EXTRACT FOR
The Spanking Machine
(Jon Barry)

     Kelly stared at the machine that squatted like a vast chrome spider in the middle of the laboratory.  No matter what angle she considered it from, she couldn't seem to take it in all at once; it was a crazy tangle of metal limbs, latex-sheathed protrusions and flashing lights that took up most of the room.  It didn't look like anything that belonged in a sane world.  She had read all the press releases about the X09??"indeed, she had written most of them herself as part of her internship.  It was supposed to be the biggest boon to mankind since the printing press or the steam engine??"potentially, anyway.  Nevertheless, something about it seemed ominous, dangerous; Kelly couldn't help thinking that any moment it might come to life and attack her like a horror-movie monster.

      But if that was the case, why was she so intrigued by the machine...and not just intrigued, but oddly aroused by it?  The thought that one of those shining limbs could just reach up and casually rip the lab-coat from her small, curvy body, leaving it naked and shivering; the idea that the X09 might want her somehow, left her wet and tight inside.  

      "Don't get too close, now.  It can smell fear, you know."

      Kelly started violently, nearing dropping the sheaf of papers she was carrying.  Professor Johnson, her boss, chuckled as he entered the laboratory, patting the X09's frame fondly as he passed it.

      Kelly tried to smile.  Professor Johnson was a tall, kindly man in his late forties...he was handsome as well, with iron-grey hair and the kind of piercingly intelligent eyes that might belong to a driven, brilliant scientist in a science-fiction film.  He was exactly the kind of older man Kelly found attractive, and the two had flirted shamelessly since she had begun her internship...yet he also possessed some of his creation's strange, not entirely wholesome allure.  

      Many nights recently Kelly had masturbated herself to sleep with fantasies of Professor Johnson doing things to her.  The exact nature of these things varied from night to night; many nights it was all about fucking, with Johnson's cock turning out to be tireless and of startlingly large size. On other nights, though, the professor took a different role; on those nights he became a stern, dominant figure, one who found Kelly's performance wanting, and punished her accordingly.  In one fantasy, she had been forced to work naked, her plump nipples and round little ass available for her employer's caresses and pinches.  In another, she was forced to walk about campus performing errands for the professor, as she often did, but barefoot.  Enduring the curious, chilly stares of Johnson's colleagues as she padded shoeless, red-faced and wincing over the campus walkways (lined, in her fantasies, with many small, sharp stones) was terribly humiliating...and also exciting in a way she did not quite understand.

      In many another of these late-night fantasies, however, Kelly's misdeeds called for a very different kind of punishment.  On those nights, Kelly gasped as she ground the buzzing tip of her vibrator against her aching clit, imagining herself bent over, her short skirt riding up to reveal a smooth, globular ass.  She wore no panties in these fantasies, and just imagining the whisper of cool air on her fevered ass-cheeks made her gasp.

      In her imagination, Professor Johnson would be standing just behind her.  Gooseflesh would prickle on her skin as she registered his presence.  She could smell his cologne, a warm spicy scent that thrilled her as much as the sudden gentle growl of his voice.  Usually he began the session with some innocuous question about Kelly's duties that day.  Her answers never pleased him; she tried to make things easier on herself with whimpered apologies, knowing full well that whatever efforts she had made were insufficient.  Her punishment was a foregone conclusion; it was the reason she was standing bent bare-assed before him.

      "Oh no, Kelly," Professor Johnson would say, predictable as a clock striking the hour.  "That won't do.  That won't do at all..."

      Then his hand would connect with her ass, a sudden blow that surprised and shocked her even as she caught and held her breath in expectation of it.  She would cry out, biting her lip so hard that the pain nearly equaled that suddenly blazing in her ass.  The pain was always accompanied by a surge of blistering heat.  When his hand moved briefly away it was impossible for Kelly not to imagine her ass glowing cherry red.

      'He's spanking me,' Kelly would think, with the same mixture of terror and embarrassment and bone-deep pleasure.  'He's made me take my panties off and he's spanking my poor bare ass...'

      "There," Professor Johnson would snap, slamming his open hand again and again into Kelly's rear.  "And there!  This will teach you, I think.  And this..."    

