Ron and Rhianna's First Meeting

The following is a true story of the first time I met my master, Ron. Since this memorable day two years ago, we have become best friends, lovers, and partners who choose a full time (24/7) D&s relationship. Although there is an increasingly diverse array of D&s material now, Ron and I had to find our own way through trial and error. We know only that Ron has lived with fantasies of domination, and I with intense desires to submit, since we were very young. Our relationship has become the fulfillment of lifelong yearnings. We hope that this story, and subsequent stories we will share in Master Wilde's Castle, will entertain and also help others learn about D&s relationships.

I awoke with a start when the alarm sounded. Today was the day I thought would never come. Today I would receive my first spanking. Ron had promised many times in our frequent phone calls that he would turn me across his knees and spank me the moment we arrived home from the airport. I lay in bed, wide eyed with my heart racing. What in the world was I doing? I was in my forties, a successful Vice President of a national firm and CEO of a regional office. I was well known and respected in my community as a strong willed, no nonsense businesswoman who managed almost 1000 employees with humor and high expectations. I intimidated most people with my sharp intelligence and the rest with my direct gaze. I was a self-made woman and my trendy, new home reflected the financial success my years of work had brought.

But I had another side that no one, not my family or my former husband or my lovers, had ever been allowed to see. I longed to be dominated. Most of all, I longed to be spanked. The idea of being put in the time honored, humiliating position across someone's lap was exceedingly erotic to me. I had fantasized about being spanked for as long as I could remember. My lifelong search for movies or books with spanking scenes eventually led my to the Internet and it was there that I met Ron.

Ron was unlike any of the others I began to correspond with. Eventually I had only the time and the emotional stamina to maintain correspondence with him. He took control immediately, giving me orders almost daily and dishing out punishments when I did not obey his requirements or when my naturally sassy demeanor displayed itself. He required me to purchase corsets and thongs and stockings and punished me when I did not wear them and report to him daily. His messages thrilled me. He scolded me when I cursed and ordered me to stand in the corner with my pants down for 20 minutes when I disobeyed his orders. He questioned me incessantly and made me write long answers about my fantasies, my life and my sexual experiences. I asked him all the questions I could never ask anyone else. Why did I want to be spanked? What were sex toys? What did he mean about pushing my limits?

Gradually, I began to trust. Ron was honest about his life, his desires, his work, and his family. He told me far more than I was willing to tell him. He gave me his phone number and encouraged me to call. I finally had the nerve while on a business trip in another state. He could not trace me with caller ID, I reasoned. Once I made the fateful first call, we talked often. I lived for the times when he would be stern on the phone. When he issued orders, I would be required to say "Yes Sir." At first, I could hardly say the words. "Yes what?" Ron would say and warmth would flow through my groin. "Yes Sir" I would say in a small voice I did not recognize as mine.

Today Ron was flying in to see me. Ron and I had exchanged pictures. I had even sent pictures of my house because Ron was so detailed in planning for my first spanking. I wanted him to enjoy the wait as much as I was. But now I was scared. Did a spanking really hurt a lot? Would I cry? Would he like me as much as I liked him? Would we have sex? Would I be too embarrassed to go through with it? That thought brought a smile to my lips. I doubted that I would have any choice in the matter. Ron was not intimidated by me. I had not been successful in manipulating him as I did everyone else. I had even tried my little temper tantrums--the ones that sent everyone in my office, or everyone in my family, scurrying. Ron had sternly told me to "Settle down." and not to "...use that tone of voice with me." It was beginning to sink in that I had finally met my match.

I shuddered with that last thought and quickly jumped out of bed. "Only think good thoughts." I told myself. My refusal to give in to fear or negative thoughts of any kind had brought me through more trying situations than this one. And anyway, I never backed down. This day would answer the questions I had pondered all my life. If nothing else, I would find out what a spanking felt like.

I took a long shower and rubbed body lotion all over my long legs and my soft, white bottom. It might as well be prepared for the sacrificial ritual. I dressed with particular care, my ivory corset and matching panties, stockings, my teal suit and ivory blouse, ivory shoes and bag. I would wear my ivory wool coat to the airport. The morning flew by when I wanted it to drag. I could not permit myself more than fleeting thoughts about the afternoon as I went about my CEO duties. The whole morning was taken up with an executive staff meeting that I led, fleetingly thinking that my singular command of my world was about to be tested. I ended the meeting promptly at noon, gathered some papers in my briefcase and tried to act nonchalant as I bid my secretary goodbye for a well earned few days of vacation.

I stopped at a florist to purchase the long stemmed red rose he had 'requested' I bring to him. That was when the panic first hit. I felt conspicuous, like everyone knew I was going to meet someone, everyone knew I was going to be spanked. I almost fled the store while the clerk slowly and meticulously wrapped the one rose. Almost flinging the money as the astonished woman, I fled the store and headed for the airport.

It didn't help that the drive was so long. I put my favorite music on and sang at the top of my lungs. Why did I feel so free? It struck me that I was almost euphoric. Thinking about the spanking made me wet and I didn't want my panties to be wet when he arrived. What if he touched them? I must keep calm.

I was standing to the side of the gate, red rose against the white coat, when I saw him. He was huge, much taller than I had expected. He turned and recognized me, then smiled and walked toward me. I was embarrassed--perhaps for the first time in my life. I couldn't look at his face but I was drawn to it at the same time. His eyes were electric. They smiled, but in a knowing way that demanded attention, that communicated his total control. How did he do that? I looked down like a little schoolgirl. Damn, I had to get control. I thrust the rose at him.

