Page 23 of Fire Under Glass


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A sizzle suddenly stunned her ears.

Thwack!

“Yeeeeeouwwwww!”

Another strike, another sizzling thwack of sound and another agonized cry.

Two lines of brilliant color seemed burned into her ass, rising as angry looking welts.

A pause, and Rossi only geared up more zealously, laying a third, fourth and fifth stinging cut. She held her breath; squirmed and sighed, and still the number mounted…twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

“Ah! Sir, please!” she slumped, letting her hands fall from the bar and her knees buckle underneath her.

“Get up, now!” His response was crisp—as crisp as the next cut that landed on her backside. This one cut low across the middle of her thighs.

“Yeeeeeeouch! Oh! No, please!” Sixteen, seventeen and eighteen followed quickly, delivered in a rapid fire staccato that had the struggling redhead dancing frantically, hoping to avoid the next cut, but not succeeding.

For the last three, Rossi returned his aim to the center of her fleshy cheeks and ripped new lines of woe across the already rising welts.

“You will not, ever again, defy me as you did today. Is that fact clear?”

She could hardly whisper, and she certainly couldn’t reply.

“Is that clear?” he demanded to know.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will not accept your ungratefulness. That does not become you. Considering all that I am doing for you and your future, you need to give me your respect and unthinking compliance. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

The miserable truth of this unpleasant afternoon became crystal clear in the minutes that followed. Yes, the pain was ever present, and with it a burning ache that would likely not disperse for days. But with all her misery, the accompanying feeling was intensely erotic. Her body grasped for something it didn’t understand but certainly needed.

Having given his charge a righteous punishment, Rossi stood back to admire the lines of fire still apparent on her bottom. This was the only time she had rebelled against his efforts to control her; and seeing how she was now thoroughly vanquished by these measures, he knew the revolt had been effectively squashed. Rossi was content that any rebelliousness had been successfully caned from her being.

He spoke to her softly as she revived, “You may remove your panties and pull down your skirt. Then we’ll talk.”

She followed dutifully; there was not a mutinous bone in her body. Once her ass was covered and her discarded panties handed to the professor, she took a seat in a straight-back chair, sitting in front of the man with a vacant look on her face. She felt as though she was outside her body, and she could see that body beating with passion, her heart racing. Her physical hunger was alarming though she took great pains to ignore it.

“I was also considering your graduate study this afternoon, Gail,” Rossi informed her. He spoke quietly, in a soft voice that seemed to honor the sensuous air left present after the tension fell away. “I was speaking with Professor McDermott about your future in the department. We agree that you’re on track for another year, and a fellowship. That would serve both your needs, the money and the study.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she answered him agreeably.

“You won’t need to work at all under those circumstances; and that is just as well, considering the amount of work this undertaking will require.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right,” he rejoined. Then he smiled kindly.

Just gazing into his eyes she thought herself hypnotized. She couldn’t speak and had no idea what to think. How could he be such a cruel bastard and then transform himself into a compassionate friend?

“See, my dear, you let me figure these things, I’ll handle your needs better than you can yourself. I’ve been doing it for months. It worries me that you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, but I do trust you,” she suddenly found words.

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