woop

First Time On The Bare Bottom

I will always remember the first time I was spanked on my bare bottom. I was about 24 and had fantasized about spanking for years. Finally I noticed a personal ad in a local gay magazine from a guy offering to give spankings. Screwing up my courage, I called the number. The man answered and I blurted out that I was calling about his ad.

"Oh yes," he said "I'd be happy to meet you." Before I knew it we had made a date for me to come to his house the following day. When I hung up I realized we really hadn't talked about me getting a spanking at all.
The next evening, I nervously parked my car in front of his house, tiptoed up the path and rang the bell. The door opened, "Hello there," a pleasant looking man of about 50 looked out. "You must be Spencer, come on in."

I walked into his ordinary looking house. "Take a seat." He motioned to a sofa. "While you still can," he added smiling. He offered me a drink, which I refused and we chatted about this and that, not my spanking.
After about 10 minutes, he abruptly stood up. His friendly tone had hardened somehow as he said, "OK Spencer, it's time for your spanking now." He picked up a chair and placed it in the center of the room. He sat down.

"Come here, Spencer," he said gruffly indicating a spot to his right. I got up and stood where he was pointing.

"Is this your first spanking?" He asked.

"Yes ," I said.

He took me firmly by the arm and pulled me down across his knee. My toes rested on the ground and my hips on his right knee. He kept pulling me forward until my feet barely touched the floor, my head was below his left thigh and my bottom was high above. I'd never been over anyone's knee before and I realized I was in a pretty vulnerable and helpless position. I was going to get a spanking and there wasn't much I could do about it.

Smack!

His hand came down on my bottom. I was shocked not hurt. This man was actually smacking me on the bottom.

Smack!

First on my left cheek, then on my right. The sound of his hand on my tight jeans was surprisingly loud. But it didn't really hurt. After about 20 smacks he stopped.

"Stand up, Spencer," he said.

I struggled to my feet. He didn't say anything, but reached for my belt and unfastened it. Then with experienced fingers he unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped the fly and with swift tug pulled my jeans to my ankles. I stood facing him in my T-shirt and blue striped underwear.

"OK, back over," he patted his knee. I lay back over his knee and he guided me back to the same position, only now without my jeans, I felt more vulnerable than ever.

Slappp!

Smack!

I felt those more right away.

"Ah! That's better!" He Said, "Now your bottom's bouncing."

Smack!

My bottom bounced! It was starting to feel decidedly warm and when some of the smacks landed below the leg band of my skimpy underwear, it was quite painful.

He bounced my bottom about 20 more times, then stopped and told me to stand up. I struggled up to stand beside him once again. Then it happened. One moment I was standing there, the next my underwear was around my ankles. My cock, partially erect, bounced before his face. If he noticed this he said nothing but immediately pulled me back over his knee. This time he pulled me much further forward so that my legs were completely off the ground and my head was near the floor.

It is hard to describe my feelings. If you've never been bare bottomed over another man's knee, you can't really imagine the feeling. The subtle humiliation, the feeling of helplessness and yet a certain feeling of relaxation. The knowledge that you are no longer in control. There was a huge difference between having my underwear on and being bare bottomed.

Slap!

I was getting my first bare bottom spanking. I hadn't been prepared for how much it would hurt. He smacked one cheek at a time, starting fairly softly and then getting progressively harder until his hand fairly rang on my tender bottom. Then he would switch to the other cheek. At each switch my bottom got more and more sore. Then he told me to stand up. He also got up.

"Wait here and leave your pants and underwear down," he instructed. He left the room. I gently felt my bottom. It felt really hot. After a while he returned - carrying a wooden hairbrush! He took his seat again.

"I'm going to finish off by using the hairbrush on you," he said matter-of-factly. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for me to stand practically naked before this man I had never met 30 minutes ago, while he calmly discussed beating my bottom.

"Alright, get over my knee."

I bent over again. He took a firm grip on me.

Crack!

"Yeowwww!" I screamed. This really hurt. He held on tight and continued to beat my bottom.

Crack!

"Now you're getting a spanking, my boy." He said.

"Stop! Stop!" I yelled.

"I'll stop when I'm good and ready and not a moment before," he said, proceeding to bring the brush down harder and harder. I moaned and squirmed but he didn't stop.

Finally, of course it was over. I lay over his lap exhausted. He let me lay there for a while but finally told me to get up. I stood up, holding my bottom, my nakedness all but forgotten.

"Pull up your pants," he said. Gingerly, I eased my underwear and jeans up over my bottom. I didn't say anything to him, I barely even looked at him. I picked up my keys, mumbled a good bye and headed for the door. I realized we would never be friends. It is not possible to be friends with a man who disciplines you that way.

I went to see him a few more times and on subsequent visits got the razor strap and the belt on my bare bottom, but I never forgot the first time a man pulled down my underwear and spanked me on my bare bottom.