Emma was a woman in her early forties.  She was somewhat shy and had lived a rather sheltered life, spending many years taking care of her parents until they both died a year or so ago.  She never really had a boyfriend, and she blushed even to herself when she admits (only to herself) that she was still a virgin. 

She had gone to the local college and did get a degree, in totally inappropriate subjects to ever really get a job.  But Emma never had to, her parents had enough money, her needs were not that great – even if now she would spread her wings, she could travel and do more.  But she kept to herself, and the few, older friends (more her parent's friends) she had.

But one day, she saw that a well know professor was giving a lecture at her old college about self-image, emotions, and personal growth.  All the things she so wanted to start to work on.  It was in a couple of days, a weeknight, but what did that matter to her, one day was pretty much like another. 

She reserved a ticket, and the night of the lecture dressed herself in the more or less conservative, dowdy ways she usually did.  (Now Emma was not unattractive, but she had never been much for style in clothing or makeup to any real extent).  She sat a few rows from the front and listened with her full attention.

The speaker, the professor, he had just joined the college staff after writing a best seller on the topic of tonight’s lecture, was Donald Ryan.  He spoke eloquently about opening up to your feelings and needs, be aware of your emotions, and to press yourself to go past your comfort zone to enjoy more of life. 

Emma was enthralled.  When on his last PowerPoint slide he gave his email information, offering individuals to write to him if they would like a copy of the presentation and order information for his book, Emma scribbled it down quickly. 

Donald was a man in his early 50s, attractive and confident in himself, projecting an image of a man fully in control and knowledgeable.

It took her a couple of days to build up enough courage to email the professor, but she finally did, telling him (well gushing actually) how much she enjoyed his talk, and asking him to explain more about reaching out of yourself to further limits. 

Donald was amused by her enthusiasm, and within a week they were regularly emailing each other.  Him directing her to do new things, telling her books to read and to report what she learned back to him.  Making her go out to a restaurant on her own – a very fancy one – to dine. 

Emma told him so much about herself, her life until now, it was so easy in emails to open up and share with him.  To the point that late one night, about a month into their correspondences, she confessed her virginal state and total sexual frustration to him.  

She hurried to her computer the next morning to see his reply, but there was none.  She turned bright red and cursed herself for being so stupid to be so open. 

She tried to stay away from her computer but every hour or two during the day she was drawn back to it to check for a message from him, and by night, when there was still no reply, she fell tearfully to bed. 

A few days went by with nothing from Donald, she was devastated.  How could she have opened herself up so much to someone – who really did not know her – oh what a fool she had been.  She was morose as the days went by, and though she went about all her community and charitable activities as she always did, if anyone had really been paying attention they would have noticed she was not her usual cheerful self.

When a week had passed, and she was trying to totally forget the happiness she had felt conversing with Donald this last month, an email came from him.

Emma,

It was kind and open of you to share with me more about yourself.  I think you are learning to listen and expand your horizons more now.  Perhaps it is time for you to move farther in a not so familiar venue, which in some ways will open you up so much more to fully realize your desires.

I would like to invite you to my house on Friday evening to help you move into this new world, which I think you are ready for and would come to enjoy and cherish.

Donald included directions to his home and details about the time she was to arrive.

Emma was enthralled.  He wasn’t upset about what she had said, and this invitation, oh she could hardly wait.  By Friday she was beside herself, trying to choose what to wear. 

She settled on just a white silk blouse, which jauntily she left one more button open on (not that it revealed anything, but for Emma, it was the first step) and a navy skirt, which did come just above her knees.  She still wore sensible shoes, and her underwear (what was she even worrying about it for) was not anything special.

She was just a couple minutes late getting to Donald’s house, she had made one wrong turn and had to double back.  She walked to the large front door and rang the bell. 

It was a minute before Donald opened the door, looking at his watch as he did. 

He greeted her fondly, as if he knew her well, though this was the first time he ever really saw her face to face. 

Now it should be mentioned, that after Emma and he had started corresponding he had searched for her to know more about her as she started sharing more and more about herself.  He had found a number of local paper articles about her, with pictures at different events she worked at or supported.  So, he did know more about her that she realized. 

She had looked up his bio as a new instructor at the college and had read his book (at his urging) so Emma also knew about him, but that he knew.  

Donald led Emma into a large living room, which had a large empty space in the center of it.  He led her to that place, and then calmly and quietly told Emma to take off all her clothes. 

How he said it had so much authority behind it, and in such a matter of fact way.  After looking at him questioningly and he had just nodded his head a bit, mesmerized she began to unbutton her blouse.  As he stood beside her, with almost a look of indifference on his face, he took each piece of clothing as she took them off, folded them and placed them on a stool at the side of the room. 

Totally nude now, Emma stepped out of her shoes, which Donald took and placed with the rest, and told Emma to put her hands behind her head on her neck, as she had been trying to hide herself with them.  Emma did as told.  There was just something about his voice and how he so matter-of-factly told her what to do.  She stood there in the center of the living room, naked and trembling, as Donald, dressed in a business suit and tie, minus the jacket, walked around her and looked at her closely.

“Now before we begin Emma, there is the matter of your being late.  What time did I tell you to arrive? I expect you there at that time.  By my watch, you were five minutes late.”

Emma just blushed. 

And then Donald came up next to her, raised his hand and spanked each cheek five times.  She jumped, quivered, and let an “ooh” escape with each swat. 

“Well that should take care of that issue for now, but please remember all that you are being told and taught so we do not have to repeat lessons.” 

Emma just nodded her head and lowered her eyes.

Donald took her by the chin and raised her head.  Just his touch sent shivers through her. 

“Don’t lower your head unless I tell you that you must – keep your eyes, and ears open so to learn.” 

Donald then ran his fingers lightly over her body, shivers continued to run up and down her spine at his touch, and something else, there was a wetness forming between her legs. 

What was she doing here like this? 

She couldn’t help herself.  It seemed so right and proper.  Donald, while sometimes in correspondences did seem a bit aloof and arrogant, his touch right now was taking her somewhere she had never been before.

And when Donald turned her, with his hand pressed to the small of her back and led her down the hallway to a bedroom she did not question what was ahead.