Hot Cooking Spanker Wanted

Hot
Cooking

Spanker

Wanted

By:
Rachel Burns

Text
Copyright © 2013 by Rachel Burns

All
Rights Reserved

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and
dialogues are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead,
events or locales is entirely coincidental.

I
knocked on Ryan's door at the appointed time, but I had already
changed my mind. I was going to tell him 'no' and leave. I wasn't
brave enough for something like this. I flipped my long brown hair
behind my shoulders and smoothed my dress down. My dress was flapping
in the wind and my hair wouldn't stay out of my face.

I
would just explain that I had changed my mind. He probably heard that
a lot. Even the idea that someone could contact someone for something
like this was ridiculous.

Of course, I had my reasons but
they weren't the normal ones. I wouldn't have told him my real
reasons for coming to see him anyway. I had just moved back to the
states after living in Germany. I had worked as a translator, sitting
in as the big deals were made, making sure that their was never a
misunderstanding and feeling completely bored.

After such meetings I would go
back to my tiny apartment and wonder about the people I had met. I
had a feeling that most of them hated their jobs too. I wrote about
them in my diary and sometimes I thought up lives for them and wrote
them down. I had turned a couple of my imaginations into books. I had
already sold two of them.

I decided to quit my job and move
back to the states and write full-time. I had been writing about
different things. I wanted to write in different areas. I liked books
in all kinds of areas so that made sense to me. My agent said 'if
they like something stick to it' but I didn't feel that I wrote
books. It was more like they wrote themselves. I went where they took
me.

The
book that I had started, but rarely worked on, was okay but not
believable. That was why I searched the net and found a lot of
interesting stuff. Things kept getting in the way when I looked for
domestic violence. Things about wife disciplining. I had gotten taken
off track, finding about this whole new world. There were
advertisements for people who wanted to be spanked by others, and for
those who were looking to spank someone.

An
idea had taken root back then. I thought maybe if I could feel pain I
could better write about it. I had shaken my head at myself but the
idea kept popping into my head. I had placed an advertisement myself.
New in town looking for old fashioned, but gentle spanking from
experienced man.

Ryan
was the only one who had responded. His first question explained why
no one else had answered. It was, 'you are a woman, right?'

I
had felt so stupid then that I almost didn't e-mail him back. I found
the courage to do so and to make this appointment but I was
chickening out now. The idea of letting a man, any man, hit me was
just so wrong. Only someone very sick would want that. Maybe someone
who was abused as a child and who believed that to be loved you have
to take a few knocks. I had had a rather boring childhood.

The
door opened up and the world's most normal looking man was standing
there. I had to shake myself. That was the worst way to describe
someone. It was just that he looked so normal. I had expected
something else. Maybe a leather jacket with steel spikes? I don't
know but I hadn't expected the nice looking man in front of me.

I
took a step back from him. “I am so sorry to have wasted your time
and everything but – The thing is – Well, I mean I just can't.
I'm sorry.” Yes this babbling came out of a woman who earns her
living with words. I tucked my hair behind my ear again and peeked to
see how he was reacting.

He
smiled at me. He had a charming smile. He was blond with nice blue
eyes. Never had I pictured a spanker to be blond or as young as he
was. He was probably around thirty. He was so good looking.

He
even looked kind and gracious. I couldn't imagine that he could raise
his hand and hit anybody but that was the idea of my book. High
schools sweethearts and the perfect husband surprises his wife with
his secret beater side. It did fit.

I
was turning to leave when he spoke, “Why don't you just step in and
we can have a drink. Nothing more. I promise.” His kind eyes were
smiling at me.

I
was waiting for bells and whistles to go off in my head. Where were
the warning bells? Apparently they had the day off. Nothing came. No
little voices in my head saying 'Run!' and the hairs on the back of
my neck all stayed put.

But
good common sense kicked in. “I'm afraid not. Maybe you can still
salvage some of your evening. Once again, I'm sorry.” I gave him a
quick smile and turned to leave.

“
I
was just about to make myself a cup of coffee. I'd be happy to share
with you. You could keep me company for a bit while I think of
something to do with the rest of my evening.”

I
looked back at him wide-eyed. He was trying not to laugh. He wasn't
mad. I was even entertaining him.

I
gave up. A quick cup of coffee before I left again would be nice. I
thought I could come clean and interview him. That was better than
actually getting hit and it would probably help me to make my story
sound like I had first hand knowledge even if I didn't. I needed to
describe the fear that my main character had for her husband, the
person she loved most in the world. It wasn't right yet and I needed
it to be. I wanted to help women get out of a bad situation. I wanted
to give them courage. I wanted people to know that it still happened.
It wasn't a page in a history book, but an actual problem that still
existed.

