I’d had a long day, setting off from home at the crack of dawn to drive to London from Cornwall and I suppose it was asking rather too much to try to drive back in the early evening. I realised that I was becoming dangerously weary by the time I got to the motorway services near Swindon on the M4 and so I surrendered to fate and booked myself into the on-site motel.
With the arrangements sorted out I made my way to my room, flung myself on the king sized bed and allowed myself to doze. I felt much better after about twenty minutes and made myself a cup of tea from the provided facilities. My accommodation was to quite a high standard. I had tea and coffee making facilities, some biscuits, a nice big TV with integral video recorder with and an ensuite bathroom. No need to leave the room till morning apart from getting something to eat, if I could stand the boredom of my situation.
I was on the M4 westbound. Looking at my roadmap it seemed that the nearest accessible place with any pretence of civilisation was Marlborough, unless I counted Swindon and that seemed far too depressing. If I went to Marlborough for a meal I’d have to drive back eastwards down the A4 and get back on the M4 at somewhere like Newbury and drive back down the west bound carriageway making an all inclusive trip of about fifty miles. What nonsense! I decided to chance my luck and have a motorway meal.
Well, actually it wasn’t all that bad. Steak and kidney pie with chips and peas and a large mug of tea and afterwards I just sat at my table and watched my fellow travellers going about their lawful occasions.
I decided to go back to my room and watch TV, but to get something to read at the shop first and so it was that I discovered a range of top shelf books on a theme in which I am quite interested. All the covers showed girls in varying stages of undress and in many instances wearing a variety of chains and leather ware. One thing in common, though, the blurb on the back invariably described a girl getting a severe beating on her (usually bare) bottom!
I bought a book, which had a school theme and not wishing to fully isolate myself at such an early hour, wandered across to the coffee shop and started to thumb through my purchase in the company of a cup of coffee. From where I sat I could see straight into the services shop and glancing up from time to time, noticed a woman of about 40 in a business suit go across to the range of books from which I had made my own recent purchase.
I wasn’t sure at first that it was those particular books which had caught her eye. They were on the top shelf and on the lower shelves were books and magazines of a more general nature. As I watched, I knew exactly the type of reading matter she was interested in buying. She had to look upwards to read the titles and she certainly wasn’t making her choice by looking at those books and periodicals at her own eye level. She glanced casually round at the other customers to make sure nobody was looking at her and reached up to take a volume down from the top shelf. In carrying out this little manoeuvre, she had to stretch her body and her jacket rose with her shoulders revealing her waist and tightening her bottom in a most attractive manner. What really attracted me to her was the fact that the book she had chosen and was now furtively leafing through was the same one, a copy of which, I had so recently bought a copy.
I drained my coffee and strolled across the shop and stood next to her. She didn’t look at me, but kept on reading. Of course I knew I had put her in an embarrassing situation. She couldn’t replace the book without showing me what she had been interested in. I stole a sideways glance at her and nothing that I saw made me alter my first impression that she was a very attractive lady.
‘Good book?’ I asked casually
‘Yes, very’ she replied without really looking up properly.
‘Well I hope you’re right’ I said, ‘I bought a copy of that about half an hour ago’.
She blushed and that did nothing to detract from her looks, but she did replace her copy on the shelf.
She turned to face me and I smiled at her. She smiled back.
‘Fancy a coffee?’ I said, ‘or have you got to be somewhere?’
‘Nowhere special till tomorrow’ she replied, ‘and I’d love a coffee’
We drifted across to the coffee shop and I made the necessary purchases, while she found a table in a quiet corner and sat down.
‘My name’s Ricardo’ I told her.
‘And mine’s Dianne’ she replied completing the formalities.
‘And what brings you here on your own, looking for solace in books of that sort, at this time of night, in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Questions, questions, questions’ she mocked, ‘I might ask you the same!’
I told her that I’d broken my journey and was looking for some literary entertainment prior to calling it a night. She looked at me with a curious expression and seemed to be trying to come to a momentous decision of some sort. I sipped my coffee and waited, wondering what was coming. She seemed to suddenly make her mind up because she swallowed, blushed furiously and said,
‘So, you’ve booked a room here?’
‘Are you on your own?
‘I am tonight’
She was obviously embarrassed about how to go forward and I knew that she wasn’t in the habit of propositioning strange men in motorway services. And to tell the truth I wasn’t in the habit of picking up women in the same circumstances, but this looked like developing into more than a ‘brief encounter’ and variety as they say, is the spice of life.
‘Look’ I said, ‘why don’t you come and see what the room’s like if you’re curious; or better still come and have a nightcap before you go on your way’
I could see the last remnants of caution fly out of the window
‘I’d love to’ said Dianne
I took her arm and steered her towards the exit. We strolled across the car park and into the motel and so up to my room. I held the door open and she walked in and sat down in one of two armchairs.
‘Coffee, tea or something stronger’ I said taking a bottle of Irish whiskey out of my overnight bag, ‘perhaps not as you’re driving’
She looked at me with that same curious quizzical expression which I had seen earlier.
‘Can I tell you something?’ she said suddenly
‘Yes, of course’ I replied, taken slightly off guard by the sudden change of conversational direction.
‘I’ve always been fascinated by the thought of being spanked, and one of the reasons I stop at motorway services is to look at spanking books. They’re not exactly the sort of books you see in my local W H Smith!’
There was a directness and candour about her remarks, which almost took my breath away.
‘Are you telling me that you’ve never been spanked?’ I asked.
Dianne looked at the floor and said, ‘Only once’ and quickly added ‘when I was at school, I saw other girls get spanked or more precisely beaten with slipper, tawse or cane regularly, but I managed to avoid corporal punishment until I was in the sixth form and almost 19 years of age. I was very frightened, but the sexual turn on I experienced when it happened, was very powerful and those feelings have remained with me since that day. I fantasise about being spanked again, but have never found myself in the position of that being a likely turn of events.’
She suddenly looked me full in the face. ‘Perhaps my waiting time might be nearly over?’
‘Tell me what happened that time at school’ I asked, pouring us both a whiskey and adding a splash of lemonade to hers at her request.
‘Well, as I said, I was a sixth former and was caught playing with myself by the games mistress and sent to the Headmistress’s study. She made me bend over her desk and gave me four strokes of the cane over my knickers and tights. I went to the toilets and looked at my bottom and suddenly realised that my thoughts were not concerned with rubbing that, but with rubbing my clitty, which gave me, the most satisfying and explosive orgasm I had ever had. God! I was soaking wet. I still feel horny thinking about it after all this time’
‘I think your years of waiting are about to end’ I said, ‘but with one small difference’
‘Big girls are beaten on their bare bottoms’
Dianne gave a small shiver and a little sigh of anticipation.
‘Dianne’ I commanded ‘Pull your skirt up and your knickers and tights down and get over my knee. I’m going to spank you so hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a week’
‘Oh Good!’ sighed Dianne contentedly.