by Jolene Avonn
The leash hung down her back like a delicate reminder.
Mae pulled the collar off and straightened her clothes. She waited in Teacher’s office until she’d caught her breath, and until she was confident her face had returned to a more normal, less flushed state. As she walked out of his office and down the hallway, she struggled to keep her legs moving in a straight, orderly fashion. She was aching from the many pleasures and tests she’d encountered – the firm plug in her ass, the paddling, the large dildo. All of this with only one quick flash of an orgasm in her classroom. Since then...only the blissful torture under Teacher’s firm hand.
Mae wobbled across campus. When she finally made it to her apartment, she collapsed on her couch. She tugged a cushion free and squeezed it between her legs. She fell asleep imagining the wide presence there was Teacher – his hard, muscular thigh tight against her.
Fortunately, she was out cold before her body could finally unleash all if its stored tension.
~~~
Mae avoided Teacher’s office the following day. She couldn’t handle being near him, not when she knew something major awaited that evening. Plus, she had to focus on her toughest teaching day – four classes, all in succession. By the time the last had finished she was exhausted. The hard work was a blessing, though, because it distracted her from thoughts of her initiation.
And, as Mae relaxed in her office, she realized she’d been efficient and calm throughout the day. Completely organized. She’d made it to campus early for the first time and weeks, and she used the extra time to complete her grading. She even had a moment to jot down some notes for her panel presentation. As her more analytical side kicked in, she realized a method to Teacher’s apparent madness – the more she was consumed by his tests and dominance, the more she was able to focus later.
It’s the balance I needed all along.
The thought knocked her for a loop. To progress, she must submit. Somehow Teacher had known, just by looking at her. And now she’d be formally initiated...into what, Mae had no idea.
It was 8 p.m. Avoiding sexual thoughts had been easy when Mae was busy with class; now, with two hours remaining, the familiar urges returned. The smooth shape carved into her wooden chair, one that supported her butt nicely and had a small oblong mound running between her thighs, began to give her fits. She could just twist a little, turn the chair maybe, and work herself against the smooth wood...
Stop!
It was Teacher’s voice in her head this time. Mae quickly saw two paths: an initiation with a pleased Teacher, and one with an angry Teacher. She knew that she couldn’t make any more mistakes.
Shaking her head as if to free herself from her pesky desires, Mae flipped to a blank page on her notepad and resumed filling in her presentation outline. In the following two hours, she completed more work on the project than she had in the previous two weeks.
At five minutes to ten, Mae closed her notepad and rose from her desk. She stood before a small mirror on the back of her door and checked her appearance: hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, lips glossed with a thin layer of lip balm, and conservative green dress as wrinkle-free as possible. Underneath the bland attire she felt mildly scandalous – her matching bra and thong were made from the same sheer black material and almost too tiny. Her jiggled a little more than usual with the light support, like they were almost completely free, and her panties were a snug little whisper of a reminder that this was definitely not a normal day at the office.
Teacher had told her not to come, but he hadn’t said anything about showing up looking like she was ready to provide whatever he needed.
Mae entered the large lecture hall at precisely ten p.m. Teacher was down in front, standing next to a lectern and a large, narrow wooden table upon which a cardboard box rested. Mae quickly walked past the rows of at least one hundred empty seats and joined him near the lectern.
“Good evening, Teacher,” she said.
“Good evening, Mae. We’ll begin in a moment.”
Teacher pulled items from the box: several sections of red velvet rope, a set of headphones, a small whip with frayed ends and a carved base shaped like a phallus, several pairs of latex gloves, and Mae’s leash.
Mae stood near the first row of seats and steadied herself. This was a more involved process than she’d imagined. She thought she’d meet Teacher in the room and go elsewhere, perhaps his home or a hotel room where they’d finally consummate their new and sometimes confusing relationship. But this?
“I’m sure you’re wondering about all of these items, hmm?” Teacher patted the table and glanced at Mae.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Your final test is the most important. It’s all about trust, and doing whatever it takes to bring someone else pleasure,” he said. “Because not only must you follow my commands and accept me. You must trust that I know what is best for you in all situations.”
“I understand,” Mae said. “I trust you.”
“I hope so, Mae,” Teacher said. “Now answer me this – how many sexual partners have you had? Be honest.”
Mae blushed. “Two, Teacher.”
“And who were these two?”
Mae began to stammer. “One, um, one was my neighbor when I was in high school. We were best friends and, well, during senior year we decided that we wanted to lose our virginity to someone we knew – ”
“And the second?” Teacher interrupted.
“Someone the same year as me in grad school,” Mae said sheepishly. “College was...I mean, I was kind of a nerd.”
Teacher leveled his steady gaze at her, challenging Mae.
“You will have more lovers tonight than you’ve ever had before,” he said matter-of-factly.
Mae’s heartbeat quickened with a flash of adrenalin. It was a fight or flight response, she knew, because the reality of Teacher’s words hit her like a firm slap. Multiple partners. Something to do with that table and those toys. Once again, she was faced with a decision – trust in Teacher, or flee. Flee back to her ordinary life and all the problems that had been so happily absent over the past two days. Free from Teacher. Without him, her life devoid of the newly formed bond that was already essential.
