Being Bad

I groaned as I answered the phone. I'd only been asleep for 4 hours. I'd been up most the night, way too excited about leaving the next morning to meet a new spanker and too many things to do like making cookies, packing, painting my toenails, and loading the car... no time and no inclination to sleep. Since I didn't have the money to buy a few nice 'thank you' gifts, I'd decided to make a big bowl of chicken salad, potato salad and home made cookies, his favorite – peanut butter. And I'd tried to gather some energy foods like apples and oranges, crackers and cheese, things that took little preparation and nourished yet weren't heavy so we could eat when hungry without having to leave the cottage and so he'd not have to spend an arm and a leg on meals AND so we'd have the extra time to mix in play and talk and work with all the spanking he had planned. I'd even made a wedge shaped pillow to help me hold position during long heated sessions. Around 4 o'clock AM I'd stumbled to bed freshly showered, every joint in my body screaming in agony from the long hours of preparation, but satisfied that I was ready to leave as soon as I could dress, slap on some makeup and head out. I'd drifted off as the Advil liquigels kicked in and the aches began to diminish with thoughts of spending three and a half days at the beach with this new spanker in languid ecstasy... a great deal of the time with bottom presented. We'd been planning this trip for months and it was finally going to happen.

"Wake up, baby. I need you to be awake," came his hoarse throaty voice.

I groggily whispered, "I'm awake".

"I have to cancel the whole damned weekend. My elderly aunt fell and broke her hip and there's no one else to take care of her," he'd rushed through the words to get them out.

As hard as I tried not to, I began to cry. My first thought was that I was really very sorry his aunt was injured by a fall and then all I had done to prepare for this meeting began to flash through my mind. He didn't know the hours and hours I'd spent to ready myself to spend the long weekend with him. He had no idea of the weeks of preparation just to psyche myself up to come to him. I'm really shy by nature and extremely modest, so getting my 'head' ready to submit to all the things he had planned for me was not easy. I think all people play 'what if' games; what if I won the lottery, what if this or that happened and my life changed over night? And I think many play games with no intention of ever fulfilling their desires. But this wasn't a game or a dream... and I'd worked hard to prepare to 'do' things I'd never done before, to submit in ways I'd never submitted. All of these things can be a bit frightening the first time and it all becomes much different when your fantasies start to become your reality. It takes a toll on you... it's WORK to prepare. I'd been diligently readying myself... now all for naught. All the plans, the imaginings dissolved in my mind as if someone had sent a pouring rain to splash and run in rivulets down carefully painted water colors, the colors fading instantly, blending and becoming nothing as they flowed down the canvas, all in one instant.

I managed to sob out, "I understand."

"Baby, don't do this to me," he pleaded and then, I guess in irritation with my reaction he'd said he'd talk to me later and hung up leaving me all alone to deal with the disappointment. Men and women think and process information differently. So in his masculine way he'd quickly accepted the circumstances and changed his thoughts to that of taking care of his aunt. He'd done the hard part of telling me about canceling our trip, that behind him it was time in 'manly' fashion to move on and take care of things at home. And I guess he never really thought about having family and friends, his work and his aunt to take care of and redirect his thoughts, while I, in a completely different place emotionally, was alone with nothing to think about but the pain of utter disappointment.

The tears flowed for hours. I cried so hard I'd given myself dry heaves. I was a wreck. And the worst part was fighting the belief that I'd gotten exactly what I deserved... nothing. Strange how one can be so hurt they get wrapped up in the emotional pain and begin to crave a physical pain that is stronger... to take their weary, overwhelmed mind off the negative and detrimental thoughts that plague them.

As the realization of dashed hopes settled in I decided 'fine! I'm all ready for new experiences, I'm prepared to submit, and by damn since you don't want me I'll find someone who does'. Oh, I knew he was disappointed too, and that there was no fault or blame... an accident and 'family'... but all the rationalization in the world didn't lessen the hurt.

