This was one of those crushes that hits you instantaneously, almost overwhelming in its intensity. I knew I wanted him, and I suspected he wanted me too – our flirting, brief as it was, had assured me of that. And what’s more, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had him. So if I wanted to have any chance at being able to focus on my schoolwork this semester, I needed to find some sort of resolution to the situation.
But the question was, how would I do that?
To help me answer that question, I jumped on the computer as soon as I got home and started Googling for his name. My curiosity was just too much to bear. Luckily, college professors are pretty easy to find online. Within a few moments, I’d pulled up his faculty page from the university website, complete with his campus address, office phone number, and a list of his published works.
“Hmm,” I said to myself. “Let’s see what this guy is interested in…”
I don’t know what I’d expected to find – some psychological studies, I guess, and maybe a book about assertiveness in human interactions or something. But what I saw made my mouth drop open in shock.
The titles of his publications read like an X-rated bookstore’s catalog:
“Bondage and Submission in Human Sexuality.”
“The Kink Subculture in Modern Society: An Insider’s Perspective.”
And his latest work, published just last year, was called “Whips, Chains, and Love: A Modern History of BDSM.”
Okay, now I was curious.
Digging further through his faculty page, I found a link to a review of “Whips, Chains and Love,” written by the Cambridge Psychology Journal. My eyes bugged out even further as I read what they had to say.
“Stone’s work is a revelation,” it began. “He traces the history of BDSM from its origins in ancient Rome, through the Renaissance, and all the way up to today’s modern practices. Stone is a master at exploring the root of these kinks. And what’s most impressive is the way he gets at the nature of human psychology underlying it all… He makes a clear case for why we, as humans, are naturally drawn to the delicate mix of pleasure and pain – and the intense, complex power dynamics at the core of these sexual fantasies…”
As I read on, I felt my fingertips start trembling slightly. It was a hard feeling to describe, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was as if, reading the words on the screen before me, I was realizing the answers to questions I’d never thought to ask. I’d heard a bit about BDSM before, and from what I knew about it, I was incredibly interested. But for whatever reason, my sex life up to this point had been incredibly vanilla. So even though I was interested, I’d never been able to act on any of these inclinations.
But If Adam Stone was into this BDSM stuff, then I could only imagine what I’d be getting myself into if I tried to pursue things further with him. And I could be pretty sure he was – because, hell, he’d written books on it, literally.
Was I ready for this?
With every passing moment, my mind was filling with sexy images: me, tied up on a bed, with him ripping my clothes off my body and taking me from behind. Blindfolds, ball gags, handcuffs, and who knew what else. Oh, yeah, I thought to myself. I was ready, all right. And if anyone could introduce me to this alluring, exhilarating world of my fantasies – if anyone could take me past my boundaries and help me explore my sexual horizons – it was Adam.
I decided then and there that Adam Stone was going to be my guide. A sex instructor, if you will. He just didn’t know it yet – but he was about to find out. Filled with the excited self-confidence that comes from acting on one’s impulses, I found his e-mail address on the faculty webpage and dashed off a message to him. “Your willing student,” I said in the subject line.
Professor,
I’ve done a little background reading, and I see you’ve got quite the naughty streak. I’ve got that streak too, and I need your help exploring it. But I’ve never done anything like this before… do you think you can show me the ropes?
Write back soon – don’t keep me waiting…
April
As soon as I finished the note I hit SEND as fast as I could, before I had time to second-guess myself. It was a good thing, too, because no sooner had I sent it than I was hit by a massive wave of self-doubt.
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “April, what have you done now?”
I seriously considered sending a follow-up email, saying “please disregard everything I just wrote!” But that might just seem even weirder and more pathetic. The best thing to do, I decided, would probably be to just drop the class immediately, and pray I never ran into him on campus after that.
In the midst of my self-recriminations, I was so preoccupied that I almost didn’t hear the ‘ding!’ indicating I’d received a new e-mail message.
It was from him.
Taking a deep breath, I moved the cursor over and clicked ‘open message,’ shutting my eyes as it loaded, as if I were at a horror movie. But when I opened them, there was just a short message on the screen:
April,
As I told you this morning, my office is always open. And again, as I told you -- don’t call me Professor.
Adam
I re-read the message five or six times, not quite believing my eyes, and not sure what to do next. This was serious. My mind started racing with questions. I couldn’t believe he’d actually responded – what did that say about him? Was he just looking for an easy lay? Was I being a naïve idiot, making a huge mistake?
…Or was I making the best decision of my life?
Standing up and backing away from the computer, I took stock of the situation. I decided to take a nice, hot shower and try to clear my head a bit. I walked into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes, turning the faucet to let the water heat up.
Standing there, my mind racing, I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror. Stepping over closer to the glass, I checked out my body. Do I look good? I wondered. It looked all right, I decided, but I didn’t think it could compare to the fit, toned body of a college freshman. I jutted my chest out, striking a pose in the mirror and trying to picture myself the way a man would see me. I ran my hands over my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips and down my thighs. I leaned over my sink and pouted, inspecting my face for any blemishes. “Hello, Professor,” I said to the mirror, trying to look alluring. “I mean, hello, Adam.”
