Ha, Harvard colors. He must have been planning this for weeks. I pulled the stockings on last, the ones made like knee socks that ended just above my knee. They drove him crazy. I don’t know why, but I was happy to wear them for the reaction they got.
I was so close now. Just three more nicely manicured yards to pass before I reached our den of depravity. I felt like running, but that wasn’t something I really liked to do when I had a toy in my ass, even with a thong over top of it. I slowed down instead, in case he was looking out the window. I tried to look like a well-behaved but slightly-in-need-of-correction coed on her way home from acing an exam. By the time I neared the house, Jeremy waited in the doorway.
“Come in, Miss Ashton. You’re a little early.”
“Well, I…I didn’t want to be late, Professor Gray.”
“Have a seat over there by my desk.” He pointed to a wooden chair against the far wall, then shut and locked the door.
I sat down on the hard seat and squeezed my knees together. I was so wet already. I had been since the moment I’d turned in my exam. He crossed to sit behind “his” desk, which was actually mine, then leafed through some papers with a frown. I sat and waited, buzzing with lust. Finally he sat back and fixed me with a hard stare. I squirmed as his gaze traveled lower. He cleared his throat.
“Penelope, if you sit on that lovely skirt like that, it’s going to get wrinkled in the back. Perhaps it would be better if you pulled it up and sat with your bottom directly on the chair.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, rearranging myself.
“Much better. Now let’s talk about your test results. I looked over your essays…”
With a flourish, he took out a pair of fake, intellectual-looking glasses and perched them on edge of his nose. I tried to stifle my laughter, but one wild giggle escaped.
He looked up at me from over the lenses. “Too much?”
“They’re awesome, Jeremy,” I said, trying to compose myself. “Please leave them on.”
“Stop laughing, then, you little goofball.”
“Okay.” I schooled my face back to a serious gaze.
“So these essays…” He went on, scowling at me through the glasses. “I realize you’re a highly intelligent girl, and a Harvard student,” he added, nodding at my tight-fitting sweater, “but the ideas in these essays are just, well, far too scandalous and temerarious for a young girl like you to express—”
I totally cracked up again at temerarious, but being the actor, he was somehow able to keep a straight face and not fall out of character every thirty seconds like I did.
“Young lady, I don’t find this situation at all funny.”
I made a great show of trying to collect myself. “I’m so very sorry, Professor Gray.”
“Have you been drinking, Penelope?”
Oh my God, he was going to kill me. I burst into helpless laughter again.
“Very well,” he said. “I see now your essays are not the only thing completely uncontrolled and lacking in discipline. In my opinion you are a very ill-mannered and saucy girl.” He took off the glasses and fixed me with a dire look. I tried to look partly apologetic and partly scared.
“I’m afraid this kind of behavior really needs to be dealt with strictly. I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I allowed this sort of thing to go on. Stand up, Penelope, and bend over the desk for me. And turn up your skirt to expose your bottom.” The stern tonality of his professor voice resonated straight to my clit.
“Oh, Professor Gray, I can’t! That would be so humiliating!”
“Nevertheless,” he said, putting his glasses aside, “I think a very strict paddling is the only thing that will bring you in line. So I’m going to have to ask you again to stand up, bend over my desk, and turn your skirt up.”
I sighed and draped myself over the desk, sulking and pouting. I stole the opportunity to press my clit right against the edge. While I’m sure he noticed, he pretended not to.
“That’s right. Bend right over,” he said as he opened the drawer and pulled out a thick, broad wooden paddle that I knew very well. I shivered with the familiar thrill of anticipation, excitement tied up in knots of dread. “Your skirt now, please.”
“Oh, Professor, please just paddle me over my skirt. Please, I’m so ashamed.”
“You’ll be more ashamed before this is all over. Your face will be as red as your behind when I’m done with you. Quickly now. The longer you make me wait, the more licks you’re going to get.”
Licks. God, I hoped I got some real licks later. After scenes like this, I often did.
