College Hooking Memories Ch. 03

Chapter 2 is here.

Nora's Discontent

As my second semester of hooking got going in early 1974, another downside of my "career" became noticeable: boredom. After doing a certain number of passionless blowjobs and handjobs every week, the repetitiousness of it all started to bother me.

Those acts consisted of about ninety percent of the tricks I performed. I had a hard time imagining how the real pros worked on such things for hours every day. Of course, I had no pimp pushing my productivity, no drug habit on my back to feed. I knew I didn't have to endure what a lot of women in that life had to put up with.

There were a few other ways guys could achieve an ejaculation, which was their primary motive for hiring me in the first place. As I've mentioned, I sometimes offered "frottage," which consisted of me swiveling my bare behind against their crotches until they came all over me.

A few wanted to masturbate while looking at me, like that guy I described in Cohen Library. Others wanted me to masturbate at the same time, which I charged quite a bit extra for. Even though I used a dildo during such sessions, they almost always came long before I did. Then they considered the session done since male pleasure was the point of hiring me in the first place. I would have to finish myself off on my own time later.

A few others wanted to masturbate me - finger-fuck in other words -- which was always a prelude to them receiving the mouth or hand strokes that resulted in their own orgasms. Again, males had priority, and they usually failed to bring me to a climax. They just didn't care.

Watching men ejaculate became pretty routine. Occasionally one would put out an impressive load in terms of volume and distance, which could be impressive to witness. Otherwise, it was always the same: a build-up in their moaning, a few yelps, and then some white spunk would ooze out of the ends of their cocks.

Jim Morrison surely exaggerated the intensity of his Mister Mojo big bang but I guess rock stars are allowed some hyperbole. I never heard one that sounded like what he faked for "L.A. Woman."

My charge for swallowing a blown customer's jism was pretty steep, and thus many of them settled for having their cocks hand stroked at the end. Thus I certainly saw the result of those climaxes. It wasn't that I found the taste of semen disgusting, but having a stranger put his gooey load into my throat was not particularly appealing either. "Facials" were even messier, and thus another step up in price.

It was all a business to me and everything was a procedure to be negotiated and, if necessary, I would make non-negotiable demands. Every week I had lists of guys who called me on the phone or who had approached me on the campus. I had to balance my desire for money against the stresses and strains of what the jobs required. Sometimes I just had something else to do, although less and less of that was schoolwork.

This is a good place to mention the role of make-up, specifically lipstick, in blowjobs. For a small extra fee, I would apply red, pink, orange, or some other color to my lips to help convince a customer to take a deal. They liked seeing some cosmetics left on their "dipsticks" as I worked on their dicks, and thus I applied the Maybelline or whatever brand it was heavily enough so that a noticeable amount was always smeared on their erect cocks.

It only took me a few seconds to prepare that technique, and most johns got a thrill from seeing their stiff rods daubed with a bright hue as they thrust themselves into my mouth.

Brian's Challenge

I've got one notable frottage or "hip-swaying" story to tell. My ass-to-crotch grinding abilities became somewhat well-known among the men on campus. One day, a guy on the South Campus approached me with a challenge. He claimed that if he kept his trousers up, I wouldn't be able to get him to ejaculate no matter how vigorously I rubbed against him. Thus, he wouldn't owe me my usual charge.

His proposal baffled me. He didn't want to come from my efforts, and he was not going to pay as he assumed I would try and fail. I had to know his reasoning. "So what are you going to get out of all this?"

He rather smugly replied, "I just want to prove that you are not as hot and sexy as you think you are."

I had met a few of his kind before. He resented that I used my sexuality to make money, and that violated his view of what a woman should be like. To him, I was the "whore" as opposed to the "Madonna" trope.

If given a chance, I supposed men like him would beat my ass thoroughly in a punishment spanking, but I wouldn't do that for any amount of money. They thought they'd teach me a lesson for my evil ways. However, I ran my game my way, and I would never tolerate that. I also guessed that he planned to masturbate later imagining our time together.

