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“Because you want more danger than the rest of them, and you’re more desperate to get it. And, you’ve had intimate experience with the bizarre. Rossi wasn’t exactly a commonplace man.”
“No, our relationship was no cliché.”
“And neither is ours. If we’re lucky, you’ll never get used to me.”
Chapter Seven
I told KC all the tales I had to tell of Rossi and me. “Tell me about Rossi,” he would start; and without having to think about what I’d reveal next, the lurid details of my life with the professor spilled free.
Late one afternoon, I went to the theatre for what was becoming our usual round of spanking and sex. The event was as delicious as it had been the first time we tried the ritual—a fact that seemed pretty strange since I tired of other lovers easily. My bottom was still freshly warm and comforting when he asked the question, and the tale that followed rambled into a few of the more unsettling times with Rossi. I took care of my agitation by going blank as I recounted the pictures that appeared in my head. I felt as though I was talking out of a lifeless void.
“The regimen was strict and authoritarian. Most nights we slept in separate rooms. When Rossi wanted me for sex, he’d come to my bed, then stay awhile after the fucking was over; but he never stayed the whole night and I never slept in his bed.”
“Never in three years?” KC interrupted.
I nodded. “Then there was Meredith…” I suddenly blurted out, while wondering why I chose to mention her. I was too stunned to continue, but that didn’t faze KC; he simply waited for me to begin like he could wait forever. I finally found a way to start again, even as my stomach soured with the very mention of her name. “No one explained who she was,” I said, “she was just there—popped in and out like a nosy neighbor, though Rossi seemed to want her around. Maybe it was her age—she was nearly forty, beautiful, handsomely vampish with spectacular olive skin, and much more self-control than I could ever have. I couldn’t see why Rossi would be so attracted to her since she could not have been particularly submissive. But she was interesting. The two discussed the opera, which I knew nothing about and didn’t care to study. He’d take her to opening nights, and afterwards they shared coffee in his study, while I was still pouring over my work. She was friendly to me, almost sisterly, or like an older friend; and definitely respectful of my relationship with the man. She even knew about our disciplinary agreement, the sex, the spankings, everything. One night at dinner, while I cringed in humiliation, Rossi went into graphic detail about the two us as though she deserved to know. She seemed intrigued, but no more than if she were hearing about a normal history between a man and woman.
“Oddly, after some of their opera evenings, she spent the night in Rossi’s bed—having sex. I could hear them since they did nothing to mask the sound. What was I supposed to think? I suppose Rossi and I had no exclusive arrangement, but I couldn’t imagine screwing anyone else, even if it was no big deal for him.”
KC didn’t answer my question. But he did note my hurt. “You want to go on?” he finally asked.
“Yes, yes I have to! I need to get Meredith out of the way,” I answered as though I was ticking off pieces of the story bit by bit, and I couldn’t get to the rest until I’d revealed this part. I continued, “I remember it was after Christmas… Rossi and Meredith returned from the theatre for their usual round of drinks. Rossi called me from the workroom as he often did, wanting me to serve them something from the kitchen. I was in the middle of a very tedious but crucial part of my drawing and I didn’t want to stop in the middle.
“Rossi, I can’t now,” she said, pouring out her tiredness and a trace of exasperation.
“What was that, Gail?”
“I’m trying to finish that assignment you gave me,” she lowered her voice, staring directly at the man, implying that he was the reason she couldn’t honor his request.
“So, you’re revolting now?” his mood turned brusque.
“No, sir, just very busy.”
“You should have finished the work hours ago, Gail,” he snapped. “Get our refreshments now, and return with the butter paddle.”
“Oh, Rossi, please.”
The order stuck. It took little for her to see the power exuding from his expression. She turned abruptly and swept from the room nearly in tears, returning a few minutes later with everything he requested.
Meredith wa
tched, casually appraising the scene as though this was something she was accustomed to seeing every day. There was almost an expression of mirth on her face; she was definitely not shocked.
Following form to the letter Rossi’s nervous charge stood before him and raised her skirt. Meredith caught the first sight of her panty-clad bottom and smiled in appreciation. And then as Rossi motioned to a convenient chair, the trembling young woman stepped forward, bent over and pressed her hands to the flat of the seat. Closing her eyes, she waited breathlessly as her accuser fingered the top of her ivory panties and gave the silk a rude jerk. Before the eyes of both the administrator and his audience, the expanse of Gail’s behind revealed a bottom that had just recently been caned—her second episode of the harsh discipline. It had happened two days before, when in the heat of a battle regarding an architectural project, Rossi’s anger suddenly froze cold and he ordered her to take the twenty-one.
That had been a horrifying ordeal—but this moment seemed to match it in intensity, having this peculiar audience of one viewing the entire play. Not that Rossi’s prize student hadn’t been punished before an audience before—there was that time with the gentleman at dinner—but she’d thought of Meredith almost as a sympathetic friend. There seemed no sympathy now; the woman was wholly absorbed in the activity, as though this were amusement provided for her entertainment. The soon-to-be punished young woman felt like a sideshow freak.
Drawing in her breath, she waited while Rossi appraised her ass thoughtfully, holding the wooden implement firmly in hand. Sometimes it took forever for him to land the first strike. Though when he did this time, his strike was sharp and angry. The broad butter paddle covered a good deal of her naked bottom, managing to smack both cheeks at the same time. He worked it freely over the bounteous mounds as Meredith watched the flesh jump and shiver as each strike landed and the submissive woman tried to keep her response to a minimum.
The number of strikes went far beyond the normal twenty-one. Gail wasn’t counting, but she knew when Rossi was playing out a vendetta. He just didn’t want to stop until that capriciously chosen moment when it suited him. Numbers be damned!
Her ass felt as though the sun had blazed a thousand days on the surface, and in seconds, it would suddenly ignite with fire. It looked as miserable—red and streaked, with a rash of crimson blotches making the appearance raw and uneven.
Her tears began to flow as did her cries, “Rossi, please! Isn’t this enough?”
He didn’t answer, only hit her harder.
“Ouch, goddammit!”
