Waiting

I changed clothes at a MacDonald's. My bulging backpack hid the school girl skirt, the knee length boots, the polo shirt and short double-breasted jacket. Stepping into the restroom was an easy task. But as I struggled into the clothing, I fought a momentary nausea. Get the job done, I told myself. I checked myself in the mirror. All was in order. Walked out the door and held my head high. One of the employees  watched me through the window between his floor sweepings.

I don't remember the car ride to that hotel lobby. The radio was on, and I was undoubtedly  attempting to console myself by singing to it. This is my recourse when life is scary. I'll do it when traffic is hectic. And I'll do it when I'm about to get spanked by a complete stranger. So I did it when I was about to meet My Magician for the first time.

We had talked a lot online.  And we had agreed to meet in a public place--first the hotel lobby, then drinks at the hotel restaurant. I was safe. But what if he was a cranky, gross old man?  And what if I wasn't safe?  I had decided I didn't care if I was safe. Kids, don't try this at home; I don't recommend it. But in the end, there are no absolutes....

I knew College Guy by this time. He had given me my very first spanking. We were very close. But I had wondered what it would be like to have someone to see just for discipline. Someone older, someone mature, someone who had been giving spankings for a long time. A mentor. An almost-father-figure. I was hoping against hope that such a  relationship was possible, that maybe I could have a relationship like that. Someone who wasn't looking for anything sexual. A strict disciplinarian. No drama. Just spankings. I had wanted that kind of relationship ever since I was 6 years old.

It was the moment of truth. I forced my shaking legs out of my car, and, cell phone in hand, stepped towards the hotel lobby doors. The doors were clear glass, and I saw a man sitting in a the only chair that faced the doors. Waiting.

He rose with a smile. He didn't really look like his pictures--it's always a relief to see someone in real life, I think, as opposed to what you imagine from a picture. I think we shook hands. Maybe. He commented that he didn't expect me to look so happy to see him. Yes, I was grinning like a fool....And then he inclined his head to the left and told me, "Come." It was a beginning.

The booth we sat in was leather. Black leather. My short skirt continually slid up. And I kept shifting in my seat, trying to get comfortable against the slippery leather. Waiting.

We chatted. I felt like I was talking to an old teacher from high school. It was normal, relaxed--except for the occasional double entendre concerning spanking. But he kept those to a minimum...in retrospect, I'm sure it was painful for him. I almost forgot why I was there. Then he said with a warm smile, "I think we're going to go back to my hotel room now, and give you a good spanking. Not too good, of course. We'll save that for tomorrow." The point of his statement had already been discussed at length. This night would be an introductory spanking. The next day would be punishment.


Before I knew it, I was in his hotel room. Christmas music played at a low pitch from  his laptop. "Bar-ump-ump-ump-uhmmm...Me and my drum..." 

"I have to go change, " I remember mumbling. His smile was suddenly gone. "Because...because..." I stammered. "Because I didn't wear the thong you told me too."

"I distinctly told you to wear a thong, Miss Bonnie-jo," He said sternly but not ill-humoredly.

" I know, but I was worried about my skirt flapping around in the restaurant." I replied meekly.

"Go change. Now."

I came back later, all shy and retreating. He was seated in an armchair, and he held out his hand.  I gingerly settled myself over his lap, and  he spanked slowly. Lifted up the skirt. Continued the spanks. My heart was thudding. I'm really here...I'm doing this...I can't believe it.

And then it started to feel really good. That perfect in-between-hurting -a -little- and -hurting- a -lot place.

As he spanked, he started to talk. "This is what needs to happen to girls like you, Bonnie-jo. You need to be spanked. You need to be spanked on you bare bottom." I giggled.

"And sometimes," He smacked extra hard, and I let out a small yelp. "Sometimes, girls like you need to be taught a lesson. Especially if they've been making fun of their discipliner's age when they've talked to him online." SMACK! "You had fun playing games and making jokes, didn't you, Bonnie-jo?" Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack!

"Yes!" I giggled. It really wasn't hurting at all.

"And that's fine with me." He paused the spanking and said, "But tomorrow, I expect there to be no games, no backtalk, no funny and cutesy Bonnie-jo. Tomorrow is about a serious spanking. Do you understand?"

I said nothing. I may have giggled.

"Do you understand?"

No answer. This is how you test your spankers, dear brats. Especially if the spanking is feeling amazing.

"Get up." He commanded. I rose. He kept his hands on my arms and pulled me gently onto his knee. "Sit."

"I know what you're doing, Young Lady. You want to push me into spanking you hard tonight."

I nodded. "Yes."

"It's not going to work. You'll get your hard spanking tomorrow. You may wish you'd never asked for it. But for now, you must wait."