Deluded Masochists – Grant felt a frisson of excitement and shame ripple through him.
He had just made an appointment on the internet with a woman disciplinarian.
The excitement was at the thought of finally working up enough courage to do something that had long been a desire, a fantasy, a fixation since early childhood – he was going to get his bottom smacked by a woman.
“Ooooph!” He sucked in air at the image of his pants being pulled down and being put over a woman’s knee. “Ooooph!”
The shame came from the same thoughts. What would his mates think of him if they could see him?
Oh, but they couldn’t!
He was at last going to satisfy a 20-year yearning. And he had less than a day to wait.
He caught the 10.15 train to London the following morning after a night spent tossing and turning in bed as his mind was full of expectation at the coming act of submission. Would she be young or old? He didn’t know. Either would do. How hard would she spank him? What would she use?
A slipper or cane?
Her hand, perhaps?
The thoughts wouldn’t leave him, or so he thought as he tossed and turned. But he did also sleep, though he woke up early.
On the train, he imagined that on the return journey his bottom would be stinging too hard for him to sit down, and he would have to stand for the hour-long trip back home. What would the other passengers think? He would attract their attention.
…Oh, so what?! I could have a boil on my bum! Or I could dislike sitting that long. They wouldn’t think I’d been to a woman disciplinarian. I could walk through the other carriages, and come back again. I could…oh, sod ’em!
Grant had a 20-minute walk from the station to the address. He was taken aback by the house.
It was a mansion. Not the biggest in the long street of wealth-on-show, couldn’t-care-less mansions, but still a mansion. He checked and double-checked the address. It was the same as the one he’d got written down. He took a deep breath, straightened himself and approached the double-door.
He pressed the bell-push and a long, melodious chime rang out.
He breathed hard and waited and waited till eventually one of the doors opened. He stared at the figure in front of him.
She was a smartly-dressed woman, in a well-fitting black skirt and white top, and she was stunning. Everything about her spelt wealth, from her fabulously coiffured blonde hair to her so-smart shoes. Grant didn’t know anything about women’s dresses, but even he could tell that her simple outfit must have cost a small fortune.
“Come in, Grant,” said the perfect woman. Grant could find no fault in her. Even her age seemed perfect, a few years older than him. He stepped inside. She was at least two inches taller than Grant’s 5ft 8.
“Take off your shoes,” she instructed him as she closed the door.
He took them off, making him slightly smaller still. He was standing in a huge hallway.
“We’ll go and have a little chat first,” she said.
As she walked in front of him, he couldn’t help but study her superb bottom swaying so suggestively in her tight skirt.
Oooh! If only I could pat that sweet bum. “Oooph!” he said to himself.
She heard his whispered yearning and turned round.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just following you,” he stuttered.
“Mm, and enjoying my derriere.”
She looked at him. “You’ll get your derriere closely examined before too long.” She smiled.
Oh, she’s even more gorgeous when she smiles!
She continued walking down a long corridor before she stopped and opened a door.
“In there,” she said.
He entered a book-lined study with a desk and two chairs opposite each other.
“Sit down,” she instructed and went round to sit on the bigger swivel chair. She pressed a buzzer and seconds later a man in a smart suit came in.
“Tea or coffee?” she asked Grant.
“Er, tea please.”
“Tea for two, Walter.”
Walter nodded his head and exited.
“Now I’ll introduce myself. I’m Serena.”
“Pleased to meet you, Serena.”
He held his hand out. She shook it.
“What’s going through your mind right now?”
“Amazement. This mansion…and you…you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He said it without thinking because it was so natural. The words came out of their own volition.
“That’s very sweet of you.”
“I always like to spend half-an-hour or so getting to know a newcomer. What’s your story, Grant?”
He told her. It was so easy talking to her, this most attractive of women, he told her everything.
She learnt that he was self-sufficient in funds, having been left a house and savings worth almost £1million by his late, divorced father. He’d given up his job and was trying to write a book. He lived in a nice, little house and was currently all alone. He and his girlfriend had recently split up. He was also good-looking.
Made to measure, she thought.
Walter came in with two small pots of tea, two small jugs of milk, two cups and saucers and two spoons. He placed them on the desk.
“Thank you, Walter.”
“Ma’am.” He bowed slightly and departed.
They each poured tea and a slight dash of milk.
“Sorry,” said Serena, “do you want sugar?”
“No, no, I don’t take sugar with anything. What sort of tea is this? It tastes slightly different from my normal tea.”
“That’s because it is. It’s black tea.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. Supposed to be a pick-me-up.”
“So they say. I just like its taste.”
“Yes, it’s nice.” He poured himself another drink. “Mm.”
“What’s your book about?”
“Good question. I’m not sure how I…I’ll develop…Oh…Oh…Oh…”
His last memory was of Serena taking his cup as he fell into deep unconsciousness.
Grant was well and truly out for the count.
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