by C. P. Vanner
Dr Susskind trailed the fingers of her right hand up and down the cleft of Beth’s bottom. ‘From what you say,’ she went on, ‘in your case it goes as far as giving you an orgasm. I have never heard of that before, but I am prepared to believe it. We all live and learn. If it is true, I might write a paper on it.’
‘I think it is true,’ Beth said, her voice muffled.
‘Let’s conduct an experiment,’ Dr Susskind said. ‘I shall slap you and I want you to tell me what you feel.’
Beth whispered her assent, and Dr Susskind leaned forward and kissed her mouth-watering bottom, running her tongue over the silken skin, tasting the soft flesh. ‘You have such a beautiful bottom, my dear.’ Beth could feel the woman’s warm breath fanning her nakedness. ‘It seems a shame to hurt it, but science calls...’
She slapped the pliant bottom in front of her with all the strength she could muster.
Beth gasped and bucked on her lap, but Dr Susskind held her in place with a lightly restraining hand. ‘Tell me what you feel.’
Beth paused. ‘It hurt... now it’s warm... it feels nice... very nice.’
As Beth spoke, she knew her buttocks were reddening and the lips of her sex relaxing, exposing the moist pinkness within. Dr Susskind leaned closer and blew warm air across her labia.
When the psychiatrist spoke again, her voice was thick with a passion she was trying unsuccessfully to suppress. ‘It seems to work. Shall we try for the jackpot? Do you think you could climax like that?’
‘With you, yes,’ Beth said. ‘Will you spank me, please?’
It lasted a long time, their game, a game with unspoken rules, a serious game that neither wanted to end. Dr Susskind did nothing but spank Beth, she touched her in no other way, but the spanking was careful and deliberate, measured to a fine degree. Initially each slap was hard but well apart, at least thirty seconds between blows to allow each to have its full effect. At each Beth moaned, but it was not a moan of hurt or complaint, but more a reply, an acknowledgement of what the other had done, and she would raise her buttocks for the next slap.
When the bottom on her lap was a bright crimson all over and fiercely warm to the touch, Dr Susskind stepped up the pace with light, flicking slaps, each hard on the heels of the last. Beth’s moans ran into each other, a long, low, gurgling cry of ecstasy seeking an outlet. She had hands pressed to the floor for support as her lower body writhed and twisted, always presenting itself.
The third and final stage, when it came, was a flurry of flesh on flesh and the sound of blood pulsing in the ears. The world outside was lost; all that existed were the two of them and what was happening there and then. Dr Susskind rained blow after blow on the receptive target, apparently unaware of the pain in her hand. Beth knew, and she knew it was obvious to Dr Susskind too, that she was going to orgasm. Her gasps were rising in pitch, and her bottom was writhing up and down, her labia opening and dripping with moisture like a flower trying to attract a humming bird. Dr Susskind panted as she thrashed faster and harder. Beth began a scream. ‘Yes,’ she cried. ‘Oh yes. Oh yes... yesss.’ The storm broke. Her thighs and buttocks clenched and unclenched until finally she laid still, her breath slowly returning to normal.
When she sat up and eased herself off Dr Susskind’s lap, she had tears in her eyes. ‘Oh my,’ she gasped, ‘it has never been like that.’
Leaning her sore and still naked bottom on the edge of the desk, she took Dr Susskind’s flushed cheeks in her hands and kissed her on the lips. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much. I wish there was something I could do for you.’ She picked up Dr Susskind’s right hand, the hand that had given her so much pleasure, and kissed and gently licked the tingling palm.
Dr Susskind looked embarrassed. ‘I am glad it was so successful but you must excuse me,’ she said. ‘I find I was not unmoved by the experience. It’s most unprofessional. I won’t be long.’
She rose from her seat, apparently heading for the lavatory just to the side of her office. Beth was a little slow on the uptake, but not that slow. ‘Are you going to do what I think?’ she asked, wondering why she was being so coy. They were both being coy, after what had happened.
