Chapter 9
"Oh yes, Madame Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell stammered. She unhooked the tabs which tenaciously clung to the tops of her nylons, then unfastened the pantie-girdle and slowly began to shove it down, being compelled to grasp the hems and tug energetically while twisting her opulent young hips.
As the thick dark brown triangular muff of her pledge's pussyhair appeared, Brenda's breath came more and more quickly, and she clutched the taped handle of the paddle with a feverish impatience as she tapped the smooth flat applicator against her left palm: "Get a move on, Purcell, you're not putting on a striptease, you know! I'll make you move in a hurry, you watch! Now then, suppose you just bend over my desk there, hold onto the sides with your hands and you better not let go if you know what's good for you."
"Y-yes, M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell quavered. Naked except for bra and her sagging nylons and pumps, she made her way towards the desk at the window. The shades had already been drawn, but in her masochistic mood she wouldn't have cared if the whole world had seen. Her thighs seemed to give way beneath her, and there was a tickling, warm sensation between them which almost made her faint with pleasure.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward abruptly, the edge of the desk cold and hard against her naked belly. She groped for the edges with her hands and clutched them almost desperately, laying her face on the cold smooth surface with her right cheek pressed against it and keeping her eyes tightly shut.
Brenda Torrance slowly advanced, in no hurry now. Her throat pulse had begun to beat furiously in the soft hollow of her slim poised neck, and her eyes devoured the splendidly and exaggeratedly distended milky bare bottom offered up to her fustigatory attentions.
"Spread your legs a little more than that, Purcell!" she imperiously directed, and was at once obeyed. The pink fruit of Dorothy Purcell's cunthole gaped in lascivious invitation, framed by the dark brown curls of love hair which fleeced it. She could see the muscles quivering and rippling in the victim's calves and thighs, and her pert pink tongue feverishly flicked the corners of her thin mouth as she took her stance at Dorothy Purcell's left.
"Start counting and don't forget what else you're supposed to say, pledge," she declared.
Then, without warning, she drew back the paddle and landed it solidly across both upper bottom summits.
Taken by surprise and given no opportunity to steel herself for the paddling, the almost naked young freshman uttered a startled squeal and kicked up her right foot as she nervously glanced back. Then, quickly remembering her obligation, she gasped out, "One, M-Madame T-Treasurer!"
The very first spank had left a flaming imprint on the milky globes which stood out from the smooth perfection of that immaculately white flesh. "Spread your legs a little more," Brenda now ordered as she lowered the paddle and studied her handiwork.
As soon as Dorothy Purcell had complied, the lips of her vulva yawned even more lasciviously, and long, sporadic tremors raced up and down her straddled thighs and the tensing cheeks of her naked bottom. Again without warning Brenda Torrance drew back the paddle and stepped forward to bring it cracking noisily over exactly the same area. "Aaahh! T-two-M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell gasped with just a hint of tears in her soft voice. As the paddle collided with her naked behind, her hips convulsively swerved from side to side, and her head lifted slightly from the surface of the table.
"Are you feeling a little less snotty now, Purcell?" the silver-blonde jeeringly inquired, stepping forward and just pressing the paddle lightly over the exact middle of both nether globes. She was rewarded by seeing Dorothy Purcell's body squirm and try to wriggle forward even more, while at the same time the freshman's soft little fingers tightened on the edges of the desk. The maneuver made her bottom-muscles flex and shudder, as Brenda continued to keep the paddle pressed against its fleshy target. "I-I'm sorry, Madame Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell murmured.
"Not half as sorry as you're going to be before I finish with you, pledge! Now hold that pose, it's just right!" And with this, drawing back the paddle she launched it forward and horizontally over the exact spot she had just marked, flattening the ripely curved summits and drawing a stifled "Ohhhouuu! T-three-M-Madame T-Treasurer!" from the victim.
Brenda Torrance lowered the paddle and stepped back to contemplate the quivering, reddened, jutting bottom of her pledge-victim. Dorothy Purcell sighed, almost inaudibly, turned her face onto her left cheek and remained in this sacrificial and shamefully demeaning pose with her bottom thrust out lasciviously and her legs widely spread, digging the heels of her pumps into the floor to balance herself. The stress of the muscular tension made long rippling waves visible along her stockinged calves and thighs and the palpitating flesh of her naked bottom. The pink gape of her cunt seemed to yawn even more invitingly than at the outset of the paddling.
