If you've just discovered this series, I'd urge you to read the Prologue to Chapter 1, and maybe even start there. This is a slowly-building series that I'm trying to keep as realistic as possible, the sexual awakening of a shy 18yo boy. But I hope there's enough erotica in each part to keep it interesting, even if you just start here.
Thursday 10/6
I didn't go to the cafeteria today because I didn't want to run into Capri. I was starting to feel really guilty about the pain I'd inflicted on her bottom (just hand-spanking, but at her request mind you). And the warm feeling of having helped her confess her trauma and perhaps relieve some of her anguish was starting to fade. But when I tried to think of that and how it had made me feel last night, in the moment, an image of her light-tan bottom reddened with angry welts by the brutal smacks I'd delivered sprang to my mind's eye, making me felt even guiltier.
So yeah, I didn't want to see Capri right then, those feelings still so raw inside me.
Nor did I want to see Miss Pullam just yet, having found out last night that she was Capri's
mother
. I could see how that conversation might play out: "Good afternoon, Miss Pullam. How are
you
today?" "I'm fine, Mr. Livingston, thank you for asking. Only I've just gotten off the phone with my only daughter, who told me that a young man spanked her dreadfully last night. She'd asked for it, she told me, and said it was cathartic in some way. But that she hasn't been able to sit since." "Oh that's terrible! Whoa, look at the time, I need to be running along!"
Classes Thursday were a blur, I didn't learn much. Instead, I replayed last night in my mind over and over, wondering if I'd done the right thing. I don't like hurting women, and never have since, so bearing the weight of what my own hands had done to Capri was difficult. I grabbed lunch at the student union café (covered by my meal plan), then after my last class I grabbed a sandwich from there and went back to my room.
Jake was out, so I ate the sandwich alone, still struggling with all those things in my head. Besides the above, I tried to analyze the power Capri had initially had over me. Ostensibly I'd allowed it because of the inferred threat to Miss Pullam if I didn't, but I had to admit to myself that part of me had allowed it of my own volition. Capri was a good student of psychology, which I think made her a really good dominatrix.
I mean, I hadn't even known what that
was
or that such a fetish existed. But she'd been able to manipulate me to
do
things, things I hadn't wanted to do. I had to admit to myself that I likely would've done those thing even if wasn't to protect Miss Pullman from scrutiny over her dalliance with me, a boy 26 years younger than her.
And that was scary. What had made it possible? Was it an innate thing (a flaw?) in humans? In
men
in general? In
me
in particular? I'd have to think through that and process it, be mindful of not falling into that trap in the future.
But scarier still was when the roles had reversed and *I* had the power. Granted, she had submitted herself to me and begged me to do the thing, but I'd
enjoyed
it. Reluctantly, but it was there, the feeling of power over this young woman, the feeling that I could've made her do anything I'd wanted. And I
had
made her do something I wanted: sucking my dick to completion, swallowing my seed as an act of contrition for what she'd done to me earlier.
That wasn't necessary, and wasn't her idea. It had come from some twisted recess of my mind, driving me to make her do that thing....
just because I could
. Blowjobs feel great, of course, but that hadn't come from lust, simply wanting to feel her lips on me. This came from a darker place, a place in my mind that wanted to control and degrade her. Use her selfishly for my own pleasure, without any feeling of wanting to reciprocate. It was ugly and impure, 180 degrees out from the tenderness I'd felt with Nia, when we'd both done and received those things from each other.
I think it was the
Yes sirs
that really got me, causing a stir in my loins and in some inner primal beast I hadn't known was lurking there. Her submission, her attitude of,
I'll do
anything
for you sir, just to please you!
That was a powerful drug, and addiction to it must be avoided. Later in life as I learned more I saw what a slippery slope that could be, for the submissive role of course, but even for the person in the dominant role.
Capri had had such a need for me to punish her, control her, make her atone for hers sins not only against me that night, but the dozens (hundreds?) of men she must've abused over the past few years. The image came to me of her naked, face down, hips propped up on a folded pillow, presenting her butt to me as an offering, a sacrifice for her wrongs.
Could I have gotten her to allow me, even
beg
me, to penetrate her from behind, to expend my lust on her helpless body, as on a virgin in a pagan ritual? I was sure I could have. And then, my mind taking a darker turn, recalling Rita's offer, could I have made Capri accept my fat cock in her tiny butthole, the one she'd made me kiss and lick that night? Not
make
her, but make her
beg
me to? Even telling me that our relationship couldn't be whole, normal, 'right' again until I did so?
That had been her motivation for allowing me to spank her, an idea that *I* had actually come up with. But yes, I think I had the power over her in that moment to have commanded even that. Not command, but suggest, encourage, expect. And while that would've probably felt exquisite for me (I'm still a virgin, remember), I think, given what little I knew about the thing, that it would've been humiliating for her, painful because she didn't really desire it. Ugly.
So far my experiences with women here at WSU had been positive, beautiful, 'right' in some sense. That other way, the way Capri had introduced me to last night, was by contrast negative, ugly, 'wrong'. And I didn't want that; I much preferred the former. My brain, my heart, my psyche needed lovemaking to be cooperative, inclusive, beautiful. And yet...
And yet some deep, dark part of me had enjoyed it,
and I couldn't deny it
. At some level I had enjoyed her screams when I slapped her ass. Had enjoyed her sobs, her sufferings not just from the pain, but from whatever internal demons she'd been struggling with. Had enjoyed when she'd said,
Yes sir, I want to suck your cock and feel you pump your semen in my mouth.
A beautiful love offering in the right context, as with Nia two days before, but now a craven, filthy act performed not to
give
to the other person, but to
take
from them. Take without reciprocation, without balance.
So in the coming days and months and years I strove to keep that beast suppressed, confined to its dungeon, unable to interfere with the natural, 'normal' ways of love. In a way I cursed Capri for waking that beast in me, letting it give me even the faintest taste of the degrading, hurtful things it was capable of causing me to do. Not just do, but even
enjoy
. But as we'll see in a later episode with Capri, those ideas of dominance and submission can be flirted with, explored delicately, but only if both parties are willing to constrain themselves, let that kind of play be a once-in-a-while diversion from the normal beauty of lovemaking.
Shortly after 3, as I was leaving my English class, my phone buzzed: it was Nia!
Call me when you get a chance?
I found an empty classroom in the Language Arts building and called her right back.
"Hi, Mark!" Tons of enthusiasm in her voice.
"Hi, Nia! I'd been meaning to call you..."
"No you hadn't, we'd said we'd talk Friday or Saturday. You don't have to feel guilty because I called first, when it's usually the boy calling the girl." Pause while I didn't know what to say, but didn't want to say anything stupid. "Mark," gentler now, more....something, "Please don't ever fib to me, okay? Just be yourself and always be honest with me?"
I felt chagrined, really not even knowing why I'd said that. And now I felt super-guilty over seducing Miss Pullam Monday night,
the very day I'd parted with Nia
. Oh, and now this blackmail thing last night with Capri.
How do I get myself into these crazy situations? Don't you
love
Nia, Mark
?
I do, I swear! Well then why did you immediately jump into bed with Ms. Pullam, hmmmm?
"Mark? Are you still there?" Have you ever seen The Secret Life of Walter Mitty? That's me, having these internal debates with myself, oblivious to everything around me. His was daydreams, but same idea.
"Yes, I'm still here, love."
"So I was really just calling to double-check about this weekend,
