A SLAVE'S JOURNAL, CHAPTER 3
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Just when I thought I couldn't take one more spank, the professor stopped. "Stand up," he said quietly. I almost fell over as I rose on unsteady legs. I was shivering with arousal and pain, holding back tears and flushed with excitement. What a confusing array of emotions. "Turn around. Take down your pants; I want to get a look at my handiwork," he said. I complied. "Ah, a lovely shade of rosy red," he sighed. "You mark well; has anyone ever told you that?" |
Who would have ever told me that? Shaking my head, I couldn't suppress a small chuckle. Suddenly I felt a sharp swat on my already tender butt. I gasped. "Don't get cheeky with me, young lady," he said with a hint of a smile at his own pun. "You will only laugh when I am making a joke; if I ask you a question, you will answer, 'Yes, Sir.' I expect you to understand the difference between a question and a joke. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Sir," I answered quietly, looking at the floor in front of me. My pussy was definitely getting hot; I was afraid I'd be able to smell it soon, and then so would he.
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"Undress." It was said casually, pleasantly, like someone asking you to pass the salt or open a window. But there was something about that quiet, casual tone that made my muscles comply, almost as if he were undressing me with my own hands. I had fantasized strip-tease before, but not out of clothes like this. I felt more than a little ridiculous as I took off my shoes, socks and pants. I removed my T-shirt, being acutely aware of Professor Blackthorne's gaze and of my ordinary, utterly non-sexy bra. The professor didn't even have to speak; with a pointed finger, he directed me to kneel next to his chair. I sank to my knees and felt a shivery rush all over my body. I was bathed in his power, and, even given the implicit risk of bodily harm, it made me feel strangely tranquil. He slowly removed my bra. My nipples hardened in the cool air of the study. |
Now completely naked and still on my knees, I turned toward the professor. The fact that he remained clothed served to underscore his possession of me. I imagined him unzipping his trousers only, not even undoing the button, removing his hard dick from his shorts, conceding to that one bodily exposure, but only to make proper use of me. And he would grab the back of my head and force my head down onto his hard cock, using my mouth for his own satisfaction...
I forced myself to snap back to attention, blushing at the intensity of my very raunchy fantasy about the man who, minutes ago, I had thought was the very picture of British academic arrogance. Maybe I still did. But somehow, that didn't seem such a bad thing anymore.
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He put his finger under my chin and raised my head so I would look him in the eyes. He spoke to me in low tones. "Kate, you came here of your own free will. Everything up until now, you have done because it suited you. But now I am asking you to make a choice. Either get dressed and leave, or remain naked and on your knees, and lend me your power for the evening. You know that I will not harm you, but I will hurt you. I promise you pleasure, too--the pleasure of the flesh and the pleasure of servitude. Do you wish to stay? Do you want me to give you pleasure and pain?" |
"Yes, Sir." It came
out as a whisper. He removed the elastic from my hair and it fell around my
shoulders in a gentle caress. My heart started beating harder... "Please,"
I added.