When I look back at my first meeting with a spanker I can only think ‘You idiot!’. The way I did it was really silly and I could kick myself for it now. I was cautious…but in all the wrong ways.
I’d been chatting to a man online for a long while who lived in the next town to my family home. He was never much one for cyber and persuaded me (gently) that I’d have to try the real thing. I don’t know what the tipping point was that made me decide to meet a stranger and get spanked by him. Maybe I’d gone as far as I could online, maybe I was bored and restless, or maybe it was knowing this man was only an hour away. Probably a combination of them all. Whatever it was a switch flicked and I was finally ready.
Online dating and things like Tinder mean that today meeting from online is an everyday thing. Back then, 8 or 9 years ago, it was still very unusual. You were a socially inept geek if you were on a dating site and I dread to think what you would be considered for being a spanko. That side of it is still unacceptable now!
Anyway, everyone knows the number one rule of meeting someone from online: meet them in a public place. Pretty much the one thing I didn’t do…
I was convinced I was doing something dangerous so I got the man’s full name, I got his address, I even got his car registration number. (While vaguely on the subject, I don’t intend on giving out anyone’s real name in this blog. Let’s call this one Mr First). I knew if I went missing because I’d been whisked off by an axe murderer the police would find a neat little word document on my computer desktop with all of Mr First’s details. They’d take down the bastard!…except it would already be too late for me…
But the fact that he was willing to give me all this information reassured me he was safe and understood my nervousness. Combined with having chatted to him for a long time, I trusted him. Spoiler alert: by luck or judgement I survived to tell the tale.
I waved goodbye to my Mum, told her I was meeting a friend in town and off I went. A bus and two short train rides later I was pulling into a small station. The travelling had been an agonising mix of excitement and nerves. I looked out of the train window and I could see Mr First standing on the platform opposite, looking just like his picture. He looked very clean-cut in his smart suit. Despite being around 60, weathered and with white hair, he was quite dashing. I could tell when I looked at him, with his perfect teeth and smiling eyes, he was definitely the tall, dark and handsome kind of man girl’s would’ve swooned over back in ‘his day’.
We said hello, me feeling and most likely looking terrified. At this point a sensible person would’ve gone on to get a coffee and have a chat. I’d actually refused this idea beforehand because the thought of having to make intelligent conversation with him whilst scared and shy was worse than the thought of getting spanked.
I got into his car and we set off for his house. He worked from home so it wasn’t a problem meeting me in the afternoon of a work day. As we passed through the streets I made sure to look out of the window for any memorable landmarks I could look out for in the case of my emergency escape back to the station. I even tried to be clever and count the right and left turns but that didn’t work out like it does in films.
The car pulled straight into the garage, the shutters ominously locking us in there as we got out. There was no choice now but to follow Mr First through the door into the house. He led me through to the kitchen and offered various things to eat and drink, which I rejected. I just wanted to get things over with! He then asked me if I was nervous to which I couldn’t help but nod. After a brief hug he pointed me towards the stairs, gave me a firm smack over my jeans and told me to get moving.
I was led into the guest bedroom and was confronted with the scene I’d been thinking about for years. In the middle of the room stood a wooden chair and laid out on the bed was a leather paddle, a slipper and a strap…