Also, I was sure I could do it even with his pants up, but I didn't brag about it. "All right, let's give it a shot. Keep in mind that if I do succeed, you are going to owe me my usual fee," which I then quoted. This guy needs to be taken down a few pegs, and I'm just the lady to do it. "What's your name, anyway?"

He smirked, "It's Brian. And Nora, I know all about you." Baby, you only think you know anything about me. And I know that you are a fool for doubting my abilities

It was the middle of the day, and he knew a spot to use at the top of a narrow staircase inside Finley Hall. I had been up there once before, and I thought we could get away with it if we didn't take too much time.

It was a mild day, and I only had panties on under my skirt. Once up there, I doffed my underwear and left it lying on the floor. The sight of a lady's discarded knickers incited male lust, which would help me in my task.

All I said was, "Let's do this already," and I turned around and lifted my skirt. I got right to it, moving backwards until my bare buttocks collided with Brian's pelvis. Then it was only a matter of using my very effective and well-rehearsed backside movements to arouse him.

Mixing it up, I moved side to side, up and down, and gyrated my ass in a circular motion. To keep a rhythm going, I usually half-sang a song during such events. That time it was "Mrs. Robinson," which seemed ideal for my ass-swiveling games. The railing at the top of the stairs was there for me to hold on to and maintain some balance.

It all went exactly as I knew it would. Within a few moments, I could feel Brian's erection spring up inside his clothes. Seconds later, he grasped my hips and began moaning. "Oh Nora, Nora, that feels so good."

He was one of those annoying tricks who insisted on chanting my name. No matter, he was going to climax rather quickly -- almost all tricks did -- and I was going to get his money.

I couldn't help but needle him a bit about his sexual frenzy. "This is a piece of cake, isn't it? But I knew it would be," By then, he was too busy thrusting and humping against me to respond.

When Brian came, he yelped loudly. I could feel him spurting several times inside his pants. A warm wetness leaked through his clothes and I could feel that against my own flesh. When he was done, he fell to his knees and put his arms around my waist.

The level of affection offended me, and I broke away from him. I still used a bit of humor, because there was an air of comedy about the proceedings. "Come on Brian, I gave you an orgasm. That doesn't mean we're going steady or something."

He got unsteadily to his feet as I leaned on the railing. Then he looked down at himself and saw his own cum seeping through. "Oh my God, I've got a huge wet spot on my pants."

I commented, "Actually, they're soaked. Quite impressive for a guy who didn't have any faith in my abilities."

Brian was too upset to respond. "What the hell am I going to do now? I can't walk around like this."

"That's not my problem. Maybe just take your shirt off and tie it around your waist. Meanwhile..." I rubbed my fingers together. "You owe me some money. You do have it, I hope." It was one of the rare times I didn't get my cash up front, and I wondered if he even had it on him.

He somewhat distractedly said, "Don't worry, I do have it," as he reached for his wallet.

I pointed to my panties on the floor. "You can also buy those as a keepsake, for a good price." As usual, I had an extra couple of pairs in my bag.

"That's okay, I take a pass on that." He still seemed stunned.

"Whatever, suit yourself. You can always find me on campus again, I suppose." I sat down on one of the two wooden chairs up there and put my drawers back on. When I got back up, I took the money he owed me.

"Now, since I have proven my abilities to you, perhaps you would like my phone number for future engagements." He shook his head. My take on him was that he had contempt for hookers and had never engaged one before. Perhaps he already had a girlfriend, or he thought that paying for sex was beneath him. I had certainly deflated his expectations.

As I was I was leaving, I said, "Never underestimate a working girl." I laughed and winked at him. "Judging by what you are capable of, I could suck you dry and have you begging for more." Then I shook my behind at him and went out a door that led to a hallway.

Unlike what happened in the aftermath of many tricks, I was unequivocally in a good mood.

The Joys of Domination

The one activity that offered some creativity and variety was when a man paid me to dominate him. It seemed that I had a talent for being a dominatrix, which required a lot more than physical abuse. Verbal chiding of my victim was very pleasing because I had a knack for using words, even if I was basically making up nonsense.