      The action of the fantasy would gradually melt away as Kelly's own quickly-moving hand pleasured her clit in just the right way, or as she plunged her vibrator deep into her pussy.  Her orgasms were always little short of volcanic; her eyes squeezed shut, she would lie shaking on her bed until the last aftershock had died away.  They were almost always accompanied by the delicious, thrilling rumble of Professor Johnson saying, "I hope, young lady, that this experience has done you some good."

      She would be ashamed afterward--deeply, deliciously ashamed.  Silently washing her vibrator in the bathroom sink, she would swear she would never indulge herself that way again.  And yet, she always would.  She couldn't help it.  Professor Johnson's sedate, yet authoritative presence brought out something submissive and hungry in her.  The spanking fantasies had been with her as long as she could remember, it was simply that she had never before had a focus for them as perfectly suited to her needs as her handsome boss.

      "Quite magnificent, isn't she?" Professor Johnson said, his voice bringing Kelly reluctantly back to the here and now.  

      "She?" Kelly asked, confused.

      "Oh, of course."  The professor took the papers gently from Kelly's limp hands and began shuffling absently through them.  "A ship is always referred to as she, yes?  How much more appropriate to refer to the X09 as feminine!  Look at how sleek she is, how economic in design..."

      "Would you two like to be alone?" Kelly teased.  It was the sort of sauciness she would never think of attempting in her disciplinary fantasies??"although now that she thought of it, perhaps a similar bit of familiarity might serve as a starting-point for that night's session.  She already knew she would be giving her vibrator a work-out that evening; it was so rare that she ever saw Professor Johnson exhibit anything like passion...even as mild as this.

      "And this is just a prototype," the professor went on, abandoning the paperwork in favor of touching and stroking the machine.  

      'God, if he ever touched me that way,' Kelly thought fervently, 'I'd explode.  I would just be transformed into one huge pulsing orgasm.'

      "Think of it, Kelly: a machine that can be programmed to perform any simple, repetitive motion without ever running down!  Seems simple, doesn't it?  Any number of factories can boast an endless variety of pushers and pullers and hammerers and stitchers and, and screwers..."

      At the word "screwer," Kelly's heart skipped a beat.  Her full lips parted, and she was all too aware of how pathetic she must look.  

      The professor, however, was not finished with his little impromptu lecture.  "But what do we have that they don't, eh?" he demanded, raising a finger.

      Kelly stifled a sigh.  "The Johnson Principle," she said dutifully.

      "Precisely so, the Johnson Principle...or so I hope it will one day be called.  So it should be called, certainly, if there's any justice in the world," he added, muttering under his breath.

      Kelly nodded, already abandoning her sexual fantasies in favor of thinking up excuses for a quick exit, should the professor get a little too enthusiastic.  The vaunted "Johnson Principle" was nothing more than the old pipe-dream of perpetual motion.  Supposedly as the X09 performed one motion, an equal reaction would be set up in another part of its bizarre structure; springs would unwind, gears would turn??"all creating a store of energy that would power the motion, which, of course, was creating more complimentary motion and thus more power.  In theory, the X09 could carry on hammering or stitching (or screwing, or thrusting...) forever.

      Kelly didn't really believe such a thing were possible??"it went against all her own scientific training...although, given the machine's bizarre appearance, she was half-tempted to believe in it.  Still, it wasn't her money funding the project, after all.  And Professor Johnson looked so sexy when he got all hot and bothered over his precious theories.

      "Well, then," he said, his attention suddenly reclaimed by the paperwork Kelly had brought him.  "What's this?  More invoices need signing?"  Sighing, he took a pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat and got to work inscribing his signature on each sheet of paper.

      Kelly watched him, her eyes occasionally wandering over to the X09's shining surface.  In a way, the Professor's insistence on referring to it as a feminine being bothered her more than the perpetual motion stuff...almost as though the machine were, in a strange way, her rival.

      Or was it that she felt even less comfortable being turned on by something that was female rather than male?

      'No matter,' she thought, smiling at the X09.  'The Professor doesn't know everything.  I'll bet you are a boy...and I bet I could think of some uses for you...'