White Freshman, Black Coeds Ch. 14

If you've just discovered this series, I'd urge you to read the Prologue to Chapter 1, and maybe even start there. This is a slowly-building series that I'm trying to keep as realistic as possible, the sexual awakening of a shy 18yo boy. But I hope there's enough erotica in each part to keep it interesting, even if you just start here.

[Capri has just told Mark that Miss Pullam from the cafeteria is her mother.]

Seeing it now register on my face that Capri indeed looks a lot like Miss Pullam, she said, "She knows what I do, and....we're close, we...talk. Tuesday morning she was walking on cloud nine so I asked her what was going on, joking that she looked like she'd just gotten laid." You talk to your mom like that? I could never do that, but girls are different I guess.

"She gave me a knowing look, confirming without speaking it, so I said, 'Mom, who is it??' Thinking it was a man her age on campus, maybe one of the maintenance men or something, they're always trying to talk to her."

"So you're the daughter she went shopping with Saturday!"

"The one and only! Only daughter, that is. Only child, too. Anyway, I kept pestering her, and finally after breakfast was over and cleaned up she pulled me into the walk-in cooler so no one could hear (ostensibly to do 'inventory'), and told me. Mark, you really made an impression on her! Your openness, your sincerity and intensity, your interest in her and her life. She told me she hadn't felt like that in years, even since before my dad left. How you were attuned to her needs, how you let her....drive. Honestly, she couldn't speak highly enough about you. And if I'm being totally honest, about that big penis you're packing. Bigger than my dad's, she said."

I enjoyed that compliment, but as I was taking all this in, trying to judge which of her personas was saying these things. Capri added, "So I wanted to meet you. See what all the hype was about."

"All the hype? An odd thing to say if it was just your mother telling you."

With no guile in her face, not looking like she'd been trying to hide anything, Capri added, "Mom knows Rita, and kind of knows what she does. 'Once a Zeta Phi, always a Zeta Phi,' they say. Mom stays active with the House, mentoring new girls, helping with fundraisers, etc. So Monday night when you were talking to her and let slip Rita's name and Zeta Phi, she made an educated guess that it was that Rita. And that's when she decided to seduce you back, I guess.

"Then Tuesday she called the House, got Rita on the phone, and learned everything about you. I'm sorry, Mark, but I mean everything. Your first two girls were Candace and....Keisha? Candace was a ZP for 3 years you know"

I nodded to acknowledge all that, then thought: Huh. Quite the grapevine these sorority sisters have going. And it was then that I began to fully realize the breadth of the web I was ensnared in. Not that I minded much, this evening's punishments notwithstanding.

"When you hit on her Monday at dinner and maneuvered her into meeting at her house, I think she allowed that because she really did want you to be able to tell her your Big News. But then when she heard Zeta Phi and Rita's name she thought about the sexual possibilities, that if Rita was tutoring you, then... I think she was just lonely and hadn't been with a man in a long while, and when you told her you liked black girls she wondered if that extended to black women. Older black women."

She searched my face again, gauging my reaction. Was I going to feel used? Upset? Angry? But how could I, when I'd approached Angela on my own volition because I found her attractive. And I don't think anyone had put that idea in my head. How could they have?

Smiling at Capri, indicating that all that was forgiven, I repeated back to her some of these revelations, the ties and interrelationships that made it all make sense. Candace to Rita, who brought in Nia, then me trying to seduce Angela, who called Rita when I'd let her name slip, who told Angela all about me. All about me.

"So your mom really didn't just happen to take an interest in me before, noticing that I wasn't going home on weekends, asking Admissions about me on the sly? She'd gotten that straight from Rita!"

"Yes and no. No, she probably hadn't singled you out, and almost definitely not the weekend charges thing. But she told me, honestly, that she had noticed you early on. Not because you're cute, or in a sexual way, but by the way you carried yourself, your politeness, the way you interacted with her and others, your kindness. That's what she noticed about you."

