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A note from Bethany-

Since I posted this initially, I have received several letters from people concerned about Sharon's apparent failure to follow safety precautions in her meeting with her first spanker. When reading this article, it APPEARS as if Sharon when to a hotel room in a strange city with a man she had never met before. The story mentions no safety precautions whatsoever, and because the story states that the people she was visiting did NOT know whom she was with, it is easy to assume that no one knew.

Sharon and I have corresponded about this issue. She chose not to include this sort of hard, "logistical" detail in what she had intended to be a very deep and emotional piece. Nevertheless, she now recognizes that while "emotional," it is also presented as a factual retelling of how she did obtain a first, real-life spanking, and in real life, certain precautions must be taken. Because those new to spanking may look to this article for some guidance, Sharon wishes to make it clear that she believes safety precautions are extremely important and in actuality she did do what was necessary to safeguard herself, although that impression may not be given here.

Here are a few safety tips for anyone considering meeting with a stranger:

1. Have I been able to phone him at home? If the answer is no, has he been honest about the reason? If I call him at "work," does it sound like a "real" business? 2. Is he willing to meet me in a public place for a completely "vanilla" encounter? I suggest bringing a friend to this first meeting. What's his reaction? 3. Do I sense "little" inconsistencies in what we've been discussing? Your intuition is POWERFUL. If something bothers you about the guy, DON'T ignore feeling and DON'T meet him. 4. Do I have one friend with whom I can share that I am meeting, to whom I can tell his name and phone number, someone who will check to make sure I've arrived home at the predesignated time? If you are in a personal situation where you feel you can trust no one, FIND SOMEONE. If you've got no one to trust, write to me. Women "in the scene" need to watch out for each other.

For years I had secretly harbored a fantasy of being spanked like a little girl, as an adult. I don't know why, but God just seemed to wire me, a thirty year old female, that way when he made me. I never understood that fantasy, but I knew it was strong enough to stay with me and grow in strength, as I grew in strength.

I had friends while growing up who frequently got spanked, and all of my senses were keenly tuned to the sound of the word SPANKING. I remember several instances where as a child I got to witness spankings at school or at my friends houses. And I remember not being able to interpret the reaction between my legs to these minor horrors as sexual. I just remember being fascinated, silently listening to the pounding smacks and crying, accompanied by the tone and rumble of the adult's voice who administered them.

In my early 20's I'd casually play spanking games with some of the men I dated...these were fun and caused great laughter between us, but these were nothing compared to the real spanking fantasies in my head. I had something more drastic in mind...the entire spanking in full ceremony, lecture and corner-time included. And of course, over the knee, and lots of cathartic crying from me. The figure in my fantasies was always a man, and very much a Daddy-type figure.

In my late twenties, having been dissatisfied with my career choice, I decided to go back to school on a graduate level. This meant calling my father, half way across the country and asking him for help. I didn't even have money enough to move if I wanted to, let alone attend school. Dad, being the ever so generous and practical man he was, offered his hand and pocket book to help me. I'll never forget that night, after our phone conversation...for the first time in a long while I felt empowered to make a real difference in my future and couldn't wait to move back home and get started all over again.

Three months later, I had arrived home and moved back into my old bedroom, had enrolled in full time graduate courses in the city, and gotten a part time job to help pay my way.

Two years quickly passed by and I was on the verge of graduating, ready to travel across the country again for interviews. I was so excited. However, in waiting for these interviews to happen, there was about a month long wait which worried me, and just about drove me crazy....waiting for all these business to reply to my resume.

During this time of waiting, I discovered the AOL chat rooms, member directory, etc. One night at about one in the morning I did a member search and thought, "What the hell, why not?" and instead of looking up the word "spanking" in the dictionary (which I had done ever since I could remember) I typed in the word "spanking". Within a matter of seconds, my screen was filled with a long list of names whose profiles contained detailed descriptions of spanking scenarios, fantasies and familiar phrases. My mouth dropped open and I read on and on with hungry eyes. Finally, I discovered that I was not alone in my fantasy, to my utter amazement and joy.

