My initiation into the ritual of spanking.
*
I didn't hear from Kevin for ten days or so. He had told me he was visiting South Africa on business although I still had no idea what he did other than travel all over the world.
"There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Kevin told me on his mobile.
"Ok, what's that?" I asked.
I could hardly hear his reply as he spoke quietly.
"Sorry Kevin I can hardly hear you."
"I'm in the car."
"What driving?"
"No a car from the airport I just landed."
"Oh ok."
I could only just about make out that he said. "Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up."
I realised that he didn't want the driver to hear.
"What? Er, um why?"
"You need to look and feel as young as possible and be at my house at eight tonight."
As usual there were no pleasantries, just the click as he disconnected.
I didn't really understand why he wanted me to look like that but I went along with his request. Given that usually I wore my blonde hair spiky and it hardly reached my shoulders, plaiting into pig tails was difficult and they were not very long, but it was actually quite good fun doing it. I showered, washed and dried my hair and then sat naked in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished, I put my glasses back on and glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the light makeup and 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, full 36 D breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Kevin meant about the whole thing but realised that anyone else seeing would wonder what the hell I was doing! So, just in case I wore a hat on the cab ride across town to his house.
"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 Jay?"
"Yes Kevin," 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 hardly any makeup?"
"Yes, yes I did and I rarely wear much," I mumbled quietly feeling embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything.
"Fantastic. So when you're dressed, and ready and take your time, come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you."
As the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I began to feel very nervous. Nervous about the unknown, perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly now an essential aspect of our relationship. 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 that Kevin promised. And nervous mostly about just what a full on spanking entailed!
Also, of course, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Kevin 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.
I went to where he had told me to go and hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger were a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front and 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 light. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs; a ridiculous length for a forty-five-year old!
There was a pair of white, lacy topped stayup stockings and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes.
The only other piece of clothing was a pair of knickers. There was no bra.
The knickers were full and high waisted. 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 Kevin had said about spanking being a ritual.
Undressing and then dressing quickly, I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from a middle aged, conventional, business woman to a young girl looking rebel who 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 so I wouldn't see into it until I was fully dressed in the 'uniform' he provided. I guessed that 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 he was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me as I hoped it would him.
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 fitted me well. It was tight 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 areola and the strong protuberances of my nipples.
Standing up straight the hem of the skirt only just covered my stocking tops. 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 at my waist I was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Kevin 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 knew 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 Jay," I heard Kevin say.
Trying to accustom my eyes to the low light, I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Kevin had given me the guided tour of his large rambling house that, due to the recent property inflation, was probably worth well in excess of a two million pounds. I couldn't see him but when he spoke again I realised he was standing behind the door.
"Go to the centre of the room Jayne and stand there," he said.
I did as he asked noting that the room was windowless, which wasn't surprising considering it was a basement. It was about twenty feet square with a large, low, modern bed at one end off to my right and a table at the other end to my left. In the middle of the room where I'd been told to stand there was a single, straight backed dining chair. There was a door alongside the bed.
Glancing around I could see that the bed had black, silk or satin sheets with the top one turned back as if inviting someone to get in. Looking the other way I saw that the table had some items on it that, at first, I couldn't make out. As my eyes became used to the dark I began to see what they were. There were several bottles that looked as if they contained oils and others that appeared to hold lotions. There was a pile of towels or flannels and a large ceramic bowl that looked as though it held water. Looking closer, I saw two vibrators, one black the other gold.
The whole setting seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. I felt at home, it was what I'd been searching for. What I needed, what I wanted, what I so utterly desired. And to think I'd never really even thought about it before. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. The need to be directed, controlled and dominated. The need to share my humiliation by giving myself physically and emotionally to someone as he rewarded me by the ritual of being spanked.
"Stand still for me Jayne. Just let me look at you," the still unseen Kevin said to me.
Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the somewhat ludicrous yet sexually provocative outfit I waited. He took his time saying nothing and as far as I could tell not moving. It was a little unnerving to stand there simply being stared at by the man who was going to spank me. I wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about as he looked at me? Looked at me clad in the clothes that combined the innocence of a young girl with experience of a woman. The pigtails of youth with the unfettered breasts of maturity. The blouse and skirt of the playground with the stockings and knickers of the bedroom.
His inspection seemed to go on for ages and more and more now, I realised what he meant by his comments about the ritual.
"Well done Jayne you look perfect," he said, pleasing and exciting me with his praise as hearing rather than seeing him move silently across the room so he was next to me.
I'd been a little concerned as to what he would be wearing. What the ceremonial garb was for a spanker? I'd half thought he might blow it all by wearing something totally outrageous like a mask, or cape or, heaven forbid, a leather thong. I'm pretty sure that had he worn any of those or anything too contrived, say a headmaster's gown and mortarboard, I'd have laughed and, despite the heightened state of arousal that the proceedings may have caused for me, I'd be unable to continue. Although sexual acts can be fun I don't think they work when they become ridiculous.
So the long, dark coloured, silk dressing gown that Kevin was wearing was perfect. It had plunging lapels, so that a wide and deep expanse of his fairly hairy chest could be seen, with a tie around his waist. There were no buttons so a slight tug on that and it would open and his, I assumed, total nudity would be shown to me.
I smiled and murmured. "You don't look so bad yourself Kevin."
He didn't reply but slowly walked round me looking at me from all angles. His appearance and his gaze on me rekindled my arousal and as I stood there I could feel my nipples hardening. That's something that often I don't realise has happened until perhaps a man's staring will raise my suspicions sufficiently enough for me to glance down and see the two organ-stop like lumps poking out from my swimsuit or whatever it is I'm wearing. This time, though, I was acutely aware that the thin, nearly see through, cotton blouse was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the eruption going on in my chest. I glanced down and the bumps were both larger and more obvious than I'd imagined and looking up I saw that he was also staring at them.
"Jayne's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" he smiled, clearly noticing the movement.
"Er yes, yes she is," I replied nervously.
