You Tart
Many people have a similar thought when they see Amanda for the first time. They think: “Funny, she doesn’t look gay.”
Dean Jacob Coldwater was no different, and had thought much the same when she had entered his office. Dressed in a spaghetti-strap top and mini-skirt, her freckled face framed in long red hair, Amanda did not bring any of the familiar archetypes to mind. She looked normal, by all accounts.
Jacob diverted himself from what he was doing to appraise her bust, her hip-to-waist ratio, the length and smoothness of her legs—the really important qualities he respected in women. Having taken her in, he returned to watching his screen, and encouraged her with stalwart silence to do the same.
The screen was mounted on the wall, and had perhaps cost the entirety of some poor student’s tuition that otherwise could have gone into improving the educational facilities. Amanda was absolutely awed that such an advanced and expensive HDTV could present such a dismally grainy picture.
She spotted her vaguely recognizable image in the screen, captured from the vantage of a wall mounted camera outside the GLBTG centre. And just as she looked a man entered view from the side. There was no sound, but Amanda could fill in the soundtrack for herself, as she had already lived it once before. The man approached slowly, seeming no threat until he had stopped in front of her. She watched as he and she were mostly still for some time, the camera’s footage too poor to clearly show their moving mouths.
And then it happened: Amanda stepped forward and swung her leg. The frame rate on the recording was so poor that in one instant Amanda seemed to be stepping into him, in another lifting the man off the ground with her foot, and in another standing over him while he was on the ground, curled into a ball. Jacob played with his remote, replaying the scene four times, as entertained as ever.
“How could he have possibly deserved that?” he laughed, bawling quite loudly.
“He wouldn’t take No for an answer.” she replied, watching confusedly as Jacob stood up from his chair and rounded his desk. He pushed it off to the side, leaving nothing between where Amanda stood and his chair. Jacob wiped his hands of what little dirt lay on them and smiled.
“Well, what exactly had you refused him?” he asked, standing a few feet from her, hands in his pockets.
Amanda sighed, biting her lip as she called up the memory.
“Last night he and I were at a party. He noticed me and was very drunk, and thus feeling very confident, I imagine. He didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t in to him, or at the very least assumed that “No” was negotiable.
“Anyway, the short version is that at some point I got fed up and resorted to telling him that I was gay. Not that he really listened, mind you, but he seemed to remember that bit in the morning. So today, thinking he could find gay people at the gay centre, he dropped by to see if he could find me. Out of luck, and stupidity, he caught me as I was standing outside.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Going home.” she hinted.
“I see.” Jacob said, knowingly. He visualized Amanda naked, scratched his chin, and then posed another question. “What set you off?”
Amanda crossed her arms. “You mean aside from the obvious and unwanted persistence? He must have followed me around all last night. Coming after me in the morning was just... ugh. Frustrating, that he wouldn’t listen to anything aside from my foot.”
“Well, I’ve already talked with John—he’s the guy you kicked—and I just want to hear your side of the story.”
“Fine, then. He decided my excuse about being gay was just that—an excuse. He believed that I wasn’t really gay and just being a tease, as in his words he couldn’t tell the difference between me and the other ‘straight girls’.”
Jacob looked down at the hem of Amanda’s skirt; a few inches higher, he thought, and he’d be seeing panties.
“And that’s when you kicked him.”
“Yes!” Amanda huffed, “Of course that’s when I kicked him. Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”
“No, not really.” Jacob said. “I’ve never had anyone question my orientation; no one’s ever had reason to.”
“What reason would he have to question my orientation?”
“Well...”
“Well what?”
“Just saying that I can see his point. You don’t really look like a lesbian, that’s all.”
Amanda looked down at herself, at her outfit. Sure, it wasn’t denim or flannel, and she’d donned lipstick and eye-liner and worn her hair down for the party, but honestly. She rolled her eyes.
“So I’ve been told, many times.” Amanda remarked tiredly.” That doesn’t make it right.
“Look, I think you’ve heard all that you’re going to hear about this. This is a dispute between the two of us, I don’t understand why I need to see you.”
“I’m afraid the university’s policy on sexual harrassment is very clear, Miss Strand. It’s procedure to investigate these incidents and take the appropriate action.”
“I doubt we’ll bother each other any more.”
“That may be the case, but you still physically assaulted another student’s genitals.” Amanda froze, her mouth open.
“Wait wait wait—he pursued me, he refused to heed my words, he was outright provocative, and you’re putting the blame on me?”
“Violence is not the way.” Jacob urged, holding his hands in prayer. “Make love, not war.”
“Now you’re being smart.” she accused.
“Nonetheless, this incident could result in you’re expulsion, depending on what I tell the Committee. You’re on video, but from what I’ve heard it sounds like this was a misunderstanding.”