Brenda's hazel eyes were glittering now and her tongue flicked the corners of her sadistically compressed mouth as she studied the lush young victim. Then, turning slightly at right angles, and lowering the paddle to the floor, she sent it sweeping upwards to collide with a sharp resonant impact against the base of Dorothy Purcell's right bottom globe. The young pledge stiffened, lifted her head and emitted sobbing, "Oww! F-four, M-Madame-T-Treasurer, ohhh, ohh oh my!" Her soft little fingers once again shifted along the edges of the desk to find a better hold, and she also seemed to move her pump shod feet slightly as if striving for a more secure balance. The splotch just imprinted by the paddle flamed vividly on the enchantingly ripe, swelling fleshy curve which rose from the top of the thigh to merge into the opulent, round jut of her naked seat.
Pleased at this effect, Brenda moved slightly to the left now, and again lowering the paddle, sent it travelling upwards with a dexterous flick of her wrist. The noisy Smack! was instantly echoed by Dorothy Purcell's tearful, "Ouuuuu! Ahhrrr! That's f-five-M-Madame T-Treasurer, ohh it does sting so, ohh!" And this time her face turned back over her left shoulder, so that Brenda could see the tears glistening in those dilated gray-green eyes and observe the quivering of Dorothy's nostril and the trembling of her lips as she squirmed uneasily over the top of the writing desk.
"You've got seven left, pledge." The silver blonde reminded the quivering victim. "Maybe you're sorry you didn't take your afternoon off when I gave it to you, hmm, Purcell?"
"N-n-no," came the faintly murmured reply as Dorothy Purcell once again pressed her left cheek against the top of the desk, steadied herself by digging her soft fingers into the edges of this altar of self-desired martyrdom. If anything, she seemed to spread her thighs still more widely apart, and Brenda caught her breath at the lascivious exhibition of her pledge's pussy and shad owy bottomhole groove. The five spanks had left extremely bright outlines of the oval shape of the applicator, standing out against the rest of the milky bottom and upper thighs and lower back with a salacious intensity.
"Are you trying to be smart, pledge?" the silver-blonde irritatedly demanded. "Don't tell me you prefer sticking your heinie out for my paddle instead of going over to Denby's for a soda or a sundae, by any chance?"
"Yes, I d-do, M-Madame Treasurer," came the even more astonishing faltered and faint reply. Dorothy's cheeks were crimson with her own blushes, and her heart was beating so loudly and so rapidly she thought she was going to faint. The hot sting of the paddle, during this pause, had augmented and spread its warmth to her loins. Knowing that she was abandoning the most intimate parts of her body to this autocratic tormentress was giving Dorothy Purcell the hots. As she closed her eyes again and waited for the rest of her spanking, she could see in her mind's eye her father's punishing her mother, and then, even more excitingly, her own vigorous thrashing. Unconsciously, as these thoughts intensified the tickling, hot sensation in her gaping quim, she squirmed herself a little more over the front edge of the desk and turned her face to rest it on the other cheek. She felt her calves trembling uncontrollably.
Brenda Torrance was taken aback by the impudent bravado of the victim. Most pledges she had had before started snivelling and whining before the very first swat fell, and begged off after two or three. But Dorothy Purcell was a new experience for her, and she didn't quite get it at first. "Don't tell me you actually like this sort of indoor sport, Purcell!" she sarcastically quipped as she patted the plump, juttingly rounded bare bottom, preparatory to delivering the sixth swat. The light brown-haired pledge shivered, and was about to speak but thought better of it; an instinctive surge of virginal modesty held her back from that fatal admission. And she pressed herself further forward so that her bottom seemed to stick out even more to invite the chalorous kisses of the punishment implement, thus letting her flesh speak for her.
Brenda scowled. She took a fresh grip on the taped handle of the paddle, drew it back, poised it a moment in the air, and then landed it with all her might across the ripest curves of both jutting rotundities. "Ohhhahrrr! Ohh, that's-six, M-Madame Treasurer! Ohh, ohh, it does sting!" Dorothy Purcell's voice was higher-pitched than ever before. She seemed to reach ahead of her with her trembling little hands to grip a new place along the edges of the desk, her knees bent slightly, then returned to a trembling straightness, while her hips agitatedly wriggled as if to disperse the really flaming torment in her naked bottom.
