Chapter Eight

Another strike, another sizzling thwack of sound and another agonized cry.

Two lines of brilliant color seemed burned into her ass, rising as angry looking welts.

A pause, and Rossi only geared up more zealously, laying a third, fourth and fifth stinging cut. She held her breath; squirmed and sighed, and still the number mounted…twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

“Ah! Sir, please!” she slumped, letting her hands fall from the bar and her knees buckle underneath her.

“Get up, now!” His response was crisp—as crisp as the next cut that landed on her backside. This one cut low across the middle of her thighs.

“Yeeeeeeouch! Oh! No, please!” Sixteen, seventeen and eighteen followed quickly, delivered in a rapid fire staccato that had the struggling redhead dancing frantically, hoping to avoid the next cut, but not succeeding.

For the last three, Rossi returned his aim to the center of her fleshy cheeks and ripped new lines of woe across the already rising welts.

“You will not, ever again, defy me as you did today. Is that fact clear?”

She could hardly whisper, and she certainly couldn’t reply.

“Is that clear?” he demanded to know.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will not accept your ungratefulness. That does not become you. Considering all that I am doing for you and your future, you need to give me your respect and unthinking compliance. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

The miserable truth of this unpleasant afternoon became crystal clear in the minutes that followed. Yes, the pain was ever present, and with it a burning ache that would likely not disperse for days. But with all her misery, the accompanying feeling was intensely erotic. Her body grasped for something it didn’t understand but certainly needed.

Having given his charge a righteous punishment, Rossi stood back to admire the lines of fire still apparent on her bottom. This was the only time she had rebelled against his efforts to control her; and seeing how she was now thoroughly vanquished by these measures, he knew the revolt had been effectively squashed. Rossi was content that any rebelliousness had been successfully caned from her being.

He spoke to her softly as she revived, “You may remove your panties and pull down your skirt. Then we’ll talk.”

She followed dutifully; there was not a mutinous bone in her body. Once her ass was covered and her discarded panties handed to the professor, she took a seat in a straight-back chair, sitting in front of the man with a vacant look on her face. She felt as though she was outside her body, and she could see that body beating with passion, her heart racing. Her physical hunger was alarming though she took great pains to ignore it.

“I was also considering your graduate study this afternoon, Gail,” Rossi informed her. He spoke quietly, in a soft voice that seemed to honor the sensuous air left present after the tension fell away. “I was speaking with Professor McDermott about your future in the department. We agree that you’re on track for another year, and a fellowship. That would serve both your needs, the money and the study.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she answered him agreeably.

“You won’t need to work at all under those circumstances; and that is just as well, considering the amount of work this undertaking will require.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right,” he rejoined. Then he smiled kindly.

Just gazing into his eyes she thought herself hypnotized. She couldn’t speak and had no idea what to think. How could he be such a cruel bastard and then transform himself into a compassionate friend?

“See, my dear, you let me figure these things, I’ll handle your needs better than you can yourself. I’ve been doing it for months. It worries me that you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, but I do trust you,” she suddenly found words.

He thought a moment. “Perhaps so,” he nodded. “Now, come here.”

She moved out of her chair, taking the few steps to his side hesitantly—but only because her intuition seemed to understand what would be coming next.

She went over his lap now far more easily than she’d taken the bar just minutes ago. And though her bottom ached and her skin felt parched and tight, she accepted what followed. Yes, it hurt, but this spanking contained a sweetness that only made the crude stripes on her bottom more deliciously enjoyable.

Pulling up her skirt now, he performed the act deliberately, letting them both relish all that the unveiling contained. Their emotions swelled. And as the first smack of his hand struck her wounded behind, she was moaning, almost delirious from the wonder of it. He began slowly, striking her bottom firmly, but there was no pain. The warmth spread, while the amazed young woman ground her belly and thighs into Rossi’s thighs as though inviting him to give her more.

Either she succeeded in the seduction, or he already had his lust engaged. And though the result was a first for them, it was not unexpected. The eroticism between them teemed with teasing expectations. They’d waited, ignored, set aside, thwarted and stopped in their tracks a dozen times. But not this time. When the spanking halted, Rossi clutched her to his groin as he massaged the wanting places between her thighs. She began to squirm excitedly in answer to the delicious sensations. As two fingers moved inside her wet cleft, she sighed, abandoning all restraints or decency, moaning fitfully as he brought her sexual energies to a peak. While he worked her wet interiors, his thumb pressed against her anus bringing out a new and vibrant fire.

“Oh, my God,” she cried ecstatically. Yes, yes, she wanted him there. Such nastiness and such lust! “Ooo, my ouch, yessss,” she seethed.

“Relax, my dear,” he purred quietly, as his thumb drove deeper into the tight hole. “Someday soon we’ll fill this full. The splendor of your submission is only complete with this cavern breached.”

She’d believe anything he said at that moment. One sensation climbed on top of the next, her body burned; the warm fire on her ass spread everywhere. Twice during this awesome assault of her nether regions, he quit the intimate probing and spanked her ass again, bringing back the rich hue of color. And then, as he had before, Rossi dove into the pulsating orifices, massaging her deeper and bringing the sensations to a peak again.

With his own needs rising fast, the scene abruptly changed. She was on her feet, her body bent over the chair as though he was going to punish her again. Instead, however, Rossi tore at the fly of his pants, dislodging his starched erection. Like the end of a spear, the head pierced her cunt, while at the same time, two fingers now made their way inside the puckering back door.

“Ooo, ooo, yes, um, yes,” she whimpered while her body clenched. She felt as though she were hanging on to the thin last thread of her life.