It was no use. “Oh, April,” I groaned. “What are you doing?”
I stood there like that for a minute or so, until the steam from the shower fogged up the mirror. Shaking my head, I stepped into the tub and tried to forget everything for a minute. It was useless to look in the mirror and try to decide if I was sexy or not – and besides, Adam had obviously shown an interest in me, right? If I was really going to do this, I needed to forget all my anxieties and hang-ups, and just pretend I had the self-confidence to go through with it – even if I really didn’t.
What was that phrase we’d talked about in lecture today? “Reciprocal assurance.” It was a fancy psychological term, but the idea was that by pretending you feel a certain emotion – happiness, excitement, confidence – you could actually trick your brain into experiencing that emotion. Basically what it meant was, “fake it ‘til you make it.”
By the time I got out of the shower, my mind was made up. I was going to fake it ‘til I made it – I’d go back to Adam’s office, walk in like I owned the place, and see what happened from there.
And I knew that if I gave myself the chance, I’d end up talking myself out of it. So there was only one option.
I was going to do it tonight.
Chapter 3: The First Lesson
Night had fallen by the time I got back to campus. The light of the moon filtered through the trees above me, shedding a pale light on the landscape as I walked to the Psychology building. I had no idea if Adam would still be there. And at this point, I felt like it would almost be a relief if he’d gone home already. But for now, I was going through with this, my excitement an
d apprehension both growing stronger with every step.
The front door of the building was locked, and I had a moment of panic before I remembered that I could swipe my ID card to unlock it. “They didn’t have these when I was a freshman,” I said to myself. Entering the lobby, I consulted the directory near the elevator for his office number. Even though I knew who I was looking for, I still got a bit of a start when I saw his name. “Adam Stone, Ph.D – Room 507.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my jangled nerves.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, stepping into the elevator.
This was an older building, and the elevator seemed to take forever. A loud, gong-like sound rang out as we passed each floor. Finally, I reached the top, and stepped out tentatively into the hallway. The hall was dark – but from one room, way down at the end of the hall, light was spilling out.
It had to be him.
My heels clicked loudly on the linoleum floor as I walked towards the light of his office. I winced at the sound, which seemed to echo throughout the hallway. At home, I’d agonized over what to wear. I didn’t want to put on anything too overtly sexy, at the risk of feeling embarrassed. But of course, I wasn’t going to show up in sweatpants either. I’d settled on a rather conservative outfit, something I used to wear to work all the time – a maroon swoop-neck shirt with a gray cardigan over it, and my favorite pair of dark blue jeans. The heels were a last-minute afterthought, and now I felt they looked out-of-place with the rest of the outfit. But it was too late for that now. “Confidence, April, confidence,” I told myself.
As I approached the office doorway, I realized my heart was pounding wildly in my chest. I supposed that was to be expected, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to take a moment to calm down, but I was afraid that if I did that, I might end up turning around and dashing back to the elevator. So without wasting another moment, I knocked on the half-open door: two brief, almost business-like raps. I felt so awkward. In the brief moment that followed, a million thoughts raced through my head, at an almost deafening volume. But when I heard his voice, all those thoughts were chased away.
“Come in, April,” he said, in a tone that was calm, almost casual. With just that simple phrase, he was already setting the tone of our encounter. The tone of his voice told me that he saw no reason to feel anything less than utter confidence. And by giving me a command, he was already getting me in the habit of doing as I was told. Obediently, I pushed open the door, my fingers still trembling with anticipation.
I felt an odd sensation when I saw him: it was like a chill down my spine, but it was a warm feeling at the same time. He was sitting there, reclining in his chair, looking at me impassively. But the intensity of his gaze told me he was anything but bored. My heart was still pounding. I stood there, looking back at him, not knowing what to say.
“Close the door,” he said, in that same level tone. I pushed it closed. It was the most natural action, but the moment felt charged with an incredible sexual tension. He hadn’t even touched me, and yet my skin was already buzzing. As I turned back to look at him, I could feel myself growing wet with anticipation.
“Come here,” he beckoned. I walked slowly towards him, my hands hanging at my sides. As I approached his desk, he got up from his chair and walked around it, stepping coolly into my personal space. Our bodies were an inch apart. I could feel the heat of his skin, and I felt a sudden strong urge to touch him. But I restrained myself for the moment, waiting to see what happened next.
He was a few inches taller than me, and when he spoke again, I had to tilt my eyes upwards to look at him. “So, you want to explore your naughty streak, is that right?” he asked me, the hint of a smirk on his face. Was he teasing me? I didn’t know how to answer him, so I just nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I hope you know what you’re getting into,” he continued. “This isn’t a joke, April. I’m going to be pushing your boundaries, and you need to be prepared for it. Do you understand?” I nodded again, more urgently this time. His words were having an undeniable effect on me, and I wanted him more desperately with every passing second. I wondered if he could sense how horny I was.