“I’m not so sure,” she mumbled, unable to keep her trepidations private.
Teacher approached and took Mae’s hand.
“This will not be the last time you face challenges and demands from me,” he said. “If you cannot accept the requirements of this contract, I suggest you leave and do not look back.”
His coldness snapped Mae from her confused fog. She couldn’t imagine a day without his influence. It was insane, she knew. All the years of independence and all the fantasies of control faded away as Mae studied her Teacher: his stern-but-kind face, his broad shoulders, his perfectly tailored gray suit, his strong grip on her hand, the slight upturn of his lips. Almost a smile. Inviting her in.
Welcome to my world, Mae.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “For you.”
~~~
Mae laid herself flat on the table as instructed while Teacher explained the initiation.
“Your part is quite simple. You will be secured to the table in an open and inviting fashion. You will be blindfolded and your hearing will be protected. A series of my colleagues will then begin the process of turning you into my pupil. Finally, I will complete the initiation.”
Mae stared at the rectangular fluorescent lights above.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“As with our time yesterday,” Teacher said. “You must under no circumstances climax until you are told to do so. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Teacher.”
“Then we will begin.”
Teacher walked quickly to the head of the table and draped a black cloth over Mae’s eyes. He lifted her head gently and tied the blindfold, while also loosening her ponytail. He placed a small pillow under her head.
Next, he slid the large, well-padded headphones over her e
ars. Mae’s world was both dark and silent, the rush of blood in her ears keeping a quickening rhythm as Teacher went about his work.
Mae’s right arm was lifted and pulled straight out to her side. A loop of velvet rope, and then a tightening. Same on the other side: looped, bound, and tightened. Mae shifted side to side, testing Teacher’s work, and could hardly move. Her chest was opened up by the stretch and her breasts lifted and fell heavily, straining against a bra that now acted like a vital piece of bondage strapping her to the table. It was hard to breathe. The air in the room was stifling. Mae’s skin tingled with hints of perspiration. Teacher pulled her legs wide and bound them, too, each pointing toward a corner of the table.
Mae waited. Minutes passed and she occasionally shifted, still testing the bonds. She couldn’t quite believe the experience was really happening. A door slammed, the sound muffled and far away.
Slowly, with increasing volume, classical music awakened in the headphones. The string instruments started softly, teasing, and built to a crescendo. The volume increased more. One second before becoming unbearably loud, it backed off a decibel or two.
Mae heard only music. She was weightless, the notes so captivating that the table and the bonds began to melt away.
A hand on her thigh made Mae jump. Another. Both smoothed up and down her dress. Both were heavy and warm. They massaged her, each on one leg, kneading and caressing her thighs as if she was at a quiet day spa. Mae swooned, or thought she did. She couldn’t hear her own noises but her chest hummed with the vibrations of a low moan. The men continued down to her calves and kneaded away the tension there, too. Just as they removed her shoes and began to lightly squeeze her tired feet, another set of hands dropped gently on to her breasts.
Mae moaned again, sending the sound out through the sea of violinists and toward whoever was pleasuring her. Her chest already radiated heat, and as the hands slowly squeezed her breasts and trailed fingers over her peaking nipples, she took a huge breath and held it – trying to push herself high up to meet them.
She prayed for someone to remove her dress. The men at her feet moved back up her legs, tucking their hands under her clothing this time and searing her inner thighs with their hot palms. Mae tilted her legs open more, as much as she could while bound. The hands found her hips and curved in, brushing against her panties and twirling fingertips over her sex until she gasped out her held breath and sucked in air as if she’d been drowning.
More hands materialized, caressing her head and weaving fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp and cheeks. Then a faint tugging at the very bottom of her dress. A rush of air following the sensation up, up, toward her crotch and belly and breasts. Cool, cool air, more tugging, and Mae realized someone had cut her dress from hem to neck. Then near the arms. She was exposed to the room. A tug underneath and the fabric was pulled free.
Goosebumps splashed across Mae’s arms and thighs as the hands quickened their explorations. There was always one on each breast. Always another palm firm against her sex, pushing fingers against her panties until almost penetrating her. The percussion kicked in and a steady beat of timpani drums measured Mae’s pulse.
Someone pulled her bra down, snipped it, and shoved it aside. Mae’s breasts surged free and spilled into waiting hands. The sensation was glorious; her full globes massaged directly by large, strong fingers that pulled at her nipples gently. A slow pattern emerged: her breasts were pushed together and released, pushed together and released, in a circular motion. Over and over again, until Mae whimpered each time the hands compressed together.
Meanwhile, soft lips began to feather her thighs. They wasted little time moving toward her pussy and covering her dampness with kiss after kiss. They tugged the thong to the side, cut it loose and tossed it away, and began licking her directly, sliding tongues up and down her engorged lips relentlessly. The curious hands gripped her ass from underneath. They pulled her, apart and open, working below her pussy and against her tight pucker with teasing strokes that set off unbearable explosions of the taboo pleasure Mae had enjoyed with Teacher’s toy.