“So what are you saying? That I should have just shut up and taken it?” Amanda asked
“I’m saying that you and I can meet in the middle.” he said, walking as he talked. “You need to admit some wrongness in kicking a man in the balls. And in turn, I will admit that there was a good reason behind why you kicked him, an understandable reason that is served no justice by having you expelled.”
Amanda was silent, but her quaking expression revealed the turmoil and frustration inside her. “I can’t believe things are being turned around on me like this. I’ve dealt with men like him before—some of got progressively more persistent, even threatening. I was defending myself. If he wouldn’t listen to ‘No’ the first few times there’s no telling how many times he would’ve come back.”
Jacob continued to walk and think, circling around her. “I still think it was premature to bring out the sledgehammer.”
“Well if you won’t accept that, what kind of explanation would you find reasonable, then?”
“That, we can discuss.” Jacob said, rounding behind her, grinning, and then happily slapping her ass.
Smack!
Amanda teetered from the impact, wide-eyed and astonished. “What the fuck?!” she stammered.
“Good.” Jacob said, delighted with the result. Amanda’s eyes flitted from side to side. She was paralyzed—where the hell had that come from?
“There’s something about the buttocks.” Jacob said, “I don’t know exactly how it works myself, but it commands obedience.” He grabbed Amanda by the bum and she hopped into motion, like a horse kicked by it’s rider. His palm pressed firmly against her supple ass, he guided her across to the chair. Now Amanda realized why he had moved his desk: to clear the way.
Amanda thoughtlessly complied, rendered completely unable to think rationally. “I can’t believe you just did that!” she stammered, braking by the chair once Jacob had removed his hand.
“I expected that,” he said, sitting down. “There’s something about the harmonics of the vibrations through the buttocks. It requires some skill; you can’t just smack a woman’s ass any which way. But, with the right touch, it holds the secret to authority.
“I suppose,” he chuckled, “a twenty-something such as yourself isn’t used to being disciplined in this manner.
“Or are you?” he inflected suggestively.
“What the fuck are you on about!” she seethed, balling her fists. And yet, try as she might, all attempts at action failed her. The same thoughts kept repeating: the sheer audacity of him, the unmitigated sexual objectification, the balls. She’d certainly met more persistent men, but never such a ballsy, cocky one. She tried to come up with a plan of action, even a simple one, but her thoughts were jumbled. No solution seemed to do the situation justice, anyway. She could think of only a single appropriate response, but she didn’t have a cricket bat.
“I’ll let you in on everything.” he assured her. “But first I need you to take a more receptive position, so that you might better hear my point.”
He reached around and placed his hand on her back, pulled her towards him and... and before the thought to struggle had even entered her disoriented mind, Amanda found herself reoriented and facing the floor, bent over his lap. How the fuck, she thought, did I get here? Everything had happened so fast. When she felt his fingers at her backside, pulling her skirt up over her bum, she waited with dreadful anticipation. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had so quickly gotten the best of her; from the looks of things she’d already submitted without a fight.
Shockingly, she found herself thinking that fighting wasn’t the way out. Jacob’s prayer-clasped hands came to mind, and his cheeky remark “Make love, not war.” How bad would it look if she beat up the Dean, one of the most powerful figures on campus?
Jacob appraised her backside, finding it quite attractive and well-formed, framed in a short, girly pleated skirt. Certainly not everyday attire, he thought to himself. She had definitely worn the outfit for someone else—some other girl. He grinned at the thought, and spanked her supple ass open-palmed.
Smack!
Amanda stiffened up. “Oh!” she winced as his hand made contact.
“Now, now, Amanda. You know this is necessary.” he condescended.
“Are you fucking nuts?” she burst. “This is so not fair!”
Jacob chuckled and patted her bum. As if trained by the touch, Amanda felt herself slacken, only slightly.
“I’ve told you what is at stake. This is the only way you and I can solve your problem.”
“My problem? It was him. He called me a closet straight girl.”
“Why would he say that?”
“We’ve been through this—because I look like a girl!”
Smack!
“Ooh!” Amanda yelped, her thoughts shaken. Jacob felt up her ass, divided so prettily by her teeny, tiny white thong. He eyed it with amusement and hunger.
“Don’t raise your voice. I won’t have any of that.” he said. “What are you, Third Wave?”
“The fact that I stand up for myself doesn’t make me a feminist.” she retorted.
“Well, you certainly seem to be viewing things through a lens. You just need to hear another interpretation of the facts. I’m sure his comment was entirely innocent.”
“How is it that white men are always so innocent in their prejudice?” she remarked.
Smack!
