I'd never really had pain given to me as part of a sexual act. Well of course there had been the odd bite, or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes with Kevin he'd apply too much pressure to squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned by both of us. And in some ways it was the fact that we had planned it together and that had created the expectancy and anticipation about the unknown that was the most intriguing aspect as I'd waited the few days from that phone call. Also looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked, I wasn't quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to my self?
"He's going to spank me."
"He's going to smack my naked bottom."
And in those few days between formally agreeing to it and now getting ready for it I'd said such things to myself many times. Since sitting in front of my PC as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Adrian that I enjoyed the smacking he'd done, I'd though of little else.
From the moment I'd said to him, "on my bottom, I want you to spank my bare bottom," it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he'd do just that. It didn't really now seem to be that outrageous a proposition more an inevitability, I suppose.
"There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Adrian had said over his mobile in the car on the way from the airport.
"Ok, what's that?" I'd asked.
I could hardly hear his reply for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him as he said.
"Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up."
"What? Er, um why?"
"You need to look and feel as young as possible."
I didn't really understand why but I went along with his requests. On the cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails that otherwise would have hung down my back well past my shoulders. I hadn't worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun plaiting it. I'd showered and had washed and dried my hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I'd put tight rubber bands around the ends I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the hair style had taken years off me, I just wish it had. But somehow the young girl look of the plaits with the clearly womanly look of my bare breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Adrian meant about the whole thing!
"Let yourself in," he said when I called him from the cab. "Go to that small back bedroom on the first floor and you'll find what you have to wear there. It's all lying on the bed or hanging up next to it. There's everything you need so don't wear anything you've got on now. Is that clear Mands?"
"Yes Adrian," I replied quietly for the same reasons he'd whispered from his car earlier on his way from the airport.
"Did you manage the pigtails and remember no make up?"
"Yes, yes I did," I mumbled very quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything.
"Fantastic. So when you're dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you.
Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I did begin to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. Nervous about the contrived, almost cold-hearted way we'd arranged this and whether that would reduce the pleasure. After all I'd always had my best sex when events happened spontaneously. Nervous about my reactions and whether I would get the kicks I expected and Adrian promised.
Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Adrian in pushing out my boundaries. I was going further than I'd been before. That made me nervous for did it mean that if I didn't like what I found I might not be able to revert to "normal" sex? I thought that I'd probably be ok for I'd handled my forays into girl/girl sex quite well and despite now having quite a few experiences with a number of women I hadn't "become a lesbian" or a penis hater.
Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt.
It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front.
A short, pleated skirt that was patterned a little like a kilt with blue and green the predominant colours. As I picked it up I could feel that the plaid wasn't as heavy as the real tartan, in fact it was quite lightweight. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs.
There was a pair of white, lacy topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes.
The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra.
The panties were full and high waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. I picked them up and held my hand inside them. Being made of a pink, looseweave net, I suppose it was, they were as good as completely see through.
I was getting into it. I was understanding more and more what Ade had said about CP being a ritual.
Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, business woman of near forty to a young girl looking rebel that was about to have her arse smacked and then Lord knows what done to it.
I hadn't seen the mirror until I was dressed for he'd hung the coat hanger holding the blouse and skirt over it. I'm sure that it was intentional by him that I wouldn't see it until then. And I was also sure it was equally as intentional that I should then look at myself in the nearly full-length mirror. It was all part of the ritual, an essential aspect of the ceremony, I realised with excitement.
My heart pounded when I saw myself in the mirror. I knew that in some ways I would look ridiculous. I am, I was very aware, simply too old to carry off the look Adrian was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me.
The cotton blouse was not of a very high quality. The material was thin and looked and felt as though it was old, well worn and had been washed too often. With all the buttons done up it did though fit me well. It was trim across my back and whilst it showed the outline of my boobs it didn't cling to them overly tightly. However, when I moved the jiggle of each orb under the material was very obvious indeed. As, of course, were the dark shadows of my nipples with the strong protuberances in the centre trying hard and largely succeeding I saw in the mirror to make mountains out of molehills.
Standing up straight the hem of the skirt did, at least, cover my stocking tops. Just. But when I bent or leaned forward past about forty five degrees it didn't. No at that degree of tilt I really did flash them, A few more degrees and the patch of skin between them and my panties was also revealed. And when I bent so my waist was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Adrian spanked me the skirt rode up so that most of the pink, net panties could be seen.
If his intention with the clothes and the mirror was to stimulate, excite and arouse me and make me even more amenable to the forthcoming spanking then he most definitely succeeded.
My hands were shaking, my knees were probably knocking and I know my breasts were wobbling and jiggling all over the place as I walked down the stairs to the formidable sounding basement. I opened the door and was part relieved and part frightened to see that the room was very dimly lit.
"Come in Amanda," I heard Adrian say.
