Amelia's Private Lessons

It was getting to the point where I was teaching Amelia, my wonderful little pet, things that would be covered quite thoroughly in the advanced class. Her complete focus and interest in the art was really incredible. It meant that she very quickly internalised and remembered almost everything on first hearing. By the end of week four, she was functionally two months into the advanced class, and I was starting to worry it would be too simple for her once school began. At least it would help with her shyness, given that she would be performing significantly above the level of her peers, despite not taking any dance classes at school so far.

I was attached by now to my sexual energy theory. It was a big component, I thought, of her development as a student Whether because it added passion to her art, or because it gave her an incredibly powerful incentive to please me, I was unsure. Probably a bit of both.

She had gone four days since her orgasm in my lap, which had quickly become one of my fondest memories. I intentionally overworked and exhausted her through rigorous exercise and energetic dance, and I expected to receive a request to touch at the end of the lesson. I was not disappointed, but it was time to instil another small behavioural adjustment.

"Can I touch, miss?"

"No," I replied curtly, adding, "and you should seriously consider how you make such a request. Courtesy is important."

She frowned and asked what she could do better, and I told her to think about it.

The next day, she tried again.

"Please may I touch, miss?"

"No," I replied once more, knowing that it would be particularly difficult for her given that we had no lesson planned for the next day. It would be her first time hitting a week, poor pet. Her nose scrunched as she immediately teared up, not in any kind of anger or defiance, but in complete sexual agony and submission. She practically babbled, as she did her best to speak through her crying. The poor girl cried so easily!

"Please miss what can I do better I want to do better pleeeeease..."

In an instant, I was absolutely soaked. I wanted to grab her thick red locks in both hands and grind my pussy up and down her mouth and nose until I cummed it all out and lay back, totally satisfied with her dissatisfaction. But alas, that was not on the cards just yet. I would get my own chance to touch later today, and I would be thinking about her hot sticky pussy, completely and terribly untouched.

"I will give you one last chance to ask. Not for now, but for two days from now. After one week without, you will get your orgasm, if you can ask with all due courtesy. If you fail to live up to my expectations, I won't even let you ask until one entire week after that."

In all honesty, I was not sure what I was expecting. I didn't have some set formula in mind, such as "Please permit this lowly wench to engage in behaviour unbecoming of a lady!" or some other such performative submission.

It wasn't about the words, or the details. I wanted a spontaneous, and improvised display of real submission. I wanted her to make herself vulnerable to me without specific prompting. Or I was going to leave her sticky little puss untouched until the school year began if necessary.

Blushing hard across her face and chest, eyes full of tears, she stood before me. I told her once again, plainly.

"Remember. If you don't impress me, you won't be able to even ask for an entire week."

She proceeded to do something quite unexpected. Without looking at me once, she slid her shorts down her legs, picking them up and folding them neatly on the edge of the low stage. She then unclipped her sports bra, stacking it carefully on her shorts, turning to face me once more. She kept her arms by her sides, making no efforts to protect her modesty, and her beautiful breasts heaving with every anxious breath. Her delicate pink nipples were rock hard and erect despite the warmth of the room.

Finally, she peeled away her sodden panties from her poor pussy before they too joined the pile. She came down the stage and stopped directly in front of me, got down onto her knees, sat her bum onto her feet, put the palms of her hands down onto the floor, and with eyes firmly and submissively downward, she asked, "please may I touch, miss?"

It was just too cute. Her perky breasts on full display, sitting like a little puppy, voluntarily nude, begging to be allowed to touch her urgently achy pussy, not even today, but two days hence.

"Yes, pet. In two days, you can touch."

She looked up at me and beamed. It was so unbelievably precious, to be so happy and so grateful for such a thing.

"The lesson isn't over. Let's get back to where we were."

She reached for her clothing, but froze when she heard me.

"Ah ah!" I scolded, as one might say to a naughty pup. "You're fine as you are."

Another beautiful blush.