Dr Susskind’s expression was sufficient answer, so Beth took her by the hand. ‘Let me help. It’s the least I can do. I want to.’
She led the unresisting Dr Susskind to the couch, the psychiatrist’s couch they had both laughed about. Gently and slowly she undressed the older women, marvelling at the beauty she preserved, the girlishness of her underwear and her figure once the professional suiting was removed. She removed the bra and then knelt down and eased off her knickers, and could smell the women’s desire. She rubbed her nose into the soft pubic hair in front of her. ‘I don’t even know your first name,’ she muttered.
The psychiatrist giggled guiltily. ‘It’s Eunice, but I don’t like it. My friends call me Tip, but it’s a long story.’
Beth pushed her back so that she sat on the coach. ‘Well Tip, this is for you.’ She eased the woman back, parted her thighs, and then squatted between her legs, her still naked, hot bottom resting on her heels, the warmth of Tip’s thighs against her shoulders.
Now she could taste the desire. She ran the tip of her tongue up and down, darting in and out of her vagina, before settling on the firm, surprisingly large bud. She could feel Tip’s hands in her hair, grasping her head on either side and holding her close. Without letting go of the clitoris between her lips, she raised her hand and inserted one finger, and then two, into the moist warmth alongside her chin. The fingers delved as deeply as possible before rotating against the muscular walls as Beth sucked and licked with increasing intensity.
It did not last long. The psychiatrist needed little encouragement or assistance. Within seconds, it seemed, she was roughly grinding Beth’s head into her loins, so hard that it was uncomfortable where the pubic bone of the one met the upper lip of the other. Beth could hardly breathe. The climax arrived like an express train, announced by a loud, unladylike scream and an ever-tighter grip on Beth’s hair. Beth was not so taken up with what she was doing that she didn’t have time to marvel at it. She thought only men ejaculated. She wondered if she did herself. She knew she became very wet, but to ejaculate... she would have to ask Celeste, at an appropriate moment of course.
Dr Susskind pushed her head away. ‘No more,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I can’t take any more.’
Five minutes later, breathing more normally, the two took it in turns to use the bathroom, to comb their hair and to adjust their clothes.
Then there was an uncomfortable moment of unreal formality. Standing by the door, Tip Susskind kissed Beth briefly on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Beth,’ she said. ‘Same time next week?’ She blushed. ‘Perhaps we can resume our researches then. Such an interesting topic, and there is so much more to learn.’
Beth kissed the psychiatrist on the lips. ‘If we are going to resume our researches,’ she said, ‘perhaps we should reverse the fee structure, not me paying you but you paying...’
Beth could see that Dr Susskind was about to expostulate, and interrupted herself. ‘Look at it this way, Tip,’ she said hastily. ‘If you pay me then you’ll know, we’ll both know, know for a fact, that I am a naughty girl, a very bad girl. And bad girls have to be punished, don’t they?’
‘I can see why you do so well in business, Beth,’ Dr Susskind said. ‘We might come to some sort of an arrangement.’
Beth took Tip’s right hand and raised it to her mouth, again kissing the sore palm, still red and smarting from the spanking it had delivered.
‘Let’s face it, Tip,’ she murmured. ‘You enjoyed spanking me. Admit it. Be honest, wouldn’t you like to do it again, and soon?’
Walking back to the office through Parliament Square, Beth considered that she had never felt happier than she did at that moment. She was happy and it showed. Her eyes were bri
ght, her cheeks pink, her step was light and her stride easy. Her hips and her hair swayed in unison with each step.
Beth knew from experience that even at her worst moments she was a woman that men looked at, and looked at again. She was pretty enough, but today she was radiant too. Hardly a man passed her without looking her up and down with faraway longing in their eyes. She knew without looking herself that many looked back at her to see her from behind.
Dream on you poor sods, Beth thought. How you’d love to see my bottom bare, to smack it with your hands, a slipper, or a cane. She giggled. If only you knew you probably could. I would probably let you. And what’s more, I would probably love it. She smiled happily.