After crying all day I made a decision to go find a distraction. I showered; put on my makeup with extra care deepening all the colors I am usually careful to keep light and natural. Tonight I wanted to look like a slut. I wanted to be completely different than who I am. I wanted to be shockingly outrageous and anyone besides plain old mostly prim and proper 'me'. I didn't even want to think about morals or right and wrong or any of the rules to which I held myself. Tonight I wanted to be BAD. I pulled my hair up and back on the left side and pinned it in place with a small clip topped with a black grosgrain ribbon bow.

I dressed with care too. After hooking myself into the black lace bra I slipped into the black lace garter belt I'd never had the guts to wear. I inched the black silk seamed hose up my legs and fastened them in the garters thinking there was something very contrary and sexy about the tiny pink rose bud above each fastener and at mid-waist. I shivered hoping someone would be pulling 'down' the black silky panties I was wriggling into place over the garter belt and hose ~ ummm... so much easier to take down or off leaving the black belt and garters to frame the upturned bottom. I liked the effect of the black bra showing through the semi-transparent fine white cotton blouse. Stepping into and pulling up the pleated navy, red, white and black plaid skirt I decided the image I was trying to create was coming together even better than I'd hoped.

As I tied the black string tie into a bow above the hollow at my throat and slipped into the navy blazer I began to feel a bit as if I truly was dressing for class at some prestigious prep school for girls. After scanning the shoes in the rack in my closet, I decided to wear the soft black leather Mary Jane's. I slipped a few necessities, and most important my invitation, into a small prim black shoulder bag and literally skipped to the car. I was determined to be young and carefree if it killed me. Determination to feel differently about my life and to pretend that everything was just fine began to shove down the disappointment enveloping me. I just wanted to be someone I am not and honestly have no desire to be... but for one night. A night of "pretend everything is okay and that I am a slut".

Driving toward the club I was really glad I'd not eaten when my stomach began to do that crazy 'roller coaster' flutter. The little angel on my shoulder chattered incessantly that I should turn around and go home. I refused to listen. Soon I was pulling into the parking lot of the newly established BDSM club that had opened on the edge of town. I couldn't help but notice that the parking lot was filled with upscale model cars. And I couldn't help but notice the nicely leathered butt of some guy as he sauntered through the door either. My hands began to tremble and my breath came in quick gasps. I gripped the steering wheel and admonished myself that I wasn't some naïve child that I was on a woman with a mission. And as I grabbed my purse, opened the door, and slid out of my seat I said softly but out loud, "you CAN do this!" through gritted teeth and forced myself to walk to the door.

I smiled politely at the doorman as I handed him my invitation. His well fitting tuxedo hinted that the club was sparing no expense in this very private very exclusive new club catering to those with a fascination and desire for a bit kinkier lifestyle. I felt like an imbecile standing there in my 'school girl outfit', mortified to my core. The doorman was tall broad shouldered, clean-shaven with an immaculate haircut and nicely manicured nails. He had strong handsome features, and I guessed his age to be around forty-five. The doorman's voice was rich and smooth like velvet as he welcomed me and discreetly accessed my 'costume' and body. It was all I could do not to giggle when I saw the appreciative smile as his eyes traveled back to mine. He cleared his throat and leaned closer to ask if I would be meeting someone. I looked into his Hershey brown eyes, smiled, tilted my head shaking it ever so gently and answered, "no".

He smiled showing beautiful straight white teeth, "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Justin Colby. If you wouldn't mind mingling for a few minutes I'd like to show you around. I'll come find you as soon as the doorman comes back, he should be back shortly."

I extended my hand as I said, "How do you do, Mr. Colby, I am Meggin, thank you, that would be very nice", and felt a tingle run down my spine as his strong warm hand wrapped mine in greeting. I smiled as I thought how nice it was that he had a good firm handshake. (So many men don't! They take just your fingertips and waggle your hand like some disgusting 'thing' or take your hand as if they fear breaking it. It amazes me that so many men don't understand that first impressions are sometimes formed, and lasting impressions sometimes made from a simple handshake.) Justin's handshake passed with flying colors.

I took a step, turned and said, "I'll go mingle," then smiled and added, "and I'll be waiting".