My pet walked back onto the stage, utterly nude, not a single artificial item, no piercings, not even a hair band. And for the next three hours, without any breaks except for hydration, I exercised and danced her to exhaustion, her hair wet and messy, soaked with sweat, just like the rest of her. My favourite part, though, was the trails of slick wetness that slowly rolled their way down her inner thighs, squelching whenever her thighs had to touch one another. She was completely captivating, radiating incredible sexual energy. I couldn't wait to get my mitts on her.

After she showered and dressed, I realised what had happened. She had simply accepted my command for her to dance naked. Even with the playing around with orgasms and masturbation, there was the presupposition that it, ultimately, benefited the dancing. But dancing nude for me was a completely unjustifiable request even to a submissive girl like Amelia, though I doubt an ethics board would care for the distinction between this and the orgasm control stuff. But it meant she wanted to submit to me. She was enjoying it, or at least, so submissive by nature that she was compelled to obey. Either way, this was clearly something independent of the dancing itself, and that thought was really, really exciting.

I masturbated furiously afterward, of course, thinking of her cum-splattered thighs squelching as she danced for me and only me. I barely lasted a minute.

At this point, I wanted to somewhat change the direction of my liberties. I greatly enjoyed watching her play with herself in my lap, and though I longed to touch her myself, I feared that if I take her too far down this path without instilling the proper discipline in her, it could be dangerous. It was time to make her a truly obedient little pet.

Two days after she kneeled and begged to touch, I had a particularly long lesson planned. As she walked in, she began to head for the small closet-like room beside the stage where she usually changed. That would not be necessary any longer.

"Stop, Amelia. Get on the stage," I said, without a trace of softness in my voice.

She was startled somewhat by my tone and the break in routine, but she hurriedly obeyed and stood facing me as I reclined on my sofa. Soon I would be spending most of my time right by her, in order to instil proper discipline and submission, once against under the guise of improving her abilities.

"Remove all of your clothing," I commanded.

She blushed, but with only a moment of hesitation, she began to systematically and hurriedly remove all of her clothing, until her beautiful body was nude. I could see her pussy and inner thighs were slick with her wetness. No doubt she anticipated a delightful release today, but there was to be only disappointment for my little girl. Today was not about her pleasure. It was about her obedience.

I commanded that she close her eyes, and she obeyed immediately. I rose from my seat, carrying two special items. I walked briskly to her and stopped in front of her. She had her hands in fists by her side, and her face was painted with anxiety and concern. But there was lust and submission there too. She must have felt completely vulnerable, but she did not take a peek.

The first item was a leather blindfolded, with padding to press against the eyes, that tightened behind the head like a belt. It could be removed by hand, of course, but it would not slip, and it would not allow any trace of light in. I could see my pet was squeezing her thighs together. It was obvious she was terribly aroused. She truly had no idea what she was in for today. I might have felt bad if I wasn't so turned on by what I had in mind.

"Touch, pet," I instructed my student.

"Y-yes miss," she whispered nervously, as her left hand moved toward her needy little nub. As I expected, the fingers of her right hand had found her nipple, though not before she wet them on her tongue so that she could roll the nipple repeatedly and smoothly.

She tried very hard to stifle her moans. Her blush was out of control from the moment I had told her to strip, and I suspected the globule of girl cum slowly oozing in a thick strand from her pussy was caused largely by the humiliating and overwhelming experience of being commanded by her teacher.

She put on a fine display, her legs getting progressively more wobbly, and I wondered if she would be able to stay on her feet if she orgasmed.

Her breathing sped up, her moans became shorter but more insistent, and her fingers moved faster and faster. I waited for the right moment, just moments before she reached the pinnacle, and in a loud, clear, imperious voice, I stated simply, "Stop."

Her whole body froze suddenly with surprise and confusion. I wonder if she had ever experienced an edge before. Well, she had now.

"I remind you, pet, that when you begged on your hands and knees the other day, you asked to touch. You did not ask for, nor receive, permission to finish."

Her hips bucked in an involuntary and incredibly erotic motion. and a low despairing moan escaped her lips. It was music to my ears.