I was starting to believe Capri's words more and more, because she seemed to be honestly opening up to me, and fervent in her desire to tell me the truth now. My feelings toward her were softening and I was beginning to see her as just a girl (not a Dominatrix, whatever exactly that was), but a young woman here naked in bed with a young man, desiring only to do what young people naturally do. In short, I was getting aroused by her. And though I hadn't touched her yet, I was gazing more often at her breasts, thinking about sucking them.

"A test, so I know you didn't just overhear some of this somehow: What exactly did I do with your mom?"

"She rode your lap, your penis still inside your boxers, her panties off."

Erotic to hear her telling it, describing in clinical detail the lascivious thing I'd done with her own mother.

"What else?"

"You said you wanted to pump it between her breasts, and she told you to make it go into her mouth on each stroke, and then you ejaculated in her mouth." Here her right hand crept gently, but not stealthily like she was trying to hide it, down to grasp my organ, simply holding it. It seemed innocent enough, her pushing the boundary maybe, but I enjoyed it so I let it be.

"Did she tell you if she liked it?"

"She did, she said she loved it. She most loved the look on your face, the appreciation, the wonder, the concern, and finally the acceptance of that thing she'd done for you."

That sounded about right, that's exactly how I'd felt.

"We can talk about Rita later and her whole thing, whatever it is she does exactly, but just one more question before we can move on: Do you know if Nia likes me, really likes me? Tell me the truth now!" That came out with more force than I'd intended, and Capri recoiled from me a little, which told me she'd gotten the message.

"Baby, I can't say for sure, because I haven't talked to her directly. But before I tell you what I do know, ask yourself this: How could she not like you, even love you? Spending all that intimate time with her, learning all those amazing things together, and you being so...tender, so thoughtful, so attentive to her. Any girl would've fallen in love with you."

"Enough hypotheticals! What do you know?"

"I talked to Rita yesterday—" that was a gut punch and Capri saw it, stopping, giving me time to process.

"I was a Psych major myself, and just one year ahead of Rita. And I was a Zeta Phi too..." And the hits just keep coming! They're ALL in on this!

"I knew it! You sorority bitches are all just using me, teasing me, making fun of me!" Yes, I called her a bitch.

"Mark, no, it's not like that, I swear!" She reached for my face with the hand that was on my dick, but I shied away from her, wouldn't let her touch me anymore.

"Mark, *I'm* the worst offender in all this, believe me, but Nia is innocent. She knows nothing about you other than what you told her. Her feelings for you are real, she seems to truly care about you, is possibly in love with you. And Rita was only—"

"What did you mean 'you're' the worst offender?"

"Mark, I'm jaded. I've been doing this, this thing I do with men, for a long time. Since my sophomore year in fact, when the little bit of Psychology study I had, combined with a singular experience I'll have to tell you about some time, led me down this 'dominatrix' path. But truthfully, I hate it, I don't want to do it anymore.

"I've seen so many craven men, their sexual psyches warped, willing to do disgusting things for me, things no man should ever want to do, and I've come to see all men in that light, as cowardly little boys with dirty secrets who I could bend to my will. And do it in a way that made them think it's what they wanted.

"So when mom told me about you, what little she actually knew, and then when I talked to Rita, who filled me in on the rest— I should first tell you that I'm like the Wicked Witch to Rita's Good Witch. She has a positive view of the wholesomeness of sex, of relationships between men and women, and she works to bring out the good in them, make them better.

"Me, I've seen the underbelly of the beast. I've seen men at their worst: egotistical, entitled, buffoonish, simpering. Men who wouldn't know how to properly treat a woman if their life depended on it. So when I heard about you, when Rita told me about you, I took it as a professional challenge. Not a challenge to change you or unearth any of those things in you, but to see if it was true, if you lived up to all the glowing praise she spoke about you with."

She paused while I just looked at her, not speaking, letting her suffer in silence.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Mark. And I didn't want to break you. I only wanted to test you, to see for myself. Was there really such a man as you out in the world? And now, after all this, especially after witnessing your interaction with Latonya, your empathy, your sympathy, your tenderness, your caring, I think there is such a man out there." She reached up to caress my cheek with the back of her hand and I let her this time.