Mae began to quiver. The serious, thigh-rocking kind of quiver.
“Oh, don’t make me come,” she groaned, hoping that someone would listen. “Please, for Teacher. I can’t. Don’t make me!”
The hands didn’t stop, not until Mae was about to give up. Then, as she writhed against the mouth responsible for tonguing her sex, everything vanished. Mae froze, her hips arched up and her entire body straining against the velvet ropes.
Nothing.
She took a huge breath and relaxed, willing her trembling core to relent.
The music proceeded to romp along, horns and woodwinds answering back and forth like good friends.
Mae lolled her head on the pillow.
How much more?
The answer was swift and punishing. The frayed ends of the whip lashed lightly across Mae’s bare chest, the surprise more than the pain driving a scream from her throat. Each end slapped against her tender flesh like a pellet. A pause, and then another cruel flick on the other side. A longer pause. A shorter pause. Between each lash an indeterminate wait that quickly drove Mae mad. Every time she thought the light whipping was over, it began again.
Cracking across her thighs.
Flicking her nipples, making her yelp for mercy.
Slapping on the bottoms of her feet, making her toes curl reflexively.
Rapid-fire whipping along her belly, until a small piece of leather snapped against her pussy and made her surge against the ropes.
Mae cringed and jerked as the whip nipped and poked and thrilled her from all sides. After whoever wielded the whip had made three passes up and down her body, the barrage halted. Welts raised and tingled on her skin. Sweat feathered along her thighs and ribs and neck...Mae’s body was overheating and desperate for relief. Though painful, the lashings had also triggered an even deeper sense of longing.
A large hand pressed down on her right thigh. Then it lifted. Mae held her breath, unsure of what was about to happen.
A light slap smacked on the same spot. Her thigh warmed instantly. Just as the stinging faded, another light stroke a little higher up. And another. And another. Mae’s legs shook with anticipation as the hand landed closer to her exposed sex. Just as she was sucking in her breath for a direct blow – one she both feared and craved, her pussy scorching with desire – the slapping stopped.
Mae had arched off the table slightly, sending her lower body up to meet its tormentor. She froze there and exhaled slowly.
Maybe they were done.
Maybe they had stopped and now Teacher would appear.
Music pulsed and the blindfold weighed heavily on Mae’s eyes.
Then, with a brutal quickness, the hand returned. It landed firmly on the center of Mae’s pussy and flicked hard fingers against her. Mae surged up and shrieked at the instant flash of pain; then, as she slumped back to the table, she sighed. A swelling, tingling sensation spiraled outward, making her hips shake and wriggle on the table.
She tilted up again. She wanted more.
After a few seconds, another slap descended. Mae screamed again but this time it was pure pleasure driving her exaltation. Quickly, another slap, then a long pause, and one more stroke. Mae couldn’t tell when she’d be struck so she strained and surged on the table in a vain attempt to spur on her mysterious tormentor.
“More,” she moaned. “Please, more.”
The hand kept up the untimed barrage, lightly patting and slapping Mae’s pussy at random intervals until she was crying out of sheer frustration. Each time she throbbed closer to a climax, the hand slowed. Then it resumed with a light pitter-patter that drove her mad. Again and again, until Mae hyperventilated and her head lolled on the table like a limp doll’s.
When she regained her wits, Mae noticed the hand resting on her thigh again. This time she could feel soft latex covering the fingers. The hand rose, and returned cool and slippery. Without warni
ng, it slid quickly between her legs and pressed firmly on her cunt. Mae shrieked in surprise, accompanying the chorus that had joined the music throbbing in her ears.
A finger slid inside, thick and immediately slick with her wetness. Soon it was very warm, gliding in and out slowly. Preparing her. A second finger joined. The pair twisted and turned, widening Mae’s entrance with each pass.
A third finger. Mae groaned and tried to curl her hips down and in, instinctively, as a thumb extended and nudged her clit. A host of hands found her shoulders and breasts and pressed her to the table, covering her tits with heat and pressure as the gloved hand pushed deeper.
It felt like more – more fingers, all of them? Mae’s pussy pulsed with a nearly unbearable sensation of fullness, combined with rhythmic caresses on her clit each time the hand worked in and out. With one more pause and stretch, the fingers rounded together like a thick, cylindrical cock, the hand surged forward and plunged all the way in. It curled upward, stroking her inner walls like a long, insistent tongue, up behind her clit – her G-spot, perhaps – and the intensity of this entire hand tormenting her depths made Mae cry out like a banshee.
She jerked and spasmed on the table, her pussy not coming but surging with a new kind of wetness that spilled forth like hot rain. She bucked against the restraints and hands, mouth open wide, shouting nonsense toward the blackness.
Just as she was coming down from the gushing and crazed thrill of the fisting, a warm, velvety cockhead brushed across her lips and then slipped inside her mouth. Mae gobbled at it furiously, overcome with the sensation of being so wholly penetrated. She sucked hard on the stranger’s dick and tried to work her hips against the hand that still throbbed and twisted in her depths.
Don’t come, Mae!
Teacher’s voice intoned from somewhere in her core.