White Freshman, Black Coeds Ch. 14

And perhaps I did fall asleep, because I abruptly became aware that Capri was beside me, half atop me, staring down at me, the most beautiful, beholden look on her face. I just smiled simply at her, a smile of exhaustion, contentment, and gratitude. I would've closed my eyes again but she spoke.

"Was it good, Mark?" She knew the answer, but wanted to hear it. I think needed to hear it, needed affirmation that she'd thoroughly pleased a man the 'right' way, not the ugly way as before.

What could I say? It was the best I'd had yet (out of only 3, granted) so I told her so. Not in the flowery language that I'm prone to, but just a, "Yes, my love, it was the best." My right hand snaked behind her back and pulled her into me, my left hand cupping her right cheek and drawing her face to mine. I kissed her, a simple kiss held for a few seconds, then indicating that she should ease back, I spoke nearly into her lips, "Thank you, that was truly incredible, and I love that you wanted to do it. I think we're even now."

I pulled her in for another kiss, which she resisted. I could tell there was something on her mind, so I released her so she could speak it.

"But we still have to do the other thing, Mark. To make it even, to make it balanced."

I protested that this was enough, but she wasn't having it. "Mark, I don't know what the future holds for you, for me, maybe for us? But you've given me something tonight, made me reevaluate things. I'm not saying I'm going to stop what I've been doing, that ugly thing, but like you did for my mother, fulfilling a need she didn't even know she had, you've done that for me. And I want to explore that more, see that more, feel that more.

"This bit of lovemaking with you just now felt so pure, so real, that I—well I haven't had a lot of that in my life. Before I started being what I am, doing what I do, I was much like your Nia: shy, inexperienced, but eager to try, to share myself, to be enjoyed but also respected. In short, I guess, to be loved."

Watching her say these things I had a similar reaction as I'd had with Latonya: I didn't 'know' Capri's past, but my mind extrapolated her back in time to how my Nia was now, wide-eyed and wholesome, a young girl with hopes and dreams and limitless expectations. Capri's experience had led her down a stony path, like Latonya's had, and I felt sorry for her over that. Not pity, but sorry it (whatever 'it' was) had happened, sorry that she'd not been able to experience the joy that Nia and I had. Sorry for the way in which she had figured out how to cope, to make the best of it.

I teared up while thinking all this, which Capri saw and understood, kissing me lightly on the forehead, then directly on my eyelids. "This, Mark, this is what I've never had. You're so sensitive to others, putting yourself in their place, and most importantly, somehow understanding them, seeing them for who they are deep down inside. That's what I want from you, if you'll let me partake of it."

"Of course, Capri, we can do all that, be all that. But this— this other thing isn't needed anymore. I forgave you long ago."

"I know, Mark, but *I* need it, I truly do. And not just to make it up to you, but really to atone for all the pain I've caused men. Many of whom were just lost or misguided, but I exploited that and instead of helping them with my psychology insights as I easily could have, I took them further down their paths of debasement, inflicting more pain than they deserved.

"It's that I need to atone for, and I think I've found in you the only man I could feel safe with doing that, the only one who'll understand my need, the motivation behind it. Because sadly you experienced it yourself, you saw what it's like, how easy it is to...to selfishly get people to do things they don't want to do and oughtn't to be doing.

"I know it's a terrible thing to ask, Mark, but I need this from you. More than I needed your use of me just now, more than I needed to accept your seed, accept you. I need your pure heart to exorcise my wicked one. Or if not exorcise, because I don't know if that's even possible, at least ameliorate it, purge me of my sins. At least as much as one person can for another."

I was hearing her, and keeping up with the argument I thought. But she was right, it was a hard thing to bear, being asked to do this. A lot of her language had seemed Christian, Biblical, so I asked her if she'd grown up religiously. She said she had, and I had too. Off and on (mostly on) through the years, especially at the boys' home, which was run by a local church so attendance was mandatory.

What she'd said made me think of confession, confessing to an appointee of God to whatever transgressions one needed to be absolved from. And here I felt that I was Capri's confessor, and I was okay with that; I'd support and affirm whatever she felt she needed.

