An open letter to HH, my South African disciplinarian

An open letter to HH, my South African disciplinarian:

My joy, my excitement, when I found your profile, had me restless all night long. Your frank statement that you enjoy spanking female bottoms and your explanation of a session with you had made it seem that there were thousands of little butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Your detailed introduction to adult spanking for novices like me, a hand spanking to warm up a willing bottom, and for the shy at heart at first, and an allowance to be clothed had my undivided attention. And there it was! A firm, quiet but non-negotiable demand, that the baring of the bottom will be inevitable. Quivers went down my spine, reverberating into the muscles of my bottom with your insistence that the hand spanking will continue, until the soft flesh raised and presented to you has taken on a hue of rosy pink.

The change in pace and intensity described in the change-over to a wooden paddle, that will alter the  degree of sensation, the stinging of the hand spanking changing into a deeper burn, felt deeper as the paddle finds it mark had my bottom clenching in sympathy. I could imagine how the rosy pink was slowly turning into a crimson red as the bottom yielded to the paddle.

But the final instalment of the session gripped me, an answering response within my soul, and I knew that you were to be the one. The swish of a cane, striking a reddened bottom, the fiery fire across a sensitive bottom that is already burning within from what went before, and raising the sensitive flesh, marking it as its own.

When I sent you the first mail on that night and seeing your mail in my inbox the next day, my heart was pounding so hard, for it had now become a reality. I remember on agreeing to meet you; I was literally counting down the hours, the anticipation creating moments of sheer terror mixed with utter desire. When you sat down at the table in the coffee shop, looking at me with that slight knowing smile that I have become so accustomed to by now, I knew that my life was about to change.

Any control I might have thought to possess, you have removed without any effort. You brush aside my nervous bluster and flip answers when you change a rule deliberately, only quietly promising retribution if I do not desist. You have allowed me my initial shyness but which is now ignored, your hands lifting my dress and lowering my panties, baring my bottom, your canvas to change in hues of pink and red.

How well you saw through me, my South African disciplinarian, the day I stepped onto the road where I belong, the day I met you in a coffee shop, the day I asked you, a total stranger then, if you would please spank me!