Meeting with the Dean

My experience with Sally was confusing, to say the least. I was angry, hurt, surprised, insulted, and felt degraded. I’d been beaten and raped by that bitch. I reasoned that I couldn’t have been the only woman she’d treated that way. Never again, I vowed. After thinking about some more I made an appointment with the dean of the college. I would expose Sally and see to it that she was dismissed and arrested.

My day of my appointment arrived, and while I was in the right I was nervous about bringing up such serious charges against a fellow professor. I’d earlier told the dean that it was a serious matter involving Sally. I arrived at the dean’s office, her secretary, Diane, ushered in. The dean, a philosopher by training, rose from behind her desk and offered me her hand. She was courteous and businesslike.

“Please, take a seat Zoë.”

I explained my case to her; she listened sympathetically, and told me that my allegations were serious, but that she’d heard some disturbing things in the past about Sally. I was beginning to feel better. Together, we’d nail that sadistic bitch’s hide to the wall. After she’d heard me out, the dean went to her telephone and asked her secretary to show Sally in. I was terrified.

Sally walked in ignoring me, cold and arrogant, with all the warmth of an ice cube. She was wearing a well-made, navy suit, silk, maroon blouse, and navy stockings and pumps.

“Sally,” began the dean, sitting on the edge of desk, crossing her legs at the knee, “Zoë has made some serious charges against you.” She proceeded to outline them to my assailant.

Sally said nothing, and the dean continued, asking, “Is this true?”

Instead of replying, Sally walked toward the dean, put her hand behind her head and pulled her face toward her. They kissed deeply and passionately.

Laughing self-confidently Sally said, “Of course it’s true, dear. I beat Zoë and then I rode her face.”

I started to get up, to try and escape, but as I made for the door, Diane, the dean’s secretary walked in and bolted it. She leaned against the door with back, smiling at me.

“Thank you, Diane,” spoke the dean. “Zoë, a few things need to explained. First, this is a woman’s college. We educate and train young woman to become leaders. Sally has a superb record in this regard. She’s also, you might say, my enforcer. One of the ways we train our aspiring charges to command is through a time-proved mentorship program involving wrestling and other forms of physical combat, including sexual domination to teach respect and one’s place in the hierarchy. We expect our your women to remember their lessons and take them out into the world. I hope that you’ll make the grade, but” she waited, “ I believe it’s going to take a bit more work in your case.”

I was too stunned to say or do anything. Diane took my arm and led me into an adjoining room with mirrored walls and a padded floor. Sally and the dean followed us.

Barbara, the dean, stood smiling at me, with her arms crossed. She was wearing a dark purple suit, white silk blouse, and white stockings. Taking off her coat, she handed it to Diane. Barbara’s breasts moved up and down. She undid her skirt and blouse, letting them drop to the floor, and kicked of her heels. Diane obediently picked them up. Standing before me was the dean of my college wearing nothing but her lingerie. Sally leaned in a corner, her arms crossed.

Barbara was stunning. A brunette with long hair worn up, showing her ears and neck and healthy tan, she stood about 5’8” and weighed about 130 or so. Her breasts were full and ripe, threatening to spill out. She wore a white satin ensemble, a low-cut, straight-topped corset with matching embroidery and thin straps over her shoulders. She wore matching bikini panties and stockings attached to her corset.

“Sally tells me you put up quite a fight, but judging from the purpose of our little meeting today you certainly did fail to learn your place. I’m going to finish what Sally failed to do.”

I looked over at Sally who, as usual, wore no expression. She walked over to the far side of the room and sat in a leather couch. Diane stood by, unobtrusively, in a corner, her hands clasped in front of her.

The only I’d get out was to fight. I stepped out of my conservative professorial attire, revealing satin, electric blue bikinis, bra, and garter belt with off-white stockings. I loved the contrast—prim and conservative above, outrageous underneath. Looking in the mirror I caught Sally eyeing me, giving an approving eye—I wanted to strangle that cunt. Diane took my clothes and put them aside. That afternoon I was determined not to repeat my mistakes from my match with Sally.

We approached, she rushed, and I countered driving a fist into her satin-clad stomach, getting her attention. Barbara stopped, grinned, and shook her head as if to say, “You shouldn’t have done that.” Fighting through the pain, she grabbed my shoulders and drove her right knee into my pussy. Believe me, it got my attention. Bending over a bit, my hands went to my injured cunt. She followed with a bearhug, squeezing with all her might. Barbara’s arms were strong, but my legs are stronger. I fought back by pulling her face deeply into my electric blue, satin valley. My breasts covered her face. I next swung my legs up and wrapped them around her waist. I could feel the boning in her corset as I squeezed with all my power, trying to crack her ribs. I redoubled my smother and she her bearhug. I could feel her breathing getting labored and could tell that my legs were punishing her. Grabbing Barbara’s thick, shiny mane I yanked back with both hands, coupling it with a burst of muscle from my legs. She momentarily let go, but it was enough to unbalance her, and we fell to the floor, causing me to break my scissors.

Barbara’s experience kicked in. Despite her pain she got up first and put me in a schoolgirl pin, her stockinged thighs driving my shoulders into the ground and crushing my head. I could smell her perfume as I stared up at her the taut white silk stretching against her pubis, the beautiful, fragrant material outlining her swollen and I imagined wet labia. Clearly, she shaved. Looking up into her eyes she smiled wanly, her face red and glowing from our fight, her nipples out of the constricting corset, announcing themselves to the world. This looked like a repeat of my fight with Sally. However, Barbara gave me an opening.