Chapter 6
The morning sun streaming through the windows woke Beth early. It was Saturday. No work. She sat up in bed, refreshed and happy, glad to see the day and still with the warm feeling of well being from the previous afternoon. The office had been empty when she returned; people in her business were used to getting away to the country early on Fridays. She had been quietly pleased that Richard had gone. She felt she’d taken all the punishment she could for a while, and was doubly pleased when she returned home to find it empty for the evening. Beth liked her solitude at times and the chance for the self-indulgence of mudpacks and manicures.
Celeste’s tousled head lay on the pillow next to her. What a cheek, Beth thought, to get into her bed uninvited. At the same time she was touched that Celeste felt sufficiently fond of her and at ease that she would want to share her bed just for sleeping. Beth pushed back the duvet and gazed at the younger girl who was lying on her stomach, naked.
She was truly beautiful. The word pneumatic came into Beth’s mind. There was not a wrinkle or mark on Celeste’s soft skin, it was as if the girl had been inflated like a balloon. In studying paintings or photographs of nudes, Beth had always preferred the male figure, the sharp angles and muscular planes. The female figure was too curved and rounded, and therefore uninteresting. But looking at Celeste now she could see how beautiful a female could be, and how desirable she would be to any man. Who wouldn’t want to fuck her? For a moment Beth felt quite jealous of men and their penises.
Celeste stirred and reached for the duvet. Beth leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck, where her hair brushed her shoulders. ‘You make the coffee,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to have a shower. I want to talk to you.’
Half an hour later they were back in bed, still naked but showered and powdered, leaning back against pillows and sipping coffee. ‘Don’t you just love Saturdays?’ Celeste asked, tickling Beth’s foot with her toes.
Beth snorted. ‘I don’t see that weekends make any difference to you. You never work.’
Celeste made a moue of protest. ‘But I have you on weekends.’
‘You would enjoy them more if you had a job,’ Beth said. ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. I think I may have found you one.’
Celeste’s ‘Oh?’ was distinctly unenthusiastic.
‘It could be a good job, a great job,’ Beth said fiercely, trying to get Celeste to snap out of her lassitude. She told her about Rybix, mentioning Kearns but giving few details.
Celeste put down her cup and turned to face Beth. ‘But I don’t have any experience.’
Beth looked at her. ‘You don’t have many qualifications either. But you have your looks, a sharp brain and an even sharper tongue. You should learn to use them.’
‘Oh pooh,’ Celeste said, and snuggled deeper into the bed.
‘You won’t get any experience if you don’t get a job,’ Beth went on. ‘You should be prepared to use whatever skills and talents you have just to get a job in the first place, and then learn and learn.’
‘What skills? What talents?’ Celeste’s tone was truculent.
‘Your looks and your wits,’ Beth said. ‘How did you feel the other day, with Richard?’
‘Excited,’ Celeste admitted. ‘He’s a good-looking man.’
‘Did you mind when he spanked you?’
‘Not at all - I quite liked it. And anyway, you were there.’
‘There you are then,’ Beth said, as if her argument was won. ‘You did that and there was nothing in it for you.’ Celeste cocked an eyebrow, but Beth went on. ‘How would you feel if another man spanked you, and say I wasn’t there?’
‘I suppose it depends what he was like. Some older men can be quite attractive. Just so long as they don’t have beer bellies and hair growing out of their ears.’ Celeste shrugged her naked shoulders. ‘It could be okay, I suppose - in theory, at least. It depends.’ She thought for a moment, and then became indignant. ‘Hey, is that the job, being spanked by strange men?’
‘No,’ Beth replied. ‘Not necessarily. It could be a good job, you could probably define your own role, but you should be prepared to... let’s just say, you should be prepared to use what assets you have to your own advantage.’
Celeste studied her friend. ‘Would you do it?’ she asked.
Beth laughed. ‘I find I am doing it. Against my choosing, but you’d be amazed at how effective it is. I’ve learned a lot in the last few days.’
‘Doing what, exactly?’
‘Using my talents to their full, shall we say. I’ve found recently that I have talents I didn’t know I had.’
