It was my very first nine to five job. A macho, mainly male environment; I was teased and taken the mickey out of constantly. I tried to give as good as I got but it was tough. I’d never even heard swears like the ones which came out of their mouths, regularly.
So it was a surprise when I was invited to accompany the bosses and some clients to the annual industry awards at a fancy London hotel.
I was young and inexperienced at stuff like this. I was the only female apart from the bosses wives. Awkward. You can guess what happened next. Yup, I got drunk. Nerves got the better of me, my wine glass kept getting refilled and I was suddenly steaming.
I remember going to the ladies a couple of times, swaying in my heels and clutching my handbag, trying to look more sophisticated than I was.
The second time on my way back, I bumped into one of the clients from our table. He asked if I was okay, led me to a nearby sofa and got me a pint of water and made me drink it. This guy, rather than my boss was looking after me, making sure I was okay and didn’t make a fool of myself. It was like having my Dad on the scene, but in a good way.
I returned to the table, by which time the dinner was served. I ate it all and felt better. The awards ended, the night was over and we all started to leave.
Somehow, the client and I colluded to both end up at mine. I remember some guff about separate cabs to avoid suspicion. I gave him my address and waited nervously for him.
He was married with kids, at least double my age, and a client of the company but there was something about him. And thus began our affair.
I don’t recall the sex or if it was any good. I’m guessing not. I vaguely remember how he smelled and the stubble as he rubbed my lips with his mouth. He was a great kisser. But he wasn’t in great shape and the sight of him naked didn’t really do it for me. He had a paunch and terrible, terrible greying underwear. But from the first time he spanked me I was absolutely smitten.
He would use his palm right where it hurt, on the tender part of my ass so it stung like hell. He’d put me across his knee like a naughty child and start slapping. And my cunt would drip with fear and I’d beg him to stop. Sometimes he’d hold my hands together as well so I couldn’t wriggle away. Sometimes he’d tease my pussy with his fingers while he slapped. But I loved it. The eternal seesaw between pain and pleasure, control and surrender. Knowing this man wasn’t even mine and that he was an important client of the company gave it a special twist. I seemed to drive him wild. He bought me a cane, but only he would only ever use it on me. He’d bend me over the bed and give me a good hiding, but never too much so I couldn’t walk. There was no S&M element to it. Just good clean fun.
I lapped it up.
The caning was a prelude to sex normally, I needed it to turn me on.
His dirty talk began to include him asking me to sleep with other guys and then tell him about it in great detail. Like a good girl, I did as I was told. When I actually told him about being with someone for the first time, he got too jealous.
I realised the difference between fantasy and reality.
And I never did find anyone willing to spank me again.