Pulling my legs up, she spread her thighs a bit, driving her fragrant cunt into my face, arching over me. As Barbara started grinding her satiny cunt into my face I relaxed, allowing her to come a bit more forward, causing her to hold onto my legs a bit more tightly. That’s when I countered. I launched my legs downward as hard as I could, throwing her backward, slamming her head into the mat, and stunning her. It gave me a change to get up and seize the initiative.

We stood and faced one another. Both us were perspiring, our lingerie clinging to our warm, damp skin. I mouthed the words “Bitch.” She approached me cautiously, sizing me up. Now it was my turn. I feinted, acting as if I were going to punch her yet again. Barbara turned to her right, trying to present as small a target as possible. Instead of punching I stepped in and used my left arm to encircle her throat, and made a good, tight circle around her neck. My left hip was against her ass, so I leaned to my right, bringing her up on her toes, and then fell forward, hoping to bring her down and get atop her. Off balance, Barbara went down with her back against my hip. She let out a yelp as she collapsed, and rolled over, her lower back in a bit of pain.

I stood and put Barbara into a surfboard, grinding my heal into her aching back. She arched backward, the white satin stretching taut in front. Looking in the mirror I could tell her nipples were out. They would become a target as soon as possible, but not until I’d fucked her over a bit more. I was beginning to enjoy this. I only hoped that it would continue. This bitch was toast.

Switching from a surfboard, but holding tightly to Barbara’s wrists, I pulled back on them, wrenching her arms and forcing her back into an even more painful position, and then dropped with all my weight on the small of her back. Barbara unleashed a deep yowl. I’d hurt her. Moving my hands underneath her chin, I interlocked them and pulled back. Barbara’s arms flapped helplessly in the air. This was getting to be fun.

Standing, I pulled Barbara up to her hands and knees by her hair and slapped her, following it with a kick to her side. She fell over, her hard, white satin stomach facing the ceiling, her thick nipples erect. I brought her up once more and followed it with a fist to her stomach, and followed it with a knee to her cunt. Barbara slid down, sobbing, her hands trailing down my sides, finally stopping at my hips, her hands trembling and holding to the sides of my bikini. I pulled her face to my crotch. Barbara was going to eat my cunt until I was ready to say stop. I ground Barbara’s face into my triangle of snug, vibrant, dampening blue satin. My twat was hot and I wanted to cum all over her face, have her lap up my pussy juice, french my clit, suck on my lips, and drink deeply from me.

But then it happened.

While I’d been getting ready for the tongue fucking of my life, Sally and Diane had been preparing a little surprise of their own. Diane grabbed my arms, putting me into a full nelson. I struggled, but couldn’t get out of it. Sally took Barbara by her arms and helped her to her feet, she was panting, sweating, in pain. Barbara took a seat and rested. Sally looked me over.

“Release her,” she ordered.

Diane let me go; I stepped away, but not before putting an elbow into her stomach, bringing an “oof” from her mouth.

Staring hard into my eyes, not blinking, Sally stood before me in a fuchsia bra, string bikini, and waist-cinching corset that accentuated her figure, shaping it into an hourglass, her breasts tumbling out of their silk restraints, hips trying to burst the strings holding the tiny silk triangles covering her firm ass and what from I’d experienced a hot, wet cunt. Her stockings shimmered. She walked around me slowly and I turned awaiting her move. It came.

Sally stepped up to me, I swung meaning to slap her, but she caught my wrist, forced it downward, and embraced me, her other arm pulling me tight and close. Her skin was cool and smooth to the touch. She brought my hot, damp body closely to hers, looked me in the eyes, and started rubbing her cunt against mine. I returned it with gusto. A sex fight was on. We stared into one another’s eyes as we worked to overpower the other.

As if by agreement we went to our knees. I slid my left hand between her thighs and lightly rubbed Sally’s cunt. Already I could feel her thick, hot, wet labia through the thin fuchsia silk. She responded in kind, adding light slaps to my aching twat that sent shivers up my spine. Wrapping both my arms around Sally, I threw her to the ground, climbed atop her, and forced my right leg between the silken steel of her thighs. We worked on our satiny cunts with our firm silken thighs, filling the room with the soft sound of thigh against thigh, thigh against pussy, and our breathing. We were both working up a sweat, lubricating our bodies, the slickness making us slide against one another, arousing our senses. Sally grabbed my hair, which I’d worse loose today. I reciprocated, and our savage, sexual combat continued.

After I don’t know how long I pushed my self up and brought my cunt into direct contact with Sally’s, our legs overlapping, and our pussies confronting each other. Grabbing our hips we thrust, humped, and ground our silk-covered cunts into each other. Sally’s body quivered and I intensified my attack, pulling her lush hips ever more deeply into mine, working our sopping twats into ever more heightened ecstasy. We were both close to cumming. Just a bit more, that’s all I needed. Without warning Sally screamed at the top of her lungs, releasing some pent-up animal deep within her.

“Oh, God! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Fuck my cunt you whore,” she screamed.

The least I could do to, excuse me, for, my colleague was oblige her. I fucked her till she cried. But I wasn’t finished. Putting her into a schoolgirl pin I used her face like a talking, tonguing dildo. She sucked on clit and labia, tongued them, and worked her long, hard tongue deep into my love canal. It didn’t take long. My heightened state of arousal and Sally’s expert mouth made me cum in a torrent. In the heat of the moment I banged her head up and down against the mat, clawed at her cunt, her tits, and my own, screaming in orgasmic ecstasy. I forced Sally’s face as deeply as possible into my now sloppy cunt. I so sensitive that I couldn’t bear to have it touched. I rolled off of my conquest and lay next to her, breathing hard. Sally’s hand reached over, intertwining her fingers with, and squeezed. I returned it.