Needless to say, that within the next few weeks, I had acquired many helpful friends in my quest for info about the real spanking scene. My AOL bill was ridiculously high by now, but I didn't care. This was great fun! A cyber spanking became my daily bedtime ritual and I went to bed very happy each night for the following weeks. <sigh>

One fine day, I got several interviews across the country (literally) and planned a trip. I had arranged to meet a "Daddy" for real, who I had met on line, and who lived in the same city where I'd be interviewing. With great courage I accepted his offer and we made a date. On the flight over there, I couldn't help thinking about the fact that very soon, within a matter of days, I'd be over the knee of another adult, getting my bare bottom smacked with his hand. OoooOoooO! My heart pouted loudly in my chest as I thought about it...I couldn't believe I was doing such a crazy thing. And the thought of having to sit gingerly the day after that spanking for yet another interview brought a smile to my face. Imagine!! ME!!! A GROWN WOMAN getting a spanking??? I laughed nervously to myself at the mere thought of it.

I stayed with a friend in the city and the fourth night there, was the night before my fateful meeting with "Daddy". Since my arrival there, we talked on the phone several times in preparation for our meeting. So, by this time, as I lay awake on my friend's couch, tossing and turning in anticipation of what it would be like, my stomach was in knots and I remember not sleeping one single wink. Poor me. The naughty little girl, having to wait for her first spanking smiled to herself. I kept picturing my white bottom over his knee, quaking at the sight of his palm, poised in the air, ready to spank me. Would I cry out in pain? Would it really, REALLY hurt? Ah, I was such a virgin. <smirk> I had so many questions that would only be answered through experience. I just had to wait.

The following morning came FINALLY. After a quick shower, I dressed for my morning interview: a cashmere lavender sweater, brown wool miniskirt, black stockings, black jacket and a brown twill coat. But before I left, I tucked a very innocent pair of white cotton panties (that to me looked very little girlish) into the depth of my purse. Why? Well, Daddy and I had a conversation about what I was to wear when we first met. Of course, I had to be in my interview clothes, and the panties I usually wore were white cotton thongs. He said that I was to dress normally for my interview, so as not to get distracted, and then when it was over, I'd change into my little girl panties before I met him at the airport.

I remember him telling me that when I stepped out of that taxi to the airport, that I was going to meet Daddy and for one reason only. Which was to get a very hard spanking. I would lose all sense of modestly and adulthood, and after my spanking, he said he would be there to support me emotionally and that I'd finally have someone there to listen to me cry, someone who cared enough to take me in hand and give me the attenion I so desperately needed.

Soon, I was standing at his gate, waiting for the passengers to come off the plane. I peered through the crowd, trying to figure out which older greyhaired man was him (yes he was appropriately old enough to be my Daddy for real). I stood still, hands clutching my coat, my fingers nervously twitching, as I watched strangers make their way from the crowd.

Finally, I saw him. I recognized the tie he said he'd be wearing and I almost ran away at the sight of him. Here was this TOTAL STRANGER, ready to take me to HIS hotel and give ME a SPANKING. But somehow, instead of running, I stood there as he walked closer towards me smiling all the way. I must have looked very pale, because he suggested we sit down first and have a chat. Gratefully, I agreed and we found two nearby empty chairs.

We shook hands.

"You're nervous aren't you?" He said.

"Oh, yeah. That's putting it mildly." I laughed nervously.

"That's understandable." he said.

We sat there for a few more minutes as I grew more and more comfortable with him and talked. Finally I said, "This feels really weird."

"Explain 'weird' " he said puzzled.

"I mean, I don't even know you and have agreed to let you do something very intimate with me and I've got this little alarm in my head that's saying 'don't talk to strangers', you know? You seem nice enough, it's not that. I don't know, this is my first time, and I don't know what I'm doing. I feel out of control. I don't like it." I sighed.

His response was something I'll never forget. He took my hands in his and told me to look straight into his eyes. I did. Then he spoke.

"Well, IS wierd. You and I have agreed to meet and do somehting that most people don't do with each other. And we've just met. You're right, it is wierd. But you and I have been talking for some time now and I know and you know that this is SOMETHING YOU HAVE WANTED FOR A VERY, VERY LONG TIME."

I nodded my head in agreement. He continued. "Now, at any time during our meeting, you may of course refuse to do this and we can walk away as friends. I won't be offended. Really. But I know if you don't do this, you'll be missing out on a truly wonderful experience. I know you're afraid. But I want your first spanking experience to be a safe and consensual one. I can guarantee your safety. You may stop the spanking at any time. And I'll be there to talk you through it. It's your choice. I won't force you do to anything you don't want to do."

