The internet ad had said, "Naughty girl needs teacher to punish her for many misdeeds." The anon.penet.fi address gave no clue as to location, so I suspected that an e-mail correspondence featuring cyberspanking was all that was likely to result from my response. Nevertheless, I wrote the following:

"I am not sure, my young lady, whether you are looking for a teacher who will instruct you by e-mail about proper behavior or whether what you want, and obviously need, is genuine bare-bottom punishment at the hands of an experienced teacher, which I am.

"If the latter is the case, I would need to know where you live; not an address, at this point, just a city.

"Personally, I believe that a naughty girl should have her bottom bared, be placed across my knee, and be soundly spanked, at least for a start. I have a good deal of experience with naughty little girls and I enjoy pulling up those skirts and tugging down those little cotton panties. But the length of the spanking, what I might use besides my hand, and the severity would depend, of course, on what was deserved. If you think my discipline would help you to be a better girl, please respond."

Within 24 hours I had a response that was more than I had dreamed.

"Hal: I live in San Francisco. I have read your postings, so I know you do too. No, I am not looking for cyberspanking; I am looking for someone to put me over his knee and warm my backside.

"I deserve whatever you think I should get for the following reasons: 1. I waste far too much time and money on AOL, especially having dirty conversations in the chat rooms. I even masturbate while on line, sometimes, and that wastes even more money. 2. I have a boy friend, but he is not into spanking, doesn't even know about a.s.s. or my reading it. I think I am kind of cheating on him. I think if I made an appointment with you I would be cheating on him even more. But somehow that is what I want to do. 3. I know most women are not "into" pornography, but for me it is a constant interest, so much so that I have sneaked pornographic books out of adult book stores, rather than suffer the embarrassment of paying for them. I am 22 years old, in my last year of college. But my lying, cheating, and stealing are behaviors of a rebellious teen. Are you willing to spank a rebellious teen-ager as she deserves? I have no classes on Thursday afternoons, and I could arrange with a friend to use her apartment for as long as necessary. -"Carrie"

I needed a week to plan my absence from work for a Thursday afternoon, undetected. I had needed only 30 seconds to decide that this was an opportunity which might never come again.

A few more e-mail messages went back and forth to learn the address where I would meet Carrie. I knew that it was more advisable to meet beforehand to assure that Carrie was what she said she was; a drink, or coffee and snack, would let each of us know whom we were really dealing with and avoided disappointment at the last moment. I could not be rational; I threw caution to the winds, and so did Carrie. We both felt, from reading each other's words, that the event had to happen, and whatever surprises lay in store were just spice to a planned feast.

My last e-mail was as follows:

"Carrie: I will meet you at 2 P.M.. at the apartment, at which time I will discuss with you the matters you mentioned which call for, I am sorry to say, some very severe punishment. In order that you feel disciplined properly as the bad girl you are, you will be dressed in a blouse with a short skirt with white cotton panties. In other words, I want you attired in something approximating a school uniform , ready to receive the spankings which a schoolgirl with your record of behavior would deserve."

I brought with me my favorite instruments: a paddle I had made by gluing together two thin plywood "Fly-back" paddles (the kind with the rubber ball and string), a wooden ruler, and a wooden hairbrush. I wore a belt which I could use if necessary, but belts have never been my toy of choice.

As is usual whenever I am about to encounter someone new in the scene, I felt a tightness in my stomach and a dryness in my throat as I drove to the appointed location. I always wonder if the person I meet will look like what I expect, or if, just possibly, this is an elaborate and dangerous trap of some sort. There is inevitable risk, and the risk is what heightens the tension and eroticism of the encounter.

I found a parking place two blocks away after spotting the apartment building, a gray, non-descript three-story structure. I always park a good distance away, and leave all identifying objects hidden in my vehicle. I am as anonymous when I walk into an encounter as I can be, and my license plate must be far enough away so that it cannot betray me.

