From the start, from the first email she seemed torn. What it was eluded me, but she wanted, no needed a punishment spanking. She didn’t want to say why at first, but she was definite on how important it was to her. I explained that few girls really needed to go through a true punishment spanking, but her response was that I couldn’t understand. She had heard of me through a friend, and that the friend (I wasn’t sure who) had assured her that I was the guy. I patiently explained the level of pain she was asking for and just how life-changing it could be. She responded that she needed to be taken to that level no matter how much it hurt.
She was different from the usual submissive. She only wanted to see me once, and when I explained that even with experienced girls I never would administer a punishment spanking without having had several sessions together the emails became more desperate. She admitted that she had never been spanked as a child, much less as an adult. She wanted one session to finish everything, just one, and then she would be out of my life. And she absolutely wanted me to promise that there would be no safeword.
There was a flurry of emails back and forth as I explained my policy. I was met by pleading on every turn. Finally - against my better judgment - I relented. If she could make her case in writing I would do what she wanted. But she had to be honest and completely straightforward about why she needed to do this. I wanted it hand-written. Via snail mail rather than email, and I suggested three pages was a good length. What I got two days later was half a handwritten page that shocked me – it took a while to get over my feelings, much less empathize with hers.
She was young, in her early twenties. So had her lover been, the age where everything was so important and so dead serious. Despite their intimacy she had weakened and shared a passionate evening with an old flame. Her lover, when she begged forgiveness, responded in the way young ones sometimes do – the sense of drama overcame intelligence – the answer was to bail out. The cowards way - overdose. She felt guilty, abandoned, even she said sometimes dirty. She needed what I could give.
I struggled with the decision – I felt as uneasy as she. My first wife had cheated on me 25 years ago. Could I even be fair under the circumstances? I never have a problem calling a session if I feel the girl is in over her head – should I even start in the first place? My first inclination was to point her to a good shrink, but considering all the rubbish I’d been fed by the psychiatric community over the years I felt that definitely wasn’t the right answer. Finally I rationalized that she was dead set on doing this – I knew that I could stop things if that was what was needed. God knows who she could have run into had she gone elsewhere. I’d heard enough horror stories from my girls. I set an appointment for Friday at my local Starbucks, with the proviso that if I felt that she couldn’t handle the situation I would call the session. She reluctantly accepted that and promised to meet me.
She was tiny – no more than five foot one. When she saw me (I’m six foot one, two eighty) her eyes widened. She also clearly hadn’t sorted out her feelings yet, because although the smile was painted on there was terror in her eyes. We talked for a long time – I offered condolences, and again tried to get the best feeling for her mental state. After listening to her pour out her heart for an hour she seemed rational enough – just needy.
We went though my rules, and I gave her a safeword anyway. She started to protest, but I insisted. I told her that even if she used it, I wouldn’t necessarily stop, but it did give me an idea as to her ability to continue. I also explained that like it or not I would be checking with her as to how she was feeling. I needed to know that she was breathing (submissives often forget) and still conscious. She laughed nervously. She seemed relieved when I told her that I would accept her – she followed me home and we walked in together.
I’d previously told her that she would have one chance to change her mind. After that she would truly be punished - she shook her head. I sent her into the bathroom to go before we started, and to bring me the spanking brush from the upper right drawer in the vanity. When she came back holding it, it was clear that the heavy wooden implement had rattled her – I thought this was good. It might shorten up the duration of the punishment if nothing else. I planned on stopping as soon as I reasonably could. I had no desire whatever to be brutal – only to meet her needs.
I was hard on her – anything else would have been insulting. She was tougher than I’d expected, but it wasn’t that long before the tears started. I took her to the point where she was losing control - that was as far as I was prepared to go. Afterwards was long, gentle and caring. I held her in my lap like a small child and ran my hands over her skin. Her tiny body shook with deep sobs, murmured words I hardly caught, fresh tears flowing. I let her cling to me as long as she needed. It was a long time.
Much, much later she sat across from me and we continued exploring her feelings. I told her my unvarnished opinion of her lover – sorry but suicide is the ultimate form of selfishness and self absorption, and I didn’t think he deserved her. That brought on more tears (I know the female readers will think it uncaring, but I simply couldn’t hold any other opinion) but later more discussion. Long into the night.
I was truly surprised when I was escorting her to her car – she asked me if she could come back tomorrow night – “just to talk” We’ve been talking five years now. Guess it was the right decision…