Learning the hard way

I've always been a discipline spanking kind of girl. My fantasies were always about the very strict, stern man who would spank me. He was firm, but never cruel. He spanked me for my own good, because I had done something to deserve it, and he did it because he cared about me. This was my fantasy since I was a little girl.

Twelve or thirteen years ago, when I was getting the most spanking action of my life, I would bare my bottom and bend over for nearly any man with a paddle in his hand. I was always up front about the fact that I wanted discipline spankings, and many of those men were willing to give me their version of that. But it was mostly play. And that was okay, because I enjoyed getting spanked, and they enjoyed spanking me. They were role-playing discipline spankings at best, even if I wasn't playing a role besides myself. What I mean by that is this - technically I was being spanked for something that I had done, and therefore it fell into the realm of discipline spanking. But it was lacking something for me most of the time - it was lacking the genuine caring from the other person. Not that they didn't care about me on some level. But it wasn't the same.

Eventually, among these men, I found one willing to be my mentor. He preferred that term to disciplinarian. A mentor was a trusted teacher, he said. A disciplinarian was just someone who carried out the discipline. Jim was one of the good guys. He got to know me. He didn't just want a confession so he could spank me. He was truly interested in helping me change things in my life. We exchanged daily e-mails, chatted online a few times a week, and usually met weekly for a spanking. Sometimes it was two weeks, sometimes it was twice a week. It just depended on what was going on.

At that time in my life, I needed a LOT of structure. I needed someone to tell me what to do and when to do it. I had no idea how to live my life. So we sat down together and made some rules. They weren't all necessarily hard and fast - if they weren't working, we'd agree on how to change them. I created plenty of reasons to get spanked. I pushed limits like you wouldn't believe. I had an online curfew of 11 pm on worknights. Perfectly reasonable. It was actually the time I picked. But boy, if he was online to notice, I wouldn't log off until 11:05. Things like that weren't that big of a deal, and we both knew it. But he spanked me for it anyway, because I had broken the agreed upon rules.

There were some serious things we were working on. Things that he only knew how I was doing on them by what I told him. And here's where things got complicated. I desperately wanted to make him proud of me. Disappointing him was just devastating to me. But I was in a place in my life where I couldn't seem to do anything right. It seemed like I was messing up everything in my life. Now I had someone right there who was willing to help me with those things. Someone who had alot more experience living life than I had, and who was perfectly happy to share his experiences and help me learn. But I failed to take advantage of it.

Like I said, the thought of disappointing him was devastating. I thought if I told him about all the mistakes I was making, he would be disappointed in me. I wanted to make him happy with me. So I lied to him. When he asked how some certain thing had gone, I told him it was good. I told him I had done what I was supposed to do, whether it was going to work (on time or at all), staying at or under a pack of cigarettes for the day, paid my rent or other bills, or whatever it was. I'd lie and lie and lie... and finally it would eat at me enough and I'd confess that I'd spent the last month or six weeks lying about this, this, or this.

The first time, he had me write "I will not lie" 500 times and he gave me one of the hardest spankings he had up until that point. The second time I did it, it was "I will not lie" 1500 times, and the spanking.... well, he came to my place for that one - he walked in, told me to get my pants down and bend over the stool, and without another word proceeded to thrash my bottom with a cane. When he was done, he told me to stand in the corner for half an hour, and he left. He had never spanked me without talking first, never not talked to me during the spanking, and never not sat and talked with me after the spanking. I cried so hard standing in that corner... not because of how much my bottom hurt (and it DID hurt), but because I knew that my lies had been far more disappointing to him than if Ihad just told him the truth about what was going on in my life.

You'd think that would have taught me to be honest with him. That would have made sense. I did swear to myself that I would behave myself, and that I'd be honest with him when I wasn't. It didn't last long, though. The third, and final time I confessed to him that I'd been lying to him, he didn't spank me. He didn't lecture me. He apologized to me. He apologized for failing me as my mentor. He said he would always care about me, but that he would no longer be able to discipline me. He wished me the best and said goodbye.

I've grown up alot since then. I'm no less of a brat, by any means. And my smart mouth has been honed with the extra years of practice. And I still make mistakes. Lots of them. Some of them are bigger than others. Sometimes, even when I know what's right and wrong, I choose the wrong thing. But I'm learning to be up front and honest about those things, and to admit my guilt now, instead of six weeks from now.

I hope it doesn't take me another 12 years to learn to choose to do the right thing in the first place!