"That's the halfway point, pledge. I'll give you a minute to rest." Brenda lowered the paddle, walked over to the little night table beside her bed and took a Pall Mall from a rumpled pack of cigarettes, lit it and then turned to study her culprit. Dorothy Purcell was crying very softly, almost inaudibly. Her shoulders were quivering, and she was shifting her pump shod feet as if to try to find a securer vantage point in which to endure the finale of her punishment. The marks left by the earlier spanks had darkened now, and the last two flamed obscenely by contrast. Her nylon hose had started to rumple down, and the left stocking was almost at her knee hollow. The milky column of her bare back and its purity of sculpture attracted Brenda's appraising gaze now as she slowly moved back towards the desk, swinging the paddle back and forth in her right hand and puffing at her cigarette which she held in the left. "You're pretty brave, Purcell. But I'm going to make you howl these last six, you watch. Are you ready now?"
A faint little sigh escaped the bent-over girl. But she didn't answer. Brenda made a grimace of annoyance and, lifting the paddle, brought it in a downward sweeping arc to smack wickedly over the upper summit of the right bottom globe.
"Owww! S-seven, M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell's voice was strained and anguished now as she glanced back at her tormentress.
"That doesn't count, that's for not answering me when I speak to you, pledge. You still have six left. And boy, is that heinie of yours nice and red! Remember, it's a rule around Delta Gamma Phi that if a pledge gets out of position when she's having correction, she gets extra. Now get that tail of yours ready again!" Brenda warned.
This time the oval-shaped spanking instrument clacked emphatically against the base of the victim's buttock, and Dorothy Purcell twisted her hips furiously back and forth, lifting her flushed and tearstained face towards the window as she groaned, "Ouch, s-seven, Madame Treasurer. Ohhhh, that stings, that really stings!"
"I'm glad to have your opinion of it, pledge. You've really got a butt made for paddling. You keep on acting snotty and you won't be able to wear panties for a long time. And don't forget, Hell Week's coming up pretty soon." With this the silver-blonde applied the paddle diagonally, over the inner edge of the right bottom cheek, right over the shadowy crease, pinching the tender flesh together. Dorothy Purcell's head rose, her eyes staring ahead of her, blinded by new tears. A sobbing wail escaped her, "Eeyeoww! Ouuu! Eight, Madame Treasurer, oh, it does hurt, it does!"
"Well, maybe by now you really are sorry you didn't take the afternoon off. Now I want an answer, pledge." Brenda pressed the paddle over the lower curves of both flinching, vividly reddened bottom globes.
"Ohh ... ahhh ... n-n-no, M-Madame Treasurer," was the unbelievable sobbingly-voiced reply.
"Are you purposely trying to show off how brave you can get, pledge? That's a stupid answer. Maybe I ought not to stop at the four you've got left, but keep on going, hm?"
"If you w-want to," Dorothy Purcell panted, glancing back with tear-blurred dilated eyes and taking a new grip of the edge of the desk with her feverishly twisting little soft fingers while her hips moved restlessly from side to side, then up and down-almost as if she was trying to jack herself off.
Brenda glowered, walked over to the night table and crushed out her cigarette. She frowned, contemplating the out-thrust, furiously inflamed naked behind offered so servilely to her discipline. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and commanded, in a harsh, sneering voice, "Come over here and put yourself over my lap! I want a little heart-to-heart talk with you, pledge!"
With an effort Dorothy Purcell straightened herself, grimacing with pain as the maneuver sent new waves of fiery torment through her swollen bottom. Then, eyes downcast, her superb round titties rising and falling vehemently against the clinging bra which was her only veil, she slowly approached the silver-blonde imperatrix. Docilely, she crouched herself over Brenda Torrence's knees, being forced to stand on the floor and to grasp the sheets on the edge of the bed with both hands to support herself as she turned towards it at an angle. Long violent shudders ran up and down her body.
Brenda Torrance circled the light-brown-haired freshman's waist with her left arm, playfully patted the flaming behind upturned so lewdly to her ministrations. "What makes you tick, Purcell? You're giving all the wrong answers, you know. If I were in your shoes, my hind end would be scorched by now. And you've still got four hard swats left, don't forget."
