“Sir…” I began, but I didn’t have any idea how to defend myself here.
“So is this what you do while I’m preparing coursework at my office? Naughty girl.”
I played along by pouting and making my eyes big to beg his forgiveness.
“Well we’ll add this indecency to your charges for tomorrow night, Megan. I know exactly where this will go…”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed, hiding my face in my hands.
“Lay down again,” he told me. “Good girl.”
Then he pressed the vibrator against my most sensitive spot outside and sunk a finger into me to search out my most sensitive spot inside. It felt like heaven when he found what he’d been looking for and began to stroke me with purpose. Combined with the anticipation and thoughts about my punishment tomorrow night, I quickly reached the point of no return. I just about screamed as I clenched around his finger again and again.
“You’ve done this before,” I gasped at him, still catching my breath.
“Of course, dear girl. I’m fifty years old.”
“You’ve done all of this before, though,” I insisted. “You knew to pull back this morning when it hurt a little too much. You’ve never spanked me more than I could take… although it got close sometimes. And I saw a book on the history of corporal punishment in one of your piles.”
“And I hope you didn’t move that, Megan! You know I hate my books being moved.”
“I didn’t, sir!”
“Good. Well, I have in fact found time to explore my more unusual interests. But you’re the first one to be mine and mine alone.”
I subconsciously reached for my locket and found myself grinning at him, so pleased to be his. He kissed my forehead.
“You’re my first,” I had to admit. “I had a boyfriend punish me, but it went badly. Too soft. He didn’t have the… it wasn’t his kink.”
“Oh,” he said. “Oh dear, I didn’t realize I was your first, in that regard. Are you alright?”
“Yes?” I said, confused. I knew he’d never hurt me. Some things are just instinct, or good communication. For all his absentmindedness, the professor was indeed an excellent communicator. It was part of his job, after all. I knew he could tell if I’d been pushed past my limits.
“Good,” he said, giving my forehead a tender kiss.
For a little while we rather openly discussed what we wanted, or didn’t want, as far as that part of our sex life went. I divulged my deepest fantasies, of being bound naked, humiliated, and punished, sometimes even between my legs. I wanted to try being figged with ginger, like in Victorian times. The professor was all for it, and never laughed at even the kinkiest of my wishes. I gave him the same consideration.
Neither of us wanted anything that might cause lasting marks, and there were other kinks in the broad category of domination and submission that didn’t appeal to one or both of us. We ended up sharing a lot more desires than we didn’t share, however, as I suspected. And my closet in the bedroom would surely soon be filled with various other uniforms and costumes.
He bade me goodnight once our talk petered out into too many yawns. He kissed me sweetly before he left for his own room.
I slept so well, even as happily nervous I was about the next night, and what he might do to me.
***All day as I worked, my mind drifted to that evening. And the professor never let me forget it. When I served him his breakfast, he told me it was particularly good porridge, but that, “most unfortunately, dear one, I’ll still have to punish you tonight. A promise is a promise.”
With this punishment ahead of me, I was at my most submissive all day. Whenever Professor Brooks approached me while I cleaned, I kept my head down as he passed. Sometimes he’d pat my lowered head softly on the way through, and other times he’d tease me, saying how he hoped I was working hard. I didn’t want to make the night any worse for myself.
Finally, an hour after dinner, when all the dishes were cleared and the kitchen was cleaned, he told me to go to my room and prepare myself for my punishment. So I used the bathroom, washed and shaved in the shower, dressed again in my uniform and special locket, and waited in the corner. My heart fluttered even before the door creaked open.
“Come here, Megan.”
I hurried to his side, keeping my head down and my eyes to the old rug at my feet.
“You’ve been a very, very naughty girl. Yesterday you wore inappropriate undergarments. Then you climaxed without any permission at all. And last night, I found the most indecent things I’ve seen in quite some time in your night table. I’m afraid I’ve got to punish you severely, and rest assured it will fit the crime. You’ll be thoroughly humiliated, and taught an appropriate lesson about having such naughty thoughts at your place of employment.”
“Yes, sir.” His speech already had me tingling with excitement.
“Hands up. You don’t deserve a stitch of this clothing, naughty girl.”
I raised my arms up and he undressed me, pulling off my apron, dress, unhooking my bra, and pulling down my white panties. I was soon completely naked before him, left once more in nothing but my locket. A flush began to rise in my cheeks, even considering last night. It was different now in this game, and my mind was fully engaged. It felt like I was truly a housemaid going to be taught a lesson tonight.
