May 24

The Teacher: Lesson One

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His voice droned on and on, Dr. Edgars and his last minute tutoring for a college chemistry test, but all I could think of was wanting him, sitting in his class, wondering how it would feel to touch him, have him take me. I leaned forward; I’d worn a sleeveless blouse, just for him, cut low.

More discussion about the periodic chart. sigh

I’d worn a skirt and thigh hi hose and heels, all for him to notice me. I moved back in my chair, pulling up the skirt a little. Surely he could see I was wearing no panties?

I squirmed in the seat, aware of him, aware of the wetness and the feel of my skin, hot and rubbing against itself under my skirt. Squirming made it worse. I pressed my legs together. He wasn’t going to notice the blouse or the skirt.

He finished, closing the book, and looked sternly at me. Oh great. Now to hear how I should pay more attention in class – but how? how, when I loved to watch him move, watching him go to the board and write, see him walk up and down the aisles – when all I could think of was him?

But instead I heard – “are you being naughty with me?” He was smiling, and glanced at my blouse.

I could feel everything focusing on him – his voice, his eyes; feel myself getting wetter, feel my nipples rubbing on the bra.

“yes,” I whispered.

The smile again – “and do you want to be naughty with me?” he asked.

Again, “yes.” I was in college; I was an adult. I knew what I wanted. I wanted him.

And again he smiled, picking up the pointer that he used in class, a slender, long tool for showing chemical formulas on the board, but now – what? He motioned for me to stand, and I did, trembling, excited.

“Unbutton your blouse for me,” he said, still with that smile. He stood, going to the door and locking it while I undid my buttons. Before I could remove my blouse, he said “no.”

I stopped, waiting. He walked around me, and I felt more aware of noises, of hearing him breathe softly, of my heart beating. The noise in the hallways and voices outside were very faint; the low hum of an air conditioner was in the background; soft music from someone’s radio in some office. He came back to the front, and gently used the pointer to push at the shoulders of my blouse, pushing the sleeves back…off, until the blouse was gathered at my wrists. He tapped the front hook on my bra.

“Open this, then drop your hands.”

I opened the clasp of the bra, fingers shaking, and let the bra remain on, opened. I dropped my hands, waiting.

He used the pointer to push open the bra a little, slowly – an agony of waiting and pleasure, feeling the tip of the pointer move over my skin, rubbing canlı bahis the bra over the nipple, now tapping gently on the nipple until I put my head back and closed my eyes, breathing faster. The pointer moved deeper, pushing the bra open until I felt cold air on my breasts, and I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were focused on my breasts, rubbing the pointer against them. The pointer dipped lower, traveling down my belly, stroking my waist, sinking into my navel, playing with it. He moved the pointer beneath my skirt, lifting it, then smiled again. Why had I never seen how sadistic a smile could be, and how exciting?

“Off,” he said, tapping the skirt, and I removed it. “And these,” he added, flipping a sleeve of my blouse, touching the bra. I stripped until I wore only the hose and heels, standing quietly, quivering, waiting.

He touched one thigh with the pointer – “open your legs,” he ordered, and I did, thinking I would melt, or burst into orgasm at another touch.

But I stood, waiting, and he walked around me again, touching my bottom with the pointer, stroking inside my leg with it, moving it up and down my belly, tapping against a nipple lightly. I wanted him to touch me so badly, so badly.

He smiled again, and I felt my breath stop – I knew now this meant something else dangerous and pleasurable and good would happen. The pointer slowly, slowly moved up one leg, then dipped into my waist, and down the other leg, circling, moving up and down, closer and closer, oh yes please. I leaned my head back again, pushing out with my hips some, wanting that touch, until I felt it, the pointer moving over my clit, gently sliding on the lips, and I moaned, wanting to feel it slide inside me, wanting more.

“What a naughty girl you are,” he said, and I lifted my head again to stare at him, wondering what was next.

That smile again, and now he was looking through a nylon bag, glancing at me. An order to place my hands behind my head as he returned, pointer tucked beneath his arm, something in his hands. He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles, and I could hear his breath, feel it on my skin, and feel myself tighten, wanting him to touch my clit again. With my arms up, my breasts were pushed out even more, my nipples so taut they almost hurt. The knuckles, again, stroking down my neck, along my collar bone…he placed a collar around my neck, snug, smelling of leather, with a D ring in the front. A chain dangled from the ring, and he allowed it to drop between my breasts, the end of the chain swinging back and forth between my legs, bouncing gently against my pussy. I tried pushing at it a little; some touch bahis siteleri was better than none, even if it was torture to feel it so lightly grazing me. But he stopped me, pulling the chain up and draping it over one of his shoulders, then touching a finger to my mouth, running it lightly along my bottom lip, ordering me not to move, not to speak, and then – ordering me to suck at his finger.