After her edge, I had her dance, still blind, following my commands. We were getting close to the point where the most meaningful improvement that could be made quickly was precision. It helped to be blind for this, I rationalised, because precision should come from balance and form, not visual feedback. Additionally, I had my second item ready to go, and I knew it would be far more effective with Amelia blind.

It was a long, flexible leather rod, much like a riding crop without the soft wide padding at the end. A riding crop was designed merely to instruct, but my rod was designed to deliver pain. It would not hurt as badly as a cane, nor leave such severe welts, but it would hurt. Quite a lot, I thought, on her orgasm-deprived hypersensitive little body. It would leave marks on her pale skin, but that was okay; she would be all the more beautiful for it.

After thirty minutes of watching her struggle to dance while blind, I knew this would be a very long day for my sweet Amelia.

"Stand still, and touch, pet," I commanded once again.

This time she was much more hesitant, and I could see the pain of frustration on her face. That edge had been rather hard on her, and there was such a mess between her legs as she circled her throbbing nub.

Once again, as she got close, closer than last time, I commanded her to stop. My timing would improve, until I could stop her on the precipice itself. The disappointment washed over her face, the blindfold helping not at all to hide it, as the tears began.

I commanded her to continue dancing, and after I had her in motion, I explained that I wanted her form to be perfect. She must be so very precise if she wanted to be great. I told her that if any part of her body was out of position, even slightly, I would correct her, swiftly, and decisively. That she was to learn from the instruction but not stop until I gave her permission.

She danced and, within seconds, I could see that her right foot, raised off the floor and pointed down, was pointed a little too much. The rod struck the sole of her foot hard and with precision, and she yelped as she lost her balance. I caught her and held her until she regained her balance, and after a moment of her not moving, I reminded her that she was not to stop.

So it continued until my watch showed it had hit the hour mark. I commanded her to touch once again, and she tearfully complied. In less than twenty seconds she hit yet another hard edge, and whimpered pitifully.

Before long, her perfect, lithe body was covered in small red welts, at least in those places that would be hidden by clothing. Dozens, concentrated in no place in particular, though causing her the most trouble on the soles of her feet, as she still had to continue to dance on them. I particularly enjoyed the ones on her breasts and inner thighs, two very sensitive spots for my pet. If she wanted it to stop, she had to learn precision, and it was my pleasure to teach her.

The day continued in this manner, and gradually I needed fewer and fewer strikes to instil form into Amelia. When I had her stop for the day, she stood, swaying slightly, still blind. It had been six hours, I realised. Her pussy was a sloppy mess, her girl cum smeared across her thighs and pubis, and she was shaking with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. The poor girl was absolutely covered in little red welts, at least where clothing would hide them.

She had been crying on and off for much of the day, though due to the edges more than the rod. She had edged every half an hour, and at no point did it seem to get any easier for her. The disappointment she felt devastated her every time, as her body convinced her that this time, unlike before, was definitely going to be a wonderful, hard cum. The poor girl must be soooo frustrated!

I had never in my life witnessed such beauty. What a perfect little creature. I was delighted with her today. My Amelia.

"You've done so very well, pet, and I'm really proud of you. You worked your heart out today and you learned so much!"

She beamed, grinned despite the tears and, still blind, nude, slick with sweat and sticky with girl cum, lunged at me for a hug. I took her into my arms and I immediately felt her weight as her legs gave way. The poor thing was spent. I supported her as I carried her over to my sofa and took her into my lap.

She was still panting with exertion and need, gentle hip thrusts showing her absolute desperation. She couldn't contain her little moans and squeaks as she very gently and very subtly rocked in my lap. I realised she was, only very softly mind you, grinding against my bare leg. I could feel both the impossible softness of her pussy lips, and the hardness of her clit, as she smeared me with her wetness. I did not interrupt or admonish her and simply watched as she continued, very gradually building her pace, until her panting and moaning was as frequent and noisy as when she used her fingers.

It was not my intention for her to have an orgasm. I wanted to send her home in this state of desperation, pining and longing for my mercy, but I was curious what she would do. I had made it quite clear, and had repeated on each and every edge, that she had not received permission to finish.