Amanda winced, and thought about what she had done.
“I’m sorry.” she mewed reflexively, failing to catch the words before they rolled off her tongue.
“You should see the situation from his eyes,” Jacob said, “he was confused by the conflicting messages you were giving off. As you said, you look like a girl.”
“Like a girl? As opposed to looking like a le—lesbian?” she stammered, suddenly finding the L word difficult to enunciate. She felt queer, and not in a good way.
“Exactly.” he said, matter-of-factly. “Many people’s exposure to gay women is limited to visible butch lesbians. They just assume—”
“Are you telling me that his ignorance lets him off the hook? That’s so un-fucking-believably heterosexist!”
Smack!
She winced again and mouthed “Ow” to herself, her fire momentarily stolen. Every time she tried to muster herself he put her down with a good, firm spank.
“I’m saying that his actions were based on what he knew. The normal assumption is that most people are straight, after all, because most people are straight.”
“That’s completely hetero-centric!”
Smack!
“Please, Amanda. You do look like a straight girl, don’t you? You dress in ways that please men, do you not?”
“I guess...” she said.
Smack!
“I—I do.” she said, more definitively this time.
“I can see from your clothes that you know a thing or two about attracting a mate. You obviously dressed to please. But for another girl? Maybe you’re confused—you seem to have forgotten all about Sex Ed. You know what sex is for, right?”
Amanda remained silent, refusing to dignify the question with a response. She’d heard this all before.
Smack!
“Babies?” she guessed hastily, the response forced out of her.
“Exactly. Can a girl make babies with another girl?”
“Actually—” she began.
Smack!
She stopped and frowned. “No.”
“Good girl.” he grinned, rewarding her by stroking her hair—her long, red, curly hair—for a little pleasure to offset the punishment, and for a little encouragement. “You really don’t look like a dyke.” he said.
“But—“
He raised his hand.
Smack!
Just—“ she whined.
Smack!
Amanda pouted; she had come to a profound, butt-smackingly painful realization. “Not according to a lot of people.” she said.
“And doesn’t a girl going out with another girl seem odd to you? I mean, in the grand scheme of things most girls have sex with men, and have babies with men, as mankind has evolved to do. Evolution is older than you, Amanda. It knows better.”
“Yeah, but—“ she protested.
Smack!
“—simple numerical superiority—”
Smack!
“—doesn’t warrant the egotistically—“
Smack!
“—self-imposed—“
Smack!
“—privilege of—“
Smack!
“—being the norm.”
Jacob’s hand hovered over Amanda’s flushed ass.
“Honestly,” she continued, unswayed, “gays are a normal and consistent minori—”
Smack!
“Right, then. Any more?” he challenged, “Get them out now.”
“Oh!” she fumed, balling her fists, “You’re all just a bunch of ego-fuckers!”
Smack!
“Good!” he encouraged, “Exorcise that hostility. Fighting is not the way.”
Amanda shut herself up and bit her lip. Her cheeks burned. Jacob rubbed her cherry bottom, delighting in its smoothness. His eyes traipsed over her feminine curves, so easily accessible to him while she was bent over his lap.
“But that really isn’t the point, is it?” he said, “It’s clear in the way you dress that you’re searching for a viable mate to sire offspring. We don’t always know these things explicitly, Amanda, but our bodies know. Evolutionary psychologists know. For instance, we’ve discovered that women instinctively dress more revealingly when they are ovulating. Those genes are in every woman, even the gay ones.”
He ran his finger between her buttocks, over her thong. “Your revealing underwear is a clear indication. Your body yearns for a man.” he added.
Amanda clenched her jaw, trying to say nothing. She bit her tongue; it all seemed so plausible, the way Jacob put it.
“What I am trying to show you, Amanda, is that things can often be explained innocently, because many things are a matter of interpretation. That man you kicked, I believe he was merely interpreting the cues you were presenting through your dress. It wasn’t fair to kick him for it.
“I also think you liked him back, but substituted anger in place of obedient adoration because you feared reprisal from the gay community. You wanted him so badly that you kicked him, angry that he’d come to see you at the gay centre, the one place where satisfying yourself would have been incriminating. Had he cornered you in, say, a more private locale, I’m sure things would have gone differently.”
“What?” she retorted, incredulous.
Smack!
“You actually wanted to suck his cock, didn’t you?”
“N—“
Smack!
“You wanted his baby juice to come shooting up inside you.”
“N—“
Smack!
“Yes you did, you naughty girl.”
Smack!
“You little slut!” he laughed. “Admit it!”
Smack!
“I’m not a filthy slut!” she shrieked, balling her fists and banging them against the side of the chair. Confused, she lashed out, thinking and feeling in the ways he insisted, as soon as he spoke of them with knowing authority. That was his ace up the sleeve, swift open-palmed authority.
