Spanking 101

She smiles knowingly all over again, and murmurs for me to wait here as she takes up our dishes. I can only watch shyly through my eyelashes as she walks them over to the other room and deposit them back on the counter, and I feel the heat rise all over again in my cheeks as she returns to the table stands behind her chair, shouldering her bag. She moves around the table and places her hand with gentle firmness on my shoulder, squeezing just enough, just long enough, until I gasp and look up into her eyes directly, attending to her fully. "Let us take a walk, Jenny."

"Yes, Ma'am." It's hardly more than a whisper.

I follow her without a word as we leave the coffee shop and head back towards campus. Instead of heading down the main thoroughfare of North Pleasant Street, she takes us down smaller, quieter side streets in residential neighborhoods. There's no one around but the two of us, and I realize how pleasant it is to walk in silence with her. I'm comforted by her presence, as if she will keep an eye on the things I'd miss.

It's only when I'm feeling somewhat back to normal when she chuckles. We're halfway down a small path that cuts through a narrow, wooded lot behind the visitor parking lot on campus, sheltered by the trees. My eyes turn to her, and I smile a little. "What?"

"I have been wondering... what did you hope to get out of my class, were you to take it?"

Again I blush, and I stuff my hands into my jeans pockets. "I don't know. It just... it seemed like something I'd want you to learn more about from you." My gaze sinks to the path directly before my feet as I walk.

The feel of her hand on my shoulder is light, but immediately my feet slow down, then stop. I turn to look at her, confused, then nervous as her other hand gently cups my chin. A single step brings her closer, just that little shift breaching the barrier between what's platonic and what, suddenly, isn't, and she purrs "You still can, Jenny."

My breath sticks in my chest. The statement was so bold, and I know that she isn't talking about academics anymore. She shifts closer, watching me the entire time, waiting for signs that I'm uncomfortable but finding none, until at last she tilts my head up that much more as her lips press softly to my own.

I haven't been kissed in so long, and I've never been kissed like this. Her hands slowly move, until the one that had been at my chin cups the back of my head, and the one at my shoulder slides down my arm, her touch slow, gentle, but definitely possessive. Slowly, nervously my hands slip from my jeans pockets and come to rest on her hips over the black wool coat she's wearing, and I can feel how ready her body is beneath the fabric. I feel dizzy, like she lured me out here to have her way with me. It feels so lurid and forbidden - she's a professor and I'm a student. There's probably something in the student handbook about this, and how it's very bad.

But it feels so, so good.

Her lips part from mine slowly, and only just. She's still close enough that when she whispers, "you're such a good girl," her lips still caress against mine, and I can feel her warm breath on my skin. She nips at my lower lip, then chuckles, shifting back just a touch. "I have probably kept you too long already."

My eyes, dilated and huge, stare at her, and I shake my head. "I have nowhere I need to be." Yes I do - with her. But that sounds so needy. The thought of being teased and dropped is awful, especially by someone as perfect as she is. Already she has me wrapped around her finger, and I only just met her this morning. I swallow past a tense throat, and my voice trembles as I beg her. "Please..."

She smiles, her eyes narrowing with dark delight. "Please what, Jenny?"

Slowly her gloved hand slides in to cup the back of my head, and I almost fall to my knees, my legs turning to water. I'm flushed and out of sorts, but even so I keep it together enough to say "Please... Mistress."

Her voice is a warm hum of approval behind her lips, and she pulls me into another slow, simmering kiss. My eyes fall closed and I press up against her. Celene's hand slides around my waist to keep me near, rubbing slowly at my lower back at first before it slides down, cupping my ass possessively. Immediately I groan hotly into her mouth. Every electric memory from those videos I've been watching bursts to the forefront of my mind, and my hips buck against hers.

And then she spanks me, just once.

The clap of her gloved hand on my tense, jeans-covered cheek sounds loud in the cold, thin air, and I shiver. My hands grip at her coat desperately. How... how is it that I'm so close to cumming already? We've only been kissing! But my pussy's wet, so so wet, and it aches. One touch would do me in. Just one touch from those gloved fingers, sliding into my pants, and down between my hot, eager lips.

"Shall we go to my car?" she whispers against my burning cheek, and all I can do is nod, biting my lip.

Chapter 3

It's difficult to walk at first, but her arm around my waist helps support me up to the beginning of the visitor parking lot. We walk in silence to her car, parked behind Tobin, and every step, every second, I've got a hundred-yard stare, seeing nothing but the possible scenarios that await me. Is this really happening? Even when she opens the door for me and I slip into the passenger seat, it's difficult to believe.

This is so stupid - what if she's a psychopath or something? I grope for my phone in my pocket and check it. Fully charged. Okay. Well... if this goes crazy, hopefully I can call for help. This is so so so stupid. And yet I say nothing, desperate to get to our destination, wherever it might be.

She takes us towards Hadley, and the vistas change from suburbs to farmland. Her house is little, tucked into a thick copse of trees far from the road. We jostle a little as her sedan slowly heads down the gravel track of her driveway. At last we park, and she kills the lights and the engine. "Here we are," she says with a smile, her tone conversational enough to help snap me out of my trance just enough to let me walk on my own.