That aspect of domination was psychological. Men patronized me because they had sexualized the role of a stern teacher, female relative, boss, wife or girlfriend, or even a therapist or other authority figure who would inflict corporal punishment on them. It pleased them to pretend to be submissive to a powerful woman who must be obeyed (that would be me!) while they were actually loving every second of their "ordeal."

It was like writing, directing, and acting in my own little drama in which I was the star. I was the Faye Dunaway of dominant women. I'm sure a lot of men would have liked to be corrected by her. That would go double when she was wielding one of her guns as Bonnie Parker.

There was a physical side to it as well. If men went over my lap, I would tightly hold them with one hand (the one not doing the spanking) and press them against my body. They delighted in presenting their bare buttocks to my gaze although they wouldn't admit to that either.

My BDSM activities might be considered rather vanilla by some because there was a limit to how far I would go in administrating pain on my clients. A firm hand spanking worked fine, although I sometimes wore a leather glove to protect my own hand from becoming sore and numb.

Belts and hairbrushes also put considerable dents in the rears of naughty guys. There was one fellow who went to the trouble of collecting birch rods somewhere and making his own switch for me to utilize on him. When I asked him where he had found the necessary sticks for the job, he answered, "Van Cortlandt Park in The Bronx."

I never used a cane, however, because those could be tricky and cause injuries if used improperly. Probably I would have failed dominatrix training because of that reluctance, but I wasn't competing against any other supposedly harsh women. Also, only a few johns wished to be restrained ("bondage") during their discipline. That was just as well because I was quite inept at tying knots.

Almost every compliant guy got a substantial erection during my beating of him. There is a factor that those unfamiliar with BDSM may not know about. Striking the buttocks heats a person's flesh and causes blood to rush into the pelvis, one of the causes of the reddening of spanked behinds. I think guys were often secretly proud of that and it definitely pleased me to leave vivid marks on them.

For males, that blood would often flow into the testicles and penis, causing impressive boners. Much later, I found out first-hand that the same effect often causes arousal in women too, no matter how much they might yell and complain about being smacked. You've heard the truthful testimony of Dr. Meara about this matter.

It wasn't that common, but a few clients paid me to bring them to orgasm after a thorough round of ass-whacking. One option was to eventually kneel next to them during their "corner time" and suck on their shafts that were pointed towards the wall.

Some of the most intense climaxes I ever witnessed resulted from post-discipline sexual activities. Their cum would jet out into my mouth or against the wall, depending on what we had agreed to ahead of time. A few would forget to pull out, of course, and I charged them for their mistake. They always paid as required.

Zach's Naughty Problem

There was only one guy who was able to climax from a spanking alone, as I will relate here. A guy named Zach called me day in Maspeth in March 1974, and we negotiated about his "issue." He claimed to be very shamed about masturbating too much and he thought my flailing hand and then a wooden hairbrush would "cure" him of his "filthy habit," as he called it.

He wasn't the first john to claim to be bothered by self-stimulation, and I usually assumed it was just a pretext. I felt I could ask him about his personal matters over the phone. "So, Zach, who do you think about during your jerk-off adventures? Do you have a girlfriend by chance?"

"No, I just imagine various girls at school. Sometimes I picture a celebrity."

My curiosity got to me. "Anyone in particular?"

"Sophia Loren is a good one."

I couldn't stifle a laugh about that because I didn't seem at all like Loren. Since Zach seemed forthcoming about his onanism, I asked him, "How often do you indulge in this?"

"I can't keep my hands off myself. Like every night, and sometimes during the day in a restroom if I can get away with it."

I knew that some students, including myself, were often on the same whack-off schedule so it didn't seem that extreme to me. Nevertheless, I humored him. "My, that does seem like quite a problem."

"I know, Ms. Meara, I need you to show me the error of my ways so I can be good again."

He didn't mention religion, so I went with another tactic. "Yes, you have been very naughty and you have been thinking of women only as sex objects." Naughty was a word that was often used in BDSM discussions and seemed more appropriate for something like throwing paper airplanes in a classroom.

"I should hope, Zach, that you don't think of me that way after I am done disciplining you." Of course, I had no way of enforcing that edict.

