textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/spanking2.txt

		The Spanking, or
		Professor on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
		By Ruth Moore
		(c) 1995


She was in a bad mood; it had been a long day, full of annoying little 
things, irritating people and too much to do with not enough time to do
it in. When she got home there was no one there. A note explained 
where everyone had gone and that none of them would be back for 
several hours. At first she was annoyed; it would have been nice if
they had told her what their plans were. She stomped around the
kitchen, trying to find something quick and easy and settled for a
sandwich, which she took into her study.

Sitting down at her desk, she stared at the computer screen for a long 
time. There were projects, some professional and some personal, all of 
them nothing she wanted to deal with tonight. She was tired of being 
tired, she realized; tired of feeling like she was on the edge of a 
nervous breakdown that never came. What she wanted...she paused 
trying to think of *what* she wanted. As she sat there, the sandwich 
forgotten on the desk, one of the cats decided that this was the time 
for attention. He started to rub his head against her leg, meowing 
loudly. She nudged him aside and he retreated to the middle of the 
room, still yelling at her. Pushed to the limit, she crumpled up her 
napkin and threw it at him. It missed and he looked at her 
triumphantly. "Well, we're in a bit of a snit, aren't we," he said.

She looked around trying to decide where the voice had come from. The 
cat sat and stared at her. "You really are pathetic, you know that," he
said. "I'm talking to you, pay attention."

She suddenly got the odd feeling that there was nothing wrong with 
carrying on a conversation with her cat, although in the far back of 
her mind a little voice said *It's finally happened, I've gone crazy.*

"Don't be foolish," said the cat. "What the hell is wrong with you 
anyway? You've been impossible for days."

Something about the cat's voice made her think for a moment. He 
sounded genuinely curious and she found herself explaining how things 
had been. "... and so on top of everything else I've got this stuff
from work to read and what I really want to do is finish this damn
story. So instead I get flustered and over-emotional and angry. A
friend said that she would..." she trailed off. The cat had
disappeared. She turned her chair around to see if he was on the desk.

Suddenly there were hands on her arms, pulling her out of her chair. 
She tried to look around, but she was held immobile by some force, 
unable to move except to go where the hands wanted her to go. She 
found herself standing next to the chair, the hands now caressing her 
arms. They moved to her waist and then moved down to the curve of 
her hips. The touch was gentle, but it was like no touch she had ever 
felt before; as if a low level electric current was being generated by 
the hands. In spite of the whole weirdness (or perhaps because of it, 
she wasn't sure) she could feel herself getting aroused. That
electrical current seemed linked to every erogenous zone she had
(including a few she hadn't been aware of). The pair of hands moved
over her hips and reached back, cupping her buttocks, then pulled her
back by the hips until she was aware of a presence behind her; a broad
chest, and yes it was definitely a man, an aroused man. She closed her
eyes and leaned back against him, feeling that electric tingle radiate
from his body. There was a mouth against her ear, and a low voice began
to whisper to her. "You were thinking that you've been upset lately,
that you've been out of control, maybe just a little...naughty?" She
thought the voice sounded familiar, but his words drove that thought
out of her mind. She had been feeling that way and her running joke on
the subject hadn't helped.

"Yes..." she breathed, barely whispering.

"What was that?" the voice asked, the tip of a tongue lightly caressing
her ear.

"Yes I have been...naughty." It sounded so ridiculous as she said it,
but she didn't care. This man (or whatever he was) knew what she wanted
and he was going to give it to her. She instinctively knew that she 
would have to ask for it, however. "Please," she said, her voice husky,
"spank me." The mouth at her ear chuckled.

"My dear, I thought you'd never ask." He was gone from behind her 
and there was that hand on her arm again. It pulled her toward the 
chair and she found herself being positioned over someone's lap. For 
some reason she felt no need to open her eyes, balancing there, her 
heart pounding and her body quivering with desire. The hand, with it's 
accompanying tingle of electricity moved over her rear end slowly. She 
felt it move lower, traveling down her leg to the hem of her skirt, 
which it pushed up and out of the way. The hand next dealt with her 
underwear and then she was bare, draped over the lap, waiting.

*Smack* The first blow was sharp but not painful, a light slap. It was 
quickly followed by others and she felt her skin growing warm. She was 
becoming more and more aroused each time the hand landed on to her 
bare flesh. She squirmed and the voice spoke again. "Be still, I'm not 
done with you yet. You have been very naughty." The other hand 
planted itself on the small of her back, holding her still. The
intensity of the spanking increased and she could hear herself moaning,
not in pain (not exactly) but from the slow build up of her desire.

"Ohhh...yes..." The slaps were starting to burn now and her whole body 
felt like it was on fire. Suddenly, impossibly, her clothes were gone,
and there were hands all over her body. Fingernails scraped lightly
across the back of her neck and down her spine causing her to shiver. 
Fingers toyed with her nipples, which were already painfully hard. A 
hand slid in between her legs and she eagerly opened her thighs 
enough to permit it to gain access to her aroused, wet sex. Then there 
were tongues, on her nipples, the backs of her knees, in between her 
legs. And there was something else, the feeling that someone was inside
her head, increasing the pleasure she felt from the tongues and hands. 
All while this was happening, the first hand continued to land on her 
buttocks with a firm regular rhythm. She was truly out of control now;
hanging on the edge for what seemed like forever, wordlessly crying out
for release. Then with a loud shriek that echoed around the room, she
fell over that edge, her body writhing as the hands kept moving,
prolonging the orgasm until she thought she was going to die from too
much ecstasy. It went on and on; easily the longest and most powerful
orgasm she had ever had. When she finally began to come down, she felt
the hands softly stroking her skin, gentle fingers running through her
hair, lips delicately kissing her neck and mouth.. She lay over the
lap, utterly drained and more relaxed than she had felt in weeks. If
someone had told her that her bones had all vanished she would have
believed them.

Slowly she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the person 
(if that's what he was) who had done this to her. Her eyes met a pair 
of dark eyes, set in a Byronic face. He had wonderful sensual lips that
were quirked in a faintly mocking smile. "You..." she breathed, unable
to believe her eyes.

"You didn't think I was aware of you, did you my dear?" he said. "I'm 
aware of everything there is to know."

"But why...?" There were so many questions to ask him.

"I never explain myself. You intrigued me, I was here, that's enough. I
like your ideas about me..." he let his voice trail off as she
struggled to try to think of which question to ask first. "No, don't.
I'm not going to answer any of them, so don't bother. Besides, I've got
to get back to our *Capitaine*". His dark eyes seemed to glow, the room
began to spin and everything faded.

When everyone came home, they found her stretched languorously on 
the sofa, a book in her hands and a cup of tea on the table. She looked
completely relaxed and greeted them with a smile. When asked the 
reason for her good mood, she couldn't answer but it didn't matter. As 
she went to bed that night, she found herself rubbing her rear end as 
if something was wrong. *Now why did I do that? It must have been 
that letter.* She laughed and looked at the foot of the bed, where the 
cat was sitting, staring at her. "What are *you* looking at?" He just 
yawned and leaned off the edge of the bed to rub against her leg. As 
she absently reached down to rub his head, she could have sworn he 
grinned at her... 

The End