by Megan McCoy
So, I know I need this, but would Cole do that? No.
Sigh.
What? No, I didn’t tell him I wanted that! We were both grownups! It was an equal adult relationship!
Plus, do you know how hard that conversation would be? Cole was so sweet and so nice and my adorable teddy bear and it just drove me insane. I like nice and sweet and I don’t like angry and short tempered and nonsense like that. I mean, just behave like a grown up person. Control your temper, don’t sweat the small stuff. Which, yes, I realize is weird for someone to say who wants – needs - turned over a lap and paddled once in a while.
Cole would play with me, sure, paddle gently before sex, give me an occasional swat or two, but I needed a true disciplinary spanking now and then, and honestly, he was simply too vanilla to even mention it to him. You don’t change zebra stripes, you know. I didn’t want to freak him out, make him think I was weird! I wanted to act just as mature and even keeled as he did. He never ranted at other drivers on the road, he never kicked the walls in frustration, and he rarely even whined much when he got sick. Amazing for a male, right? Like I said, he was a sweet, nice guy.
The only time he acted the least bit assertive was during sex. For some reason, an erection brought out his inner Dom and he said lovely words and handled me so well. And he knew all the kinds of words in the tone that made me melt. Do this. Now. Here. It’s no pants Thursday! Take ‘em off. Yes you better, wiggle—you’re not pushing up daisies. Bend over. Tell me what you want. Swallow. Cum for me. More. Do it again, I’m not done with you yet.
Happily, I was like a rag doll in his hands. My legs went over his shoulders, in the air, we did reverse cowgirl—even after I’d told him it would never work—and many exciting and fun positions at his bequest. I loved his bequest. I loved what we did and all the varied and many places we explored and played in and at. There is literally not a public parking lot in town we haven’t at least made out in, if not gone all the way. Sex in his truck in the middle of the day? Oh yeah. The best. I loved his commanding tone and his matter of fact attitude of, ‘Why not? Let’s try!’ Yum.
Yes, in real life, when we weren’t having sex, we were both equal and all normal and while I thought I only loved his commanding attitude in bed, my hard wiring was taking over my thoughts and mind.
Because I needed something else, something more he just wasn’t capable of giving me.
I managed for almost a year and then I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with a guy who couldn’t give me what I craved, one who didn’t want it as much as I did.
I made the tough call and the horrible decision and we broke up.
So. Well. Then….
Sigh.
Back to my online life.
I’m talking to these mentors, and some turn me off right away. Probably were perfect for someone else, but not I. I don’t need to be told I’m unworthy. Or bad in all ways. Or not treated like I’m a person. I’m pretty darn particular about my kink and specific needs.
I chatted a few of them up, ‘left’ them on good terms, and moved on to the next one.
Then one day I chatted up this guy with the screen name Mentor John and we seemed to click right away. We talked about my life, and sometimes his, hobbies and things, as well as what I needed and wanted. He understood my need and that I didn’t want a relationship right now, just a good spanking. He said he’d done this for others off and on since college. He had taken a break for a while, but recently picked it back up again.
I didn’t ask too much about his personal life, once I established he wasn’t married. At least he claimed not to be. There was really no way to know for sure, of course.
It wasn’t that I planned to have sex with him; it wasn’t that kind of relationship. But still, this mentor of mine was more than likely going to see my bare butt and, well, I just think if I was married, I wouldn’t want my guy to do that with some other person. It just made me feel a little better about this meeting a stranger for a spanking thing. Two single people, doing their own thing, not hurting anyone. Well. Hurting my butt. There you go.
Okay, so John and I chatted for about a week off and on, establishing a foundation of trust and a parameter of safeness. Words and contact people, what I needed, what he wouldn’t do, etc. I know! It does seem like a lot of work to have to get through in order to get your butt paddled. However, when you meet a stranger to have them spank you, you really need something to make you feel secure while you are in a very vulnerable place, which is of course, bare assed over his lap while he smacks firmly away and tells you of all your misdeeds. So all that ‘foreplay’ is important. At least to me and I count!