But the other, the spanking, made me think of the friars of old (and I guess they still do it) flagellating themselves with knotted whips, literally beating the sins—or just impure thoughts out of themselves. That's what I felt Capri was asking me for, and I told her honestly that I wasn't sure I could do it. She'd just been so tender with me, so loving, how could I hurt her now? Physically hurt her?

Capri burst into tears and buried her head in my chest, telling me that I had to, I simply had to. There was no one else. No one who could do it from a position of purity, where it would mean something, do it for her with the proper meaning and import, and not just cravenly for themselves. I simply must do it!

I let her cry herself out, patting her with my hands, squeezing her tight, shushing her, running my fingers through her hair. All the while pondering this thing. This bizarre new thing. I mean I mostly got it, but why did it have to be me? I wasn't some Messiah, come to free the Dominatrixes of the world from their evil prisons (assuming they wanted to be freed). I was just an 18yo kid from Ann Arbor who until a few days ago had never even touched a woman, but now was expected to absolve one of her sins in this cruel way.

I say cruel, because that's what she'd done to me, there was no sugar-coating it. And that's what I'd promised her back. I mean, it was just hands, not belts or whips, but still, a hand properly applied could inflict a lot of pain. And I was learning to use mine just so in Tae Kwon Do. I mean I wanted to do it for her, but I wasn't sure any longer that I could. The spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak, for another Biblical reference.

If I'd started with the spanking I'm sure I could've done it, because I was genuinely mad enough then to do it. But now, after she'd done this thing for me, this most-intimate thing I'd asked her to do, how could I be mad anymore? Leaving aside the sexual tension that had been released, and the 'crazy thoughts you have before you've come but now don't want to follow through on' thing. Even I think besides that, I no longer felt I needed to spank her, a feeling that had been quite strong before. I was generally one to forgive and forget, for better or worse.

Capri had cried herself out and sat up, then had me roll over on my stomach. Seeing her prior handiwork there she said, "Mark, please go look at your bottom in the mirror." It had indeed been tender when I was sitting there in front of her, feeding myself to her, but when I went into the bathroom for its mirror: Holy crap, I can actually see her handprints! There, there, down there on my thighs, over here...

And seeing that, beyond just knowing or feeling it, started to rouse my anger again. Which I'm sure was her purpose in sending me to the mirror. I mean, I wasn't seething mad or anything, but it brought back to me full-force the pain of those few minutes, the bewilderment, the hurt, the confusion, the fight-or-flight terror. The internal battle of do I stay and let this woman I'd like to fuck do this to me? And then after that, when she'd punched and squeezed my dick and balls.... Yeah, I was ramping back up into a payback mood.

Realizing I had to go, I closed the door and did. Then I wet a washcloth with hot water and gave myself a good scrubbing down there. And realizing that she'd never applied that ice to the welts on my butt (the ice she'd sent me out in public mostly naked for, which further hardened my resolve), I wet a hand towel with cold water, spun it around a few times for some evaporative cooling (engineer, please forgive me), and draped it over my sore bottom. It stung initially, but soon began to be soothing. I left the bathroom then, the towel pinned at my hips, cooling my aching bum.

When I came back into the room I saw that Capri had arranged herself on her stomach in the middle of the bed, a doubled-up pillow tucked under her crotch, which raised her ass in the air most deliciously. Normally if I'd been presented with that scenario I'd have wanted to dive into that ass with hands and lips and devour it. And there was still some of that feeling, but it was overridden by the desire to spank it, to punish her, to leave the same marks on her she'd made on me.

In a neutral-to-cold voice I said, "Very nice, Capri. I approve of your readiness to accept your punishment. And your cleverness with the pillow; that will make it easier for me to spank you." Her face flat on the bedspread, looking left at me, she smiled a little, I think relieved to know that I was in fact going to do it. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes showed apprehension. And maybe a little fear.

"Don't talk to me unless I ask you a direct question. Move over here to the edge of the bed." I'd decided I didn't want to sit on my bum any longer, and though I could've knelt beside her, standing would give me more leverage. And it would delineate the power difference between her and I now: me standing, mobile, while she'd be lying flat, movement restricted, able to be easily controlled if she did try to evade her punishment.