Celeste’s ‘Hmmm’ made her sound unconvinced, so Beth went on. ‘I went to see Dr Susskind yesterday. She taught me something I didn’t know about myself. Being spanked can actually turn me on. So why shouldn’t I use it to my advantage? Can I help it if my bottom is as important as my brain.’
‘I think I know what you mean,’ Celeste said. ‘I can remember the first time it happened to me. I was quite young and I was caned. It was a tremendous turn on.’
‘Funny you should say that,’ Beth interjected. ‘When I was with Dr Susskind yesterday I remembered something from the past, my first time, something I had totally forgotten. I was lying over her lap...’
Celeste exploded. ‘You were lying over her lap? Dr Susskind’s lap? Was she spanking you?’
‘Yes,’ Beth continued, unruffled. ‘I was lying over her lap and it suddenly all came flooding back. It was a weird but very comforting feeling. It felt right, and everything fell into place.’
Celeste put her arm around Beth’s shoulders. ‘Tell Mother Celeste. I want to hear all about it.’
‘I’ll tell you about my first time, if you’ll tell me about yours,’ Beth said. ‘But before we change the subject, I want you to promise me something. If I make an appointment for you at Rybix about a job, you’ll go and you’ll do your very best even if, at first, not everything is entirely to your taste.’
‘You’ll be with me?’ Celeste asked.
‘Yes, if that’s what you’d like,’ Beth said, and then added, ‘For the first time only, though.’
‘Okay then,’ Celeste decided, after a moment’s thought, ‘it’s a deal.’
‘It’s a deal about what?’ Beth asked. ‘Telling about our first experiences or going for a job?’
‘Both,’ said Celeste. ‘The job interview, if you insist. But I really meant about telling about our first time. Oh, what fun.’
She snuggled down into the bed, pulling Beth with her. Beth lay on her back, with Celeste’s head on her shoulder. As Beth spoke, Celeste would occasionally nuzzle or lick the pink nipple just inches from her mouth. With her hand she idly played with Beth’s pubic hair, twisting the silky curls around one finger.
‘It was at school,’ Beth said. ‘I went to a private school in the Scottish lowlands, a girls only boarding school. I was just seventeen, and I was naïve and sexually innocent. It was a good school. I liked it there a lot.
‘Anyway, we had all the normal games in the afternoons. You know the sort of thing - hockey in the winter, rounders or netball in the summer. In our house - my house was called Gui
lders - was a communal changing room, showers at one end, rows of pegs for hanging clothes and footlockers for shoes. It was the girls’ own room in a way, the teachers never bothered to go in. I suppose it was too much of a mess.
‘One whole corner of the changing room was another room, a sort of room within a room. It was the drying room, where we were supposed to hang our wet clothes. It had no windows, warm pipes around the walls so that it was always lovely and cosy and only one dim light. I don’t suppose it was designed as a room to linger in, but we loved it, especially on cold days. It was like a sauna in a way, with benches along each wall.
‘A group of girls would grab the drying room and defend it like a fort, repelling all boarders. You can imagine the sort of games. I was a popular girl, I think. I used to be let in to the drying room by the senior girls and sometimes we would stay there for hours.
‘As the girls were dressing or undressing we would flick each other with wet towels. You know how much that hurts. One day a girl called Flo flicked one of the older girls and really hurt her. The older girl was angry, very angry. She grabbed Flo, who was wearing only her vest at the time, and smacked her bottom very hard. Suddenly we were all smacking her, taking it in turns to smack her bottom. I think Flo wanted to cry but we were all laughing so much I don’t think she dared.
‘Anyway, that became our regular game. Each day a group of girls would pick on just one for some imagined offence, like missing an open goal in hockey, and we would all gather round taking it in turns to smack her. We were quite democratic. Everyone was the victim at least once, but over a period of time it became mostly the less senior girls who were smacked and the older girls who did the smacking. They would always stop if a girl called out or worse, started crying. In a strange way we knew what we were doing was somehow wrong, and that’s why it never went too far.