My first spanking session
The year was 1999, the place a New Orleans, the weather steamy hot. What was I, a conventional English guy, doing as a passenger in a wreaked car driven by a determined lady with her skirt up around her crotch and droplets of sweat on her beautiful face? Well, let me tell you. This is a true story. I say this to convince myself that it wasn't a dream. The whole experience was outside anything I had encountered up to then or since.
I was in New Orleans on business to attend a major conference. This was well before Hurricane Katrina destroyed this unique, bizarre and wonderful city. Rather than stay in the official conference hotel, I decided to stay in the historic French Quarter. Before hand, I had made contact via AOL with a semi-professional spankee to meet her for what was my first ever spanking session.
Through emails and phone calls, I had arranged to meet her in the lobby of my hotel and to take her out to dinner followed by a spanking session in my hotel room. She phoned me shortly before our meeting to say that she had a problem so she would be a little late. I went down to the lobby at the new time and waited, and waited, and waited. I was just about to give up when she dashed in looking somewhat flustered. I knew it was she because she had said that she would be wearing a white ribbon in her hair.
I was somewhat confused because she had told me that she was 34 but she appeared before me as a young girl of 18 or less. The somewhat incongruous ribbon in her hair added to this appearance of youth. Also, she was wearing an extremely minimal black dress with a skimpiness that I have rarely seen in public.
She was quick to apologise for being late saying that she could not find a parking space and, when she found one, she had problems reverse parking because the power steering had failed. She mentioned something about her friend having crashed her car the previous day but I was not listening very closely because I was saying that I did not realise that she was so young. She told me that she really was 34 but that she was often asked for ID when she went into a bar.
We stepped out of the air-conditioned lobby into the steamy heat of New Orleans to seek out a restaurant she knew and liked. I was pleased to see that her micro dress was in no way out of place in New Orleans and was excited by the appreciation that she was obviously receiving from passing men. I was thankful that she had removed the ridiculous white bow in hair.
I will remember that walk for the rest of my life. I had a beautiful young lady by my side and I was happy to soak up the atmosphere of the place. It was intoxicating to hear the sound of live jazz coming from almost every bar, to see the revellers in the street and enjoy the jazz bands and tap dancers busking on every corner. There was also an element of danger because I might have run into one of my colleagues from the conference.
The restaurant was in a typical French-Quarter building with the ironwork terrace balconies. We were taken to a table on one of these balconies so we could see the New Orleans nightlife below us. I really enjoyed conversing with her and I felt that she also enjoyed my company. She recommended the blackened cat fish, which was delicious and new to me.
After our delightful meal we set of back to my hotel. We went back a slightly different route that took us past where she had parked her car. Wow! I could not believe what I saw. Her car was a total wreak. I was not surprised that the power steering had failed. The surprise was that anything at all was working. Clearly, reverse parking had been a problem for her because the car was half blocking the narrow street. Moreover, the parking spot she had chosen was in front of a hotel and clearly marked as a drop-off point with a 20 minutes limit.
Not surprisingly, she had acquired a parking ticket. As she was looking at this, the bellman from the hotel dashed out to say that the police would be back shortly to remove her car. This might have been true but it is just as likely that he just wanted her to remove her wreaked car from the front of his hotel. Whatever the truth was, she decided to move her car to another parking space.
So I found myself sat in a smashed up car next to a beautiful young lady as she drove around the streets of New Orleans. It was steamy hot and the air conditioning on her car had given up along with the power steering. The crash had activated the driver air bag so there was this great blanket hanging form the steering wheel. She was wrestling with the steering and disentangling the air bag from time to time. Her short skirt had risen way up high. The sweat was dripping from her pretty face. Her determination was awesome.
With some difficulty, she eventually found another parking space and we headed back on foot to my hotel.
At last we were in my air-conditioned hotel room. As this was my first spanking experience, I was nervous and tentatively asked if she had any rules and limits. She said, that she could take anything I could give her and I could do what I wanted. She asked if I wanted her to put anything on or take anything off.
I will say no more about the spanking experience itself except that this remains the most wonderful one I have had. Afterwards, I was happy to pay her the agreed price and to pay for her parking fine. Actually, by UK standards, the fine was laughably small, little more than we are used to paying as a parking fee.
After returning home, I contacted her to thank her. She said that she had been able to drive her car back to her place just as it gave out completely. Later she told me that a boyfriend of hers had given her one of these dinky little Mazda sports cars. The next time I was in that part of the world, I tried to meet her again but she had moved to Florida. She was prepared to come to see me if I paid for her air fair. Well, I am not that rich so it was not to be.
I am grateful that my first spanking experience was both good and particularly memorable. If there are any potential but nervous spankers out there, I give them every encouragement to go for it. They may end up with a story to tell like mine.
David of spankeefinder