“Yes, sir.” I lifted my skirt to expose my crimson thong and the toy planted between my ass cheeks.
“Good Lord Almighty,” Jeremy said. I muffled my laughter in the desktop as he paced back and forth behind me, tapping the paddle against his hand. “What on earth have we here?”
“It’s…it’s an anal plug, Professor Gray,” I whispered, pretending to be ashamed.
“And you are wearing it because…?”
“I don’t know, Professor. I can’t explain.”
“Perhaps because you’re a horny little cum slut.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “That could be why.”
“And you love to have your little asshole violated, because you’re such a little fuck-happy whore. You love to have a cock shoved up inside there, drilling you and using your ass until it’s full of cum. Is that it?”
“Yes,” I confessed in a whisper. My clit throbbed and my tight hole clenched around the toy. “I love to have my ass taken and used.”
“I bet you do. And to tell the truth, sometimes there’s no other way to put a headstrong little coed like you in her place.”
“Yes, Professor.” I pressed my clit against the edge of the hard desk again.
“Stop fidgeting,” he snapped, running his fingers up the inside of my thigh and then back down to trace the top of my schoolgirl stockings. “Spread your legs and brace yourself for a nice, hard paddling. Afterward I’ll take that naughty little toy out and give you exactly what you deserve.”
“Oh no, please, Professor. You won’t…you won’t take me…there? Will you?”
“I most certainly will. And I should warn you, my cock is much larger and much less forgiving than that little toy you play around with.”
“Oh, no!” I pretended to be distraught. “What if…what if your big cock hurts me?”
“I sincerely hope it does, since you are in such severe need of correction.” He brought the paddle down hard on my ass. “I have no intention of going easy on you.”
Ouch. Tell me about it.
Whack. He brought it down again. “Owww!” I yelped, not totally faking. “Ow! Please!” The more I squirmed under the paddle, the more my clit rubbed against the desk. I spread my legs farther and arched my back as the sting of the paddle spread across my cheeks. I loved every second of it, but yes, it really hurt. It was easy to play the squirming, chastised student getting paddled hard by the stern professor because, well, that’s exactly what I was.
“Please, oh please, Professor! I’ll never write anything so…so…inflammatory again!”
Inflammatory got a soft chuckle from Jeremy, a real victory since he hardly ever broke character in our role-playing scenes. “Just hush,” he said, landing a really sharp one. “Don’t make me put the glasses on again.”
I half yelped, half laughed as he paddled me harder. I could barely feel the stinging pain now, I was so aroused.
“Please, please, please,” I begged in earnest. “Please, I’ve been punished enough now. Surely you don’t even need to take my ass! I know my place now, and I won’t be disrespectful again, not ever. I promise. I swear!”
I wiggled my red-hot ass in hopes of distracting him from further discipline, but well, he was a sadist after all. My horny asshole had to wait until he landed a few more stingers. Crack. The fire in my cheeks combined with the fire in my ass until I was one shuddering mass of aching girl goo.
“Okay, Penelope,” he said finally, laying the paddle down. “That will make it hard for you to sit down for a while.”
I put my hand behind my ass to rub the smart away. He took it and shoved it back down on the desk. “None of that. I want you to feel every bit of that pain. When you sit down, and you feel that lingering sting and ache, you will remember the proper way to behave for an intelligent Harvard girl like you.” I brought my hand to my lips and started sucking my fingers. I was so horny. I craved the taste of his cock.
“Absolutely, Professor Gray.” I nodded. “I’ve learned my lesson now.”
“You’ve almost learned your lesson, Miss Ashton. Now please lower your undergarment to your knees so that I can teach you a little more about proper behavior for an unabashed anal whore like you.”
“Please, no!” I shifted on my feet so my ass swung back and forth. I was rewarded with Jeremy’s soft intake of breath. “Please, I’m afraid your huge cock will hurt me!”
