Being that I began to work in the later months of my 15th year, and now at 16 working full time, it gave me new kinds of freedom that I had yet to experience. The institutionalized fear was still there, it had always been there so it was going to take many years to break the cycle of being mentally controlled, I would even go as far as to say that even at 43 years old there are still aspects that affect me when forming relationships. The defense mechanism that has always been present to prevent myself from getting hurt, it probably isn’t always a good thing; however it allows me to maintain control of myself and my own destiny.

When I started to work I formed a relationship with this girl who like myself, had had a very rough time growing up. She was also 16 and like most young people from council estates back in England at that time (1979) she was economically forced to earn her own keep and contribute as a financial source to the family. We actually hit it off really well and were very soon doing all the flirtatious teasing and immature things that young people do. Being that both of us were not in a position of wanting to introduce each other to the hidden aspects of our lives, we would spend our time hanging out in secluded areas. Sitting in parks at night, finding spots in vast fielded areas where we could hide and fool around, petting and groping and even just laying there snuggled up together.

A big part of the fooling around of course was my swatting her butt at every opportunity I had, there had never been any nudity up until that point other than hands going through clothing during the make out sessions, a blue ball nightmare if you ask me, lol. Still, any spanks that were landed were on her jeans, her skirt, her slacks, pretty much whatever she was wearing on any given day. She only ever put up token resistance and every time it happened it was always accompanied by roars of laughter and fun. The very first time that changed, and the image that I always associate with spanking, happened one day at her Mum’s house.

This was the first time that I had ever been in her Mum’s house and even to this day I don’t recall where her Mum was that day. All I do remember is that she had invited me to come to her house after work as we would be able to have a couple of hours inside a house for once, instead of sitting in a park or a secluded field. We rode our bikes the two miles or so and entered her house through the backyard, in hindsight this was perhaps because she didn’t want any nosy neighbours catching her bringing a boy home and then having to explain that to her Mum. In no time at all the two of us were laying on the couch making out, my hormones raging as I held one hand onto the back of her head and the other grasping her bottom underneath her skirt.

The petting was hot and heavy and my mind was only in one place, was this going to be the first time we went all the way? At some point in the proceeding she literally had to push me off her as she made some excuse about getting a drink, at my age now I completely understand that she was probably fighting the urge just as hard as I was, and in her situation being that it was her Mum’s house I don’t blame her for one minute. So yet again I was left with the complete frustration that all teens go through as I waited patiently for her to return. When she returned, instead of sitting next to me she sat on the edge of the couch that we were making out on.

I was like a rampant bull though, watching her sit there flustered and sipping at a glass of water I edged myself over to where she was. There was nothing stopping my desire to continue with our make out session though, and very soon my hands were all over this girl who had suddenly turned into the ice queen. I’m not sure if it was her teasing, or whether or not she just knew that she shouldn’t carry on, but all of my advances were being rejected completely. The next thing she did is the one that has plagued my mind for 27 years though, it was the thing that set in motion my real life experiences in the spanking world and forms an image that I always want to seem to create.

As my amorous self continued to try and persuade my prey, something bratty came into her mind, it seemed obvious that she felt I needed cooling down a bit and she poured a decent amount of water over my head. At first I was stunned until she let out a rapturous laugh, and then I didn’t even stop to think about what I was going to do. I unceremoniously hauled her off the arm of the couch and straight across my lap, the glass holding the remains of the water flying across the floor. Now I had never done anything like this before with her, everything that we had done had been with disheveled clothing, but this time without even thinking I immediately raised her short skirt in a flash.

My eyes bulged; there beneath me is this squirming girl whose bottom is covered by these flimsy white nylon panties and a hand that is furiously working to either pull down her skirt, or to stop my hand descending upon her bottom by trying to cover it, even perhaps just trying to maintain a little dignity and not allow me to stare at her uncovered rear. Now I obviously knew that what she was wearing was of some type of silky material as my hand had been groping it for 20 minutes or so, but this was the first time that I got to see her whole bottom in all it’s glory, anything prior to that had been quick little glimpses and peeks of her bra, her undies, her thigh, this was actually the first time that I had seen her lower half completely uncovered, save for her panties of course.

Now that I have had many experiences in the spanking world I realize that what I did next would not be an acceptable practice, but I was only 16 years old at the time and didn’t know any better. I raised my hand and brought it down onto her bottom and continued spanking the seat of her panties until she was able to push herself off of me, perhaps only a total of 20 smacks before she hit the floor. God if I only knew then what I knew now as she screamed at me “You arsehole”, then looked at the floor and said in a frightened tone “Look at this mess”

It was like the spanking never took place as we scampered to get paper towels to clean up the water. I’m sure at some point soon the water would have just dried, but it wasn’t doing so at the precise moment that we were trying to clean it. The best remedy we were able to come up with was to place the footstool over the wet area. Before long any amorous desires had left and very shortly I was also out of the door leaving behind a pretty distraught young lady, as I got on my bike and just rode around not wanting to go home. As much as I was mad that there was a possibility that she was going to get in trouble, the main thought that kept playing itself over and over in my mind was hauling her off the arm of the sofa and flipping up her skirt. Not only did I think about it all that night, I still think about it to this day. Whenever I spank a girl and I lift up her skirt, if she is wearing some form of bikini styled white nylon/silk panties then the pinnacle of my spanking world is revisited, and the session always turns into a very enjoyable one for me. Its amazing how one small act can have such a powerful effect on one person’s life.

After that event our relationship went downhill from there, we did see each other every day but we started to hang out less and less. Eventually she left her Mum’s house and ended up in a young girl’s shelter with 50 or so other troubled young ladies. I visited her there a few times but it wasn’t long before we no longer worked together and stopped seeing each other altogether. After having my own troubles for several years I did bump into her just one time, she was now 21, Married and had 3 children including a set of twins. Now that I have immigrated to America I do still wonder if everything turned out alright for her. My next piece will cover a very long dry spell, and coming to terms with the fact that I thought I was a total freak for having these spanking desires.