Vanessa's Journal
Background
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As I said, my name is Vanessa, I am a 22 year old Hairdresser, long, almost
Blond hair, 5 foot 1 inch tall, with a 34A-24-35, 95 pound figure. I'm not a
stunner to look at, just your average young woman. I've never had a great deal
of luck with men, and have been on my own for a few months now (I live on my own
in a little Flat). My friends say that I should be more outgoing, but that's
just not me. I live in a small town in North Wales where life is so dull and
boring, and everyone knows everyone else's business.
I started getting ideas when one of my colleges, Mandy, found a Bondage and
Discipline magazine with the other magazines in the Salon's waiting area. She
was going to throw it in the rubbish bin, but I asked her to leave it where it
was, saying that it would spice-up the place a bit. That afternoon, I
deliberately kept myself busy, and hung around until all the other girls had
gone home saying that I would lock-up when I'd finished, nothing special in
that, one of us often stays back to finish something. Next afternoon, Mandy was
looking for 'that' magazine, but couldn't find it. I said that one of the
customers had probably pinched it. What I didn't say was that it was me that
took it home with me the previous afternoon.
Ever since I was a little girl of about 10 or 11, whenever my Dad spanked me for
being a bad girl, I used to get these funny feelings, not the pain, but I
suppose that that must have had something to do with it. As I got older, I used
to get a bit 'wet', and couldn't understand it. I used to almost look forward to
the spankings, especially the ones where Dad would make me take my skirt and
knickers off before putting me over his knee. Once I had discovered masturbation
I would always have a good play with myself in bed afterwards. The last spanking
that Dad gave me was when I was nearly 18. I'd stayed out late with my friends
once too often, and Dad could smell the alcohol on me when I got home. He really
gave me a good thrashing that night, and he was that mad that he made me take
all of my clothes off first. My Mum wasn't any help, she just said that I had
been bad and deserved to be punished. It didn't help that my 13 year old brother
was in the same room all the time. I was so embarrassed, and boy, did my
backside glow, but at the same time I was getting so wet that I was sure that
Dad would say something.
A few months later, I got the chance to move into a Flat with a female friend
and I did. In a way I missed the spankings, and the feelings that went with
them. I once managed to get one of my boyfriends to spank me, he didn't enjoy
it, but I did.
Right, that's enough of the history, now to how I changed my life forever.
When I got home with 'that' magazine, I read it over and over. I was really
intrigued by the stories and the pictures. It was all new to me, nobody around
me ever talked about anything remotely like that. I kept reading it over and
over again over the next couple of weeks, and when it was quiet in the Salon, I
usually ended up thinking about what I had read and seen. I had to wash a lot of
knickers at the end of those weeks. One time when I was reading the adverts
again, one suddenly jumped-out at me, and I started thinking 'could I'? Well,
after a few days, I decided that I would reply to the advert and see what
happened.
The ad was from a middle-aged man in the East Midlands of England, who was
looking for a 'submissive, live-in house-keeper'. I wrote a letter explaining a
bit about myself, and after a few times of losing my nerve, I finally posting
it. About a week later, I received a letter from him, and got all excited
reading it on the bus on the way to work. In the letter he explained that the
job would not be very demanding, and wouldn't pay much, but there again, I
wouldn't have much to buy, as he would buy everything for me. He also explained
that I should expect to be punished every time that I made a mistake, or was
disobedient. He also enclosed a photograph of himself, and asked that if I was
still interested, then I should write to him again and enclose a photograph of
myself, preferably without clothes on. Well, I didn't have any photos like that,
so when I wrote again, I enclosed a photograph of me in a bikini, and apologised
saying that even if I had dared to get any nude photographs taken, I could never
get them developed in the town where I lived.
When Jon wrote to me again, he told me a bit more about the job, the hours, and
what he would expect of me. He also explained that punishment comes in more
forms than just spankings, and referred me to the magazine that the advert had
been in. He then stated that I was to go over to his place for the weekend for a
formal interview, and for us to 'get to know each other' before a final
commitment would be made by either of us. He also assured me that no harm would
come to me, that I could leave at anytime and that he would pay all my expenses.
I was to send him a letter stating which bus or train I would be arriving on,
and that he would meet me at the station.
Well, it's one thing writing to someone, but another thing actually going to
their house for a weekend when you haven't even met them. I was in a right
quandary. I spent the next couple of days trying to make up my mind what to do.
I wasn't concentrating on my job, and got told-off a few times. Looking back, I
suppose that that helped me to make a decision. I checked the bus times, booked
a ticket, and wrote a quick note to Jon. I would be arriving at eight-fifteen
the following Friday. For me, this took a lot of courage, and if it wasn't for
the fact that I desperately needed for something interesting to happen in my
life, that Jon's letters and photograph gave me the impression that he was an
all right sort of man. That the thought of the magazine turned me on every time
I thought about it; then, I just wouldn't have been going.
On the Friday morning before leaving, I got another letter from Jon saying that
I was to wear smart clothes for the interview, and that trousers or jeans didn't
come into that category as far as he was concerned. That didn't please me too
much as it was April, and in the UK, April is never a warm month. Never mind I
thought, I wanted to look my best, and spent hours deciding what to take with
me, and doing my make-up. I was glad that I had decided to take the whole day
off work. In the end, I decided that I would wear a mini-skirt and white blouse,
both of which I had made myself. I was quite proud of the fact that I could make
a lot of my own clothes, and this short pleated skirt and thin blouse looked
good on me.
The journey took five hours, and I had to change twice. If I hadn't been so
excited, I'm sure that I would have been quite tired when I got there. Not a
good way to be at an interview, and the excitement stopped me from getting any
sleep.
When I finally got there, I had my bag in one hand and the photograph of Jon in
the other, and walked all over the bus station without finding him. I was just
beginning to get a bit worried when a car stopped beside me and Jon jumped out.
He just apologised for being late, told me to put my bag in the back, and got
back in. As we were driving away he said that he often had to work late, which
was one of the reasons why he wanted a house-keeper. Before I knew it, we were
pulling into a pub car park. I followed him into the pub, and we sat at a table
and waited to be served. This was one of those pubs that have a restaurant
attached, and Jon had just assumed that I was hungry. Over the meal and a few
drinks, we just talked about our lives in general, never touching on the subject
of discipline at all. Well, not until a couple of hours later after I had had a
few drinks. I was a bit nervous, and was looking for some Dutch courage. All of
a sudden, Jon stated asking about the times that my Dad had spanked me. He
wanted to know all the details, everyone who was there, what state of dress I
was in, what I was feeling, during and after the spankings. He even asked me to
describe how I played with myself afterwards. This was something that I would
never have dreamed I would talk about, yet here I was telling this stranger all
my most intimate thoughts. It just seemed right, and I imagine the alcohol
helped.
As we walked out of the pub, I was feeling quite happy, and was beginning to
like Jon. We got back in the car and drove to Jon's house, which was only a few
hundred yards down the road. It wasn't a big house, just your average
small-detached house with four bedrooms, and a view out the back over the
fields. Jon showed me round the place, and which room I was to use, and then
made some coffee. It was just general chat over the coffee, and then Jon said
that he had had a hard week, and was going to bed. The real interview would
start at nine in the morning. I went to bed thinking that this was going to be
easy. It was a very happy Vanessa that went to sleep that night.