With her at the side of the bed now, again propped up on the pillow, face turned left, right at the edge, I commanded, "Look at what you did to me!" I trusted that the cold towel would have highlighted the welts, the cooling causing the unabused skin to be whiter than before, making the angry red outlines of her hand stand out more prominently.

I'd brought the ice bucket with me and set it there on the nightstand near her head. Taking the towel off to show her my injuries, I submerged it in the now icy/watery mixture. With an impish thought that suddenly occurred to me, I held that now-dripping-wet hand over her back, trailing cold droplets down her back and onto her bum. She shivered delightfully and made little squealing noises.

With my butt now facing her, inches from her face, I commanded her to look and take note, because hers would soon look just like it. "Is that what you want, Miss Pullam?" I'd taken a gamble that her mother's last name was still the same as Capri's. Oftentimes not the case after divorce because the woman reverts to her maiden name, but somehow I'd guessed that theirs wasn't so much a divorce as he'd just left. I must've been right, because she didn't correct me.

"Yes sir, that's what I want." A pause while we searched each other's faces, me starting to waver in my resolve, seeing how vulnerable she looked, how meekly she'd offered herself up to me. "That's what I need. Sir."

Thinking about the ice again—I'd sometimes applied it to my nipples or the head of my dick—I scooped a piece out of the bucket and cupping it under my hand, rubbed it over her right butt cheek, the one farthest from me. An initial gasp, then low moaning from Capri. It had occurred to me that the spanking might be more painful if her butt was cold, and therefore require less force and less visible consequences, so I had resolved to ice her butt down good beforehand. And while doing that I'd talk her through what was about to happen.

I repeated with another cube on her left cheek, just watching myself work and seeing her squirm a little. Then I took the hand towel out of the ice bucket and wrung it out a little bit, right there in front of her where she could see what I was doing, leaving a lot of the cold water still in it. "Miss Pullam, why do you say you 'need' this punishment?" On 'punishment' I draped the cold towel over her ass, which made her suck in her breath sharply.

"Sir, I've been bad. Really bad. I've humiliated and hurt men, sometimes with the help of their own wives—" Rurr? "—and instead of using my education and training for good, to help these men overcome their psychoses, I exploited them, took money from them to abuse and debase them."

She began to gently sob, and she looked so contrite, so remorseful, that I instinctually knelt down at the bedside and kissed the tears away from her left eye, running my right hand up and down her back reassuringly. But that had opposite the intended effect and she only began sobbing harder.

"Miss Pullam, Capri, what is it you want from me? What do you think I have to offer you? And speak up dear, because I need to step into the restroom for a minute. She began speaking, turning her head to the right as I rounded the end of the bed, pitching her voice toward me as I went into the bathroom.

"Sir, I need you to spank me, as I've spanked and abused so many men over the last few years. As I spanked you, this very night." This last she'd said even louder, because I'd turned on the water. It excited me that occupants on either side might've heard her, or that they might hear what was about to happen, whether it be my slaps on her butt, or her cries in response.

I walked back into the room, another cold, wet hand towel in hand, then submerged it in the ice water. I took the now-warm one from her buttocks and added it too. "Very good, Miss Capri, you've told me what you want from me, and a little bit of why. But tell me: why me? What is it you think only *I* can give you?"

"Well sir, besides that you were my latest victim and that I want you to repay me so our relationship can be on an even footing going forward, I want it to be you because you're so new to sex, so naïve, so pure, so...wholesome. My idea of sex between a man and a woman is perverted, a parody of the loving act, while yours is....one of wonderment, enjoyment, mutual gratitude. That's why it has to be you, because I know of no other man who has those qualities, who isn't also jaded in some way."

"I see, dear. Thank you, I think I understand now why this is so important to you." Here I took a hand towel from the bucket, wrung it out a little dryer than before, then draped it over her bottom again. Then I grabbed a double handful of ice and placed it in a mound on one of her ass cheeks, forcing another gasp as the pile of ice with its residual icy-cold water landed there.