With my toys in my inside coat pocket, I strolled as casually as I could to the apartment, my heart beating harder and my chest tightening as I climbed the stairs to the second floor and approached the door to 2-E. The building was a bit seedy, much as most student housing is. I could hear a stereo blasting rock music on the floor above. I smelled cat pee in the corridor. I could hear nothing behind the light blue door in front of me, and taking a deep breath, I knocked.

Only about fifteen seconds probably elapsed , but they were long, long seconds. Then the door opened inward, and I felt a jolt of relief and sudden anticipation. Before me, in a red cheerleader's outfit, stood a young woman, blonde hair cut neatly to her neck, about 5'5", with fresh skin, no makeup, and a shy smile. "Hal?" she said.

Was I Hal? What name had I used? Yes, Hal, of course, that was me for today. The sight of that young body, the thought of it being mine to strip and to place over my knee, was making me confused and incoherent and unmistakably erect. "Yes, it's me. I'm Hal. Uh, you must be, uh, Carrie? Well."

Of course, I realized that she was no more "Carrie" than I was "Hal." But I just had not really prepared myself for the role I wanted to play, and my first glimpse of this lovely young woman disarmed me completely. I had to get back in control if the afternoon was to go successfully. I took two steps forward and closed the door behind me.

"Yes, well, Carrie," I said, "you knew I was coming, and you know why. I am glad to see that you have dressed as I asked you to, but I am afraid that what you have written me deserves very serious punishment, and that is what you will get. How severely you are punished, and how long, and with what will depend on how willing you are to demonstrate genuine repentance and obedience. And, to start with, you will demonstrate that right now by placing yourself across my lap."

I sat down on a large overstuffed couch and motioned for her to place herself across my knees as directed, which she did, while feigning a saucy pouting expression. Flipping up her skirt, I saw that she had followed my instructions about the white cotton panties; they covered small but well-rounded buttocks. I began the spanking immediately, not especially hard, but steadily and fairly fast while saying, "Now, Carrie, to begin with, this spanking is just your punishment for asking me here instead of your boyfriend. You say he would be angry if he knew. On his behalf, I intend to warm your bottom quite thoroughly." And I did so, noting that Carrie's reaction was only to murmur small exclamations of discomfort every so often.

That is, small murmurs were all that I heard until I declared, "Now, no matter how good a boyfriend he may be, he would certainly not be happy to see you over my knee with your bottom bared. " And I rapidly slid down the panties to the crook of Carrie's knees, revealing the pinkness which my hand had caused. At the same moment, I increased the severity of the spanking, both as to speed and energy, and as the now sharp smacks of flesh on flesh crackled through the room, I added, "And so, Carrie dear, you are now going to get the sound bare-bottom spanking any teenager would deserve for allowing me to take her panties down like this. You have invited me to take your panties down like a naughty little girl, and so, like a naughty little girl, you will be soundly spanked. Like this!"

In the next few minutes I felt my own excitement rising while my hand painted those delicious mounds redder and redder, and I felt Carrie begin to wriggle and heard her cry out, and I sensed my own power to cause her as much pain or passion as I felt she needed. I began to anticipate every jerk of her body as my hand landed on her bottom, and I finished up by applying a good two dozen solid spanks in about 20 seconds, back and forth across her buns until she was crying out for mercy.

As she lay, worn out, across my lap, I began the process of rubbing her blazing mounds while speaking to her, and as I did so, I gently pulled the buttocks apart so I could view first her tiny brown rosette and then the still tight slit which was almost entirely hidden from sight between her thighs.

"So," I said," now we have a moment of quiet while I tell you about what is going to happen next. For your wasteful behavior spending money on-line. And for your thefts. These will result in far harder and longer spankings. For these, I will use the paddle and hairbrush. First the paddle, until your backside is solidly red and beginning to swell. Then, when you think you have been spanked until all feeling is gone, the hairbush, which will be the most deeply painful and lasting spanking of all. And you will ask for these spankings, ask for them politely and sincerely, for if I am not convinced of your sincere desire to repent and accept your punishment, I will have to use the belt. Do you understand?"

