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Actually, I should have enjoyed it. She was a nice looking young woman, and she had a decent figure under her blouse and skirt; I could feel that figure quite well against me. This sort of intimacy happens in a big building (and subways), and if you've got half a brain, you just kind of tune it out.But she wasn't tuning it out. In fact, instead of returning my smile in kind and acknowledging that this whole forced clinch was meaningless, she was looking up at me from beneath half-closed eyelids, and her nostrils were flaring. Her lips parted slightly, and she licked them. And she was rubbing herself against me, side to side, massaging her breasts on my lower chest.I'd read stories about this kind of thing in Penthouse and on BBSs, but I'd never experienced it. Suddenly, I was willing to believe the stories. She was definitely enjoying herself, and I wasn't going to complain. In fact, old Mister Pecker was up and throbbing. And she could feel it, because she was flexing her thighs. This woman, despite whatever pain, and even more specifically, whatever she would admit, had become aroused! He mentioned nothing of his observation, but did speak, looking directly into her tear-filled eyes, “I did mention that this was going to be a very long day.” It was after this comment, that he did something that for the remainder of her life, Susan would never forget. Peter leaned forward, her head being held up by his hand under her chin, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Peter released his grasp of Susan’s dangling breast, then picked up the paddle next to his feet. He held it in front of her tear-stained face, then told her that she should kiss thewooden instrument that had inflicted so much pain, and thank him for the discipline he had administered. Susan, still awe-struck with the gentle kiss Peter had delivered, extended her neck as far as she was able, softly placed her lips on the paddle, and kissed it. She looked up as best shecould, and said, “Thank you Sir.
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