"I-I know. I-I can t-take them, Madame Treasurer."
"I'm pretty sure you can, but what I want to know is why. Come on answer me, or I'll paddle it out of you anyhow. You'd better level with me, Purcell!"
Dorothy Purcell's tear-wet, flushed face was pressed against the edge of the bed and her fingers were twisting the rumpled sheets. She was in an uncomfortable angle, crouched over with her throbbing, hot bottom lewdly upturned over the silver-blonde dominatress's lap. And she could feel Brenda's left palm bearing down on her neck, pinioning her helplessly. Her buttocks cringed at the thought of the paddle suspended above them and likely to fall at any instant. And yet she had never been so excited, so alive, so aware that her pussy was moistening and churning inside of her and that she was as hot as if a boy were f-fucking her....
"I'm waiting, Purcell!" Brenda's voice was husky and low, throbbing with sadistic impulse. And, just to punctuate her words, she applied two or three light cracks of the pinewood paddle across the upper summits of Dorothy's behind.
"Ohh-ahhh-oh please-I-I'll tell-please, I'm so uncomfortable this way, I'm losing my balance," Dorothy tearfully panted, squirming uneasily.
But the fiery anguish in her naked bottom had suddenly turned to the most exquisite kind of lust; she had never known about such things, but all she felt was as if the moment had come when she was about to attain the supreme love-experience in her life!
"I'm getting bored to hell with you, Purcell," Brenda Torrance snapped. She pressed the paddle down against the base of Dorothy's behind and kept it there just to warn the girl to start talking.
"I-it's awfully embarrassing-it's when my father sp-spanked me once, hard-and-I was so ashamed but I couldn't help it-and I felt-and I felt-" her voice began to trail off and suddenly Dorothy Purcell burst into irrational tears.
Brenda stared down at the furiously discolored big round bottom cheeks, twitching and flexing in an uncontrollable way. She could see the dainty puckering crevice of Dorothy's asshole, and the dark brown curls of pussyhair framing that pink sweet fig of a cunt, like the frame of an immortal painting. And her own pussy began to twitch and get moist. She hadn't had any girlfucking in ages, not really. Oh sure, there were a few bitches here at the house, but nobody she could really be intimate and tender with, the kind she could tell secrets to in bed with. And all of a sudden, in a most unexpected way, this plain-faced big girl who was an absolute booby had come into her life and actually wanted to be thrashed! It was as plain as day now, and all the snotty remarks Dorothy Purcell had made to her, all the little bluffs and acts, had all been after a pattern. Mi Gawd! She'd been stupid not to recognize the signs. Why, Dorothy Purcell was just a little masochist, that's what she was.
Brenda Torrance shivered and closed her eyes for a moment to savor the rich voluptuous sensations swirling in her. It was like a connoisseur discovering unexpectedly a vintage wine in a cheap restaurant. It was too good to be true. It had to be digested.
"I see what you mean, Purcell," she tried to make her voice cold and impersonal. "So you're getting a kick out of this instead of suffering punishment, are you? I'll have to see about that. We can't have a bitchy little pledge pulling the wool over a sorority officer's eyes, we can't. Turn yourself a little so you're just over my left knee-that's the way. I know it's uncomfortable, and I'm going to make it even more so. Get your face down on that bed and hide it from me, you little bitch. Stick that big ass of yours up because you've got four more hard ones coming, and I might just double it. Now then. Don't forget to count!"
Her fingers had dug into the scruff of Dorothy Purcell's neck and twisted the panting, shivering almost naked young freshman until she had been compelled to mash her titties against the edge of the bed, her face just on top of the sheets and her fingers twisting them, her bottom uptilted at an exaggerated and obscene angle, and her thighs bending and giving way because of all the emotions heaving in her and also because of the fierce heat that the paddle had engendered in her naked hind end.
Then, Brenda had applied four swift smacks, without any pause whatsoever, over the plumpish curves of both nether globes, and then tossed the paddle onto the bed while Dorothy Purcell had cried out, sobbed and groaned, twisting and squirming frantically and then burst into hysterical sobs.
