cane. I can’t believe it”.

As we sat there talking, he asked how sore my bottom felt. I told him that it felt much better already and that I felt that I could probably have taken more, but that I’d just needed a moment to compose myself, and that I regretted stopping when we did.

“You mean you want more?” he asked, obviously amazed that I craved further punishment. I nodded at him, feeling slightly embarrassed at admitting that I was hungry for the attention of his senior cane on my bottom once more.

Richard told me to get undressed once more, which I did, and then he had me lay the other way up on the bed, so that my feet were at the head end, and my head was at the open end. I was lying back over the two pillows, and gripping the end of the covers.

It wasn’t long before I felt the cane crack down on me, raising the number of strokes to 19. Although I really wanted more, I hadn’t bargained for how sore my bottom already was, and after just one stroke I was ready to cry out for him to stop because of the pain, but I didn’t want to feel that I was wasting his time, so I bore with the pain and kept counting as the strokes landed. 20, 21, 22.all whipping into my flesh from the same direction.

I’d realised that from where he stood, he could now see my face in the reflection of the mirror in front of the bed, but was in too much pain to care about embarrassment.

Yet again I became totally overcome by the pain as well as the exhaustion of trying to fight it and trying to keep in position and not cry out too loudly.

As the 23rd stroke landed, I knew I could take no more and had to really force myself to croak out my safe word “m..mer..mercy!” I cried softly into the covers.

“Repeat it for me Sara” he said, making sure he had heard correctly.

“mercy” was all I could say once more, before feeling my head swim. I knew I could not take one further stroke. I knew he would not bring that instrument of punishment that had kissed discipline into my naked flesh, down on me one more time. I’d had all I was to take from it. It was all over now.

I was breathing heavily and was totally exhausted. When Richard told me to get up and stand back in the corner, I couldn’t move. I could barely shift my arms, and he realised this, so he left me there on the bed to recover. I lay there with my eyes shut but couldn’t mistake the distinct sound of Richard’s sexual satisfaction as he brought himself off; no doubt being highly aroused, seeing me laying there; thoroughly disciplined as he had intended, and I had desired.

After visiting the bathroom to clean up, Richard came back and sat on the spare bed watching me. He was obviously concerned as he once again kept asking if I was all right and if there was anything he could get me; but I just needed time to recover.

We stayed there for about another hour, chatting about what had happened, and about other experiences and comparing them to this one. Both of us agreed that out of all the spanking experiences we had each had, this had been the most satisfying for each of us.

Eventually we realised that it was the early hours of the morning, and Richard suggested getting some sleep. I had no desire to go out looking for my car in the car park, and then drive down the dark lane so I took him up on the offer of using the spare bed for a few hours until daylight.

I can’t say it was a comfortable night. I was restless enough from being in a strange place, let alone from the discomfort in my rear end. I could only lay on my front as lying on my back was too painful. Even going to the toilet made me wince as my throbbing backside touched the toilet seat, making me jump back up.

I took the opportunity of examining my punished backside in the large bathroom mirror. I could see the distinct red tram lines from where the cane had bitten into my flesh. I turned round, examining both sides and a sense of pride that I had taken my punishment so well, enveloped me and made me feel warm inside (and out !).

In the morning, Richard and I lay in our beds chatting about the events of the previous evening. Again he kept praising my ability to take my punishment so well, and again I felt myself blushing with embarrassment and trying not to make a big thing of it; although deep down inside, I felt very comforted hearing his praise.

All too soon, I realised that I would have to be on my way, and after declining Richard’s offer of breakfast, I got dressed and followed Richard down to the car park. He came out with me to see me off, carrying his business suit on a hanger with the cane tucked inside. At the bottom of the stairs he realised his shoe lace was undone, so laying the suit on the floor beside him, he knelt to do it up. I gasped as the end of the cane protruded from the sleeve of the jacket, and looked round to make sure no one was about to see it. Just that slight glimpse of the cane sent shivers through my body and reminders of the night before, when it had been used to ‘correct’ me with.

I waited while Richard put the cane in the boot of his car, then hung the suit inside, before he walked me over to my car. Yet more words of praise and encouragement, along with a playful slap on my still stinging bottom just before I gingerly sat down in the driving seat; and a reminder to “behave”, as we exchanged a quick good-bye kiss, before I drove off down the now not so spooky lane, back to my everyday life.

Epilogue: Although the account you have just read was an important milestone in my life, it was not the only time I was to be disciplined by Richard. I went on to ‘better my score’, but that’s another story!


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