I spent the next two minutes basically playing checkers on Capri's bottom, arranging the cubes in a grid about an inch apart on each cheek, going back to the bucket for more when I ran out. That completed, I wrung out the other towel and draped it on top of the first, trapping the ice cubes in between.

"Do you know why I'm doing this to your bottom, Miss Pullam?"

"Sir, I think to numb it, so it won't be as painful when the swats come?"

"You're right, it could do that, and it might. But I'm hoping it will make the swats more painful. More painful, but with less force required to reach the same level of pain. Your skin should be tauter, making the smacks land more firmly. With your skin taut, my hope is that the impact force of my hand will be retained in the skin, and not absorbed and attenuated by the flesh below.

"You'll have to forgive me, Miss Pullam, but I'm an engineer by nature, and though it's mainly machines and gadgets that I work on, you've given me a perfect opportunity to test this new theory on a real human body. Thank you for allowing me to do this." And here I ran my right hand soothingly up and down her back, reassuring her.

"You're welcome, Sir. Thank you for doing this for me. I can't wait to feel the anger of your strikes delivered on my pristine bottom. And I too hope it hurts more because of the ice."

"Thank you, dear." While I waited for the ice and its meltwater to do its expected work, I monitored back there, squooshing and arranging, adding more ice as it melted.

"Miss Pullam, you've told me that the sexual work you do, and I suspect even your non-professional encounters, is 'bad', 'dirty', and 'ugly'." She nodded, head still sideways flat on the bed, facing me

"Tell me, Capri, what would 'good', 'clean', or 'beautiful' sex look like to you?"

I think I caught Capri a bit off-guard here, because she didn't readily answer. She only looked up at me with the one eye, perhaps appraising me or even acknowledging that I was getting to the root of what the matter was for her.

By now I was quite aroused, my cock at full length again, dangling almost grotesquely over her pretty face. "Well, Sir, I think sex should be a partnership, a sharing, with each participant having equal footing, equal autonomy. Willing to do things for the other, knowing that doing so will incentivize their partner to reciprocate, so that the giving feels as good to each as the receiving."

"I like that, Capri, very well said." Here she smiled a middling smile, shrugging her shoulders simultaneously, saying, Thank you for appreciating that.

Adding more ice to her compress, I said, "Miss Pullam, please purse your lips out like you're about to kiss your mother. Perfect. Now, if I were a stranger who'd somehow walked into this room uninvited, and I found you just like this, perhaps you're asleep, and I placed the head of my stiff cock against your lips, like this—" and I did just that, reveling again in their soft texture and warmth, "—how would you feel about that?" Not moving, I added, "Please hold this position while you process that. Imagine I'm a total stranger trying to penetrate your mouth unbidden."

Looking at the clock on the nightstand, I counted thirty seconds before removing my penis from her lips.

"I wouldn't like that at all, sir."

"Well of course you wouldn't like it, dear, but how would it make you feel?"

"Sir, I would feel degraded, objectified, thinking I was just an anonymous warm mouth for this man to use for his own selfish pleasure."

"Lovely, dear! Because that's how *I* felt when you commanded me to lick your anus, or else. Do you see the parallel?"

Tears forming in her eyes, Capri answered, "Yes sir, I do see now how that feels. And I'm sorry again. Sir."

She did that coughing/sniffing thing you do when you're trying not to cry. Not wanting that to run away with her, put her into a full-on crying spell, I gently massaged her shoulders, telling her, "Shhh, shhh, it's alright dear. But I'm glad you got to feel that, I think it was important for you." At the end of that I kissed her ear and rose back up, tending to the ice again.

"Now, Capri, if I, Mark Livingston, not your Master for the moment, asked your permission to put my penis in your mouth, would you grant it? Right now, in these circumstances."

"Oh yes, Mark! I would love that right now."

"Why, Capri?"

"Oh because I owe you so much, Mark, and I want to do anything I can to please you, to pleasure you, to give myself to you."

"Capri, may I place my penis in your mouth?"

"Yes sir, please do!"

So I did, but I told her just to hold it, no movement. Just accept it. I pushed it in rather far, until it seemed uncomfortable for her, then pulled it back just a bit. I let her hold that connection to me while I added a few more ice cubes.