White Freshman, Black Coeds Ch. 14

"Is this enjoyable for you, Capri?" She only nodded, because I hadn't withdrawn to give her room to speak.

"But Miss Pullam, the other man, the stranger, assume he only wanted to put his penis in your mouth like this too. Perhaps you were asleep and he was a male friend of yours, not an intimate, but he'd longed to feel his own penis inside your warm, wet mouth. So he found you asleep and gently eased it in, hoping not to wake you, maybe hoping that you'd subconsciously suckle it like a baby..."

"Show me, Capri, how you might do that." She did, and oh my god! If felt SO good. All this sexy talk, this exploration of mind and body, her sexy submissive position, it all added up to a powerful yearning in my dick.

"Please stop now, dear. Go back to just holding it. Whew, I was about to put another load of my essence in your stomach. You are so sexy, Capri." By her body language she seemed to enjoy that compliment.

"But now, put that mental image in your mind of your friend having surreptitiously placed his penis in your mouth, and like a baby you'd begun to suckle it. Say his penis was the same size, shape, and taste as mine. Got it? Good."

"Now you wake up. You can't see his face from your position, much as you can't see mine now. You've known me, let's say, so you think maybe it's me. If it were me when you looked up, I like to think you'd accept it, as you're doing now. Perhaps even continuing from there, fellating me until I came inside you again. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Capri?" She nodded yes, the subtle movement of her mouth causing me to jerk.

"Now, Miss Pullam, suppose you looked up and it was your friend and not me. Would you feel the same way about it?" Because I didn't give her the option to speak by withdrawing my penis, all she could do was shake her head no.

"But it's the same penis, dear, the same size, shape, and taste. Why is my penis in your mouth pleasurable for you, but his penis not?" I withdrew (reluctantly!) so she could speak.

"Because sir, the penis wasn't attached to you. And because he hadn't asked permission. Sir."

"Say he had asked permission, at that moment when you awoke, would you have acquiesced and fellated him?" I was running my right hand gently up and down her back, adding nails sometimes, trying to cause goosebumps on her back. My left hand was retrieving ice cubes, now almost gone. Which meant it was almost time.

"No sir!" Why? "Because he's not you. I don't know him like that. I—"

"So it's important that you know the person before being intimate with them?"

"Oh yes sir, very important."

"Only knowing, or is there anything else?"

"Well sir, being attracted to him would be part of it of course. And respecting him. Thinking he was the kind of man who would deserve—"

"Perfect, dear! Capri, were you attracted to any of your clients? Did you respect them?"

"No sir, definitely not!"

"So when you had sex with them, in whatever form, it wasn't good for you, was it?" She allowed that it wasn't. "Good, now I want to go back to something that happened between us tonight, when you commanded me to perform cunnilingus on you. You remember, I see. Do you feel embarrassed about that now, ashamed?" She nodded yes, tears welling up again.

"Capri, you might've thought I was just like every other man and would gladly dive into your vagina and do that to you. I mean, I've admitted to you that I love doing that, but do you think I enjoyed doing that to you, like that, being forced to?" She shook her head no over and over, starting to blubber a little.

"And Capri, why do you think I might not have enjoyed that? You're a beautiful young lady, and I love to do that, and most any man would give his right arm just to be able to do that to you and for you. Why do you think I didn't enjoy it?" Here I removed the towels from her butt, dipping both hands in the cold water and soaking her cheeks down good. I was standing beside her, approximately aligned with her mid-thighs.

"Because you didn't know me, Mark."

"That's right, Capri, because I didn't know you!" And on the word 'know', because I wanted to sear that into her soul, I laid the most terrific slap I could on her right ass cheek, the one furthest from me, the one that aligned best with my angle of attack. The one I could land the most powerful blow on.

The smack echoed around the room, surprising even me with its force, the staccato harshness of it, the 'snap' quality it had, like they dub into old kung fu movies for the hits and kicks. Capri let out a scream, an actual scream of pain, that I'd hoped was made more acute by the suddenness of the attack. But she was a trooper and quickly stifled it. Her body had instinctively tried to roll right, away from the source of pain, to remove her naked extremity from the possibility of more abuse, but she quickly overrode even that primal instinct and returned to position, her face now buried in the bedspread, deep sobs racking her body, her muffling them into the mattress.