He took his wet finger and circled each nipple, slow, easy, as though he weren’t aching to be touched. My eyes were half-closed, until he gently pinched my nipples, twisting them, looking at me with that delighted smile of his, and I wanted more, and moaned, forgetting to be silent. The smile, and then he showed me a clamp, opening it, allowing it to shut, letting my eyes follow as he stroked one breast with the clamp, then pulled the nipple and placed the clamp on it. Ohhhh some pain, very mild, but more was pleasure, and a low pulsing in my clit that seemed to grow louder and louder to me. The other nipple was captured by a clamp, and both were linked by a small chain, and then to the ring on my collar. Moving my head too much would tug at the clamps. The wicked man.

A thick belt around my waist was next, pulled tightly, cinched until it was harder to breathe, but the feeling in my clit was one of pounding blood. He motioned for me to turn around, and I felt my arms gently grasped, gloves slipped on, laced, and my arms pulled back to my elbows, and I loved it. I was wet and miserable for his hand, for him inside me, for anything, but the tightness around my waist, the mild tug on my nipples, all made me focus more on my pussy, on wanting and needing, now.

He pulled on my arm and went to the sofa and helped me to lie across his lap, pushing me so that my clit was braced against his thigh. My legs rested on the sofa, but he ordered me to open them wider. He took the chain of my collar in one hand and pulled my head back a little, so that my nipples were out more, the clamps tugging, my shoulders back, and with his other hand – the first smack on my bottom, and I cried out.

“sshhhh,” he whispered, and I bit my lip, determined not to cry out again, but it was so good, so very good. Another smack, and another, hard, and each time, it pushed my clit into his thigh, pumping me to near orgasm, yet no release. More smacks, harder, faster, then some that were slow; pauses when I would wait for his hand, then rapid spanking. Another pause, and he removed the clamps from my nipples, and I groaned. The pain of them coming off – and the pleasure of feeling in them, of rubbing my clit on his thigh, I was half-crazed. The clamps off, he began spanking bahis şirketleri me again, telling me that this time, he would only use his hand to spank my bottom.

This time? Ohhhhh there would be more of this heaven?

I grew wetter, pushing against his thigh more, arching my back and trying to rub against him. He stopped, chuckling, and his hand slid beneath me, up – would he touch me? Please, oh please. But I felt his thumb press up, under the vagina, pushing back and forth, and I moaned and opened my legs more, almost jerking the chain from his other hand, whimpering.

And now he turned me over, gently, pulling my head back so that again, my nipples were up, pulled back more because of the laced gloves, and I could not see what he was doing. I felt a hand pulling my legs wider, saw another one reach for something. One of my legs fell to the floor, and I turned my head and watched as he pulled a table towards him with the toe of his boot, then I felt my leg being lifted, propped on the table, and his foot keeping it in place. My head was back, the collar chain was again snugly in his hand; my nipples so tight, my legs open so wide that had the door been unlocked, anyone coming in would have seen everything.

And then I felt the pointer again, touching the clit, stroking the lips, rubbing inside the lips, and I pushed against it eagerly. The pointer pulled away, and he smiled at me and whispered “not yet.” Suddenly he began to tap the pointer on the insides of my thighs, on the lips, back to the thighs. I began to move my hips up in the same rhythm, lifting to meet it as it began to tap harder and harder, now the lips, now lower, and then, on the clit. I bucked, moaning, pushing up, my eyes tearing, because it hurt a little, and felt even better, and the strokes went on and on until finally, I came. I was amazed, later, but then I didn’t care, I just pushed back with my shoulders and up with my hips, my legs opened wide, offering all of that to him, and I shut my eyes and turned my head and bit at the chain, holding that delicious position while I shook and tightened and released…and felt him touch my clit with his finger, his hand on me, and came again, pushing hard against his hand.

“What a good little slut you are for me,” he said, and I felt hot again, wanting more, wanting to stay on his lap forever and have his hand stroking me, pinching my clit, playing with me. I was willing to stay forever in his office, naked, waiting for him, if I could only have more.

I felt one finger go inside me, teasing, and I began moving on it, and he pulled away. He leaned over, brushing my lips softly with his, his hand cupping my pussy now, and whispered against my lips “not yet, sweet little slut. So many lessons for you. So much to teach you.”

And now I wait…for my next lesson. For waiting is part of the pain, and the pleasure, I am learning.

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