I was having a hard time with my second college year math class so my parents had gotten me a tutor. (I was still living at home although I was nineteen). She was a few years older than I and in her senior year of college. Karen was a pretty young woman with long, silky black hair that spilled in a curtain over her shoulders and big brown eyes. She had an oval face and regular features with large sensuous lips and a cute button nose. I knew I had failed my latest exam despite our lessons together.
When I told Karen how poorly I’d done she seemed completely exasperated with me.
“You know what a lazy little girl like you deserves?” she asked with her eyebrows knotted and a mean expression on her lovely face. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed uniquely bright.
“What?” I asked.
“A good hard spanking,” Karen said, emphasizing each word and pulling me over to her.
I started to resist and she let go of my wrists.
“Get your hairbrush out of your purse, lazy girl,” she ordered. Her face was stern and frowning.
“I . . .”
“Now,” she said firmly.
This coffeedonutfest.com/ is crazy, I thought, she’s actually going to spank me. I got my purse and unlatched it thinking, I don’t have to do this, I don’t have to do this. But I did it.
The hairbrush had a round, flat wooden base.
“Wait, ” I said suddenly. “Your parents will hear it.”
“No, they won’t.” Karen turned her radio on, flipped to a hard rock station, and turned the volume up loud. Then she went to the bedroom door and locked it.
Again I thought I don’t have to let him do this. I don’t have to.
“Give it to me,” she said.
I handed the brush to her.
Karen put her arm around me and led me to the bed. Then in one swift, surprisingly powerful motion–I hadn’t realized how strong she was–she turned me across her knee.
“Lift your skirt up,” she commanded.
I realized that Karen wanted me to again acknowledge my cooperation. I brought my long yellow skirt up over my waist. Then she pulled my panties down and a surprisingly delightful shock sped through me when I felt my bottom bared.
Karen brought the hairbrush down, hard, making a loud sharp crack that I could hear clearly despite the blaring music. “Ow!” I cried out automatically and then shut up, waiting for the next blow.
A few seconds went by. I guess she wanted me to savor the pain for awhile. The next swats were swift as well as hard, one after another. Crack! Crack! Crack! The wood seemed to sing as it hit my poor, naked skin. I flinched and wriggled helplessly. But I did not try to pull away. I did not try to make it stop. I merely squeezed at the pillow and felt my clitoris get harder the more my bottom stung.
Finally my angry, disappointed tutor was finished. She let the brush drop. Then she surprised me again in a wonderful and mellow way by kissing my burning buttocks. Her kisses were gentle and slow and wet.
“You liked it?” she insisted
“Yes,” I admitted softly. Then I started masturbating with my hands. Karen pulled me on top of her so I masturbated against her leg just like on my hand. As I was about to climax she slapped my already sore buttocks as hard as she had before, so when I came the stinging pain blended into pure hot pleasure. I don’t know how long my orgasm lasted but it seemed to go on and on just like the spanking.
Then Karen told me to thank her for the spanking and I did. I thanked her and she kissed me on the mouth and we played with each others breasts until Karen guided my head down between her legs.
“Lick me,” she said, playing fondly with the dull brown hair I always hated. “Eat me like I’m your dessert. You’re a good little girl. You’re my special girl.”
I licked and sucked and thrust my tongue in and out and all around the fleshy petals of her twat, tasting the salty, fishy sugar of her juices until she came, a violent shaking cum.
“Boys are nice,” she said. “But every smart girl knows she can have a lot of fun with her girlfriend. You want to be my girlfriend?”
“Instead of your student?”
“As well as my student,” she said with a sly smile. “I’m not going to let you get away with being lazy on future tests, you know.”
“Yeah,” I replied. To my beautiful girlfriend. To my strict tutor.
*
A previous version of this was published in “Bad Attitude.”