Dallas Mayo: Girl-crazy girl

"Missy? Is that the best you can do? Tsk, tsk. Afraid of hurting your hand maybe? You're sure not hurting me."

It was like a challenge. Gritting my teeth, I took aim and swung again – with better results this time, a resounding swat that must have caught her unprepared and off balance; her body jerked and then swayed as one knee weakened and bent deeper than the other. The sway changed direction an instant later as she struggled to regain her poise, but I didn't give her much chance after that, pounding away mightily with little regard for rhythm or accuracy and doing it for my own sake now rather than hers. Doing it because I liked the sensation, the heated contact, the fleshy softness, the smarting in my palm that could only betoken a far worse sting wherever it struck. I liked the way she was swaying back and forth, too, shifting her weight from knee to knee with a jerk and a twitch and a ripple of flesh, all spontaneous, out of control, responding only to the force of my hand, my small but apparently powerful hand; oh shit, was there ever such a sensation?

Her moans and groans finally bringing me to my senses, a kind of vague the midst of chaos. This was my first taste of power; couldn't I do something with it, something beyond its enjoyment alone? Surely there was some hidden potential here, a gain, a profit, a longer lasting benefit; in my moment of strength, couldn't I take advantage of her moment of weakness? But of course! She had bared her body but left herself veiled in mystery, and now it was time to bare a few hidden secrets.

"Bernadette?"

"Oooh… darling…"

"I spank good, huh? Listen, you naughty girl. As long as you're so worried about your conscience bothering you…"

"Hmm? What?"

"About tonight. When you scolded me for spying on you. How did you know that, how did you know I was poking around in your dresser drawers? You been laying traps for me? What are you, a lady detective like on television?"

"Uh… well… uh…"

"Never mind. It's not important any more. But if you knew I was doing it, why did you leave those books there? Books that weren't meant for children. Answer me that, huh? Or maybe I ought to answer it for you, since you're not talking much. I'll bet you wanted me to find them. Darn right. What other reason could there be? Oh, you really are naughty! – isn't that the truth?"

"It-it's true, it's true, darling."

"You're wicked, that's what you are."

"I know. I'm so ashamed. Punish me, punish me, I deserve all the punishment you can hand out. Just don't tell anybody, don't even breathe a word of it, please? Unless you don't like me any more. I mean, uh, if you'd rather have some other we've already settled that. I'm no tattletale, but I don't like being scolded, either. Not for a little thing like – well, you know."

"Uh-huh. I understand, Missy."

"You'd better. Or else…"

"Ouch!"

"S'matter? Too rough?"

"N-no, never. It just took me by surprise. I had something on my mind, that's all. About what you found in my dresser. Honey, did you do any real reading? The one without any pictures, did you try to get through it?"

"Well, sure, what did you expect? I read it. That's how come I know how to spank so good."

"Oh! Those naughty words…"

"I figured most of them out okay. It would have helped if you'd been around to explain the hard ones, though. As one naughty girl to another, you know?"

"Little rascal. That's not what I meant. At your age, some of those words are just too…" Bernadette sighed. "But what's done is done, I suppose. And I've got nobody to blame but myself. It was just a stupid impulse. Oh, I'm so ashamed! If we could only forget the whole stupid mess…"

"Hey, you're beginning to sound like a broken record. Anyway, one book might have been just a dumb impulse, but two? – come on now, you were trying to arouse my curiosity. Pretty smart, I'd say. It worked, didn't it?"

"That's just the trouble, it worked too well. Darling, if you only knew how awful I feel about…"

"Shit! And I didn't learn that word from any book. Now quit whining, will you? And get back into position, keep your ass stuck out, your big fat lesbian ass, you hear me? If it's just words that bother you, I might as well give you something to worry about." I was punctuating my speech with sharp slaps, irritated by her gloom on what should have been a joyous occasion. "And stop making faces! Here. Swing around a little, move this way – see how shitty that looks in the mirror? Your face, I mean, your shitty face, it spoils the whole picture. Look at the rest of it, see how pretty we are? A big naked lesbian with her tits out in front and her ass out behind. And a cute little baby lesbian swatting away, blistering that ass good, turning it redder than any old red light. Hmm. Remind me to take my pajamas off next time, I haven't got a minute to spare now, I'm much too busy slapping the shit out of you. Nice big soft ass…"

"Darling, please. Must you talk like that?"

I giggled. Peevish as she sounded, I recognized the expression on her face, a forced frown with an animated twinkle underneath, a phony frown on the brink of a genuine smile. About time, too. The shock of my naughty language had really horrified her at first, but she was getting over it in a hurry now, almost ready to start giggling right along with me. It was funny, the picture we made, a big naked woman wincing and shivering and dancing like a puppet on a string, under the control of a little girl half her size. Especially since I was trying so hard to make her laugh. But all that no longer seemed necessary at this point, her mood was already changing.

"Hey, you're smiling. Good. You're much prettier like that. Make it a sexy smile, though, lick your lips till they shine. Come on, open your mouth, don't be bashful, let's see what kind of tricks your tongue can do; isn't every lesbian supposed to have a real tricky tongue? Oooh, you've got a big one! But smile, too – even with your tongue out – like a cuntlapper smiling into a nice juicy cunt, huh?"

Once again she showed signs of reluctance, evidently distressed by my familiarity with such naughty shockers as cunts and cuntlappers. But I didn't let her dwell on it, I just gave her an extra fierce whack across the ass, low down and curving up into her concealed crotch, painful enough to draw a loud yelp. And then at last, secure in my conquest, I felt capable of pushing her toward the planned climax of our accidental night-meeting, taking a certain perverse pleasure in matching the end to the beginning. Only with a small personal touch of my own now, naturally, giving me complete supremacy and benefiting both of us at once.

"Remember what you were doing when I opened the door? I want you to do it again. Don't you hear me, Bernadette? I want to see you frig yourself. Like you did before. Only I'll be helping you this time, smacking your ass and punishing you – to ease your conscience, right? – so you won't have to feel guilty. Come on. Finger fuck that hot lesbian cunt!"

I gave her one more undercut, a well-aimed whack that brought another yelp and goaded her into action. She spread her legs and jammed her hands between them. And then I settled down to a nice steady rhythm that didn't interfere with her concentration or mine as she fucked her wide-open slit with one hand and caressed her clit with the other. Just like before. Only I was close now and didn't have to squint and crane my neck for a clear view of it, a clear view of the thing I'd only gotten a glimpse of, a thing I'd never really seen – all wet and slimy and shiny under its bush of hair – her cunt, a real grownup woman-cunt…

"Ah! Oooh!"

It happened all too soon, much sooner than I figured on. She made a lot of crazy noises, sobbing almost, and both hands stopped and seemed to go stiff inside the wetness. Her ass remained in that same position though, still bulging out, and I lengthened my swing and hit harder and harder. Until her knees began to buckle and she went limp and slumped to the floor.