Everything he said to me made a lot of sense. I was slowly relaxing more and more as I grew more comfortable with him. I told him that I'd keep taking little steps toward the spanking and I'd stop if I felt the need to talk about what I was feeling. He said that I had his TOTAL support, physical and emotional.

So from there, we stood up and walked through the airport, collected his luggage and took a bus to his hotel. He held my hand the entire way through the airport and when I appeared too quiet, he'd whisper a little threat to me in my ear, "Sharon, if you don't relax, I'll have to take you somewhere quiet and give you a spanking." This statement gave me quite a thrill and really helped to relax me. I relaxed because he WANTED me to...and it helped a great deal to know that he was in control. I quickly realized that my fear was not life threatening and that I was safe.

Once seated on the bus, I snuggled up to him and laid my head on his shoulder and shut my eyes. He patted my shoulder and wrapped his arm around me, whispering comforting phrases in my ear. I wondered what the other people on the bus were thinking of us. That's why I shut my eyes.

Finally the bus stopped and we got off together and went to his room. I stepped inside and sat down quickly as he hung my coat up and unpacked his bags. I sat nervously as he did this and waited for him to finish. He came back out of the bathroom and retrieved a straight-backed chair, setting it in the middle of the room. I almost died at that moment...knowing what the chair was for. To my surprise, he sat down on that chair, patted his lap and bade me to come over to him and sit on his lap for a while.

I stood up and walked over to him and gingerly sat. Looking into his eyes, he smiled at me and we talked some more. "Go ahead, ask me anything you like." he said to make me feel more at ease. So we talked some more. I asked him about his family, his career, etc. And I told him more about myself, how my interviews were going, what my dreams were, etc. Finally he decided it was time for my first spanking. He sent me to the corner.

I had never been in a corner before, so this was new for me, too. While I stood there, with my nose touching the wall, he lectured me.

"Sharon, this is a punishment spanking. And this is what you're being punished for: Self destructive behavior: You smoke and it's not good for you. You're harming your body, you're hurting the ones who love you because you're shortening your life. You've also been denying yourself this spanking experience you've wanted for so long, but never had the courage to ask for. That's just as self destructive as your smoking, Sharon. And I won't stand for it. I care about you and I'm not going to let you get away with this naughty behavior."

He spoke in low and even tones. And while he lectured me, he came over to my corner and said some of this to my ear, swatting my bottom now and then to emphasize certain points. I was getting the message very clearly. Finally, someone was talking good care of me. Here I was, the center of his attention, about to get the spanking I desired for so long. I waited for him to finish and call me over to him.

Finally, he asked, "Now Sharon, do you understand why you're going to be spanked."

"Yes." I peeped. Feeling very chastised, very young and very scared.

"And do you understand that I'm not doing this to hurt you, but to strengthen you and to support you and to make you a better person."

"Yes." I peeped again.

"And I care for you. It's time someone took you in hand and supported you for once in your young life. Isn't that so?"

"Yes." I sighed.

"Now come over here, Young Lady."

I hesitantly walked over to him and stood before him as he sat in the chair. He took my hands in his and spoke again. "How old are you Sharon?"

"Twenty nine." I said.

"Twenty nine years old and you still need a spanking to learn to behave." he said while shaking his head in disapproval.

"Yes. " I said.

"Bend over my lap right now and I'll give you a couple of spanks so you'll know what it feels like."

I bent over and waited for him to begin. Such a strange position this was for me. I felt about twenty pounds lighter and much, much younger as I laid there over his lap, staring at the carpet.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt him swat each of my cheeks twice. <Smack, smack, smack, smack!> I gasped and bounced under his hand. They didn't hurt. I just felt the pounding resonate throughout my entire body. I was surprised at the force of his hand. A few hairs had fallen from behind my ears and into my face, which grew redder and redder by the seconds.

The he lifted me up again and asked me how that felt.

"Okay, I guess. Not bad, I guess." I said, feeling suddenly very meek.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked.

"Yes. I want to continue."

"Then hitch up your skirt and bend back over my knee, Young Lady."

I took a deep breath and did as he asked me. I hitched up my brown miniskirt and bent over his lap again.

I felt his fingers insert themselves under the waistband of my panties and pull them down to my mid thigh, exposing my bare bottom to the slight chill in the air. I shivered.

