Contemplation

I couldn't think straight. Confusion, fear and guilt were the emotions running through my mind. And denial. I still couldn't believe what had just happened - what I'd just done.

Only minutes ago I'd left Chris' hotel room, still out of breath from the orgasm that had raged through me as no other orgasm ever had. The strength of my need back in his room was something I'd never felt before - never thought I could feel.

I'd left the hotel, choosing streets at random, just putting distance between me and this crazy situation. The cool dusk air invading my lungs with each breath I took.

What was I to do now? How could I continue to work with him, now he'd seen me like that. Now he'd knew what a slut I was. I'd have to feign illness, go home, leave the conference early. He'd know of course, but he wouldn't tell anyone, would he? I'd have to start looking for a new job, first thing tomorrow.

We were supposed to be going out for a meal with several people from the conference tonight, but I knew I couldn't face it. What if people could tell from my face. What if he said something to someone.

Oh God! If he said anything to anyone at work, then there was a chance that Marc would find out.

Marc, my partner. The love of my life. Sweet, sensible Marc - it would kill him to know. There had to be a way to make all this go away.

Ahead of me I could see the neon sign of a bar, and I knew I needed a drink. I hoped that no-one would bother me in there - I needed some time to think my way through this.

Inside, I walked up to the bar, to where the lone barman was standing. He had dark hair and liquid eyes, exactly the type I would normally flirt with. Not this night though, I bought myself a large gin and tonic, and asked for some change for the cigarette machine. I don't often smoke, but I needed one just then.

The bar was empty except for me and the barman. Music was coming from the jukebox - but not loudly.

I got a pack of Silk Cut from the machine, and then headed for the booth in the furthest corner of the bar. Getting to it I moved one of the bar stools right into the corner and sat down.

I almost gasped out loud! The chill of the metal stool was a sudden shock against my rear. Despite thinking about nothing else since leaving the hotel I'd almost forgotten about the physical aspects of what had happened. My buttocks felt warm and sensitive, not quite as on fire as when I'd left, but still an echo of that feeling remained.

The cool metal felt soothing against them, and this made me realise I had left my panties in his room. I'd not gone out like this for years - not since I was seventeen; a group of girls from school and I had gone out to the shopping centre one Saturday without underwear for a dare. It had been exciting, but I had been too nervous to repeat the experience.

I rearranged my skirt so that none of it came between my cheeks and the stool. Closing my eyes for a second I revelled in the feeling of the metal against my bare flesh. Then opening my eyes I took a sip from my drink and took a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Drawing deeply on my cigarette, I started thinking again on my situation. I was feeling calmer now, and the walk had helped rid myself of that dirty and ashamed post-orgasm sensation. Thinking back on the experience I was again shocked at the strength of my lust. But thinking on it, it wasn't such a complete mystery. There had been something like it happen before. Though it hadn't been a sexual experience, it had started a fantasy in my mind that had never really left me.

It had been my final year in school and I'd only recently turned eighteen. Mr Peterson's class: He'd accused me of copying Sam's work.

Samantha Jackson had never liked me, and I can remember the smile on her face when I was the one accused of copying. Me! I could never understand why she had been believed over me.

Mr Peterson made me walk to the front of the class, and then bend over his desk. I'd been wearing a short dress that day and my knickers must have been visible to the whole class.

He'd spanked me twenty times. In front of everyone. I remember James and some of his gang calling out, taunting me even during my punishment and Mr Peterson doing nothing to stop them.

He'd made me count each blow, through my sobs. Each time I was unable to say it clearly he spanked me again, forcing me to repeat the count.

By the time I'd counted to twenty the bell had rung for end of school. I just lay there bent across the desk. Sobbing into my hands.

The class filed out behind me. Someone - a girl, I think it was Sam - had come up behind me and pinched my arse as she filed out. I had felt to ashamed to even look.

Looking back on it now, it seems obvious that Mr Peterson had used that opportunity to humiliate me in front of everyone. I had always been a good girl at school - never in trouble, and certainly never done anything bad enough to be spanked for it. He must have known it was Sam who copied my work, but had wanted the chance to exercise that power over me.

Despite how bad I'd felt that day, it wasn't long until I'd started thinking about that scene when I lay in bed at night. Sometimes in my head he'd stripped me in front of the class. Other times he'd made a classmate spank me. I'd even fantasised that Sam had been the one to do it. Touching myself at night to these thoughts until the climax took me.

After I'd got together with Marc, these fantasies had played a lesser role in my sex life. Exploring real life sex had made these thoughts dwindle in importance. But now they were back, re-exposed after years of neglect.

I looked down and saw that my cigarette was just a column of ash. I'd been lost in my thoughts - and something else. My heart was beating hard. The fantasies that had resurfaced had dragged up with them some of the lust I'd experienced earlier.

Looking up towards the bar there was noone in sight. Only the very end of the bar could be seen from the far booth I was in. I decided to chance it and moved my hand down between my legs.

Slowly I circled my clit, letting the feelings grow. My pussy was on fire now, I desperately needed to plunge something into it, or to be held down and fucked hard.

Picking up my glass I removed an ice cube from it and held it to the top of my thigh. I gasped as I stroked it towards my pussy lips. It was too cold to keep it there long, but it felt good at that moment. I played it around my pussy and up towards my clit. I writhed as it passed over my clit and then returned to my pussy lips.

Taking a deep breath I pushed it inside me, needing to cry out but holding my breath in. Squeezing my pussy together I forced it back out into my fingers, then pushed it back inside of me.

As I repeated that motion I moved my other hand, with the glass in it, up to my breast. Through my blouse I pinched the nipple between my fingernail and the cool glass.

The ice cube was too cold to bear now and I quickly popped it back into the glass, still held against my breast. Moving my hand back to my clit I started grinding my fingers against it.

Too horny now to care whether anyone saw, I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to what was coming. In my head I saw myself in the hotel room, the blows from the ruler creating red whelts on the creamy flesh of my buttocks. The vision changed to the classroom, my naked body displayed before the class. Sam standing above me, cane in one hand - striking me, her other hand against my pussy. My spasming body a demonstration to the watching crowd of how much of a dirty whore I am. For a moment I see a vision of myself in the bar, barman looking on as I masturbate like a slut who can't control her filthy urges. Finally I see myself in the conference hall, bound and naked in front of the rows of delegates. Chris pinching my nipples as I grind myself against the edge of the speaker's chair, to orgasm for their entertainment.

With that final fantasy I peak and start to come. The breath I had been holding escapes in ragged gasps and it takes all my control to prevent from screaming out loud. I feel my juices flowing out of my pussy and my legs jerk around - one of them knocking the next stool over.

My orgasm lasts for several more seconds, my breath is ragged and each slight movement of my fingers against my clit throws wave after wave of pleasure over me. Finally it subsides and I am left out of breath and glowing in the corner booth.

Now, fear of someone seeing me hits me. I opened my eyes and looked around but I cannot see the barman at the bar. The room is still quiet, all that can be heard is the jukebox.

Unable to stay now I had come, unwilling to find out if anyone had seen, I made ready to leave. Downing the rest of the drink in one gulp, remembering what I had done with the ice cube only as I crunched it between my teeth, I stood up on unsteady legs and make my way across the room towards the door.

I saw the barman glance at me from the other end of the bar, but I could not read his face. I could not tell whether he knew.

Out into the cold air I go again. It was dark by now, but my thoughts were identical to the last time I'd escaped into the streets.