Carrie did not look at me, but her head nodded assent. There was a pause. She gathered together all her fortitude and said, with a slight choking quality in her voice, "Please, I know I have been bad. I have wasted money and stolen things. Naughty things. I deserve to be soundly spanked, very hard. Please, take the paddle, and spank me on my bare bottom, hard, and long, as long as you think I need to be spanked for what I have done."

I raised the paddle and brought it down sharply across the rosy flesh of her right buttock. The CRACK of its impact was answered in a second by a cry of OWWWW! from Carrie, accompanied by a sudden jolt of her entire body. She was not ready for how painful the paddle stroke would be on a backside already well-warmed, and the next CRACK came so quickly, across the opposite cheek, that her first outcry blended into a long, wailing OUUUCHH!

I think it was the twisting of her body which excited me, then; she was not trying to get off my lap, but her body instinctively reacted to the stinging strokes by twisting this way and that, so that I had to encircle her waist with my left hand as I continued to spank her, alternating CRACK after CRACK from left bottom-cheek to right. I gripped her waist even tighter and began to increase the effect of the paddle by flicking it at the end of each stroke, using my wrist to add to the speed of the paddle as it smacked into the now swelling, angry-red mounds of Carrie's backside. As I held her waist and continued the spanking, her legs began to thrash wildly, and I thought of pinning them with my own right leg, but the sight of her little bottom-hole and the emergence of her labia from hiding as the spanking continued were too arousing for me to do anything which might hide them from my sight. I felt my erection pressing against Carrie's mons; I knew she must feel it too, except that the flames which were now breaking out all through her bottom must be occupying all her thoughts. Another dozen smacks of the paddle and she began to cry, gently; her body relaxed, accepting whatever was to come, and after a few solid extra smakcs I laid the paddle down upon the table so that I could touch her, feel the heat in her buttocks with my fingertips, and pause while we awaited, together, the final stage of her punishment.

My fingers again traced across her burning bottom and trailed gently into the crease, touching the rim of her anus with a feather-light stroke. She responded with the slightest of sighs. Emboldened, my fingers ventured even further, touching ever so slightly the wisps of hair on her outer labia and then, when she did not clench her buttocks or thighs, sliding gently between the outer lips, parting them, and finding the moisture which had seeped down from her vagina into the inner labial folds. Still, she did not protest; she lay passively, awaiting whatever was to happen, and so I parted the lips and peered at that little white button which had emerged from its fleshy shell, and I touched it and felt Carrie squirm and knew that I could probably do whatever I wished and touch whatever I wanted at that moment. Carrie was resting in a moment of calm and ecstatic anticipation, willing to accept whatever happened next.

I slid the tip of my index finger gently across her clitoris and down its side before I reached for the hairbrush.

"You are a very naughty, dirty little girl," I said. "And you know what naughty girls get, don't you?"

Carrie's body tensed. In her quiet reverie, she had forgotten the promise of the spanking yet to come. Now it was upon her, just when she was anticipating another pleasure entirely, and so there was a moment of silence as she gathered her wits about here. Then, again, relaxation. A quiet sigh. And the necessary words: "Yes, I am a naughty girl, and a thief as well. I love dirty books. They make me wet. I steal them, and look at them, and I get wet. I am wet now. My pussy is wet, like a naughty little girl who has been playing with herself. Spank me, please, spank me hard, spank me with the hairbrush, right on my sore, poor little bottom, please, yes, do it, give me the spanking I need, NOW!"

And I did.

I laid on with that hairbrush, on that bright, red, tender flesh; and I felt again the thrashing of Carrie's body across my knees; and I heard her wailing turn to shouting , then to sobs; and I clamped my leg across hers, holding that bright, burning bottom immobile for the last two dozen whacking blows which sent Carrie into a climax of writhing excitement; and I felt a tightness and a building of tension in my own loins and then an unstoppable release as my underwear became suddenly soaked with sticky spurts of fluid.

Afterwards, we had coffee together and some very nice Danish, and I promised to write her soon. I certainly will do that.