Celene leads me inside, and the interior is elegant. The furniture looks very sturdy, and the colors of the walls are rich and indulgent - dark reds, oranges, blacks, violets - warm, sultry colors that match the iron and glass nature of the coffee table and side tables. Book shelves, also in iron, hold a number of textbooks, and then I notice the art pieces.

Beautiful women, in repose, in action, alone, together, dressed in silk or steel or leather - my eyes widen as I stare at each one, and then I come to the last. It shows a naked, collared girl kneeling beside a woman seated in a chair. All you can see are the Mistress's legs clad in black nylons and pumps, and she sits at a breakfast table, the bottom edge of a newspaper making everything seem so mundane and casual, when it's anything but.

The kneeling girl's face is downcast, but she's not upset or ashamed. She's... serene. Happy. Despite being naked, she doesn't look cold or humiliated. She's comfortable, and the way her body just leans against her Mistress's leg speaks of trust and affection. It's not just sex.

My face flushes, and I realize how much I want that. To be happy and cared for, like that girl is. And at just that moment, Celene moves up behind me, her hands gently sliding over my hips to pull me slowly, gently back against her. A slow, silent breath slips past my lips, and I let myself rest against her. Her warm hands don't move to undress me, only hold me close, and she presses her lips against my cheekbone, her hair just tickling my ear. "That one has always been my favorite," she admits softly.

"Why?" I breathe, closing my eyes.

Her chin rests on my shoulder, the cotton of the hoodie a comfortable cushion as she thinks. "Because there is nothing sexual in that image. There is love, and trust. Companionship. Acceptance, hmm? That is hard to find in this world. It is beautiful."

My heart flutters in my chest, and I swallow, feeling faint. Celene must feel that something's wrong, because she gently guides me to sit on the couch. I feel like my fingers are cold and tingling, and I'm dizzy. Anxious. She murmurs that she'll be back, and I nod. Within a minute she comes back with a glass of ice water, and she guides my hands to cup around it. "Drink, Jenny. It's alright."

I shakily sip at the water. "What's... I don't get it... I'm sorry."

Celene just smiles comfortingly. "That picture and... this..." she gestures vaguely, but means, of course, whatever is happening between us. "This is all new to you, is it not?"

Miserably I nod, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. She was nice enough to invite me into her house, and in repayment of that generosity I have an anxiety attack.

"I was like you, long ago." She takes a seat next to me on the couch, letting me have my space, but still being near enough that I know she's not rejecting me. It's so subtle... how is she doing it? "I thought that such feelings were simple. Desire, love. They are not. Not for everyone. My predilections are different. I long for such a relationship as that." She looks fondly at the picture, then back at me. "I have been in a few, and they have all been wonderful. The women I was with - I cherished them, and they cherished me."

"I thought I'd had that," I admit softly, meeting her gaze timidly. "But... it wasn't. It was meanness that I gave into. It always hurt. I don't know what I want, Celene."

Very gently, Celene smiles. "Yes you do, Jenny."

My eyes are filled with guilt as I look at her, and I swallow, taking another sip of water. "I know. But I just met you."

The other woman chuckles. "Such things must start somewhere? Perhaps it will only be today? But what a lovely day that would be. I wouldn't think less of you tomorrow, regardless of what happens tonight."

For a few moments I look into my water glass, bucking up my courage. And then I set the glass aside and move, straddling Celene's lap. My chilly hands cup her warm cheeks, my fingers sinking into her chestnut locks, my thumbs caressing her cheekbones. And then I kiss her, eyes closed, and melt against her. I want her. I want her so much. I don't care about anything else - my need for her is reckless and intense.

Such an onslaught might put off the other college girls, and I think now that this is why I've been so timid. This is who I am and this is what I want, and I knew they wouldn't want it. But Celene, oh... Her hands move, one moving into my hair and pulling out the elastic. My black locks tumble down, and her strong, capable hands slide through them, until at last she grips a fistful by the roots.

I shiver and grow still and tense, and she guides me away from the kiss, tilting my head back, and back, until I have to look at the ceiling. My cheeks are blazing hot and I'm gasping open-mouthed, especially when I feel her other hand unbutton my jeans. "You will say Stop when you want to take a break. That is your safeword, Jenny. Tell me what your safeword is."

The feel of my pants and underwear being pushed down around my ass to bunch at my thighs makes me shiver, and my hands reach out to her shoulders so that I can brace myself. "M... my safeword is Stop."

"Good girl, Jenny," she purrs with pleasure, kissing along my arched neck. "Now," she breathes against my skin, "count for me."

For a second I'm not sure what she means, until her free hand, the one that had unfastened my pants, cracks down against my left ass cheek. I grit my teeth and close my eyes. "One," I growl softly, my fingers gripping at her shirt. I gasp and groan as her hand massages the sting into my skin, and then she strikes my ass again. "Two!" I say with a shudder, my back dipping.

The hand in my hair draws me close to her, but instead of kissing me, she lets me hug my arms around her shoulders. I hide my face against her neck, her sweet-smelling skin so warm against my cheek and lips. Her hand slaps my right cheek and I whimper, muttering "Three."