It’s probably the same thing when you meet someone for sex, or even for a vanilla date. Much easier to think of safely beforehand than while you are in the throes of a situation. Many of my friends have escaped what could have been just a bad date, or a really bad problem, with a phone call from me or another friend an hour or so into the date, before they leave the restaurant. “Oh, sorry, my friend needs me. I told you this might happen. It was so good to meet you. No, I can find my own way out.” Then you block their number.
So, anyway, a few days later, when I caught myself arguing with my boss and then starting to yell at a client over basically nothing, I decided it was time to meet Mentor John. I mean, what was I waiting for? To get myself fired? Not high on my list of wants. True, I didn’t like my job much, but still, I wanted it to be my decision to stay or leave, and if, when I left, I wanted it to be on good terms so I could get a reference.
See? I haven’t completely lost it yet.
Though, thinking, that seemed to be my biggest problem. I wanted everything my way, without much regard for others lately. I really was a nicer, kinder, more thoughtful person than I was acting, and I needed a reminder.
Yes, I knew it was sad and sorry, but, well, I needed it—or something—and soon.
It was almost as if leaving Cole I just went nuts for a short time. I felt out of sorts and out of control. I dated a few times, randomly, and dumped them after a first date. I went out with my girlfriends too often, and I mean, I still wasn’t a bad horrible, awful person, but I sure didn’t want to keep sliding down that slope, either. It felt like time to just get hold of myself, and at least stop procrastinating about this one little thing. If it helped, great. If not, then I wasn’t any worse spot than I was in now, and would have an experience behind me. Not one that I could share with anyone, of course, but at least one I’d remember.
When I got home after work, I put on my comfy sweats and emailed John.
I would like to take advantage of your services, please. Then I sent it off.
And I waited.
Nervously.
Would he say yes? Of course, he would. Mentors, spankers, and spankos were alike. They aimed to please, in their own special and very different ways, of course. How long would he make me wait? No matter how much I knew I needed it, waiting for a spanking was nerve-wracking, and made for stomach flipping. You knew it was coming, and you realized what was going to happen, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. If you were lucky, anyway, that was how it worked.
Well, technically I could stop it anytime I wanted. We’d established a ‘safe word’ that would stop the session at any time for any reason. But, he’d made it clear that it was only in case of like a nose bleed or a foot cramp or something, not to stop the pain of the spanking itself. I understood that. I wasn’t a spanking virgin after all. But the safe word made it okay for me to howl and beg and plead and sob for him to stop, without fear that he’d, you know, do something stupid like stop before I had been thoroughly chastised.
That was important, and yes, I know it’s odd. Hey, repeating here, I don’t judge your kink.
I wandered into the kitchen and popped a dinner in the microwave, looked at, then ignored the dishes in the sink. They didn’t seem important, besides who cared if they sat there another few days?
Not me. I looked around the room and no one else made a motion to protest the dirty dishes. All righty, then. So, I left them with there with the overflowing trash, and took my yummy zapped mac and cheese into the TV room.
Then I ate in front of my computer while I waited for him to get back to me.
It didn’t take long.
Chapter Two
The next night after work, I found myself—okay, I didn’t find myself, I purposefully did it—dressing in comfortable black sweat pants, a long, loose, yellow t-shirt for as much coverage as it would give me front and back, pink panties I knew would be peeled down, matching knee high pink socks just to make me feel cute, and easy to kick out of sneakers.
Who was ready for her spanking? To get her life turned around? This girl!
Oh yeah.
Whimper….
I headed out the door to meet him, accompanied by a myriad of butterflies exploding in my stomach. I hoped they were colorful ones, because I liked pretty things.
