When you play ‘truth or dare’ you never know quite where it will end. For one student it led to a lover, friend and soul mate and also a great many spankings.

When I was in graduate school, Madonna was in her prime as a pop star. She started a national craze across campuses with her game of truth or dare. One night, I was at a party with students of many ages, both undergraduate and graduate. During the course of the evening, we played several party games; one of them was Truth or Dare. A statuesque, mature graduate woman student attended the party with a younger undergrad co-ed. When the co-ed had a turn, she dared her date to take her by the hand to a private bedroom, and give her a good old fashioned over the knees, panties down spanking. Without blinking an eye, the mature woman took her by the hand and marched her out of the room, saying, “This is a long time coming, it will do you a world of good”.

We couldn’t see it, but the room grew so silent you could hear a pin drop. We heard every part of the spanking. When the co-ed finally regained her composure, she was marched back into the room, and made to stand facing the corner with her hands at her side and her burning bare backside on full display for the balance of the evening. I was so turned on by the whole matter my panties were very moist. The game proceeded, the evening ended and I thought that was all there was to it. How wrong I was.

One of the other older female graduate students attended the party. I hadn’t really noticed, as there were many attendees present that night. She did notice me however; and it had not gone unobserved by her that I was so stirred by that part of the game. Over time, we wound up at other parties together and got to know one another. I am shy by nature; she is more outgoing. She introduced herself, and really got our friendship started. Being friends led to romance, and a relationship. One semester, I moved out of the dormitory, and into her apartment.

One spring, on my birthday, she treated me to a savory luncheon at home to celebrate the event. When it came time for dessert, I sort of expected a birthday cake. Instead, she marched me into the living room, where she had set an armless chair in the middle of the room. All the drapes were closed, and the front door locked. Just to the right of the chair was a gift wrapped present with a greetings card attached to the ribbon bow adornment. She took me over her knees, and calmly advised me it was time for my birthday spanking; she raised my teal skirt, and lowered my French cut lemon yellow panties with white lace about the leg openings and waist band. This she did slowly, sensuously and ceremonially. The bare spanking stung, but it didn’t really hurt me. Actually, it was a very erotic experience.

While I was still draped, face down across her thighs she reached over and gave me the present to unwrap. First, I opened the greetings card. It was an attractive birthday card, with a nice lilac floral design. In that part of the card where you write a special message she inscribed that the present was both something she would use because it would please her, and because it was something I needed. I opened the present. It was an oval shaped, hard hickory wood backed hair brush. She then held me in position, and ordered me to pass the hairbrush back to her. I did so reluctantly.

In a cool and detached manner, she informed me from that moment on, anytime I got out of line, she wouldn’t hesitate to bare and enthusiastically apply the wooden part of the hairbrush to my backside. Just so I would know a punishment spanking from her was something to fear, she was now going to give me a long hard spanking. That she did. When she finally put the hairbrush down, my behind felt like it was on fire. I just lay limply over her lap, crying my eyes out. After every last tear was shed, and dried, she commanded me to stand facing the corner, and think about how to improve my comportment.

After thirty or so minutes, she took me into the study room, and gave me a two page list of rules that I had to follow. She made it clear that any, even a minor infraction, would result in a spanking with the brush. I was told to learn the rules by heart. Just before dinner she quizzed me on them. You best believe that I knew them all by rote.

During the two and one half more years I was a student there, we lived with each other. We were lovers, friends and soul mates. About once every ten days, you could find me lying over her lap, with my palms extended downward touching the floor for balance, and kicking my legs, howling while she forcefully applied the dreaded wooden part of that ubiquitous hairbrush to my poor reddening rump. I was never so sore, or felt so loved and cared for since.