No good deed goes unpunished.
This story describes how a young lady loses her virginity and develops a love of sex and spanking. It is a romance and does not describe extreme bondage or sadomasochistic activity.
1
My name is Rebecca, and this is the story of how I lost my virginity. If you are reading this expecting a straightforward and lurid tale of how a young college girl gets drunk and has her first real sexual experience in the back of a car at the hands of a fumbling witless youth, please don't bother to read any further.
I am a Scottish Presbyterian and was brought up with a strict set of moral values. For as long as I can remember I have gone to church on Sundays. I was raised to be industrious, honest, and more than anything else chaste. I do not gamble, I do not swear (much) except in bed, I do not smoke, and I drink alcohol in moderation only and have never been drunk. I also have a trait, almost universal in people of faith, of feeling guilty about virtually everything.
I sound boring but I assure you I am not. I'm educated, have lots of interests, have a good sense of humour, and I am a good cook and hostess. Lately I have learnt to fuck like a bunny rabbit!
With the exception of the latter I am very much a product of my upbringing.
My parents were strict but fair and I know they loved me very much. They also believed in the power of spanking to reinforce good behaviour. I was a well behaved child, and this didn't happen often, no more than half a dozen times. Up until I was eight or nine years old my father would put me over his knee and spank my bare bottom with his hand but later this duty would fall to my mother.
The last time I was punished I was around thirteen years old and on that occasion my mother used a wooden spoon for the one and only time; four hard swats on the bare bum. I remember how angry and scared she was when I came home two hours late, after going to a cinema matinee, not having told them where I was.
When my parents were angry with me I was addressed as Rebecca. Most of the time they called me Becky as did my friends and my assorted relatives.
I was a quiet, introspective, and gawky teenager and had never had a boyfriend when I left home and went to London to study law. It would be true to say that, having attended an all-girls school and having no brother, I knew absolutely nothing about boys. Neither was I encouraged to mix with them. My parents saw to that.
At home there was an unspoken assumption that at some point in the future I would magically meet "Mr Right," get married, have a family, and live happily, albeit rather boringly, ever after. Until that happened males were not expected to feature in any of my plans.
By the time I left home when I was nineteen years old I had become an attractive young woman. My figure had filled out with curves in all the right places, and I had developed sculpted facial features with dark hair wavy hair, green eyes, and "kissable lips." The description of my lips was provided by David, of whom I will tell more in due course.
Almost predictably I had no idea I was attractive and, at first, of the effect I had on members of the other sex. That soon changed. From day one I had boys wanting to be my friend and I was asked out a half dozen times during my first week at university.
I refused them all.
Inexperienced as I was, I knew enough to let them down gently, so I told them I already had a boyfriend at home and wasn't going to "two time" him. Then, pretty soon afterwards, the boys started to leave me alone. This suited me fine. I had come to University to study and learn and not to rush into a relationship. Even in the short time I had been away from home I had learnt that most of the males in my age group were extremely immature and uninteresting and I was in no hurry.
After all, "What you've never had you never miss."
2
During my first year I lived in a university hall of residence. My neighbour, who occupied the room next to mine, was a young lady called Laura and we quickly became firm friends. Laura was also a first year law student and like me was keen to do well in her course work but where I was quiet and introverted she was noisy, bubbly, vivacious, and fun loving. She was shorter than I was and a little plumper with a pleasant innocent face.
She was NOT innocent.
I became aware of this about three days into term when she suggested we go to a disco that was being held in the students union as part of freshers week.
"Maybe If I'm lucky I'll get pulled by a postgrad student," she said.
"I finished with my boyfriend last month and I'm so horny. I've used my dildo that much that I'm going to have to get new batteries. At least my wand is rechargeable. But what I need is a man," she continued.
I was shocked by her words and must have shown it, and I did not reply to her. Laura picked up on this and spoke again.
"I'm sorry Becky. I didn't mean to shock you. I assumed because you had a boyfriend...."