Tucked discreetly in my purse was the big wooden hairbrush he’d told me to bring. Nothing unusual about that! Most women had hairbrushes in their purses. Normal! Natural. I wonder how many women squirm and wiggle in anticipation when they see their hairbrushes. Or was that just me?
Anyway….
He sounded quite firm, quite assertive, and a bit quirky, in his messages, all things I liked, and I was looking forward to both meeting him, and receiving some strong male attention.
And, yes, I know it sounds weird if you don’t have the same kink, but I was genuinely looking forward to the aftermath of the spanking. No one… well, perhaps some do, but I don’t care much for the actual spanking. Those suckers freaking hurt. Not to mention, they’re a little embarrassing and a lot humiliating. But, like I said, I have this wiring inside me that makes me want them.
I’m not sure if I was born with it or not. Some people say they’ve always known. I really don’t know how mine got there. Well, other than Luke helping me out with it. But it’s like your ears. You can ignore the way they stick out all you want to, but every time you hang your glasses, there they are. My brand of kink is the same way. I can ignore it for a long time, but there it is. Waiting. Wanting. Driving me nuts!
I don’t want to be spanked, but I need it. I hate the pain while it’s going on. But, I crave the anticipation before, and most especially, the love the after when I just feel better about life and myself in general. The glow of a warm bottom helps my brain focus and my attitude change. Fact.
So, I head for the address he gave me. My best friend had it also, though she thought it was just a date. She had no idea which way my kink ran. She didn’t need to, but really, it would be silly to not let someone know where I was going to be. She also was expecting my call in a couple hours to let her know I was home safely. Precautions John and I had agreed on. Better safe than sorry. I was going to be sorry enough soon, I figured. Hopefully, while hopping around the room frantically rubbing my burning ass. Yeah. I get how weird that is. Don’t think for a second that I don’t.
Mind racing, I wondered many things. What he would look like? If he could deliver not only a good butt blistering, but the needed lecture before and during, and some gentle non-sexual comforting after. It didn’t seem too much to ask! Did it?
The soft voice of my GPS system announced we’d arrived and I pulled into the hotel parking lot.
* * * * *
Yeah, I thought I knew where this was when he’d given the address. It was a sweet little hotel, with a few rustic, very private, cabins dotted around the landscaped acreage. Parking the car, I made myself grab my purse and move quickly so I didn’t chicken out. The cabin Mentor John indicated was set apart, down a short path lined with riotously blooming flowers and heavenly smells.
I smiled, breathing deeply, thinking of the time I’d been there before. It had been a lover’s rendezvous with Cole in one of the cabins. Not the one I was heading to currently, but the one I passed on the way to the Mentor John’s. A wonderful romantic, weekend—one of our first together—full of sex, and fun, and laughter. We hadn’t left the room for three days and honestly, didn’t realize the time had passed that quickly. We’d had such a good time together.
Where had that fun and laughter gone? Toward the end, there seemed to be a wall growing between us, a frustration that neither of us could get over, past, or through. It was probably mostly my fault. I had a secret that I’d been keeping from him. There was no way I could go the rest of my life without my hardwired desires. Cole just simply couldn’t provide them. So, I summoned up my courage, and waited until we went out to dinner. Realizing neither of us would cause a scene in a public place, it seemed wise. Quick, easy, and over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
I couldn’t help but relive the conversation, remembering every moment, and every detail.
“I’m changing jobs,” I told him, looking into his eyes, and commanding my heart not to break.
Cole blinked at me, his surprise clear. “I didn’t know you were looking,” he said calmly. “Oh, did you get headhunted?”
“No.” There. I said it.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were looking for a new job?” He seemed genuinely curious. Not upset. But then, of course, he didn’t realize what this meant. How could he?
“I couldn’t,” I said. “But, it’s a good opportunity for me. More money, more responsibilities, people to supervise. I’m excited.”
“Congratulations. I’ve always told you that you could do anything you wanted.”
He reached his hand over the restaurant table to touch mine. But I deliberately left mine on my lap.