Suddenly, he put a hand possessively between my legs, extending a finger and running it along the middle seam of my jeans. I gasped at the strong sensation, feeling a surge of wetness flood my panties. He grabbed the back of my neck with a firm grip, pulling me towards him. I stumbled on my high heels, half-falling against the hard muscles of his chest. It seemed to be the effect he’d wanted. He grabbed my hand and shoved it roughly behind my back, making me yelp in surprise.
“It’s all about boundaries,” he repeated. As he spoke, he continued rubbing me through my jeans, causing me to squirm and sway unsteadily. “About mixing pleasure… and pain.” With that, he tightened his grip on my arm, and I whimpered as a twinge of pain shot through my shoulder. “This is a stress position,” he said. “Police officers use it when they need to restrain someone. As long as you don’t move, it doesn’t hurt. But if you try to get away from me, or move in a way I don’t want you to…” He jerked my arm again, and I cried out louder this time. “Understand?” he asked me. I nodded, wincing in pain. His eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Speak when you’re spoken to, April,” he said, in an icy voice.
“Yes sir,” I said. He seemed satisfied. “Good.” He took my free hand in his own and placed it on his groin, where I could already feel him stiffening under his jeans. “You feel this?” he asked, his voice getting raspy. “For right now, this is your everything. This is what you live for, this hard cock right here. Your only goal is to satisfy this cock.”
“Yes, sir,” I repeated. I had never had anyone talk this way to me before. Normally, I’m not sure I would have liked it – but right now, the way he was treating me, it was exactly what I wanted to hear. I rubbed him through his jeans, relishing the noise of pleasure he made in response.
Without warning, he reached for the button of my fly and loosened it, undoing the zipper and roughly pulling down my jeans. He felt me through my sopping wet panties, fingering my slit with a firm touch. I let out a moan, unable to hold back. He rubbed me fast and hard, and after such drawn-out anticipation the sudden intensity of the sensation was almost too much to bear. I staggered in my heels, causing another shooting pain to course through my arm. I took my hand off his pants and grabbed his wrist, acting out of pure reflex in response to the pain. Immediately, he stopped what he was doing.
“Did I say you could do that?” he seethed, letting go of my arm and taking a step back from me. Before I could answer, he’d spun me around and thrown me face-first against the wall of his office, pinning me there with the weight of his body. I heard a clinking noise as he undid his belt. “See, you’re a submissive,” he said to me as he loosened his pants. “You get off on being pushed around, being told what to do. It’s why you searched me out, and it’s why you’re so fucking wet right now.” As if to prove his point, he fingered my slit again, eliciting a whimper from my lips. “But me, I’m the opposite. I’m into S&M – sadomasochism. For me, it’s not about dominating you, so much as it is about causing you pain. I want to see you squirm, April, and I want to hear you scream.” He leaned closer towards me as he spoke, his hot breath whispering into my ear. “And since I’m the one in charge right now, we’re going to do things my way.” With that, he slapped the belt across my backside, and I cried out at the sharp, stinging pain. He did it once more, harder this time. I yelped again, wincing at the hard blow.
I gritted my teeth, anticipating a third strike with the belt, but thankfully, no further blows came. Instead, he whirled me around, pushing down hard on my shoulders and forcing my knees to buckle beneath me. I sunk to the ground, sitting on the floor with my legs out at a ninety-degree angle from my body. He held my hands above me; I was totally powerless in this position, forced against the wall. The jeans around my ankles served as a restraint on my legs, restricting me from moving in either direction. I was at his mercy now, and he intended to take fu
ll advantage of it.
He stepped over me, straddling my body with one leg on either side of me. His jeans and boxers were off now, and his dress shirt hung loosely above his crotch. He looked undeniably sexy. Even though my backside was still stinging from the smacks of his belt, I was very much enjoying what was happening – and he knew it, I could tell. He positioned himself in front of me, his manhood inches from my mouth. Hungrily, I strained my head towards it, restrained by his hands holding mine. “That’s right, work for it,” he said, watching me struggle below him. “Get this cock in your mouth.” Finally, I reached the head of shaft, and took him greedily between my lips. He thrust his hips against me as I sucked him, still holding my hands firmly above my head. My hair was a mess, falling all around my face, but I didn’t care – and even if I did, there was nothing I could do about it. I was his sexual plaything now, for him to use as he desired.
“That’s right,” he groaned, as I took him deep into my mouth. “God, that’s good. Keep sucking me like that.” His words were turning me on even more, encouraging me to take him even deeper. I could feel him stiffening further in my mouth, and I knew he was getting close to orgasm. He began thrusting more urgently, quickening the pace and bucking his hips wildly. “Don’t you fucking stop,” he told me through gritted teeth. I kept sucking him, flattening my tongue against the floor of my mouth so that it rubbed the underside of his head as he thrust into me. His grip on my wrists was getting tighter by the second, to the point of being painful, but I didn’t stop sucking him. With a final thrust, he came hard into my mouth, his cock jerking in powerful spasms. My mouth filled with his hot come, and I swallowed every drop of it as he pulled out. He released my wrists from the wall, and my arms fell to my sides. Immediately, my hand moved between my legs, fulfilling the urgent desire that had grown to an all-consuming need.
Hot For Teacher -- A BDSM Erotic Romance Story (Submission University #1) Page 2