Smack!
“Filthy?” Jacob gasped. “Now who’s prejudiced? Sluts are merely satisfying their biological imperative. As you should know, selecting a number of mates improves the odds of producing viable offspring. But not if you spend your nights out with other girls, or spending the mornings at the gay centre before finally going home.”
His fingers lingered on her ass, softly stroking. Amanda shivered. It made her feel so hot, and she hated him, yet despite that it more and more natural the more he touched her.
Now all Jacob had to do was nudge her a bit at the right time. With just a tiny mental push he could change a girl’s whole mind. A good spanking will have softened her up.
He eyed her thong—the lacy, white number tightly cupping her mound and pussy, which bulged through the thin, filmy fabric. He brought his fingers to her vulnerable sex and started, slowly at first, to brush against it.
Amanda trembled, overwhelmed. She raised her fingers to her mouth and bit on her nails. Don’t let him see you enjoy it, she thought, as his stroking became fevered. After a short time she quaked and came powerfully. Jacob felt her kegels clenching, and jilled her off pitilessly throughout the torturous, rapturous, duration of her orgasm.
At her peak, Jacob gave her a helpful nudge. Amanda grit her teeth, but nothing could hide the unstoppable, primitive groaning and panting that betrayed her resistance. She’d so gotten off. They both knew it.
“Hmmmm, it seems you are neither selective nor conspicuous about who you get off with, nor are you gay.” he grinned.
Amanda quivered silently, exhausted.
“You enjoyed that.” he said for her.
Amanda thought about that. It had felt really good. But it had left something to be desired. The orgasm had pierced her mind and soul and yet she felt so... unpenetrated.
“How did you become a lesbian?” he asked, casually.
Amanda tried hard to remember. “Um... my first girlfriend just sort of, like, chose me, and I just stuck with girls, I guess.”
“Ah, I see. It’s so clear to me now; someone intervened in your natural development as a girl.”
The revelation stunned her. Jacob was so proud to see the new Amanda unfold. Amanda found herself thinking about her empty womb, her eggs wasting away, never before fertilized by hot, virile semen. Never had she felt the hard, vital shaft of a living cock inside her. That worried her, she was almost twenty one. So behind schedule! Were she a cavegirl she would have produced a sizeable brood by her age. She realized that she had been wasting her time with her girlfriend, with school, with finding a career. She felt permitted now to admit: she needed to find a man.
“I—I’ve thought myself a lesbian for so long.” she whimpered, “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, for starters, you should act naturally. A sweet little cock-virgin like you should be flying by her urges and impulses.” he instructed, pulling her skirt back over her reddened ass, “Now, be a good, natural girl and apologize for putting up such a fuss.”
“I’m sorry, Dean Coldwater.”
“That’s a good girl. I’m glad you learned your lesson.” he said.
He released her and she slid off his lap, uncoiling into a sexy little starfish on his floor, her legs spread and panties showing. She rubbed absently at her pussy, dipping her fingers into her undies, and jilled herself off to a quick, tremble-inducing orgasm. Jacob watched bemusedly as she finished and sighed breezily.
“I believe you do know what to do next.” he finally said, watching her rise. She stood up beside him, hovering piously.
“Like, what?” she asked meekly, knotting her hands together and twisting the toe of her shoe against the floor.
“That boy you kicked—you should go see him again. You want to suck his cock, don’t you?” She thought about that. He helped, a little.
“Kinda.” she replied coyly. But that was really a very big ‘Yes’.
“Well then, why don’t you go apologize to the man. Let him know he was right, that you are a sexy, horny, baby-crazed little straight girl, just like he assumed you were when he saw you.”
“That’s sounds like an awesome idea!” she bounced.
“Wait, though.” he said, holding up a set of shears. He slipped them up under Amanda’s skirt. She gasped and rose to her tippy-toes, feeling the cold metal sliding against her delicate skin, just above her pussy. Jacob cut her thong and pulled it through her legs; the fabric left lingering kisses on Amanda’s bum and pussy as it was removed. She giggled with approval, her sex revealed to his inscrutable eye.
“There.” he said, admiring her feather, “Now you are ready to make amends.”
“Thank you.” she mewed.
“When you’re done, be sure to come back here.”
“Oh, God bless you Mr. Coldwater!” she giggled, smitten. She felt so happy knowing she’d earned the Dean’s respect. If I’m lucky, she thought, he might, like, fuck me lots when I get back—lots and lots! He encouraged her with a toothed grin.
“All right, off you go then!”
He patted her on the bum to send her off. Amanda raced out of his office, smiling with glee.