“As well you should be,” he said, coming around to stand before me. He undid his belt and then his pants. He whipped off his shirt and pushed his pants down, shoving his hugely erect cock in my face. “I think this will be enough to teach you a very effective lesson.”
“Oh no, Professor Gray. Please…please just let me suck you off instead!”
“Suck me off? A girl like you probably couldn’t even get a cock this thick past your lips.”
“I’ll try! Let me try—” My words cut off as he shoved his cock down my throat. I sighed and took it deep inside, swirling my tongue around the swollen head and then bobbing up and down on its length. I was so hungry for him, the salty taste of him, the musky, masculine fragrance. The satiny texture. I pressed my clit against the desk harder, twisting my hips back and forth.
“Take your panties down.”
I reached back, not losing a beat, and worked the thong down over my hips, letting it fall to the floor. His cock bobbed in my mouth as he reached back and took the toy out. He left me and positioned himself behind my ass.
“Please!” I pleaded one last time. “I promise to be good. I’ll do extra credit! Whatever you desire!”
“Here’s your extra credit, you naughty little whore,” he said as he held my hips and eased the head of his cock into my ass.
I moaned. In twenty seconds or less I would come.
“Oh please…” I begged as he slid slowly all the way in. “Please teach me a lesson, Professor! I don’t know why I’m so naughty.”
“I think it might be the red hair.” His voice sounded jerky and strained as he spoke the words in rhythm to his thrusts. His fingers dragged across my scalp. “I find red hair in young ladies very subversive. Especially your particular shade.”
My laughter cut off in a gasp as he wrapped his hand in my curls and pulled my head back to plant a kiss on my temple. “But I’ll try to look past the things you really can’t help.”
“Thank you, Professor. But oh God, oh…please—”
“Please what?”
“Please may I come, Professor?” I gasped.
“Young lady, must I remind you that you’re being punished?”
“Oh please, please!” I’d been masturbating against the edge of the desk since he’d first bent me over it. If I didn’t get release soon… My clit was so hot, my nipples were aching from rubbing back and forth against the wooden surface, sliding across papers and books. “Ohhh.” I moaned as he ground his pelvis against my ass.
He leaned forward on the desk to brace himself. I grunted and bucked against his swollen cock. The desk started sliding across the floor.
His hands grasped at my neck and then slid down to squeeze my breasts. He pinched my nipples hard. I cried out and scrabbled for purchase, tensing as he drove faster and faster into my ass. Papers flew, pencils scattered. A pencil sharpener was batted to the floor.
“Holy fuck!” I screamed. Jeremy clamped a hand over my mouth. Pleasure shot out to every part of me like a thunderbolt. I pounded on the desk, riding the waves of orgasm as my ass clenched around his cock. He gave one last pummeling thrust and shouted through his own orgasm. The desk nearly toppled over. I swiped for the lamp as it fell and managed to save it. He collapsed over me, his hand still over my mouth. I lay still, his body around me. His cock remained planted firmly in my ass. His chest hair tickled my back. His thighs trapped mine. My dominant, powerful and strong. Warm and loving. Hilarious. I loved him. A few seconds later he planted a soft kiss at the back of my neck.
“I guess I’m just going to have to accept that fact that you’re incorrigible,” he said against my ear.
“Yes, Professor Gray,” I agreed with a sigh.
*
I peeled off her sweater and sucked her tits before I dragged her to the shower. I wasn’t done with her yet, but I was finally getting to the point where I could show some restraint. I was finally coming to realize she wasn’t going to leave me.
She was mine forever. My faithful one.
Oh, I was still going to marry her. Not that she needed that piece of paper any more than I did. We would do it sometime. Maybe after she was done at Harvard, maybe before, if we felt like it. I’d already set Martin to drafting the prenuptial agreement, more to amuse Nell than for any practical reason. It was much less explicit than the first document, since not much needed to be spelled out between us anymore. I didn’t need those black and white words on paper the way I used to. I could see all the promises I needed in Nell’s clear, beautiful eyes.