A sad smile, a look of, That's all I've got, all I can say; I hope it's enough. And I hope you believe me because I'm baring my soul to you. As I studied her face without speaking, her look morphed into, Can you ever forgive me?

I turned away from her, ordering her to stay there, as she'd done me before. I sat with my back to her, overcome with all this, with her seemingly-heartfelt words about me, about what she'd heard about me, anyway. Wrestling with the agony on the one hand of wanting to curse her out and leave, but on the other, to sweep her into my arms, forgive her, tell her that I truly saw and believed this side of her too. That I knew she wasn't a bad person.

I composed myself, turned back to her, and with a tone of voice that belied my years, told Capri that I could forgive her, that we could move past this. Her face literally burst open with joy, and with real tears, thankful that I'd come down on that side of the fence, promising to treat me much better going forward, anticipating future sex and joy with me the right way, not the dirty way she was used to.

She embraced me, kissing my face all over, crying, laughing, saying thank you's, trying to move one of my hands to her breasts, trying to get started...

But I resisted that, and with even more gravitas in my voice, said, "Capri, I said I could forgive you." I let that sink in for a time, watching her smile waver, doubt come into her eyes. That same doubt she'd instilled in me earlier when I'd had to ask myself, What did I do wrong?

"But I didn't say I do forgive you." And I let that sink in, watching her face become even more crestfallen, more doubtful, more scared.

"Yet." And her face went to that middle state, the one where she recognized that there was a chance for redemption. Her eyes promised me that she'd do whatever it took to earn that redemption, that I need only speak it.

Then in my sternest, coldest voice and facial expression yet, I said, "I think a punishment is going to be needed. A spanking." Capri looked afraid now, still unwavering in her desire to do whatever it took, but this was something she hadn't counted on.

Then as I allowed a smile to creep into my face slowly, she began to understand and smiled a little too, her intensity matching and then exceeding mine as she saw in my face that I meant it, but that it wouldn't brutal, but loving. A necessary retribution before we could be even again.

"Yes sir, Mark...," as she warmed to the idea, and saw in my expression that if she just played along with this, then we could become close. "I meant, Mister Mark!" (She told me later that she'd toyed with the idea of God Mark, to match Goddess, but that didn't sound right. And then Master Mark, but she didn't want to 'go there,' put ideas in my head that this was some black/white, slave/owner thing. I agreed that she'd worded it just right.)

"Will you do exactly as I say, Capri, and only what I say, when I say it?" Riffing off her performance earlier. I'm starting to kind of like this power thing; I can see how it could become addictive.

"Yes sir!" she said, smiling hugely and slipping into her new role readily. We'll see how fun she thinks it is when I start smacking that ass!

Then dropping my smile and becoming serious again, but somewhat apologetic, "Capri, I don't really want to spank you...but I want to spank you, if you know what I mean." She nodded that she did, and that she understood what I was saying. There was a 'knowing' in her expression too, because she's probably felt this way in some of her past activities.

"If you and I had met 'normally,' no way would I be asking you— okay, telling you right now that I was going to spank you, that it was a prerequisite for, or even part of our lovemaking." She nodded and smiled reservedly, knowing that to be true, but accepting that it was necessary now.

"Two things: I love black girl butts. I mean, I really love them!" She beamed here, knowing that she herself had a black girl butt, and a very nice one at that. "I've only gotten to touch and play with a couple before now, but that was always reverentially, the way I did yours earlier." Careful not to say 'worshipped.'

"And I don't think I would've thought of it on my own, spanking, besides maybe a little love slap." Here I was recalling Derek's light smack on the top of Candace's rump. Capri just nodded along, understanding in her eyes, acknowledgement that I wasn't 'like that.'

"But now that the idea has occurred to me, I think I'd very much like spanking your butt, watching how it reacts to my smacks, how you react, your crying out, your moans. I don't want to hurt you, per se, but you've made me see how erotic it can be, the pain followed by pleasure. So I'd like to explore that. Is that fair?"

