Monday, 21 March 2011

Dealing with an Oxford Cowgirl, Part Three

"You lied to me, didn't you, you shit? Go on, admit it," she spat at me.

I must admit that there is something incredibly erotic about a woman on her high horse. It's the way she breathes in deeply so as to shout more makes her puppies moves sensuously under her clothes. The way that the eyes glitter always reminds me of how they shine when a woman is on her back being fucked, and the mouth that has been opened to complain also opens wide like that to take in a nice juicy cock. Yes, there is something very potent about an angry woman.

Not that a fellow must allow her to go too far out of control, but sometimes it happens and then the filly needs to feel the bit as she is reigned in, but I never expected to have to do that to Charlotte on that day - more fool me for trying to analyse what passes for the thought processes in the female mind.

Charlotte stood in front of me with hands on hips, tapping a foot as she impatiently waited for my answer.

"What do you want me to say?" I was trying as hard as I could to think of anything that could have done that would have set her off in that way, but my mind was a complete blank. For once I was not guilty of the charge, members of the jury.

You said that you belonged to Ruskin College, didn't you? And you lied, didn't you? You're a complete shit!"

"This is Ruskin College," told her patiently.

"No, it isn't!" Charlotte stamped her foot in frustration. "This is somewhere else, somewhere horrid. If this is the Ruskin, where's all the art work?"

Lights suddenly began to come on inside my head. The silly bitch had confused institutions.

"You are not in The Ruskin, the Ruskin School of Fine Art, but you are in Ruskin College. Same man, different aspects of him," I explained, grinning from ear to ear at Charlotte's silliness.

"What? Well, it's still all your fault for not telling me..." Charlotte's voice trailed off as even she realised the idiocy of what she was saying. Not that logic and reason is something that women trouble themselves with over much, especially when they are feeling embarrassed by their latest bout of female silliness.

"Listen, you barmy bitch," I said, sweet reason evident in my tone. "It isn't my fault that you have a bra size larger than you IQ and can't tell the difference between..."

That was as far as I got because Charlotte's hand flashed out of nowhere and cracked across my face! Trust me when I say I couldn't believe what had just happened. Nor could I believe it when I looked up and saw Charlotte's back retreating towards the door at the end of the corridor.

There are times when I am retarded, I really am, and that was one of those times. I stood  open mouthed  and nursing my smarting cheek as Charlotte exited stiffly towards that door. As she yanked it open my brain kicked into gear and I sprinted down the corridor and grabbed her by a handful of hair and then I just dragged her back to the door to my room. Mine was the last door on the corridor and as we reached it I just pushed Charlotte with all my strength against the wall that ended to corridor and fished my key out of a pocket and quickly opened the door. Then it was a simple matter to almost throw Charlotte inside and slam the door shut behind us. Hands on hips I faced the wretched girl who took a step back a look of pretty total terror on her face as she realised that shit was most definitely about the happen to her.

"Please," she began, lifting her hands in a gesture of supplication. "Please let's talk and..."

That was as far as she got. I just walked the two paces over to her, grabbed her by the hair again and sat down on the bed, pulling Charlotte over my knee as I did so. She was wearing a blue corduroy A-line skirt that came down to her knees and I gathered the hem in both hands and pulled it right over her waist and left it dangling over her head. I encircled her waist with my left arm and looked down at the target area that was encased in white cotton panties.

No, I cannot remember exactly what they were like as I was beyond normal anger and had entered a world of utter fury, one where only retribution mattered. Without pausing to lower the panties I raised my right arm and brought it down in the first retributive smack of what was going to be a highly memorable spanking.

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