"That was a convenient lie," I said.
"I've never had a boyfriend. I'm still a virgin but don't go around telling everybody about it. It would ruin my reputation." I smiled as I spoke.
"But I'm no prude and I'm not shocked. You surprised me. I'm just not used to folk talking honestly and openly about sex. My parents saw to that."
The following Friday evening Laura and I, accompanied by two other girls who lived on our corridor in hall, went to the disco. It was a typical student affair; crowded, hot and noisy. Nonetheless it was an opportunity to dress up, socialise and dance and I found myself enjoying it. Predictably I left alone but less predictably so did Laura.
Laura shouldn't have worried and within a few weeks she had found herself a 23 year old guy called George. He was in the process of writing his PhD thesis which described some esoteric biochemical research into cholesterol biosynthesis. Unsurprisingly he was very bright but was also extremely good looking and it was this that prompted Laura to strike up a conversation with him in the students union cafeteria one lunchtime. Within a month Laura was able to announce with authority that he was "extremely good in the bedroom department" and that she felt better.
"Proper slept with," are the words she used in her broad Yorkshire dialect. And then she gave me a blow by blow account of how he had "fucked" her the first time. After the repressive attitude to sexuality I had been brought up with Laura was a breath of fresh air. For her, sex was as normal as eating or breathing and certainly nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed by.
Laura was the daughter of a sheep farmer in The Dales and was the eldest of four children. She told me that she had been brought up to accept sex and procreation as a simple fact of life. It was after all something she had watched on the farm for as long as she could remember.
Although I respected Laura's right to do whatever she wanted with her own body I knew that I wanted something different and was determined to go to my marriage bed a virgin and in that respect my open conversations with her made no difference. What they did was to awaken in me thoughts of my own sexuality. I had never had any urge to masturbate and had never experienced an orgasm and for the first time I started to wonder what it felt like. Predictably I felt guilty by these thoughts.
3
Each year at the end of the Summer term, after the end of year exams were finished, a ball was held. This was a grand affair with a meal, live music, entertainment and for those who wanted it, as much alcohol as they could drink. Dinner jackets were mandatory for the men, and the ladies had their hair done, made themselves up, and wore evening dresses. The ball started at eight pm with predinner drinks followed by a four course dinner and then at four am the following morning, for those that could last the course, breakfast was served following which the event officially finished.
I had no intention to attend. Primarily because I had no one to go with and by then nobody was asking.
About a month before the ball Laura and I were chatting when she turned to me and popped the question.
"It's only a month to the ball do you want me to put your name down for a ticket?," she said.
And then, "George and I are going. You can come with us. And before you say you have no one to go with why don't you ask James. I'm sure he'd love to go with you. You must have seen the way he looks at you."
And I was reminded of a friend of Georges I had met socially on a couple of occasions. He had appeared shy and rather nice and well mannered. That was James.
And so I agreed provided I didn't do the asking. I wanted him to be sure that he knew that this was to be a platonic affair. In fact, not an affair at all.
On a Saturday evening in late May Laura and I waited at the hall entrance. We were both dressed in our finest and were well coiffured and properly made up. I am sure we looked beautiful as we stood waiting for our dates, and the taxi containing them, to arrive.
Laura wore a long red dress which accentuated her ample behind. I wore a long white satin dress and had had my hair styled with ringlets. A chunky silver choker completed the look.
We didn't have to wait long and a couple of minutes later a taxi pulled up and we squeezed into the backseat along with George, whilst James sat in the front. It took about twenty minutes to get to the students union building where the event was being held. George and Laura were relaxed and chatty, but James said nothing and as I sat quietly with only my own thoughts for company I wondered what I was doing there.
The taxi pulled up outside the union building and whilst James and I shyly said hello to each other George paid the driver. James looked smart in his dinner jacket, blue bow tie and blue cummerbund. He was tall and dark, and I noticed he had long fingers and neatly clipped nails.