"Here's the rose you told me to bring." (Oh, how unromantic. I could have kicked myself!)

"Thank you, little one." (Yes, that was the voice I knew.)

He gently touched my chin and lifted my face, but I pulled away quickly. At the baggage area, he put his arm around me, feeling the stays in the corset.

"Nice," he said. (Oh, my god, now everyone in the airport knows what we are going to do.)

He reached out and took the keys to my car then opened the passenger door for me. He had established his driving as one of the rules long before. When he went around the car to get in, I fought the urge to run. But he was expecting the contract. Several weeks ago, he had required me to write a contract giving him authority over me, authorization to spank me and/or punish me as he saw fit. I had printed it on expensive paper and signed on my line. When I took it out of the glove box and handed it to him, he read it carefully, smiled his approval and signed on his line. Then he folded it and put it in the inside pocket of his coat. I felt a stab of fear as I realized I was already loosing control.

The ride home was much worse than I had expected. He held my hand and talked about mundane things. His slid my skirt up and patted the garters and stockings approvingly. His voice was soothing but it did nothing to ease my mounting tension. I fidgeted and babbled like an idiot about the countryside, the river, anything but what I knew was coming. He had told me we would go straight to my house but as we left the interstate, my panic became unbearable and I chose a route that took us almost an hour out of the way. Finally realizing what was occurring; Ron spoke sternly for the first time.

"That's enough fooling around. We are going straight home... now."

I recognized that voice, and much as I hated to admit it, I always lost my nerve completely and obeyed when he used his stern tone.

"I have to go to the bathroom" I announced several blocks from home.

"Is this another delay tactic?" he asked sternly.

"No, I really have to go." I warned him.

By the time I took the keys to open the front door, my hands were shaking. He casually took my coat and motioned to the bathroom off the front hall. (Damn, how can he be so calm? He doesn't have any nerves. He acts like he is in total control, in command of everything.) I did have to pee badly, probably from nerves as well as the long ride. Then I stood at the bathroom door preparing for my final argument.

I opened the door expecting to see him standing there ready to catch me. Instead, he stood in the great room, turning casually as I came into the hall. He looked huge and forbidding. He was totally resolute, not a doubt in the universe. Damn. I felt like a little kid.

"Do we have to do this now?" I asked in a desperate voice.

"Absolutely" he answered in a warm but firm voice. "Come here."

Only someone totally sure of themselves would tell me to 'come here' when it was obvious I wanted to flee. I was so startled that I began walking toward him, too late realizing that flight just may be the better part of valor. As I started to run, he reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the couch. In one fluid movement, he sat down, pulled me down beside him and guided me across his lap.

I was startled, but before I had time to react, Ron was bringing his firm hand down on my skirt-clad bottom, administering the spanking I had always longed for. I was aware that it didn't really hurt, but I was frozen with humiliation. After about 10 smacks, Ron kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"God, how long is this going to last?" I thought. "How dare he make himself comfortable? What nerve!" Later I would wonder what he had said to me while he spanked me. I was only aware of my face buried in my hands and the strange feeling of lying across his lap.

Suddenly he began to pull my skirt up.

"No, please" I begged and put my hand behind me to stop him.

Ron casually grabbed my wrist and held it against my back as he raised my skirt then pulled my panties tight between my cheeks. This time the spanking hurt, not badly, but it stung and I felt the surge of pleasure in my stomach. I knew I was getting wet and was terrified that he would touch me and find out.

"Well, little one, I see that you are responding to my correction." Ron purred.

That did it. I was ready to cry. Ron seemed to sense that it was enough for the first time. He let go of his hold on me and I slid to the floor, burying my head in my hands.

"No, no little one, come and give me a kiss."

Ron pulled me up on the couch beside him but I could not face him. Shame and embarrassment filled me and I began to cry softly.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said as he pulled my face to his. Then he gently kissed me.

"Okay, let's have a tour of the house." Ron broke the spell that had locked us both in overwhelming emotion ever since Ron and I saw each other at the airport.

I almost kissed him in gratitude then, jumping up in a frenzy of nervous activity.

"I have wine and cheese and crackers," I babbled as I ran to the kitchen.

Pouring wine was oddly 'normalizing' and I drank a full glass in two gulps. I wanted to be 'normal,' playing the hostess role I was so used to. I carried the wine and plate of cheese and crackers into the living room and poured myself another glass, which I promptly gulped down. Suddenly I was feeling the wine and remembered that I had forgotten to eat all day. Ron could see that I was getting tipsy. As I reached to pour myself another glass of wine, he took the bottle from my hands and sat it on the table.

"You've had enough wine for now, don't you think?" he said pleasantly.

"Oh, not nearly enough" I assured him as I began to fill my glass again.

With a sudden movement that took me totally off guard, Ron lifted the wine bottle out of my hands, sat it on the table and pulled me across his lap once again. This time, he pulled my panties down before he began giving me a thorough and much more stinging spanking. I howled and protested every smack.

"Don't you dare pull my panties down" "Ow, that hurts" "Let me up. I just wanted some wine." I cried.

Ron continued the spanking for quite awhile and I realized that he had been kind during my first spanking, easing me into it. This time, I had disobeyed and this spanking was a punishment. It hurt and it was wonderful all at the same time. I was stunned. I felt totally cared for, totally safe, totally loved for the first time in my life. Lying across his lap, being spanked for disobeying his command to stop drinking, I felt the fulfillment I had sought but didn't know how to find. It was an emotional and a sexual release all at the same time. Someone had finally said "no" to me and made it stick!

Rhianna

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