In the ninety three minutes I spent roaming the backstreets of Glasgow I smoked approximately eighteen cigarettes. Such an insane volume of nicotine was a simple by-product of one of the most nerve shattering times of my entire life. In fact, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I hadn’t felt that nervous since losing my virginity!
After being interrupted mid-anxiety by a group of football fanatics I took a diversion down a bleak looking alley and came out on a small outcrop overlooking the west of the city. Throwing myself onto a bench I took out my phone and called my family in an effort to calm my escalating mood. Although they could tell something was wrong it was a rare occasion when I couldn’t tell them exactly what.
“Yeah, Dad. I’ve got a cute woman sitting in a hotel room expecting me to return in an hour or so to spank her bottom seven shades of red and it’s scaring the crap out of me as I’ve never really spanked anyone before. Got any tips?”
Instead, we talked about the flight I’d taken to get here, my plans for the upcoming days and the fast approaching new season of Doctor Who. As we talked all I could think about was Samantha. She’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees and staring at the floor, half-listening to my scornful voice inform her that I was “very disappointed with her behavior” and when I returned she should expect a “spanking to remember for the rest of her life”.
After fifteen minutes or so it became clear the thought of Sammi sitting in the hotel room awaiting her fate was overpowering every corner of my mind. Whilst my dad talked about Torchwood, my mind was locked on the nervous excitement that had trembled across Sammi’s lips as I promised her she wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for days. When he asked me who I thought would win the soccer derby, my mind was obsessing over the glazed look in her eyes as she stared at the wooden hairbrush that sat on the counter next to the television. When he mentioned that the weather was supposed to heat up a little, my mind couldn’t help but focus on how hot Sammi’s flesh would shortly become.
So, in a somewhat abrupt fashion, I bade my farewell and replaced the phone with another cigarette. As I lit the tip my fingers shook uncontrollably as I imagined her lithe body lying over my lap and my hand striking her expectant cheeks at full force.
“Addy, if you’re too nervous?” She had said as we walked from the supermarket to the hotel. “We could just grab a pub meal. Don’t wanna be responsible for a serious panic attack,”
“You’re trembling,” She said, taking my hand. “Anyone would think you were the one about to get it,”
“I’m fine,” I repeated.
She stopped us in the street and gave me a hug, whispering into my ear. “If you need to stop…at any point…you just need to say the word, okay? However much I want this, I want you to be okay more,”
“I’m fine,” I repeated again.
Which I clearly wasn’t! It wasn’t fine to smoke this many cigarettes. It wasn’t fine to be sitting on a bench in the middle of a metropolitan city with limbs shaking uncontrollably. It wasn’t fine to be so scared of something I’d dreamt of doing for years.
But if I walked back into that room and announced our agreed upon safe-word I would be letting her down. All her waiting; all that time spent thinking about being spanked; all that worry; all that growing excitement; all that fantasizing; would be for nothing. And no matter how nervous, anxious and panic stricken I was, I couldn’t do that to someone who’d treated a virtual stranger with such friendship and trust.
Slipping my hand into my pocket I pulled out my iPod and scanned through the video section. Before I’d left home I’d loaded a few select videos onto the device as ‘educational tools’. Sitting in the dark, another smoke burning in my fingers, watching Lily’s posterior turn a bright shade of red began to calm my nerves. For years I’d watched videos like this, each time praying that one day I would have the chance to be either the receiving bottom or the giving top. And now, fifteen minutes down the road, was a woman waiting for me to do just that.
I watched the video twice through, noticing the speed of the brush, the areas of impact, the force of each stroke. How hard could it be? Take over knee, bare bottom, commence smacking target. Why was I so scared?
Immediately taking another smoke from the box I noticed it had been nearly eighty minutes since I left her in the hotel room. If I was going to do this, I had to do it now. Replacing the iPod into my pocket I lit the cigarette and began walking slowly back toward the hotel room.
My mind was now overwhelmed with visions of Sammi; of how she’d reacted to my play-acted scolding, apologizing for her crime and saying she would never do it again; of how her hands had fiddled with her posterior before she’d sat on the be, pulling her knees to her chin; of how a nervous excitement had trembled over her lips as I’d promised she wouldn’t be sitting for days – the same nervous excitement that had filled my soul upon those threats as a child.
We were alike, Sammi and I, driven by similar cravings and desires; passionate about consensual spanking and discipline.
As I walked closer to the hotel I wondered how I would be feeling, sitting in that hotel room, thinking ‘any minute now he could return and I’ll be over his knee…getting the spanking I deserve…the spanking I crave’. I thought of how I would feel if after all that waiting my spanker returned and announced he couldn’t do it. That let-down would haunt me for the rest of my life; as it would Sammi if I had a panic attack now.
Standing beneath the window of the hotel, the faint yellow light lighting the darkness above me, I thought of something Grace had said to me once. How she had been proud of my attempts to change; my determination to challenge myself at every opportunity.
“Take over knee, bare bottom, commence smacking target.” I repeated under my breath as I stumped out the cigarette and walked into the hotel. “Take over knee, bare bottom, commence smacking target,”