tagFetishMy First Spanking

My First Spanking


One chronicle in the life of a naughty actress

First, a confession, For all of you Literotica readers please know that I have written 6 or 7 spanking stories to date and have not really had one myself for my entire life until recently....here is that story, a sort of "How Kelsey got her groove back" story:

I'm a married, 38 year old mother of one, playwright, actress, and vocalist. I'm relatively young looking, fit (I'm also a Pilates instructor) and a pretty cool and easy going person for the most part.

I haven't been intimate with my husband of 8 years for a total of 5 years now for reasons too numerous to name (and too painful to go into) so I went on a sort of quest. A quest to write down my deepest, darkest desires in an effort to keep them tame and hidden away from the prying eyes of those who might judge me and instead to the eyes of nameless, faceless people who might understand, appreciate or lust after what I've written. I wrote stories and submitted them to Literotica....a haven for me to share my fantasies.

After the first few stories, I received feedback, mainly the "hey baby" variety and I was flattered (although sometimes disturbed) but my little cocoon of anonymity had not been unraveled so I was content. I was left to dangle gently in an emotional prison of secrecy without the possibility of discovery or pleasure, a very strange balancing act.

After my 38th birthday (a birthday that came and went without special fanfare....which was typical) I received very different feedback from a man who had read my "Naughty Actress" story. He was articulate and supportive and from the beginning an emotional connection was born, and a terrible little beastie created.

He marveled that I had never been spanked, I cowered under his undisputable experience of having spanked many, he told me in so many words that writing stories about spankings would no longer satiate my growing need, that I would need to have a real one someday. So after weeks of emails back and forth, stories started by one and finished by the other, finally an agreement was made to meet, he was going to spank me.

My life changed in an instant. The way I saw things changed. I changed the way I dressed, the way I looked at my body, the way I saw my soul. In my excitement and impatience for our meeting I spanked myself one night with a hair brush, though the sting was stimulating, the act of going it alone wasn't much fun and I realized this spanking thing was more about wanting to feel vulnerable and in someone else's care and this is just what I was looking for. I ended up masturbating and thinking about HIM, which did the trick.

I wrote this poem the week before we met:

"She was a growing ember; she didn't know a thing, She hadn't even begun to feel the heat. The waiting, the anticipation that someone would stoke her flame was wasted in a land of idle masquerading.

Smoky dreams of things beyond the horizon would be fuel to her never ending quest, a secret quest sought in shame and guilt without a prayer to find its redemption. An eternity in limbo was the sentence she carried out, still alight but left alone to thirst.

An uneasy seductress with words as her only vice went seeking into the world for just a facsimile, an ounce of the true measure that she longed for. She found instead a promise of something greater, and the core began to melt. The lick of another's flame, the sting of his spark, the crux of her pleasure answered at last.

So the growing ember, she doesn't know a thing, She waits patiently now the promise of warmth is upon her back, Shortly she knows she'll sprout flames and fly to trouble heaven with her victorious burn!"

That last week passed by slowly, my nerves were pointy, jumpy little dancers who sprung into action at every loud noise or disruption. I was excited, I was scared, and I was feeling guilty.

The day came and even though I knew him so well, I felt like I was picking up a stranger from the airport. I had seen pictures of him, and he had seen mine. Would he be disappointed? Would I? I knew, no matter what, that the instant he picked up my skirt he would be pleased for I have a muscular defined bottom, I knew he would love that!

I awaited his arrival at the top of escalator. People milled around me at all sides. Little children waiting for parents, old people waiting for friends, homeless people looking for a place to be... I stood like a statue over most, being tall and in heels, but I was a paradox of Amazon and timid rabbit as I looked for him.

I saw a man with a red tie and a smile come toward me and still the hesitation would not subside. He was everything he was in his picture but he was nervous too. It would not be until my nerves relaxed and all had been said and done that I would admire his looks in dark profile as we snuggled and talked the night away. We got into my car and drove into the mountains.

We stopped at a store to buy groceries and even then I didn't have a good feeling on whether or not he was into me. A handsome man in the grocers section smiled and said "hi" to me and I thought that maybe he would be interested if my date bailed on me.

Then to top things off, I tripped over my heel going out the door and as the heel was stuck into a groove, I noticed that the nail polish on both big toes was smudged from putting on my shoes before they were dry. "OH GOD! I'm a doof!" I thought to myself. Somehow I imagined that I was a bit like Bridget Jones or Lucille Ball...either felt awkward.

He paid for our groceries and we continued to our little cabin by a stream. In the car we chatted politely about insignificant things, increasing my worry that this wasn't going to happen. But then inside the cabin he grabbed me and kissed me softly and stuck his hand up my skirt and felt the contours of my legs, and it somehow made me feel more at ease. He was tender and attentive and finally I knew he was....interested!

It was a proud moment like being rewarded for an act of bravery and both of us were heroes by this point, so much had been banked on words, so much left to chance, we had dove valiantly into this river together.

It was a sweet, slow seduction that I will never forget. We talked more easily as we nibbled on prosciutto and sipped great wine. I laughed as he tried and failed a few times to keep our fire going, for some reason the logs would not stay lighted. We took one more look at our beautiful surroundings outside before the darkness stole the view and then came inside and sat down by the fire. I curled my legs around me, my feet bare, trying to warm myself, he sat down next to me and leaning against the bed with a sly smile, pulled me over his lap. The only sound was the constant flow of the river outside, and his low murmuring voice telling me that I've been very naughty, he never stopped talking to me, I loved it!

At first his spanks were playful pats, and then they intensified into a torrent of stinging wallops. He spanked me over my skirt for a while and then gently lifted the skirt to reveal my reddening behind. He gasped a bit and with renewed energy and vigor beat me harder and faster. He slid my underwear down my legs and his hand strikes echoed over the basin of the river and into my ears and soul, I was wet and near crying from pleasure.

He flipped me over and kissed me, he licked and lapped at my pussy until the hardening, quickening pressure from my clit could no longer hold the power that was building inside and from the center where all my dreams are stored there emerged a flood of cum and victory. He fucked me then, hard and holding onto my face and hair, thrusting with his own joy, with his own excitement. It was like being in a very naughty, very nice dream that you don't want to wake from and thankfully we didn't until 3 days later when I had to take him back to the airport.

Our night went very late with talking and kissing and spanking and fucking. Each night went the same way; I had come to know that whatever happened during the day, the night would be my reward and my favorite time with him. We worried at the beginning that we would either not be attracted or worse, more attracted and consequently I know it was the latter. So much happened and there's a part of me resistant to share those things that are most dear to me, they seem sacred almost, although I've shared a lot already.

He came and watched me record some music the day before he left. On each song I felt like I was singing about us, and I sensed he was thinking the same thing. We went on a hike later that day, the evening sun making everything sparkle, a real mirage in the center of a dream like experience. We walked along in natural camaraderie, I noted (mentally) all of the places he could spank me but we both thought better of spanking me there with my German shepherd in tow, she might not have understood.

If you get the sense that I'm having trouble ending the story, I am. I don't want it to end and I don't know if it won't. But such is the life of a naughty actress, sometimes the plot changes without warning, sometimes circumstances are too hard to overcome and sometimes there's a happy ending, but for now it's just an improvisation based on hopes and dreams without a thought about the end, with fate as the director, it is best left up to her.

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