“I rented a new apartment, too,” I said, picking up the menu, and deliberately looking at the dessert list. I didn’t want dessert. I wanted somewhere to put my eyes, and something to do with my hands that didn’t include touching his. “It’s much closer to my work.”
“Really?” He still had that even, cool, tone in his voice. “Last I heard, we were planning to move in together once your lease was up in July.”
“I guess that changed,” I said. Wishing, wanting to say more. I would, somehow, at some point. But right now, this was good enough.
“I get no say in this. You don’t want to talk about it. You only want to do it.” Flatly.
Those weren’t questions, just statements. He understood very quickly what was happening and was unhappy. I could tell. I couldn’t blame him.
Sucking air, I nodded. Oh, this hurt so much, but I knew it was right. It had to be. I had thought, and worried, and fretted too long over it. I made the decision and it was done.
“Yes. I’m going to do it. I can’t miss this opportunity,” I tried to shift my voice into monotone. Didn’t want to sound upset. I wanted to remain calm, like he was. Cool, as if I knew what I was doing. Oh, yeah, I was all over pretending to be that.
But.
The more we talked about it, the harder it would be.
He just needed to let go. Let me go… our dreams of together.
“So it’s further away?” he asked.
I sighed. Okay. I had to just say it. “New job, new apartment, new—” I gulped but had to say it. “New life.”
“New life, new boyfriend.”
Now that was a tone I hadn’t heard before. Cole had been stern, steely, not at all like his usual kindness.
“No,” I shook my head firmly, which gave my eyes somewhere else to go. Side to side. “No new boyfriend. But,” I shut my eyes, and breathed, “no old boyfriend either.”
His tone sounded surprisingly gentle, considering the edge of a second ago. “Why? What happened?”
I wanted to scream at him that nothing had happened, it was what hadn’t happened. How could he not know that?
Oh yeah.
No one told him.
“It just wasn’t working out,” I said instead.
* * * * *
Mostly, I thought—no, I knew—it was my fault. I couldn’t accept him at face value for w
hat he was, a genuinely nice guy, sweet and wonderful. I needed a bit of chili spice in my vanilla ice cream and he seemed to be sorely lacking it. I vowed my next boyfriend would have Cole’s sweetness and gorgeous body, and what I hoped would turn out to be John’s spice.
I did miss Cole, though. His sparkling eyes, his grin, the way he petted me and told me I was his good girl, in a way that always made me want more. I would have done about anything for one of his approving smiles and ‘good girl’s. Well, obviously anything but stay.
I missed our Sunday breakfasts in bed, and after work evenings watching stupid TV, snuggling on the couch, and oh, did I miss the fantastic sex.
Smelling the flowers reminded me of the drive in the country we’d taken the past spring. He drove my little car, and we went out on an adventure. I’d packed a picnic, and put my day in his hands.
“Where to?” he asked, smiling that devastating smile at me.
It made me melt, sometimes almost literally, or at least as wet as my panties were, I thought I could be melting. I loved his smile.
“Anywhere with you,” I smiled back, knowing it was almost a foolish grin. At that time, nothing was better than being with him. Alone with him. Our busy schedules made it challenging to for us to spend an afternoon out alone together, so this was precious time.
Happy time. I just loved time with him. I didn’t care what we would do or where we would go. I just wanted to be with him.
He pointed the car out of town, and I snuggled as close as the stupid console that sat protruding between us would let me. Stupid car makers, not realizing there were more important things than a place to hold stuff. I needed to be closer to him.
Being a little further away than I wanted to be, didn’t stop his hand from stroking me. “You will be touched often.” He had told me when we first got serious, and he was right. He loved to touch me. And oh, did I love to be touched by him.
One hand on the wheel and the other around my shoulder, he gently stroked my back, my chest, and I obligingly unbuttoned my shirt, one more button. Just in case! Who knew what he might want to do?
