Susan and the Professor Ch. 07

As said before, in the heat, neither woman had worn much, and Susan had left off both her bra and panties, and was wearing only what was really a cotton nightgown-dress. Thus, when Jean pulled it up, literally nothing was hidden. In the struggle, the dress worked up even further, and soon, Susan was virtually naked. As usual, she looked delightful, her ass cheeks round and pink; pushing upwards in perfect semi-circles, tempting targets for a spanker's hand. The struggle continued far longer than usual, for despite her relative weakness, Susan was furious, knowing that she was right and that she did not deserve a spanking. She fought valiantly to get free, actually half falling off Jean's lap, incidentally causing her legs to spread widely, displaying her cunt in a way that usually would have caused Jean to pause whatever she was doing. This time, however, all Jean wanted to do was take out her frustrations on Susan's bottom. Actually, she knew that she was wrong, but that only made her more stubborn and determined to win. Finally, she managed to pin Susan flat over her knees, and began to belabor her ass.

Her hand came down with a resounding snack, causing the cheeks to quiver and flatten, then rebound, leaving a hand print outlined on the pink flesh. Susan let out an indignant and pained yelp, followed by a demand to be let up. Jean, of course, ignored her and began a steady secession of thundering slaps and smacks that quickly turned the pink skin to a beet red. Slap! Smack! Slap! Slap! Smack! Each swat brought a screech of complaint from Susan, combined with a writhing effort to avoid the next slap. The spanking hand was accompanied by a litany of wrongs and grievances from Jean, "Stupid computer!" Smack! "Lousy weather!" Slap! "Blasted air conditioner!" Smack! None of the protests really had anything to do with Susan, but occasionally Jean threw in a scathing comment on "electric typewriters" Slap! and "silly Pollyannas" Smack. It was a relief to have something positive to do, some retribution for the aggravations of the day - Susan just became the available outlet.

There was something more, however. While she didn't consciously think about it, there was, as always, a tactile pleasure in spanking Susan. Her round bottom was firm and resilient, the skin pink, soft and silky. Even as Jean's hand stung from the impact of the spanking, there was still a sensual, almost sexual, pleasure in the repeated contact with the springy, yielding flesh. She had run her hands over those smooth bare buttocks many times in a purely sexual way, but there was something different about gripping Susan tightly, holding her down by sheer strength, and beating that perfect ass as hard as she wished. It was physically arousing to be in that dominant position, and, as the pink turned to fiery red, to have her surrender and become docile and submissive. Jean was not a sadist, but there was much satisfaction, of many different types, to be derived from spanking Susan.

For Susan, herself, the sense of being right served to build up her defenses for a while, but ultimately the pain of the spanking overcame her righteous wrath, and she was reduced to a trembling, crying victim, pleading for the punishment to end. An observer would have been fascinated to observe how her ass cheeks tensed and seem to pull in as she anticipated a blow, and how they expanded and rose as the spanking hand withdrew. It was almost as if her bottom were breathing, inhaling and exhaling in time with the rhythmic slapping. Her yelps, moans, sobs and whimpers coincided with the smack, her pleas and entreaties with the withdrawal. That observer also would have noticed that the writhing and twisting had caused her dress to work up to her shoulders, leaving her naked from her breasts downwards. The tits swayed and quivered in unison with the spanking, bobbing back and forth as she twisted away from the spanking hand. Her ass bounced and quivered and took on a solid red color, looking hot and painful even from a distance.

Jean wasn't interested in any of these things, however. Susan's voluptuousness was lost on her, at least, consciously, as she continued to work out her frustrations. Slap! Smack! Smack! Slap! Slap! The rhythmic blows fell on a now unresisting ass, as Susan was finally defeated, her reserves of stubbornness exhausted.

At last, Jean lost that manic desire to punish someone or something for all the annoyances of the day, and came to her senses, realizing what she was doing. Suddenly, looking at her handiwork, the crimson ass under her hand, she was filled with remorse, and, helping Susan up, she began apologizing profusely. Actually, these spanking sessions almost always ended the same way, with Jean contrite and regretful and Susan submissive, ready to acquiesce to anything the mistress (or master) asked. As said before, she hated the pain of being spanked, but she loved the feeling of being dominated, of being controlled, and then pampered and coddled like a child. As Jean hugged her, trying to make amends, saying how sorry she was, Susan snuggled against her breasts, feeling cherished and cared for.

The next inevitable step in the after-spanking sequence was for the two women to repair to the bedroom where Jean smoothed the soothing lotion on Susan's burning ass, followed by the equally inevitable, and very pleasurable, cunt and ass licking and fingering. Ironically, as they were in the throes of orgasm, a fresh breeze through the window heralded the end of the heat wave. Shortly afterwards, the power came back, the computer lit up and, not surprisingly, the automatic save function had preserved all but the last few sentences of Jean's work! So, the whole struggle had been unnecessary, but in reality, the spanking and aftermath served as a catharsis for both of them, their tensions disappeared and they relaxed together with all animosity erased. As Shakespeare said, "All's 'Well That Ends Well," but for Susan, a greater trauma still waited when she went home.