He immediately began the spanking with repetitive and forceful smacks, in the same spot of my fanny. Very quickly I began to feel the pain of the spanking. God, it was starting to hurt already! I squirmed and moaned and instantly grew very angry. What happened to that slow introduction??? This was HURTING ME!! No, I didn't like it one bit. Shit, I was so angry at him.

"STOP!!!" I yelled. I leapt up from his lap and glared down at him.

"That REALLY HURTS!" I stared at him while rubbing my behind.

He looked up at me and smiled patiently. "Of course it hurts, Sharon. It's called a spanking, remember? A spanking is supposed to hurt."

"Well, yeah! But I didn't think it would hurt THAT badly. I don't like it." My hands sat firmly on both my hips.

"Sharon," he said, "come back on my lap and we'll talk about it some more."

I sat again on his knee while he rubbed my back. The reality of the pain of a spanking had pushed all romantic thoughts I had about the subject far from my mind.

"Let's try something else, Sharon." he suggested.

"Okay, what." I humphed. God, I was so disappointed, and he knew it.

"I get the feeling that you may need some more of your own personal space as you experience this spanking. I don't think you need to be pinned across my lap. That position is physically and emotionally too restrictive for you. Am I right?" he asked.

"Yes, I think you're right." I agreed.

"So, why don't we try having you lie across the bed on your tummy. Trust me."

I made him wait as I considered his idea.

"Trust me." he said again.

"Okay." I finally gave in.

When I was ready, I got off of his lap once again, amazed at his patience with me. I really DID have his full support as he stated earlier that day.

Naked from the waist down, I watched him take a pillow from the bed and lay it down on the center of the bed. Then he placed another one on top of the first.

"Now climb up and place the pillows underneath your bottom, Sharon."

I crawled up on the bed and situated myself over the pillows, my bottom sticking up embarrasingly in the air. He gave me another pillow to lay my head upon. I turned my face to the side and looked up at him.

"Now relax, Sharon." he said firmly.

I took yet another deep breath and relaxed. He came over to me and ran his fingers through my hair, patted my head and asked if I was ready.

"Yes. I think so."

"Good." And then he began.

He picked up a wooden ping pong paddle that sat on the other bed across from where I was laying. Next to the paddle was a wide leather black belt.

Picking up the paddle, I tensed as I watched him and shut my eyes in anticipation.

<SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!!> The spanking began and I tensed with each smack. He spanked slower this time, allowing me to feel the waves of pain in stages. The swats stung and then the pain lingered into a glow that flowed from my bottom to the rest of my body. These waves of pain swam inside of me and I stopped them as they reached my fists, which were drawn up underneath my chest. I clenched them tightly as the pain softened after each blow.

He spanked me with a few more swats with the paddle and the pain began to increase as my bottom pulsated in waves of heat. <SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!!!> I began to moan now and gasp. He was bringing me close to tears, but I resolved not to let that happen. Why was I so afraid to cry? Was admitting to the pain so scary to me? Apparently, it was. So, I clenched my fists tighter underneath my quaking body. I can take it, I can take it, I kept repeating to myself under my breath as he continued to spank me.

He suddenly stopped. With his free hand he came back over to my head and pulled some of my hair away from my face. "Do you feel loved, Sharon?" he asked.

How strange it was to be asked that while being "punished".

My response was even stranger to me. "Yes." I replied.

"Good." Then he continued.

<SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!!!> Four more swats with the paddle.

Now I began to say "Ouch" "Ow" and other verbal responses to the pain.

He continued. This time with the belt and I continued to try to stifle my tears.

He stopped again.

"Sharon." he said, "Stretch out your arms."


"Trust me."

I did. I stretched them out in front of me, feeling more vulnerable, I don't know why.

He came over to my hands and pulled my fingers apart, preventing me from fisting my hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Sharon. You're holding the pain in. That's not good for you. This hurts and you need to admit that."

I laid my head back down on the pillow and he continued.


God it was really hurting now. But I lay still as the pain grew more and more intense. He spanked my bottom, each and every inch of it, the inner parts of my thighs, my legs and back up to my bottom again. I was coming closer and closer to that emotional edge, where the true source of all my pain grew from. My heart was breaking, my tender soul, the little girl inside of me who was still afraid of life, still hurt by the injustice and unfairness of life and all its adult pressures and worries, wounded and quaking like a timid creature, was now begging to be set free, begging to feel, begging to be loved, to be allowed to express herself, to ask for comfort, to ask for guidance, attention and love.