I just glimpsed the sexy one-sided smile as I turned away and walked from the reception area into a large softly lit room. Tables for two, four and six were arranged in the center of the room with more than adequate space to move between them offering 'some' privacy to those seated around them. Each table held at its center a large flickering candle in a tall crystal holder. As I scanned the room I realized that all the light in the room came from candles, all in sparkling clear crystal, some topping floor standing holders and some in crystal sconces above eye level on the walls. What appeared to be small staged vignettes were centered on each of the four walls. There were also three doors on each side of the staged areas. In a far corner there was a man softly playing classical music on a shiny black baby grand piano. There was a harp standing near the piano, which I thought looked lonely and forlorn, and in the other corner on the far side of the room was a Wurlitzer Jukebox. I got the idea that music would be used to set different moods and wondered about the scheduling of 'events' mentioned in the brochure that had come with my invitation.

People were talking and laughing quietly in clusters, some slowly milling about and some seated. It was interesting to note that most of the male guests wore dress casual clothes, outfits ranging from slacks and sport coats to expensive suits, and the women's outfits ran from tight jeans and halter tops to French maid's costuming. To my right was a bar so I made my way toward the smiling pony-tailed bartender in a white linen jacket. "May I have a glass of water on the rocks with a twist of lemon, please?" I asked.

"My pleasure," he replied making quick work of plunking several cubes into a glass and adding a bright yellow strip of lemon peel, then setting it on the bar before me, flashing a smile as he turned to take an order from the man I'd seen entering earlier in the leather pants. It was hard to keep my eyes off his very shapely butt. Watching the muscles bunch and loosen as he walked away brought the tip of my tongue to lick my lips.

I picked up the 'drink' and began what I thought would be a slow lap around the room, but just a few steps from the bar I felt a hand grasp my elbow gently and heard that marvelous rich voice say, "See? I told you that it would only be a few minutes and that I'd find you". He was beside me, sauntering with me toward the piano, close, close enough that I caught a whiff of clean mild citrus cologne. I felt like kicking myself when the thought ran through my mind that I'd rather be at the beach with my spanker and felt my heart sink once again as the disappointment reared its head.

I looked up at Justin, caught his eye and smiled. "Yes, you did," I whispered feeling a bit shy. "So? Are you a regular visitor here?" I asked softly, wondering what he was 'into' and if 'it' was something that would be wrong for me... like 'animals' or 'branding'... or that 'do do' thing. I was very aware that my desires were rather mild in comparison to the desires of most others who frequented places like this club. Still I figured if my attitude was 'to each his or her own' then hopefully I wouldn't seem too much like a Pollyanna to others.

He grinned and leaned close to my ear to whisper, "Actually I'm the owner, so yes I visit very regularly. What did you come looking for, Meggin?"

The heat of his breath on my ear sent a shiver streaking through me, but his question shocked me. I stopped short, heart racing. Lord, how did I explain what I was looking for? I honestly didn't understand the emotions coursing through me causing a tension so strong I could feel them physically like monstrous claws. I'd dressed and come racing to this place determined to find someone who would beat the stew out of me... but I knew that desire came from the pain of disappointment and that I really didn't deserve a beating, I deserved instead to be held and reassured that everything would be okay. Still I had to fight the yearning to be treated like dirt, to be used coldly and roughly by a stranger and then discarded like trash. I swallowed hard and peeked up into Justin's eyes, lowering my chin quickly. I felt the sting of tears welling in my eyes and turned my face away.

Justin's arm circled my back and he pulled me just a bit closer. "Come with me," he said as he walked me to one of the doors near us. Fishing a key out of his pocket he unlocked and opened the door ushering me into the room. After closing and locking the door he turned to grin, raised his eyebrows and said, "master key", jangling it then slipping it back into his pocket.

