It Doesn't Have to be Spontaneous Ch. 02

I'd never really had pain given to me as part of a sexual act. Well of course there had been the odd bite, or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes with Kevin he'd apply too much pressure to squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned by both of us. And in some ways it was the fact that we had planned it together and that had created the expectancy and anticipation about the unknown that was the most intriguing aspect as I'd waited the few days from that phone call. Also looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked, I wasn't quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to my self?

"He's going to spank me."

"He's going to smack my naked bottom."

And in those few days between formally agreeing to it and now getting ready for it I'd said such things to myself many times. Since sitting in front of my PC as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Adrian that I enjoyed the smacking he'd done, I'd though of little else.

From the moment I'd said to him, "on my bottom, I want you to spank my bare bottom," it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he'd do just that. It didn't really now seem to be that outrageous a proposition more an inevitability, I suppose.

"There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Adrian had said over his mobile in the car on the way from the airport.

"Ok, what's that?" I'd asked.

I could hardly hear his reply for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him as he said.

"Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up."

"What? Er, um why?"

"You need to look and feel as young as possible."

I didn't really understand why but I went along with his requests. On the cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails that otherwise would have hung down my back well past my shoulders. I hadn't worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun plaiting it. I'd showered and had washed and dried my hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I'd put tight rubber bands around the ends I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the 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 breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Adrian meant about the whole thing!

"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 Mands?"

"Yes Adrian," 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 no make up?"

"Yes, yes I did," I mumbled very quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything.

"Fantastic. So when you're dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you.

Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I did begin to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. 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 Adrian promised.

Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Adrian 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.

Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt.

It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front.

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 lightweight. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs.

There was a pair of white, lacy topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes.

The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra.

The panties were full and high waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. 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 Ade had said about CP being a ritual.

Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, business woman of near forty to a young girl looking rebel that 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 by him that I wouldn't see it until then. And I was also sure it was equally as intentional that I should then look at myself in the nearly full-length mirror. 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 Adrian was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me.

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 did though fit me well. It was trim 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 nipples with the strong protuberances in the centre trying hard and largely succeeding I saw in the mirror to make mountains out of molehills.

Standing up straight the hem of the skirt did, at least, cover my stocking tops. Just. 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 my waist was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Adrian 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 know 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 Amanda," I heard Adrian say.

Trying hard to accustom my eyes to the low light, I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Adrian 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 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 Amanda 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 acclimatised 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.

And then I saw the cane.

The cane that could only have one purpose.

The cane that could only have one intent.

The cane that was there to hurt and then pleasure me.

The cane that I had never thought about before.

The cane that there and then, I think, I fell in love with.

It seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. 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 I saw the two feet of bamboo with a hooked end hanging from the table. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. Not until the cane that Adrian had placed so cleverly was staring at me did I realise that it was my ultimate. My total desire. My one wish and need. I knew then looking at that cane that my life had from that moment intrinsically changed. That not Adrian or the other men that wanted to, and indeed had, fucked me, were my lovers. No that cane I felt would have a bearing on the rest of my life.

"Stand still for me Amanda. Just let me look at you," the still unseen Adrian said to me.

Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the, on one hand, somewhat ludicrous get up yet, on the other, a provocatively sexual, 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 that was going to spank and smack 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 panties 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 Amanda, you look perfect." I heard him say, feeling rather than seeing, him move silently across the room so he was next to me.

I'd been a little concerned as to what his "uniform" would be. What the ceremonial garb was for a spanker? I'd half thought he might blow it all for me 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 had so far 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 Adrian 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 round 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 Adrian."

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 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 Adrian was also staring at them.

"Amanda's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" He asked.

"Er yes, yes she is." I replied.

"And young girls like Amanda shouldn't have such thoughts should she?"

"No, no Adrian they shouldn't," I heard myself replying as I slipped into the role of being a young girl. I hadn't for one moment thought that we'd get into a role-play and that was just as well for that was also something that I would have thought was just a little bit too silly. But it seemed to come so naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting.

"No Amanda," he went on, his gaze roaming unrestrained all over my body sending even more tingles of desire through me. "Young girls shouldn't have naughty thoughts should they?"

"No Adrian they shouldn't."

"Because when they have naughty thoughts things happen to them don't they?"

"Yes, yes they do," I replied seeing quite clearly the silk robe moving as his erection grew.