I hoped it was not so much due to the pain and that I hadn't overdone it, but rather that it was release, the beginning of her real atonement, the powerful feelings she had of needing this now being fulfilled. I was scared for a second that I'd actually hurt her, but a glance at her butt showed only building redness, not any apparent damage. And her body seemed to be convulsing with deep heartfelt throbs and not the ow-ow-oww of pain told me she was alright, that the strike had been more cathartic for her than downright hurtful.

I let her sobs die down a little before asking, "And what about 'respect', Miss Pullam? Should a person first respect their sexual partner?" And on that word, having turned myself left slightly for proper alignment on her other cheek, I dealt a smack even harder than the first, now that I'd had some practice and feedback. The force of it pushed Capri's hips down into the pillow under her. Her face was still buried in the mattress, but the scream she gave was notably more powerful than the first. I found myself being aroused by the sound of it, which worried me.

I wet both hands in the ice water and tried to apply them soothingly to her rump, but of course the mere touch made her jump and cry out. "There, there, Miss Capri. You can get through this and it'll be over soon. Shhhhh."

Then in staccato smacks in time with the emphasized words, I said, "Miss Pullam, don't you ever presume that you can make someone do something they don't want to do." Capri squirmed and cried out deliciously under that assault. Six smacks, maybe 80% of the force of the second one, delivered alternately to her quivering butt cheeks.

Capri was fairly light-skinned, though not nearly as much as her mother, but maybe like a Beyonce. And I'd begun to notice that black women's faces, exposed to the sun as they were, were generally a shade or two darker than their normally-covered parts. So you can imagine how light the skin of her butt was, which allowed the proof of her spanking to become visible as a redness that overpowered the melanin.

Marveling at this (and admittedly admiring my handiwork), I dipped my hands in the cold water again and applied it soothingly to her tender skin, alternating with gentle kisses on each cheek. A look up at Capri's head showed her face still buried in the comforter, now-lessened throbs still racking her body though. I thought this was good for her, the pain of it amplifying the feelings inside her, so I let her be like that for a time, moaning out her sorrow and contrition.

I still hadn't administered as many smacks as she had, so we weren't done yet, but I thought I'd check with her to see how she was doing. Kneeling on the floor beside where her head was, I whispered "Capri" into her ear. Out of character, almost me again. She shook her head side to side, face still down, as if to say, I can't face you right now. But I forced her, telling her in my Mister Mark voice, gentle yet firm, "Capri: look at me."

She grudgingly turned her face left to look at me and I was devastated by the sight of her, eyes puffy and watery, hair plastered down, cheeks red and lips swollen from her blubbering. But that was just the physical, and I knew that all that wasn't caused by the pain. It was the inner turmoil, the battle with herself that drove the expressions and emotions on her face. I probably can't do it justice in words, but it was gut-wrenching.

Her face was like a chameleon, the emotions flitting over it in rapid succession: self-loathing, contrition, shame, gratitude, misery, joy, and probably a dozen others that neither she or I could have named. "Is this doing you good, Capri?" I asked as tenderly as possible. Her gush of blubbering and frantic nodding of her head told me it was, and her eyes asked me to please continue.

"I'll continue, because we're not even yet, but it won't as bad as those. Okay?" Okay, she conveyed with her eyes and nods. I felt so loving toward her in that moment that I leaned in and kissed her cheek, trying to wipe up the tears that wet it. This set off another burst of painful sobbing and she buried her face in the coverlet again. Ashamed to be seen by me, I thought, not ready to be accepted, not having fully atoned.

This really was becoming agonizing for me now because I didn't want to hurt her anymore, I didn't want her to cry anymore. I realized of course that the crying wasn't so much from the external pain, but it still upset me. I had a fleeting thought of this being my Nia lying here, and me, for whatever reason, whether her request or my own volition, doing this to her. My heart nearly broke, I couldn't have done it to her. Not her.

And while Capri wasn't her, she longed to be her, be like her. Innocent again, able to enjoy love in its natural form, wanting to leave behind the mockery of it she had practiced, and through the practice, become. So I knew she needed this, this reckoning, for the release it would give her. And I vowed to play my part the best I could.