I almost gasped. I knew this was a sex club and that at times there would be demonstrations and public displays of different modes of spanking, whipping, flogging, and caning, but I'd never have imagined the room in which I found myself when Justin flipped a switch that lit the soft light of the bedside lamp. The room was about 16 feet square with floral papered walls of hunter green and muted shades of rose and plum on a cream back ground. There was a soft patina on the surface of the antique oak desk against the same wall as the door. Head to the wall at my left sat a queen sized canopied bed with a coverlet of the same floral print as the wallpaper. The wall I faced is the one that had taken my breath. I'd never seen a standing cross except on the computer, nor a spanking bench. And I'd never seen implements displayed artfully on a wall either. I'd never seen a flogger or a cane except in photos on the net. Against the wall to my right was a leather sofa and two leather chairs, one with an ottoman, all cozily grouped for conversation. Down the same wall a bit beyond the sitting area and a door (I assumed led to a bathroom), there was a small brass clothes rack with hangers extending from the wall.

After opening the door and asking me if I needed to use what was indeed a bathroom Justin walked to the sofa, reached out motioning with his hand, "Come sit, Meggin. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong that you looked as though you might faint on me," he said as he lowered himself into the corner of the sofa.

My chin dropped. I didn't want to share the pain of my disappointment with anyone, nor did I want to tell anyone my very private thoughts. But I slowly walked to him and sat right beside him where his hand patted the sofa. Before I could wriggle into a comfortable position his left arm wrapped around me pulling me closer as his right hand gently cupped my face lowering my head into the crook of his shoulder. In alarm I tried to pull back, pushing out the words in a rush, "My makeup will ruin your tux, Mr. Colby."

"It's just a suit, Meggin, don't be so concerned. Talk to me. Tell me why you came here, girl," he admonished gently.

Despite wanting to keep the story to myself, it all came pouring out in a torrent of emotion. I told him about the weeks of planning and the effort I'd put forth to meet my new spanker. And I told him how I'd been feeling. I told him I felt abandoned even though I knew I hadn't been, that I knew no one was at fault. I even told that I'd simply wanted to 'do' something that would totally distract my mind and confessed that with every attempt I'd made it only drove home the realization that I wanted to be at the beach living the fantasies. He listened making soft sounds of understanding, every few minutes his fingertips lifting my chin bringing my eyes to meet his. He made some brief comments, but said very little. Every so often his hand would gently brush from cheek to temple. And I realized after awhile that as I'd become more emotional his arm had tightened and the caresses of his hand had become more firm giving me a sense of security.

When I finished, took a deep breath and sighed. The room was steeped in quiet with the exception of the heart I could hear softly thumping away in my right ear. He held me in silence for what seemed a long time before he cleared his throat and asked, "What did you come looking for, little one?"

I wanted to bury my face in his chest but didn't want to leave streaks of makeup on his beautiful black jacket. I could feel myself going rigid. I shook my head slightly. "I honestly don't know," I breathed the words out on another sigh.

"Yes, you do, girl. Tell me," he instructed, his voice a bit firmer.

I looked up into those eyes so deep brown they seemed bottomless. "But, Mr. Colby, I know the thoughts that drove my desires... ummm... the ones that brought me here are wrong for me." My lips began to quiver and I felt that warning sting in my eyes, my chin dropped.

Oh those fingertips were quick to lift my chin up as he peered into my eyes and said firmly, "Tell me."

Tears welled in my eyes as they dropped from his gaze and I stuttered, "I came looking for someone to beat me, use me and throw me away."

"Good girl", he whispered as he brought me close, both his arms wrapping me tightly. I felt him kiss the top of my head before he added, "No, girl you don't want to be abused. But I do think you need to be taken in hand, don't you?"

I tentatively nodded my head.

His arm loosened and his right hand slid from my shoulder down my arm to clasp my hand. "Girl, look at me," he said as his hand tightened on mine.

I lifted my head, brought my chin up and looked into his eyes. I couldn't keep my eyes on his though they darted down to the right, peeked into his and then lowered again. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. God, I was nervous. I whispered, "yes?"

"Meggin, stand up," he instructed.

I slowly slipped off the sofa and stepped to stand in front of him. My chin lowered, eyes continued to dart. He knew too much. Why had I ever admitted anything? Why hadn't I lied and said I was just bored and thought I'd check out the club?

He reached to take both of my hands in his. "Meggin, this is the fifth time you have been sent to my office. You're sassiness with your instructors is out of hand. It seems we have a real behavioral issue to handle. And as your previous spankings haven't corrected the behavior this spanking will be much more severe."