He continued to spank me harder and harder, stopping now and then to caress my head. "Do you feel loved, Sharon?" he asked again.

Finally, I snapped like a brittle twig. Out from my mouth came a gut wrenching cry. Tears welled up in my eyes and flowed freely down my cheeks, dampening the hair in my eyes, wetting the pillow that cradled my head. "Oh, y-yes, Y-YES!" I sobbed and sobbed.

"That's my girl." he said and picked up the paddle to continue the spanking.

Every inch of me responded to the continuing spanking. I cried and sobbed like I never had before. Twenty eight years worth of toxic pent up emotions flowed freely from within me. This was freedom, this was liberation, this was heaven. THIS was what I had been looking for. That place of emotional freedom. He called it an emotional Camelot. He was so right.

A few more minutes passed and he stopped spanking me. I lay there, sobbing and crying convulsively. Out of my mouth came a series of confessions in between my sobs. He stopped to listen as he sat down on the side of the bed.

"I-I'm selfish, I'm manipulative, I'm so hungry for love, I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid. I'm so scared. I'm too hard on myself, and on other people. I push others away, I run from adventure, I run from opportunity. I'm a snob, I'm a bitch, I'm bratty, I'm unforgiving. I want to be better! I want to BE happier, braver, more confident!" I cried and cried.

Oh, I felt so young, so accepted, so totally loved and cared for. My "confessions" weren't out of the ordinary for any adult. We all struggle with these things. Life is about all those minor struggles. Finally I had someone to listen to my fears, to tend to my needs, to discipline me with love and support.

Finally, I had come past the point of anger towards the spanking and had reached that helpless spot of true submissiveness and vulnerability. It was pure heaven. I loved it. I felt so free.

He then patted me again on my head, lifted the hair from my eyes and began the spanking again. This time, the pain only emphasized my emotional vulnerability and it didn't take very long for me to cry out another series of sobs. I had given into the pain and stopped struggling against the spanking. I was pure emotion and allowed the pounding spanks to "rock" me to that safer place of resolution and peace. All the "fight" had left me, all the pain, all the tension of life went away.

"Do you need more?" he asked.

"N-no." I cried.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

And at that, he set down the paddle and sat on the bed himself and gathered me into his lap. "Wrap your arms around me, Sharon. It's time to cry out the hurt."

And I did. I curled up into his lap, no longer ashamed of my nakedness, no longer ashamed of my pain. He rocked me back and forth in his lap, stroking my back and cooing in my ear. He patted my back, my tender bottom, stroked the back of my neck and rocked me for a very long time. If I stopped crying, he would say to me, "No, Sharon. You're not done crying yet. If you stop, it means you need more of the spanking. You need to let it out."

Never in my life had anyone given me permission like that to truly feel negative emotions. This was becoming a truly spiritual catharsis for me. I felt just like a five year old little girl, crying in her Daddy's arms, safe in his firm embrace. His firm embrace. Wow...I'll never ever forget that moment for as long as I live. This was love in it's purest form.

After a little while, I naturally settled down and he stood up, lifting me into his arms and carried me over to a big soft cushy chair in the corner of the room. He took a blanket and covered me with it, sat back and pulled me close to him, my head resting comfortably against his chest just underneath his chin. He kissed my forehead and continued to talk to me softly and rock me, while tenderly patting my bottom again, which by now was glowing comfortably in a pulsating and pleasant warmth.

"Are you feeling better, Little Girl." he asked.

"Yes. Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."

He chuckled and held me tighter. "You are so welcome."

Suddenly I was filled with a great sense of joy. "I DID it!" I smiled.

"Yes, you did. You were a good partner." he patted my fanny again.

"I was?"

"Yes you were."

"You see Sharon. A spanking makes you look at yourself."

"I love being here." I said.

"Do you feel loved and safe, Sharon?"


"This is the safest place I know." he said.

I snuggled into his embrace more fully and slept like a baby for a few minutes. He was taking care of me. This stranger whom I had just met was taking very good care of me. It was all I could do to put my thumb in my mouth like a little girl! Oh, how fresh and clean and restful I felt. So new and forgiven. Like a new green bud, ready to flower, that had just been watered and fertilized. So this is what I've been missing, I thought to myself.

