Audrey's Dream, Chapter 1

Copyright Mael DelaVara

Audrey had soured on Chaucer's "The Book of the Duchess," which was keeping her fingers busy as she pounded out the lecture she had to present first thing tomorrow morning. She could not allow herself to fall asleep and to indulge in a favorite fantasy, she really could not, but . . . .

. . . . She set the door ajar a few inches to be greeted by the familiar arousing scent. It was as if a sea-breeze had moved over a freshly-mown meadow and then wafted through cages of vine-ripening tomatoes and trellises of musty roses. But she was standing outside her dorm room.

She threw open the door and entered with a sense of purpose.

"Hi, Deena," she said, with a trace of suspicion in her voice.

Deena looked uneasy, wearing nothing but a T-shirt that stretched to mid-thigh.

"Hi Audrey," Deena replied with shifting eyes.

Audrey cupped her hand under Deena's chin and brought the averted gaze into line with her own.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Yes, Audrey. But I have to tell you something." Deena hesitated.

"Well, go on."

"I was diddling."

Audrey showed no sign of surprise as she savored again the scent of arousal that hung heavily in the small space.

"Well, you know what the consequences are. And this was your idea. You were the one who asked me to help break you of your compulsion. Over my knee now."

Audrey sat on the edge of the bed and Deena nestled in her lap, sliding to find a tight fit.

"So how many times did you orgasm?"

"I had one big one and two small ones."

"Well, it doesn't matter how big the orgasm was, does it?" Audrey noticed Deena's cheeks rippling nervously under the cling of her T-shirt.

"No, an orgasm is an orgasm."

"And you awarded yourself ten strokes for each climax you gave yourself, did you not?"

"Yes, Audrey."

"So that's thirty strokes." Audrey landed the first blow before she finished her sentence, causing Deena to bounce in surprise. Audrey gently pushed Deena down at the small of her back.

"Relax, we've got some ways to go."

Audrey then rained down two dozen blows. The T-shirt offered little protection, and in a paroxysm of screaming pain, Deena bucked off Audrey's lap and landed on the floor.

"Fetch me the hairbrush," Audrey said quietly and firmly.

Wiping away tears, Deena complied and resumed her position over Audrey's thighs.
Audrey pulled up the T-shirt to lay bare a well-reddened bottom that showed the beginning of some bruising.

"Relax those cheeks." Audrey rubbed the bristles over two tightly clenched mounds, pressed together so firmly the crack seemed like only a wrinkle.

Audrey deftly pried apart Deena's thighs causing Deena to gasp at her exposure.

"You know, I think we should keep you shaved," Audrey recommended, as she noticed the moistened and tangled coils. "Don't you agree? It'll make you feel good. It will also heighten your awareness of your sex. Because you need to have more sex up here," Audrey tapped Deena's head, "and less down here," Audrey patted Deena's vulva with the tip of the brush. Deena involuntarily brought her thighs together, momentarily clamping on the brush as if it were an implement she did not wish to release.

"I'm going to give you twelve hard strokes with this brush." Once again, Audrey started to lay on the blows before she had finished speaking. Deena began bawling immediately, and in an attempt to control herself, she dug her fingers into the mattress and bit on the covers. Then she felt a reassuring hug around her heaving shoulders and a soft kiss graze her tear-stained cheeks.

"Come on, get up please." Audrey went over to a shopping bag and pulled out a coconut door mat she'd bought to prevent winter mud from being dragged into the room.

"Sit." Audrey placed the mat on a chair and lowered Deena while pulling up her T-shirt.

"Thirty minutes."

Deena began to wriggle as the coarse fibers irritated her burning bottom, but the more she squirmed, the worse the itchiness flared . . . .

Audrey awoke with a start. She had an itch she wished she could scratch.