"Oh no, Ms. Meara, I promise to behave myself after this."

Then we got a bit into the specifics of how it would be done. I said, "You asked to be finished off with a hairbrush on your bare headquarters. That will leave some noticeable bruises. And it should be more than adequate for teaching you to behave like a gentleman."

I almost giggled at that silly statement. Gentlemen don't masturbate? Yet Zach was impressed. "That sounds splendid, Ms. Meara. Please, show me no mercy."

That was a bit of an exaggeration, but I would provide him with something that approximated what he had requested. He didn't ask for a time limit, but I did give him a safe word in case he had enough during his spanking. I had yet to hear any dominated man use such a word; they just took whatever I dished out.

I warned him anyway with a bit of hyperbole. "I'm going to wear your ass out Zach because you've acted deplorably. You won't soon forget what you learn from me, that's for sure." Sometimes I thought I should use my talents to write porn movie scripts.

****

Zach, a fairly ordinary-looking guy, drove out to my house a couple of days later. Of course, I should have been in class, but this was going to pay too well to spend the time at C.C.N.Y.

As a hooker in my own home, I wasn't much of a hostess; in fact, I wasn't one at all. I offered no drinks, coffee, chat, or anything else sociable while in my living room. Instead, I was merely sitting in the armless chair I would be using for my chastisement session.

"Zach, sit down over there so we can quickly review what we're going to do here." It was a similar chair to mine; I didn't want him to get too comfortable.

There wasn't much to explain. I said, "Now, this is going to be a real headmistress-type spanking where I'm going to raise my hand up really high." I just made up that phrase on the spot. My steel-rimmed glasses always gave me an additional look of authority.

"Yes, Nora, that is the best way to accomplish what I need."

"It's Ms. Meara, remember?"

"I apologize, ma'am, for my unfortunate slip of the tongue."

Zach could create pretty fair porn dialogue too, I suspected. Nevertheless, I rebuked another of his errors. "I'm still pretty young. The word miss is an appropriate way to address me."

"Whatever you wish, Miss Meara." Well, I could understand why he was confused by using miss instead of ms. because the revised terminology was still fairly new back then.

I was wearing a jacket and skirt, and I took the jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair. I also rolled up the right sleeve of my blouse, the arm I used for spanking. It was a bit of theater to show Zach that I meant business. Then I made the typical dominatrix gesture with my finger to call him over. "Just stand in front of me."

After undoing his trousers, I lowered them below his knees. He asked for more. "My I take this off entirely?"

"Whatever works for you. It's your spanking, after all." I thought of the Burger King slogan, have it your way.. But I was the enforcer, so I made a few demands too. "Get over my lap, but keep your feet on the floor. You can put your hands on the floor too, or just hold on to the chair legs."

Once he was in position while wearing his shoes and socks, I yanked his underpants down to bare his buttocks. I removed them entirely and tossed them on top of his trousers. He probably liked that. Dominated johns seemed to enjoy having their discarded garments piled up nearby. Hey, she's going to be really harsh with me today.

For a moment I examined his pale exposed behind. That's another aspect that they secretly enjoyed. "There's not a lot of meat on your rear Zach, but I expect you to take it like a man. You are invariably going to groan in pain, but don't you dare try to get up." It was highly unlikely that he'd try to do that or even use the safe word.

There was something that I did that I enjoyed, which was gently rubbing and kneading his butt cheeks for a moment. Of course, he moaned quietly and I could feel his already significant erection stiffening further. Then I went into my chiding mode.

"This is going to be painful and humiliating, but it's for your own good. There is not going to be a warm-up; I'm going to smack you very hard from the beginning. At the end, I have my hairbrush right here on the floor to give you the finale. So, my friend, after this, you're keeping your hands off your cock and you will stop masturbating forever, I hope. Are you ready to take it?"

We both knew it was surely going to be an ineffective treatment, but that wasn't the point. He'd probably be stroking himself in his car afterwards if he could find a place to park with some privacy. And he would be thinking of me while doing it.

Zach dutifully answered, "Yes, Miss Nora, please do whatever you think is necessary to help me." He was still unsure of what to call me.