"Miss Pullam (smack!), you've done bad things as Goddess (smack!!) Capri, haven't you?" Nods and bawling from Capri. "I don't like to hurt (smack!) you, my love, but you need this, don't (smack!!) you!?" Frantic nodding, now blubbering. "Capri (soothing one butt cheek), I believe you, believe that you want to change," then soothing the other, planting tender kisses on both. She bawled even harder at that; I think I'd touched a nerve.

I let her cry for a time, just watching her but not touching. I did take a cold towel out of the bucket and draped it over her red/brown behind. But doing so I quickly straddled her, facing rearward, settling some of my weight on her upper back, letting her know she wasn't going anywhere, and that I wasn't finished. I think this actually calmed her, because her sobbing, those can't-catch-your-breath sobs, now mostly subsided, and she mostly just mewled and made incoherent words. Stewing in her misery perhaps, her contrition not yet fulfilled.

I took the towel off, and then two quick pops with both hands at the same time, two on each bun. Pow/pow - pow/pow. This caused more crying of course, but also a deep moan that I felt through my bottom and scrotum.

"Capri," ministering to her abused flesh, "I believe you're really a good girl deep inside, but you've let Goddess Capri—" pow/pow!!, another double-strike on both sides of her ass, harder than the last, "—take you over, become you." Four quick slaps, left-right-left-right, hard enough to cause her to squirm and wriggle.

Loving on her bottom again, I placed the cold towel across if for a few seconds, "But you don't want to be that anymore, Capri, I know." Now taking the towel away, letting her know what was coming, I said, swatting in cadence to the emphasized words, "But you let Goddess Capri hurt many people, many men." I paused to let her butt cool off a little.

"Misguided men who came to you for comfort, perhaps in a cry of help, but you abused them [double pop there], humiliated them, drove them further into their degeneracy. And you got off on it, didn't you? You used them for your own twisted pleasure, and made them pay you for the privilege!" Extra-hard four swats side-to-side at the end.

Capri had turned her head to the side and shouted/moaned in agony, "Yes, yes, I did all those things, and I enjoyed it. But I didn't want to, I didn't want to hurt those men, but I'd—I'd been hurt by a man and I wanted all those other men, those despicable weak men, to feel my pain. I wanted to take it out on them, ALL of them! And I did, God help my soul, I did..." She tapered off into more blubbering, deep self-loathing, her face buried again, which I could only tell by the way it sounded.

I felt we'd reached the core of the thing just now, the thing that had happened to her (whatever it was) that had made her respond the way she had, made her become the Bad Witch. I felt so sorry for her, grieving with her over the terrible thing that had made her become this way. I quickly rose from her and wrung out a new cold towel, draping it tenderly over her bottom, at the same time removing the pillow from under her, which now seemed blashphemous, a reminder of what had just transpired.

Then thinking she might be chilly, I pulled the comforter from the far bottom corner of the bed up and over her, tucking it into her like you swaddle a baby, because I thought that might comfort her. I took her head gently between my hands and more coaxing than forcing, caused her to turn to her right, so she could breathe easier. And because I wanted to lay on that side of her and comfort her, talk to her if she wanted that.

Turning off lamps and lights down to just one far lamp, I crawled onto the bed beside her and snuggled up to her as best I could, mindful to not disturb the covering over her bottom. She was still on the inside of the comforter and I was outside, but that was close enough. I didn't need to be touching her like that just now, nor did I think she needed it. I did though use my free left hand to wipe the tears from her cheek, and push her matted hair away from her face.

I just laid like that with her, watching her, watching over her, wanting to be there for her when she recovered and wanted to connect with me in whatever way felt right for her. I wished I'd turned on the radio to some soft music, but it was too late now; I didn't want to disturb her by getting up..

She looked so peaceful, more angelic than I'd yet seen her. Perhaps her inner demons had been vanquished. Or at least banished to some more-remote part of her mind where she could deal with them, live with them. Live with that, whatever 'that' was. I had an idea (rape, because she'd mentioned something happening her sophomore year) but I didn't want to ask her, and she didn't need to tell me.

