There was nothing in Celia's childhood that would explain why she became a submissive. Her parents were happily married, and she didn't come from a broken or abusive home. She was, occasionally, spanked for misbehaving but not excessively.
But as she grew up and into her sexuality, she found that the idea of being disciplined intrigued her more and more.
When her first serious boyfriend came along, the guy she lost her virginity to, she found that nothing aroused her more than presenting her bottom to him during sex. She loved doggy style, and hottest of all was lying on her stomach with her ass in the air, bent, tight and vulnerable. She wanted desperately to ask him for a spanking. But she was too embarrassed, and the words stuck in her throat.
She'd heard that you could pay for a dominant to administer chastisement, but she couldn't imagine herself doing that. She was a good, middle-class girl whose hobbies were chess and dancing. She didn't belong in that world.
Just after Christmas and just before her twenty-first birthday, Celia split with her boyfriend. It was angry and painful, and she cried a lot. She rather withdrew from society for a while. She'd sit up late, surfing the internet and drinking wine alone. And during this unhappy phase, she found a writer's website for people who wrote stories about spanking and discipline. She began to read stories, both real and imagined, and found that the written word was surprisingly alluring. Celia read about wives and girlfriends submitting to spanking, caning and paddling and was surprised to find that her body reacted...the stories turned her on.
One story she found actually mirrored a fantasy of hers with almost uncanny accuracy and, as she read, Celia, still sitting, reached into her panties and slipped her fingers inside...oh God, she pictured herself stretched over a desk, like the girl in the story, and now her pants were being firmly yanked down. She pressed on her clit and tickled in the right spots, but it wasn't enough. Impulsively, Celia stood, bent over the computer desk and smacked her own bottom five times with her left hand. It felt good, her flesh warming up like that. Her fingers stroked and teased her genitals, and she smacked her own butt again and a minute of frantic jerking in her pussy later and ...she came. Whoa.
She self-spanked and masturbated three more times, on three more nights before she decided. She had to try the real deal. She could self spank, but it left her unsatisfied. She wanted a paddling or a caning. She hit the forums, looking for a corporal punishment experience.
It took a lot of weeding out. Eventually, she replied to one advertisement from a man who was asking for a BDSM partner, someone to share a first experience at the hands of a master. She reasoned that she might actually feel safer in a group of three...and she could watch a live thrashing as a spectator.
It was very formal. She had to make a payment and sign a disclaimer. The contract outlined the scenario (they were to pretend to be siblings that had been caught shoplifting) and the procedure. She was told she would receive six strokes, but more could be added for noncompliance once the punishment had begun. There was also a safe word to remember, which would end the punishment immediately.
Celia arrived early and met Joaquim for coffee. He was tall, six foot like her, and thin. His black hair, flecked with grey, was swept back.
"Thank you for doing this. I've been trying to act this out for a long time. I'll be honest, I'd almost given up.”
“On finding someone?”
“On finding the right person. To be honest, I’ve been looking for someone who could…pass as my sister. Just, the same age, height etc,”
Celia smiled. Looking closely at his face, she saw that he could, just about, pass as her brother.
"I'm sorry. I have to ask. You want to be beaten alongside your sister?"
He considered his reply.
"Yes. It's hard to explain. I don't expect it to happen, but I enjoy the idea of it. I don’t want to have sex with her. Being punished alongside her is just... something I've fantasized about."
"What's behind this? It's a weird fantasy."
"I know. I feel guilty about it, trust me. When we were about seventeen, my sister, Carlota, and I, we got in trouble with the police. We both got a beating from dad, and he punished us together in the same room. We both had to bend over and...my erection popped up. It's terribly embarrassing. I'm hoping that acting it out as an adult will get it out of my system."
Celia liked Joaquim, almost despite herself. He had a disarming sincerity and frankness about him. She'd feared he would turn out to be a total freak or a creep. But she was fairly at ease with him. He came across as a painfully shy and repressed man more than anything else.
The time of their appointment drew close.
Celia was getting nervous about the caning she was to receive. How much would it hurt? She'd read so many stories. Some had emphasized the pain. Some the humiliation. Some had focused on the story behind the thrashing. How would it feel? Would the real-life experience turn her on, the way reading about it did?
The appointed hour came. They knocked at the door of the apartment. An older man, in his fifties, opened the door. He was bald and wore a red sweater and jeans. He was the picture of a headmaster.
"Joaquim and Celia?"
"Yes."
"You're late," he barked angrily.
"Get in and take your shoes off."
Celia realised, as she slipped her trainers off, that the man wasn't being rude. He was in character.
In socks, they were shown into a study -like living room. There was a TV, a red leather chair and a large bookcase. The man had them stand in front of him, side by side.
"What have you two got to say for yourselves?"
"Nothing, Sir."
"Nothing? I'd have thought stealing would give us plenty to talk about. Did you encourage your little sister?"
Joaquim shook his head and, as ridiculous as it sounds, Celia briefly resented her "brother" for not sticking up for her and condemning her to punishment.
"What about you, Celia?"
She shook her head. The actor was very good. Celia knew it was a show, of course. But her heart really was palpitating as if she were being thoroughly scolded as a child.
The master looked at them long and hard. Celia felt unable to meet his gaze. Looking down, she glanced sideways and saw Joaquim’s pants were bulging as if he were hard.
At last, the master spoke.
"I'm going to reach your consciences through the old-fashioned route. Through your bottoms. If you want to take responsibility and save your sibling a thrashing, speak now."
Silence.
"OK. You had your chance. Prepare for the whipping of your lives."
He went over to a cupboard hanging on the wall. When he'd unlocked it, Celia saw three long school canes of three different thicknesses. The master selected the middle, medium thick one and closed the cupboard. Celia felt a surge of excitement...this was it! It felt as if she were about to face a great adventure, one she had thought about for a long time.
"You," he said, indicating Joaquim.
"Come here."
Joaquim shuffled forward, his head bowed, until he was right by the master.
"Get those trousers down, boy. Underpants too."
Celia watched, transfixed, as Joaquim lowered his trousers. His back was to her, so she saw only his ass as his pants came down, but between his legs she could make out...