One
of the girls, I had gone to school with, suffered under her beater
husband. He was so nice, no one would have guessed, but he had
another side too. She wouldn't leave him. She loved him and he had
such a tight hold on her financially that she couldn't leave even if
she mustered up the courage to do so.

She
had told me that I just didn't understand, but this was me, standing
here in front of spanker guy, trying to understand. That sentence was
the reason that the book was moving on at a snails pace because the
truth was that I just didn't understand. Her husband was the bad guy,
end of the story.

I
stepped towards him as he held the door nicely for me. Was he
pretending to be a gentleman or was he truly one? This guy would
probably make for an interesting book too. He took my light coat and
hung it up for me. He ushered me to his kitchen table like the waiter
in a fine restaurant.

I
sat down and looked up to him. He was smiling at me in a nice and
friendly way. He didn't look at all cruel, bad to the core or
anything like that. I had been imagining some bad stuff. He started
in making the coffee. As a writer coffee was important to me. I
needed it nights sometimes when I felt a story needed to be written
quickly before an idea was forgotten. On those nights I was up a long
time. I needed coffee for that.

Ryan
didn't talk to me at all as he worked which gave me a chance to look
around. I took in the standard apartment kitchen and the packing
boxes in the living room. He was obviously new in town too. “Was
that why you responded to my add? I mean, because you are also new in
town?”

“
No,
I had a feeling about you. I've lived in town for a while now. I just
moved to this place to get away from noisy neighbors.”

I
raised my eye at that. A spanker who liked it quiet. Would he have
gagged me? That thought brought me back to business. This guy was
dangerous no matter what he was pretending to be at the moment. I had
to be on the look out. He had written that he supplied a service and
that he was there to help me.

What
woman fell for crap like that? Not me. This time he was being toyed
with. I had switched the sides on him and he didn't even know it.
That did give me some sort of satisfaction.

He
set a coffee mug down in front of me. It was steaming hot. I had
watched him to make sure that their was nothing extra in my mug. I
would wait for him to take a real sip before I brought this wonderful
smelling brew to my lips.

He
took a sip right away. When he set his cup down about a fourth was
missing. I also took a little sip. I wrapped my fingers around the
warm mug, a habit of mine. It felt good on fingers that were tired
from typing all day, and night.

I
definitely wasn't getting enough sleep in lately. I had even debated
that being a reason to be spanked.

He
had written that he would need a reason for the spanking. He liked to
lecture, he had written. That was hard to believe, he had barely
spoken at all. He was just staring at me now.

I
broke the stare and looked at my coffee. “You make a great cup of
coffee. Thanks.”

“
Glad
to be of help. You must have been cold.” He smiled at me.

I
looked at him confused.

“
Your
fingers, you look like you are warming them up on a campfire,” he
grinned.

He
was watching me and noticing little things. Who was this guy? He
probably could even say what color my eyes were. Something my
boyfriend didn't know after months of dating. That kind of freaked me
out. He was different. Not the Mr. Nice Guy he had seemed to be a
couple of minutes ago.

“
I'm
fine,” I answered him, picking up my coffee and taking a big gulp.

He
was still watching me. His silence was giving me a lot of material. I
was experiencing lots of different emotions as he watched me quietly.
Fear was in there too. He wasn't as bulky as I had imagined, but he
was stronger than me. I didn't have a chance against him.

He
noticed that I was getting very uncomfortable. “I would never do
anything you didn't want me to. Please, don't be afraid of me. You
are safe with me, no matter what, I promise.”

“
Do
you do this often?”

He
laughed lightly. “I believe in discretion. I won't answer that,
just like I wouldn't have told anybody about you. Your reasons for
coming to me are private. You could share them with me but I would
never tell anyone, ever. This sort of thing is based on a lot of
trust.

“
Even
if you would have said 'yes', I would have sat you down for coffee
before anything else happened. I would have had to gain your trust
first. If I couldn't achieve that this evening then maybe the next
time. I would have waited for you to feel safe with me first. I think
that is important.” The last sentence he said to himself. I had a
feeling he meant it. He did have a nice guy quality to him. Sort of a
Damsel in Distress helper feeling that he was giving out.

“
How
would you have – gone about it.” I was always surprised that I
always knew the perfect thing to say when I was sitting at my laptop
but, never in real life.