Dealing with an Oxford Cowgirl, Part Four

To say I gave Charlotte the spanking of her life is putting it mildly. Within a minute of my fist slap landing it had been followed by about fifty more, each one laid on with all the force of my arm behind it. I can dimly remember that I did smack the wretched girl on alternate cheeks, but that was more instinct and experience than a deliberate act on my part. Frankly I was just to angry to think about niceties which is probably why so many of my smacks landed as high as Charlotte's hip bone or as low as her thighs.

To be fair the girl was wriggling like an eel and that always makes perfectly accurate targeting next to impossible, but my anger was such that I didn't even try to land  smacks in the traditional seat of learning as it were and contented myself with bringing my hand down in a great powerful arc that cracked like a whiplash somewhere near Charlotte's bottom.

Needless to say the recalcitrant young madam was screaming like a scalded cat, in fact she was howling at such a decibel level that I remember thinking that she would waken the dead - or at least the members of my college which probably amounted to the same thing.

I became aware at some point that my arm was aching so I paused my labours for a moment and that was when I realised just how exhausted  I was. My heart was pounding in my rib cage and my mouth was open to take in great gulps of air into my lungs.

Charlotte took the opportunity that the respite gave her to try to break free from my grasp. She managed to free her arms from the skirt that had pretty much enveloped them and threw her right hand behind her to cover her bottom.

"No you bloody well don't," I told her as I took the wrist in my left hand and folded it into the small of her back. "I haven't finished with you yet." Weary though I was, the spanking was not over yet as far as I was concerned.

Charlotte turned to her left so that she could look at me with  wide tear filled eyes that begged for pity. Alas pity was all used up that day and with a deep breath I looked down at those buttocks that I had been correcting for the previous few minutes and without another thought I hooked my fingers into the waistband and peeled that last line of defence down. Charlotte's bottom was now very red and very bare and the act of lowering her knickers gave her the nudge she needed to open her mouth and let rip another banshee howl of outrage and pain.

My hand was raised again and again it fell in its retributive arc to land on Charlotte's helpless buttock. Now I spanked her methodically, aiming my slaps to cover the buttock cheeks that I had now bared and I smacked on and on until the colour changed from a bright to an angry shade of red.

As the spanking progressed Charlotte's behaviour went from the anger that had displayed earlier in the correction to to the hysteria that had then characterised her screams to a kind of sullen acceptance. Her struggles didn't cease exactly but they were reduced in intensity and instead of wriggling her hips to escape the force of my retribution she then began to do nothing more than simply twitch her buttock cheeks as each smack landed, and I noticed that the arm that I held in my iron grip was not being pulled one way and the other as its owner tried to break it free. The ending of that was proof that all the sauce  had been smacked out of Charlotte as all she did was lie across my knee, submissively awaiting my will.

With a final flurry of smacks I dumped her onto the floor where she lay in a foetal huddle, her hands behind her as she nursed her well smacked bottom. I sat quietly for a moment as my breathing returned to normal, and then I got to my feet.

"Listen to me you nasty little bitch," I told her between clenched teeth. "I am off to have a nice long piss and when I get back you will no doubt have fucked off somewhere far away from me."

I actually did more than that. I stood on the roof and smoked a cigarette to give Charlotte all the time she needed to collect her thoughts, pull up her knickers and clear off. However, when I went back to my room after my five minute absence it was to find Charlotte standing by my table. She had obviously pulled up her panties and was leaning against the table as her legs were clearly unsteady. She looked at me with eyes that were damp with her tears and filled with uncertainty. That said, there was no insolence left in them, so I was moved to be generous.

"I didn't expect to see you again," I said quietly.

"Just about to leave," Charlotte said, with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Do you want a cuddle before you go?"

Charlotte didn't reply; she just held out her arms and as I stepped forward she wrapped them around my neck and began to sob heavily with her face buried in my chest. I held her and waited until the sobs slowly died down and then Charlotte looked up at me. She struggled to find the words, her lips moving silently as she struggled to form them.

"I am sorry," she said eventually, with a quiet sincerity.

There was really nothing more to say so I just took her in my arms and eventually we went back to bed.

Charlotte and I had a fling that lasted for some time after the events that I have just described but to be honest I just couldn't afford to keep her. She wanted to go skiing during the Christmas vacation and I could not afford two weeks in Switzerland, so we drifted apart. Many years later I bumped into her in London as the sleek, well cared for mother of two rather cute children. We had a coffee and chatted about what had happened during the previous decade or so since our Oxford days. At one point Charlotte complained about something that her husband had done so I teased her saying that she should slap him.

"I can't do that," the lovely lady replied. Look what happened to me last time!"