"What was that?" she chides, quickly pinching the string of the last strike.

I squirm and bite my lip, making sure to clearly and loudly say "Three!"

"Good girl."

Both of her hands explore the curves of my ass, the tips of her fingers just curling around to dip in and caress against my desperate pussy. I moan and shudder, hugging her tighter, but those touches only tease. My hips roll just a little, shyly, as I try to push my needy flesh against her touch, but she keeps her fingertips just out of reach, chuckling as I whine with frustration and hug her more tightly.

More slaps come, each sting building on the last, and I shudder, announcing the count each time and making sure it's loud and clear enough for her to hear. How red is my skin? Her hands aren't being gentle at all. After the last count of ten, she rubs slowly over my cheeks, making me hiss and shiver with delight. I can feel a trickle of desire slowly slide down my inner thigh, wetting my skin so that the air swirling around her spanking palm is felt even more keenly between my legs.

Soon, though, each strike makes me whimper and flinch. They're starting to hurt too much. I'm stubborn - I want her to keep going. What if this is the only time I can do this? I need to make it count! But her strikes sting and throb, and the rough caress makes me shudder. It's becoming too much, and with great reluctance I say at last "Stop, Mistress."

Immediately Celene's hand moves away, her touch light on my hips to soothe me. "Good girl for using your Safeword," she murmurs warmly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. For doing such a simple thing right, it feels so wonderful to be praised. It's like... like I've aced a difficult test, like one of my programs worked perfectly the first time out. My cheeks hurt from how broadly I'm smiling, and as she gently urges me to move away from her, she insists that I stand on my feet.

My legs are so wobbly, and I don't understand why she's making me go through something so difficult like keeping my balance until I pull my pants back up. As the cotton of my underwear and jeans slides over my red cheeks, I hiss and groan, gritting my teeth. "Oh fuck," I breathe, biting my lip as I finally get my jeans up completely and button them.

Celene just looks up at me with seductive, sadistic delight, crossing one leg over the other comfortably. "You have a choice, Jenny. You may continue to stand, but you may not touch yourself. Or... you may sit, and use your fingers to cum."

My eyes widen. Oh, what a hellish choice. I can feel my face and neck heat up, and I whimper even as I move over to sit on the couch next to her. It's like sitting in a bath that's too hot - I slowly ease my full weight down, hissing as the burn in my ass reheats. It's bearable, just barely, and I quickly unfasten my fly and slide my right hand inside. Oh god, I'm so wet. Out of habit I slouch a little to give myself a better angle, and the burn makes me cry out and arch my back. My pussy, strangely, aches all of a sudden, and my fingers hurriedly rub in firm circles over my lips and clit.

The back of the couch is soft beneath the back of my head, and I close my eyes, breathing harder and harder. I know Celene is watching, but I don't care. No, scratch that - I do care. I want her to watch. My toes curl inside my sneakers, and my feet push up onto their tiptoes as I whine behind tightly-pressed lips. I'm so close. Yes, oh come on!

Suddenly, I find my jaw is gripped firmly, and my head is turned before I'm kissed hotly. I shudder all over, tasting Celene's tongue as it pushes into my mouth and caresses against my own. Her hand slides up under my hoodie to grip and knead at my breasts behind the sports bra I wear. Without realizing it, my finger pushes into my slit with the same speed and rhythm that her tongue takes my mouth.

I'm entranced - it's like she's controlling everything by the sheer force of her personality. I'm her puppet, her plaything, her girl. And I want it. I need it. This is what I was looking for when I came to this part of the state, what I was afraid to show people. The realization makes me feel so good, and I shiver, then jerk, my two fingers burying themselves and writhing hard until, at last, I cry out into her mouth. It feels so unbelievably good, my eyes rolling up, back arching, heart nearly stopping. Nothing's ever felt so good, not with anyone. She slowly breaks the kiss, her kisses trailing over my cheek to my neck, and I feel boneless against the couch. My fingers are almost aching within the clench of my heated satisfaction, the hot, thick desire sliding over my palm and knuckles.

It's quiet in her living room, like everything in the world is serene and still. Beneath my shirt, her hand caresses my stomach slowly, helping me to calm down. My head turns until my cheek rests on the cushion, my wide, adoring eyes looking into hers. For a little while all we can do is look at each other, and I realize after a moment that our breathing has fallen into synch. She looks a little surprised herself, and a slow smile grows on her lips.

I can't help but smile shyly as well, and she leans in to briefly kiss the corner of my mouth before whispering "perhaps we should talk. I wish to see you. Tomorrow. The day after, on and on." She almost looks a little shy, turning away to take a breath before looking back at me. "I want you, my darling Jenny. You are her. You are in every way her."

The girl in the picture. My smile grows, and when Celene shifts to sit closer, I lean against her, my cheek on her shoulder. It's so comfortable there. "Maybe I should get you a newspaper," I murmur, and I smile brightly as she happily laughs.

"Yes, I think you must," she whispers against my forehead, kissing it. "I think you must."