Capri acknowledged that it was fair, and even somewhat normal to incorporate light punishment into sexual play, as part of foreplay. That was good for me to hear, that this wasn't an insane idea, because I was on uncharted (for me) ground here.

"Good, I'm glad you agree. But second thing: you really did hurt me earlier, and I really hate to say it, but part of me wants to pay you back for that, to get even. So in the first case I'd spank you a certain way, and I will do that..." Big smile and a yes sir nod from Capri.

"But from this second aspect I want to—I'm ashamed to say it—I want to hurt you. But I care for you so I don't really want to hurt you. But I feel I need to if we're to be equals again. Assuming you do want to be equals now, if you can live with that? Otherwise I can let it go and just go home." Like you told me multiple times tonight. Whoa, this feeling of power really must be treated carefully, as visions of how I might exploit Capri flitted through my mind.

She nodded and smiled tentatively, knowing that she deserved it, yet afraid of the promised pain. Maybe she'd never been treated so and was struggling with the shift in the power dynamic. We just stared at each other for several minutes, each thinking through our sides of the equation. I placed my right hand on her right breast, feeling its heft and circumference as I always do, and she took that as a sign that she was allowed to touch my manhood again, which she did gently, more holding it than playing with it.

So how should this play out? Should I smack her playfully first, even a little more forcefully than playfully? Or should I mete out the real punishment first, slake my thirst for that, then tenderly soothe her before moving into the spanking-with-sexual-intent phase? Capri was looking at me apprehensively, scared even, probably wondering if she'd judged me correctly. Was she safe with me? Was I a man of my word who would administer punishment only equal in intensity and duration to what she'd administered to me? Or would I lose control and really hurt her? I don't know, maybe even rape her if my anger got the better of me?

She said timidly, "Mark, I understand, and I do want to be equal with you, not superior in any way. And I too believe that you need to do this to make us even; I really did spank you quite hard and I'm sorry for that. But of course 'sorry' isn't good enough for something like this, so I think it's the right course.

"I mean, I could say I was sorry and really mean it. But then if I said I didn't want to go through with it, that would leave you angry and unbalanced, and you'd leave me. And I don't want that.

"I do want to get to know you, I want to be tender with you, and feel you being tender with me. I'm jealous of what my mom had with you, to be honest. So I must do it. I mean, allow you to do it, and I hope that will convey to you how truly sorry I am that I treated you like this tonight." She bit her lower lip in apprehension after saying this, a look that's always melted my heart.

And my heart did melt. A little. But still, I wanted—no—I needed to do this thing. It was hard to explain then, even more so now, but I couldn't let that debt go unpaid and still be intimate with this girl. And I didn't want it to be left unbalanced while nothing else ever happened between us, because then I'd resent her, maybe even hate her. And I didn't want that, I'm not the hating type, or hold grudges. So this was the best way I thought, and Capri seemed to agree.

Probably seeing the resolve on my face, Capri piped up, "Mark, in my line of work we have the concept of a 'safe word,' a word that either partner can say that means, Stop, this is too much for me. If it's okay with you," Funny how the tables have turned, and I'm now the one with the power, "I'd like to establish a safe word with you?" A question, not a command. I liked this side of her.

I processed this new information, thinking that I could've used a safe word earlier, and nodded my assent. Capri smiled again, timidly, but I think beginning to believe that she was safe with me, that I was the type who could respect boundaries.

"The word I usually use is bumblebee. Is that acceptable to you? Sir?" A twitch in my groin, I could get used to this, but better be careful. It seems to be a slippery slope, as Capri has found out in what, 3, 4 years of doing it?

"Yes, Capri," I said with the utmost caring and respect, "bumblebee is a good word."

Her face lit up again. "So Mister Mark, our safe word is bumblebee. If I ever say it you must immediately stop what you're doing and hold me, just comfort me. Is that agreed? Sir?"