Penelope Ashton (hereafter wife) agrees to live as partner and lover to Jeremy Gray (hereafter husband).
The wife agrees to provide loving faithfulness, as well as sexual submission upon request.
The husband agrees to provide dominance, protection, kindness, and handsomeness.
The wife will offer bravery and forgiveness as needed…hopefully not too much…
Later, in bed, I spread her out in front of me and tied her down. I knelt between her legs and started to lick her all over. She sighed and arched her back and made those small, urgent noises I loved.
“So how did you do on your exam?” My tongue fluttered against her clit.
“I did…I did really well—I think—” She was having trouble finding her breath.
“You think?” I asked, raising my head. She moaned and nodded quickly.
“I…I know I did…I did really well—”
I smiled and resumed licking and teasing her swollen clit. I loved to play with my little toy. My comfort object. My submissive. My soon-to-be wife. I loved to feel her writhe against me and give up control to me. Oh, I craved for her to lose self-control. I could do this for hours just to feel her jerk under my tongue, just to drive her lust higher. I tasted her musky juices and breathed in her scent. She twisted under me, then whined softly. I didn’t reprimand her for being fidgety. Sometimes I did, but not today. I devoured her swollen slit until her hips bucked against my chin and I could tell she was close to the edge. Then I stopped and smiled at her guttural protest.
“You studied hard, didn’t you?”
“Yes…” she said. “Oh, Jeremy… Oh God… Please!” Her wrists and ankles pulled helplessly at the restraints.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered. I fell on her once more and lapped around her clit, then took it in my teeth and gave it a tug. I worried it delicately between my lips and then soothed it with a broad, lingering stroke of my tongue. I felt the tension release, heard her quick exhalation. I stroked her all over as the orgasm racked her body, stroked her until the tremors subsided, then untied her and drew her into my arms. “Nell. I love you so much. Good girl.”
The wife will act as comfort object at all times to her husband, Jeremy.
The husband will be brave enough to love his wife, Penelope, and worship her like the goddess she is.
The End
A Final Note
I hope you enjoyed Nell and Jeremy’s story. If you’re wondering about their happily ever afte
r, please check out the other three books set in the world of Comfort Object—Caressa’s Knees, Odalisque, and Command Performance.
Caressa’s Knees picks up a year or so after this story ends, and tells the story of Kyle and his quest for love after the heartbreak of pining for Nell. In the course of Kyle’s romance with a talented yet tormented concert cellist, Jeremy and Nell make several appearances, and you learn more about their life a few years down the line…
Odalisque tells the story of Kai Chandler, Mason and Jessamine’s friend, who acquires an odalisque named Constance to fulfill his sexual needs. But the two lovers soon find that sexual slavery leads to a much deeper emotional connection—whether they want it or not. Mason, Jessamine, Jeremy and Nell all appear in this book.
Finally, Command Performance relates some serious life changes for Mason, including a new, trumped up, PR-driven relationship that turns poignantly real.
You can buy all these books separately or take advantage of my promotionally-priced Comfort Series box set, available from the two largest online book retailers.
A short excerpt from Caressa’s Knees, a sequel to Comfort Object
She froze at the knock on the door. It wasn’t her aunt’s knock. “Go away,” she yelled.
“Open the door,” he said in a calm voice.
“I said go away!” God, his stupid voice. She hated how it sounded like caramel, all smooth and melty around the edges. Where had he said he was raised? Louisiana? Texas? Again he knocked, two sharp raps in succession.
“I’m trying to sleep!”
It was a lie. She was huddled beside the bed where she’d dropped and pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to forget about the mistakes, the patronizing applause… She heard the knob rattle and knew he was picking the lock. The door swung open and she turned her back on him.
“Caressa—”
“Get out!” She screamed it, the same way she’d screamed at him that morning. “Get out, get out!” It felt good to scream at him, or rather at the wall, because she couldn’t look at him and scream the way she was screaming. “Get ou—” The final ‘t’ was muffled by a large hand and his hiss against her ear.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 185