The Master's Way Pt. 02

My initiation into the ritual of spanking.

*

I didn't hear from Kevin for ten days or so. He had told me he was visiting South Africa on business although I still had no idea what he did other than travel all over the world.

"There's a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Kevin told me on his mobile.

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

I could hardly hear his reply as he spoke quietly.

"Sorry Kevin I can hardly hear you."

"I'm in the car."

"What driving?"

"No a car from the airport I just landed."

"Oh ok."

I could only just about make out that he said. "Put your hair into pigtails for me and wear little make up."

I realised that he didn't want the driver to hear.

"What? Er, um why?"

"You need to look and feel as young as possible and be at my house at eight tonight."

As usual there were no pleasantries, just the click as he disconnected.

I didn't really understand why he wanted me to look like that but I went along with his request. Given that usually I wore my blonde hair spiky and it hardly reached my shoulders, plaiting into pig tails was difficult and they were not very long, but it was actually quite good fun doing it. I showered, washed and dried my hair and then sat naked in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished, I put my glasses back on and glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the light makeup and 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, full 36 D breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Kevin meant about the whole thing but realised that anyone else seeing would wonder what the hell I was doing! So, just in case I wore a hat on the cab ride across town to his house.

"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 Jay?"

"Yes Kevin," 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 hardly any makeup?"

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

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

As the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I began to feel very nervous. Nervous about the unknown, perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly now an essential aspect of our relationship. 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 that Kevin promised. And nervous mostly about just what a full on spanking entailed!

Also, of course, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Kevin 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.

I went to where he had told me to go and hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger were a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front and 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 light. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs; a ridiculous length for a forty-five-year old!

There was a pair of white, lacy topped stayup stockings and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes.

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

The knickers were full and high waisted. 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 Kevin had said about spanking being a ritual.

Undressing and then dressing quickly, I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from a middle aged, conventional, business woman to a young girl looking rebel who 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 so I wouldn't see into it until I was fully dressed in the 'uniform' he provided. I guessed that 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 he was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me as I hoped it would him.

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 fitted me well. It was tight 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 areola and the strong protuberances of my nipples.

Standing up straight the hem of the skirt only just covered my stocking tops. 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 at my waist I was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Kevin 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 knew 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 Jay," I heard Kevin say.

Trying to accustom my eyes to the low light, I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Kevin 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 two 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 Jayne 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 used 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.

The whole setting seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. I felt at home, 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 that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. The need to be directed, controlled and dominated. The need to share my humiliation by giving myself physically and emotionally to someone as he rewarded me by the ritual of being spanked.

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

Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the somewhat ludicrous yet sexually provocative 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 who was going to spank 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 knickers 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 Jayne you look perfect," he said, pleasing and exciting me with his praise as hearing rather than seeing him move silently across the room so he was next to me.

I'd been a little concerned as to what he would be wearing. What the ceremonial garb was for a spanker? I'd half thought he might blow it all 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 may have 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 Kevin 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 around 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 Kevin."

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 enough 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 he was also staring at them.

"Jayne's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" he smiled, clearly noticing the movement.

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

"And young girls like Jayne shouldn't have such thoughts should they?"

"No, no 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 naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting.

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

"No Kevin 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 Jay? 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 Jay, you can tell me anything," he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave he always wore and see the slight stubble from probably missing a shave on the flight this morning. 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 so I didn't move.

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

"Are you wet as well?" he asked.

"Yes Kevin, 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 Jayne?"

"Yes Kevin they do."

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

"I have."

"That means 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 me what you think I 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 Jayne, where should I spank you?"

"On my bottom, you should spank me on my bottom," I croaked saying words that I never thought I would utter.

His voice thick with arousal he replied. "Yes Jayne, yes 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 you have to bend forward."

I did.

"Further Jayne, further."

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

"More Jayne further."

I knew that from where he was standing he'd be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward even more 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."

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, lacey topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably 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, him staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still he 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 and us!

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 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.

He 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 panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all.

I felt the thudding of my heart, the racing of my pulses and the gasping of my breathing as I knew his gaze would be taking in every detail.

The waistband of the panties that ran from hip to hip. The thin skirt bunched above that. The stretched, see-through material of the pink knickers showing the deep crevice between my slightly opened cheeks. And of course the plumpness of my blood engorged lips that would be glistening with my female secretions. All of my most private and personal places were under his scrutiny. So emotionally aroused was I playing my full part in the ceremony, the merest touch, a slight more excitement, a gesture or a light caress would have been enough to have made me cum.

But of course he knew exactly what he was doing. After all he'd written the script. So he didn't touch or caress me but once more made me wait as he stared. It really is the most excruciatingly pleasurable, but at the same time, enormously frustrating thing. To be wanting something to happen and to know that it's going to, but for it to be continually delayed. It was so atmosphere building, so mood creating and so integral to everything else. I realised it was the perfect way to prepare me.