"Things that are happening to you aren't they?"

"Yes."

"And what is happening to you Amanda? What is happening to your young girl's body?"

I didn't reply for a moment not sure what he wanted me to say.

"You can tell me Amanda, you can tell me anything," he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave he always wore. Glancing down I could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the thin material and it took a superhuman effort on my part to resist reaching out and grabbing it. I wanted to so badly but thought it would probably mess up the "ceremony!"

"My nipples are getting hard," I said in a whisper now totally into the role-play.

"Are you wet as well Amanda?" he asked.

"Yes Adrian, yes I think I am," I responded not really knowing whether I was or not.

"And that's also very naughty isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"And when young girls are naughty they have to be punished. They have to be chastised and taught to be good, don't they Amanda?"

"Yes Adrian they do."

"And you've been very naughty with your thoughts and your breasts and your pussy haven't you?"

"I have."

"That means Amanda that you have to be punished. How should I punish you do you think?"

"I don't know, I've never been punished like this before."

"Then you should think deeper little girl and tell Adrian what you think he should do to help you and punish you at the same time."

I looked into his eyes, then meaningfully down to his crotch and then back into his eyes which were very alive and gleaming.

"I think you should spank me," I whispered to him.

"Where Amanda, where should I spank you?"

"On my bottom, you should spank me on my bottom."

His voice thick with arousal he said. "Yes, yes Amanda I will spank your bottom. Go and stand behind that chair.

I did as he said.

"Hold the back of it with both hands."

I did.

"Move backwards a little."

I shuffled back a foot or so.

"Now Amanda you have to bend forward."

I did.

"Further Amanda,, further."

I leaned further forward just as I had in front of the mirror upstairs. To and then past forty five degrees.

"Further Amanda further."

I knew that from where he was standing behind me he'd now be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward until my upper body was almost at ninety degrees to my lower body and legs, I knew that he'd be seeing the patch of skin above the stockings.

"Rest your head on your hands on the back of the chair Amanda."

As I did that I knew the short, kilt-like skirt would ride further up my legs. He'd now be able to see all of my straightened, slightly parted legs, the seamed, white lacy topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably now were soaked.

Again he made me wait. Again he said nothing. Again he walked round me inspecting my body from all angles. And again my body and mind were consumed by sexual sensations and thoughts.

As he walked past my face I could see the outline of his erection, which really was like the proverbial flagpole under the silk dressing gown. As he moved so the edges of the robe would open and I'd see expanses of his bare legs. As he stood before me I saw that the waist of the robe had loosened a little under the tie and the lapels were wider apart showing more of his chest.

The waiting, the anticipation, Adrian staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I'd don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still Adrian hadn't touched me. And that I guessed was also part of the ritual. He knew what I wanted and knew that making me wait would make me want it even more. And he was absolutely correct.

Naturally, since we'd agreed to do this a few days ago, I'd had some doubts and concerns. Getting ready and travelling here I hadn't been totally sure about it. And when changing into the young girl's clothes and taking on that role in this dimly lit basement room there was, inevitably I think, some trepidation. After all it was a very big step. But everything he'd done so far, all the deeds and the words gave me more and more assurance that what I'd agreed to was right for me.

I was starting to appreciate all the trappings. The slow build up. The stripping away, albeit only temporarily, of my own personality, even my age. The staring and the lack of fervid activity. The way the cane hung from the table. The gradual exposure of the epicentre of what this was all about, my bottom, and the way he so evidently displayed his appreciation to me. They were all details. Small parts of the whole thing. Small maybe but each in their way essential to the performance we were enacting.

And then another action that was small in some ways but gargantuan in others took place.

Adrian stood behind and just to one side of me. He stood very close, almost touching my hip. Almost but not quite. I couldn't see what he was doing but then I felt the lightest of pressure on the short skirt. The gentlest of touches that was almost imperceptible. But without doubt I knew that he was touching the skirt. And then I felt it being lifted. Felt it by the weight being lifted from my bottom and by the very slight touch of the cool air on the backs of my thighs.

I'm not at all sure that I have the composing and describing skills to put into words what I felt. What I felt as I realised for sure he was lifting my skirt up and away from my bum. As he lifted it then pulled it over the curves of my bottom. As he rolled it up so it was bunched round my waist. As he exposed my bottom to his gaze. My bottom that was covered in just the tight, diaphanous material. The pink, see through net panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all.