For a long moment, the silver-blonde stared at that squirming bent-over body, the stockings having sagged down to the girl's calves. The sight of the milky flesh above which the opulent and dark-crimson hemispheres of her behind rose made her weak with lust in that sensual contrast which the white and the dark-red provided. Her nipples were flint-hard and her cunt was wet by now.
"You didn't count any of those, Purcell, so now I'm really going to punish you. No, stay where you are, I don't care if your muscles are aching, you little trickster, I know what you'd like. You'd just love to have me make Hell Week tomorrow night and send you through the mill a couple of times so you could just wallow in being a martyr and getting your kicks that way. And you'd proba bly fiddle with your twat with your finger till you creamed, you disgusting, nasty little dyke you!"
She was relishing the mouthing of these lust words. Keeping her left hand on the scruff of the sobbing girl's neck, she stealthily began to unbutton her blouse and then, shrugging her shoulders out of it, tugged it away. Next, reaching behind her with her right hand, she managed to unhook her own bra and let that fall to the floor. Her small but firm bubbies were rising and falling quickly, the nipples dark with longing. And then very gently and without warning, she advanced her right palm to the flaming, swollen hemispheres of Dorothy Purcell's well-paddled naked ass and began to caress the cheeks, feeling their warmth.
"Ohh-ahhh-ohhhh, M-Madame T-Treasurer-ohhhh!" Dorothy Purcell tearfully exhaled. Her bottom began to squirm and twist, as if following the movements of Brenda's stroking hand. The silver-blonde now slipped her hand under Dorothy's belly and moved it down until her fingertips could feel the mossy fronds of pussyhair. Just as she had suspected, Dorothy's cunt was wet and palpitating. Why, that sweet little tricky bitch, she hadn't been lying at all!
Brenda's passions were so furious that it was all she could do to control herself. "You're hot right now, aren't you, Purcell?" she crooned.
"Oh please-sp-spank me, punish me, I'll be a good girl, but don't be mad at me, please, Madame T-Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell whimpered.
She was the most perfect masochist Brenda Torrance had ever met. It was just too good to be true. Oh what fun they were going to have until "Hell Week" and long after that! Brenda's finger tips began to move around in the moist twitching slit, till at last she found Dorothy's love-tickler. "Shall I do this to you, you randy little bitch you?" she whispered. And she began to frig the girl.
"Ohhh-ahhh-mmmm-ouuu-pi-please ahhhh-oh it's so-oh God-oh yes, yes, oh please do it to me, I'll be such a good slave to you, I'll do anything you want, Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell babbled. She was twisting and squirming her big reddened ass every which way now, pressing her panting titties against the edge of the bed, clawing the sheets, her breath coming in dramatic rhythm. And then all of a sudden her body seemed to heave and jerk and contract and then she sagged forward, moaning softly. She had come.
"Get on that bed and make it fast, Purcell!" Brenda snarled. She seized the girl's hips with her hands and lifted her slightly and forced her forward. Slowly, wanly, the almost naked freshman crawled forward and lay there, sprawled, face turned to one side, eyes closed. Brenda swiftly drew down the zipper of her mannish slacks, then plunged both hands under the waistband of the garment, wriggling until she could work down her brief panties and expose her cunt. A frenzied tickling was taking possession of it now. But she wanted to keep on her jackboots. The blouse and bra off, naked to the waist and with the fly of the slacks open, the silver-blonde had never been more domineeringly lustful. She clambered onto the bed, and knelt up, straddling her legs with her hands on her hips. "Purcell!" she snapped. "I've done you, and now you're going to do your Big Sister! Crawl over here, put your hands on my legs and gam me!"
Dorothy Purcell, her stockings sagging around her ankles now, clad in only the bra, lifted her tear-wet face and stared wonderingly at her beautiful, sadistic executioner. She shuddered with delight at the cruel promise in Brenda Torrance's hazel eyes. And then, edging herself along the rumpled sheets, she reached out her hands and grasped Brenda's thighs as she glued her mouth to the open fly which gaped enough in this straddled pose to show her the dark reddish-brown true-colored pussyhair which fleeced her "Big Sister's" cunt. And, shivering with ecstasy in her newly found rapture, her bottom furiously burning and sending its heat waves through every subtle nerve of her virginal body, Dorothy began to gamahuch the treasurer of the Delta Gamma Phi sorority.