The professor stroked his fingertips over my newly bare, hairless mound. I sighed, feeling how exposed I was now before him. “Mmm,” he said, approvingly. I felt so much more vulnerable than usual like this, and my shaved privates automatically, visibly, put me on a lower level than my master. He seemed to agree, patting me a little roughly there before ordering me to lay on the bed.
“On your back.”
The professor began to tie me up once I was in position. First he clutched my wrists, bound them together, and secured them to the centre of the bed frame. Then it was my ankles. He stretched them back and tied them behind my head, one at a time, stretching me wide open. I was mortified to be showing my previously private parts in such a vulgar manner. Everything I had was visible to him. I’m almost certain no other lover had ever even see this much of me. I shut my eyes against the pure shame of it.
“Do you wish you’d worn the proper uniform panties now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Feeling a little exposed?”
“Yes, sir.” I pouted this time, and squirmed against my binds. It was useless. I was fully secured in place.
I heard some soft clattering beside me, and knew what was happening even before I felt the cool, lubricated metal of the plug against my back passage.
“I want you to remember this next time you are considering buying anymore sinful toys.” He pushed the plug partially into me, and out of me, moving the tapered head deeper and deeper with each thrust. I squirmed and whined. “I think we’ll make it a rule that this hole is for punishment. Whenever this hole is filled, you’ll know you were a naughty, naughty girl.”
It was a delightful concept now that I thought about it; the professor punishing me there with insertions, plugs, dildos, or whatever else sprang to mind. I agreed bashfully to the concept, as he continued to slowly widen my hole. It was an absolutely shameful sensation, feeling my master sliding the plug up inside me instead of me choosing to do it myself. The complete lack of control was startling.
“Ahh!” I moaned in dismay, feeling the plug finally pushing its full girth past my sphincter.
Even without the fucking, the plug humiliated me, stuffed in my bottom, its bulbous form continuously making me squeeze and squirm against the embarrassing discomfort. It also served to stimulate me, making my privates sometimes pulse and clench and turn a dark pink from my arousal. Knowing this back entrance was only going to be filled when I was a naughty girl only intensified my shame.
He stepped back, I suppose trying to capture the full impression of me. I was on my back, tied up and spread wide, freshly shaved and exposed, the flat head of a plug visible just below my vagina.
“Now… it’s time to teach you not to ever orgasm again without my full permission.”
His hands teased me, feeling and rubbing my bare breasts, his fingertips stroking down my stomach, and then lightly grazing over my bare mound to my fully displayed clitoris. I panted and shut my eyes, confused. How was this a punishment? It felt good.
But not good enough. All his touches were as light as a feather, with barely perceptible strokes down my engorged clitoris. The tender brushes past my most sensitive spot were just enough to force my continued desire, and not nearly enough to let me fully enjoy it.
“Sir… please…”
“This is a punishment, Megan.”
I moaned as he teased me, stroking so softly and slowly that I desperately wanted more. I squirmed and pushed against his fingers to no avail. He only pulled his touch back when I did that, so it was impossible to calm my ever-increasing frustration. The plug filling me made it significantly worse, intensifying every sensation and causing that sporadic clenching that made me sometimes think my body had figured out a way to climax during this torture – but it had not.
“Sir!! Please! Pleeeeeeeeassseeee… I’ll be good. I’ll always ask for my permission from now on! Please!”
I assumed a half hour had passed, but a glance at the clock told me it had only been about ten minutes. The ropes around my ankles and wrists were put to the test with all my wiggling and futile attempts to push my body harder against those teasing fingers, as if that would help. All he did was stroke slowly down over my swollen clitoris, lift, and stroke down again.
“Please! PLEASE!”
He ignored me. Five more minutes passed of this humiliating torture. I was soaking wet. I was helplessly clenching so frequently, on the verge of orgasm, but never able to cross the threshold. He lightly rubbed his fingertip around in tight circles now, focusing all the soft attention on my hyper-sensitive button.
“Please, sir! I’ll be good. I’ll never do it again… Please…”
“I just don’t know if you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
Every minute now that passed only made me more aroused. I was in an impossibly frantic state after far too long had passed. Tears were in my eyes, I was dripping wet, and I was constantly on the verge of orgasm. My pleading and begging had just turned into whimpers and whines by now.
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