Darkness came and I awoke with a gentle nudge from him. "Are you hungry? How about some dinner?" he suggested.

I yawned and said yes. I was in the mood for comfort food. Soup. Yes, that's what I wanted.

I got up from his lap and dressed. We took the elevator down to the hotel restaurant and found a table. I was very sleepy, exhausted from such an emotional and physical taxing experience, as comforting as it was near the end. I sat down very carefully and he smiled at me, noting how sore my bottom was. "Maybe I should have brought a pillow for you, Sharon." he teased, which made me giggle.

We ordered our meal and continued to talk. I was in a cloud of comfort. I hardly noticed the waiter, the other people in the room, my surroundings. All I knew was that I had just gotten my very first spanking and that I was in heaven. I sighed all through my dinner, the tensions in me continuing to flow out of me.

At one point of our conversation, he noticed I wasn't eating my soup. I was drifting out somewhere in an abyss of restful thought.

"Sharon." he said, "Finish your soup before it gets cold."

Now normally, a comment or rather a COMMAND like that would have made me laugh. I'm an adult, after all... no one could make me eat my soup if I didn't want to. But instead of arguing with him, which would have been my natural impulse, my hand grasped my spoon and dipped it into my soup bowl and the next thing I knew, I was swallowing that delicious potato soup. I stopped and looked at him. Stared him directly in the eyes in total wonder. A smile grew across my face.

"See how easy it is now?" he asked while smiling, too.

"Yes!" I laughed. God this was great. This submissiveness I felt was so wonderful. I was so realxed. So completely in love with the scenario we had set up. And so utterly greatful to him for his patience.

We finished our meal and walked back up to his room. It was very late and almost time for me to return to my friend's house. He decided that before I left him, that it would be good for me to have a "remember to be good spanking". I agreed and laid back on the bed again, over my two pillows and cried my way through another spanking. This one was much shorter, though. It didn't take me long to release this time.

Back into his lap I went when it was over and he rocked me again for another few minutes as I settled back down.

I would have stayed there that night and slept in the other bed, like he had suggested, but I needed to be alone that night, to sleep by myself, to slowly digest my new experience, being the independant young woman that I was. I also didn't feel like having to explain to my friend why I didn't come home that night. So, I decided to get dressed and leave.

He dressed me in my coat and we stood at the door if his room to say goodbye.

"I can't thank you enough. Thank you. THANK YOU." I said. "Thank you so much." And I reached to hug him.

He embraced me back and said, "You are very welcome, Sharon. It was my pleasure."

I said goodbye and left his room, walked gingerly and sleepily down the hallway to the elevator. Once inside, I caught my relfection in the mirrored wall and smiled at myself. I had done it!!!!

Once I reached my friend's house I went into the bathroom to dress in my nightgown. I faced the mirror first and turned my body around to inspect my flaming red bottom. What a sight! I was so red and tender and delightfully sore!

I went to bed with that tender ache and afterglow and slept so soundly. The next day I went to another interview and DID have to keep from wincing as I sat down. It was hard not to laugh and keep a straight face during the whole conversation. Still, the interview went well, as did the remainder of my stay away from home.

Once I had returned home I had given my parents a full report of the success of my trip...(I later got many job offers from the business I had encountered.) but I left out the more dramatic discovery of my spanking expereince of course.

I called "Daddy" a few days later to thank him again and we had a very nice chat on the phone. A year later, to this very day, I still catch him on line and we chat. We also keep in touch over the phone and are planning to meet again very soon. He's been a surrogate Daddy for me since the day we first met on line. He's been there for me during some pretty tough times, ever to be the one to support me and lecture me when it's appropriate.

Today, I'm working for a firm that I love, and my career is blossoming, as is my new private spanking life. :-) I have played with many other men. All of them older than myself, but none like the first man I met, who gave me that truly spiritual experience I have just described. Everyone spanks differently. Each session has a different taste. They're all learning experiences for me. They all add to the strength of my character. I am becoming the woman I've always hoped to be and more. An adult who takes care of the child inside her. Successful, joyful, confident and much less fearful and timid.

A happy beginning, a happy ending. A good life, because I now know how to ask, to give and to recieve its graces.

The End. 3.21.98