She calmed and breathed easily, perhaps dozing, while I stayed there, holding her through the blanket, trying to stay awake myself so I'd be there for her if she stirred. It was after 2AM, and her body never moved.

But presently she opened her eyes and stared into mine. Simply, with no anger or regret, but full of compassion and gratitude for what I'd done. I found out later that she'd never told anyone of the incident, not even her mom. And while I didn't know at the time, I seemed to sense in her eyes that we now shared a secret, a connection she had with no one else. I knew her now, and she felt that.

Turning onto her left side, with an owwww as her maltreated bottom rubbed against the rough inside of the comforter, she propped her head on her folded-under arm, looking deeply into my eyes. With her right hand she caressed my check lightly and said just, "Mark...." Nothing else, just that one word, my name. My name, and in it was packed all the gratitude that now filled her being. Without having known about it, or how I'd done it, my actions had unearthed her deepest, darkest secret. The one she'd told no one else.

I still didn't know what it was, and never did find out exactly, but I learned inklings of it. But just her admitting the existence of it to me somehow gave her great comfort, and formed between us a strong bond of some kind that I didn't then or still now don't fully understand.

She just continued to stare at me, so I returned her gaze, giving her as much confirmation, acceptance, and even thanks that I could. Thankful that we'd gotten past the thing which would have kept us apart, and somehow indebted to her for sharing that deepest part of herself with me.

"Let me get you some ice," and I popped up off the bed. Capri didn't say anything, only snuggled deeper into the cover. I poured the water from the bucket into the sink, put on my pants without underwear, threw on my shirt, slipped on my shoes, and grabbing the room key, left on my mission. Even though I'd only be gone for two minutes, I locked the door so nothing should happen to her in my absence. As I did with all the ladies I'd enjoyed, I felt very protective of her now.

Back with the ice, I had her lay flat again, at the very left edge of the bed, up on the pillow as before, and rebuilt the ice sandwich on her bottom. The reason I put her on the pillow again became apparent to her when I asked, "Capri, while you're recuperating, may I touch you on your private place to perhaps take your mind off the pain?"

She responded with a beautiful smile and a nod, so I began to do what I'd thought of when I first saw her propped up on the pillow: run the fingers of my hand through her lightly-haired furrow, find the nub of her clitoris, and coax it into orgasm for her. Capri spread her legs for easier access and pushed her pelvis further up and back, allowing me entry into that lovely place between her legs.

As I'd been applying the ice blanket I'd seen just how angry red her bottom was, and I felt momentarily guilty. But only momentarily, because she had asked me to do it, in fact, begged and almost demanded that I do it. And based on what had happened, she'd finally been able to divulge the dark secret she'd kept to only herself these many years. The one that had driven her down the road of sadism and corrupt sexual power.

Anyway I'd been wanting to do this, and we'd talked about 'moving on' once we were on an equal basis, so I figured I might as well do this to show her that I was 'past it', that I fully accepted her apology and remorse. And I did want to please her, take her mind off that nagging pain in her bum that I knew only too well.

Had I returned like for like? In power I think yes, probably even more so the first two strikes. In quantity, I didn't know, but it was close enough. It was enough to give her what she'd needed, and I didn't think exact parity was necessary. Instead, as I indicated, I'd have been willing to stop much sooner.

Checking the condition of the ice, I proceeded to try to pleasure her in this from-behind way I hadn't tried before. That was part of what drove me also, the newness of this. I maneuvered my hand from down between her legs, careful to avoid touching her hypersensitive bottom, moving inward and upward until my fingers touched hair and then labia. Capri moaned when I'd gotten there.

Then dipping my middle finger in, I tried judge where I was. Over the clitoris? No, lower (lower on her body, because again, it's upside down). Over the canal? No, there was resistance here, so I wasn't over that place either. But then thinking of hymens and that Capri mustn't have one, I had a sudden urge to explore that place, the opening to her womb. So I gently slid just my middle finger up toward her bottom, which was really down her vagina, until it dipped into a hole. A hole I'd felt before on Nia, but had been afraid to enter. But Capri was an experienced woman, so there was no danger here of deflowerment.