Then Rossi shot, his erection quick to deposit fresh male seed inside her cumming cunt, while the feeling in her anus amplified the reckless wonder of this uncompromising moment.

“Ah! This is so fitting, my love,” Rossi assured her as the two recuperated from the brisk fuck. “It will define us more clearly.”

Yes, she was sure it would; though she had little to say now that the deed was done.

I stopped talking for a while as the memory became too troublesome. Why was this affecting me now? And why was I letting KC know the intimate details? The questions were reasonable, though my wondering didn’t stop me from proceeding with my story. “Rossi moved me into his house in the fall as my graduate studies began,” I continued. “He decided that I would be more productive if I were under his direction twenty-four hours a day. Of course, my job vanished just as he suggested it would. My fellowship paid what little expenses I had, and Rossi took care of the rest.

“He changed my wardrobe immediately—after he’d already made numerous suggestions and even demands for my attire. But once I was under his roof, he threw out the clothes he didn’t like, and then presented me with an entire wardrobe as though he’d had it waiting for the moment to arrive. I wore tight-fitting skirts and dresses—never shorts, pants or jeans. Most of the skirts had long hemlines, but there were always revealing slits up the sides or back. My blouses were silk and very sheer; and though they never opened at the collar, the fabric was nearly transparent so it showed the lacy slips and bras I wore underneath. It seemed weird having this man I only half knew buying me such intimate things; but then, that aroused me, too.

“The clothes were sensuous, even graceful, a bit old world. Regardless, they were all I had to wear. He liked unstructured bras that allowed my breasts to move, teddies, thin slips with nothing underneath—even corsets, though they became more common later on. He liked the look of garter belts, but they interfered with the smooth fabrics of my skirts, so he chose laced-topped stockings instead. I usually wore full-cut panties made of sheer silk—though never after I’d been punished. After I was spanked or caned, he left my bottom naked, so I’d sit all day with my bare skin feeling the tight fabric of my clothes rubbing my smarting behind. The scratchy wool I wore in winter made my skin crawl, but just as often the material acted like a pair of hands massaging my ass to another level of sensation.

“I belonged to him, like a child belongs to a parent,” I told KC in a breathy whisper. I paused seeing how he would react, but there was no reaction except his unruffled quiet. Feeling his steady calm, I had the curious feeling that he was affecting me as much as Rossi had—in many of the same ways. But it wasn’t the same; KC was not the same kind of man. He was certainly as dangerous—perhaps more so, since he wasn’t as predictable as my professor. My crotch was clenching against itself, feeling infinite and empty. I might have fucked a second time that night, but everything in me was tiring, slowly drifting into nothing. I sighed, stood, and shook out the kinks in my legs; then reaching for KC’s hand, I pulled him with me, as my lover let me lead him into the bedroom. We spent the night wrapped in a close embrace.

A few days later, KC escorted me to the cocktail party. I was wearing silk, upscale clothes that seem to remain untouched in my wardrobe these last few months when I felt more at ease in leggings, tee shirts and anything that didn’t shout elegantly virtuous. I lost my yearning for perfect respectability. KC made that sort of inclination seem ridiculously hallow. Unfortunately, I hadn’t kicked all my stodgy habits and this event was going to be difficult enough having KC there, without adding to the stress of wearing something too unconventional. If KC noticed I was backpedaling, he was kind enough not to rub it in.

For his part, my biker boyfriend was miraculously charming in the midst of my pretentious world. He wore black—no leather—but his black turtle neck and jeans might have been a full dress tux the way he had the eyes of every jewel-bedecked woman in the room fixed on him—and not because he was out of place. His chic, theatre sophisticated avant-garde persona was so deliciously arousing that the more mundane purpose of the event was largely forgotten.

“You’ve been dating?” Andrea Adams, one of the Ripley & Wingardt partners asked in curious amazement.

“Since early March.”

“And we haven’t seen him?”

“He’s been at the office a few times.”

“You should bring him around more.” I thought her crotch would fall to the floor it seemed so heavily laden with desire.

“Yes, you probably will be seeing him more.”

When KC was at my side, he held me close to him, with his arm around my waist. He’d whisper in my ear his barbs and observations, which were so amusing that I wanted to laugh out loud. I think we were seen as intimate lovers—an image that only heightened my own desire for him. When he reached to my neck and massaged it gently, or laid a hand at my ass, I was sure the dominant/submissive nature of our romance was suddenly broadcast to the entire crowd. As it was, the amazed admiration of my colleagues turned into an asset I never counted on. He kissed me once behind the ear, while Andrea Adams and three secretaries form the firm were looking at us from the corner of their eyes; I was sure that pussies were creaming panties. I wonder what they would have thought if they could have seen the way we spent our evenings locked in spanking battles and rude sex.

“I’m sorry I doubted your social prowess,” I told him as we climbed inside the Mercedes afterwards.

“You wouldn’t know, Gail, unless you’d walked around my skin for a day. I’ve been aware of my appeal for a long time—and the benefits of being associated with the arts—especially non-traditional ones. No different than the way rock stars have their groupies. People like what’s different, even though they have a hard time picturing themselves being anything but ordinary. I give them something for their daydreams when life gets dull.”

“So, how did I get out of that trap?”

“Because you want more danger than the rest of them, and you’re more desperate to get it. And, you’ve had intimate experience with the bizarre. Rossi wasn’t exactly a commonplace man.”

“No, our relationship was no cliché.”

“And neither is ours. If we’re lucky, you’ll never get used to me.”