As she got closer and closer, I considered telling her when to stop, but I wanted to see if she would stop on her own. It would be such a shame if she did not, though it would at least be an excuse to punish her. Severely. Just before she hit the precipice, she let out an exquisite moan of pure sensual agony, and stopped rocking. My heart melted.

I squeezed her tight in my arms, kissed her forehead, and told her she was such a good little pet. She curled up tight against me, and we slept for a time. This time, when she awoke, she wasn't shy about her nakedness nor her closeness to me. I wanted to keep her like this forever, my blind wet pet. But it was getting late.

I got her up, making sure to put the rod out of view. I did not want her to know exactly what was hitting her. Combined with the suddenness due to being unable to see it coming, I felt the effect was maximised by giving her as little information as possible. She heard a faint swish, and felt a sharp lash of pain in the exact place that needed correction. That is all she needed to know. Strictly speaking, her breasts were not out of position so much as her chest was, but it was close enough. I had to have fun too you know, I was working for free here! Tutoring isn't easy!

I stood her up, and went to remove her blindfold, but hesitated. Here she stood, nude but not trying to cover herself, her soft face turned upward to me. I was becoming intimately familiar with the patterns of her freckles across her cheeks and her chest, the fullness of her lips, the lusty, feminine scent of her body. I looked down on my little pet, and I couldn't believe how beautiful she looked. I felt desire for her thrum throughout my body.

I moved closer, took hold of her arms just below the elbows, and folded her arms behind her. With only one hand I held her wrists behind her back firmly, and she stood straight with her beautiful breasts thrust out. I put my other arm around her shoulders and pulled, and slightly lifted, her toward me. She went onto her tiptoes and pressed her breasts to my chest. Her head was still tipped back, as though she was looking right at me, if not for the blindfold. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted slightly. I leaned in for a kiss.

Surprised but quick to respond, she returned it with hunger. I didn't know if it was lust, affection, or both that drove her. I hoped it was both. I held the kiss for some seconds, steadied her, and let her go. I removed her blindfold, and after she had squinted enough in the low evening light to regain her sight, she looked at me. Her gaze was filled with such warmth that I couldn't help but smile. She smiled too. I told her it was getting late. I sent her off to her shower, and she returned some minutes later dressed and ready to go.

Just before the front door opened, she turned to me, and thanked me. I asked her what for.

"For the kiss. It was my first kiss."

And with that bombshell, she turned and half walked, half skipped down the road toward her house.

Her first kiss? How delightful. The thought that no boy had sullied my perfect little pet made me so happy. I vowed then that she would stay unsullied forever.

Two days later, Amelia showed up at my door, and I could see by the look on her face that she was suffering significantly. I brought her inside, and I asked her what was the matter.

"Miss... I need to touch sooooo bad. Please can I touch... and finish, miss?"

As she spoke, in an adorable tone of sexual desperation that I hoped was for my ears alone, I could see her eyes already begin to wet with tears.

"You will not be touching today, Amelia. Are we clear?" I said, in an unsympathetic voice.

"Y-yes miss," she answered, looking just a little bit distraught. The things I was going to do to this poor little girl, I thought, before getting back to the task at hand. I took her by the hand and led her into my theatre room. Standing before her, I ordered her to strip.

I fixed her blindfold into place, and I wondered if a pet could perform all their duties blind. She can certainly dance blind now, but I wondered if I could teach her to cook, and clean, in a blindfold. No doubt it would be much more difficult, but surely it could be done. It would be worth it. But of course, I was getting incredibly far ahead of myself.

"Amelia, you asked for my permission to touch, did you not?" I asked her.

"Yes miss," she confirmed.

"And, do you have permission to touch, Amelia?"

"N-no miss," she said, whimpering.

I toyed with the bump in my pocket as pondered Amelia's fate today. Though I had decided to take liberties in the direction of discipline, I simply could not resist the idea that had come to me shortly before her arrival. I think it helped that she reacted so strongly to the edging. Based on the pattern of her crying, and the sounds of her voice, I think she would have chosen the rod over the edges. Based on how soaked her puffy little pussy was, I decided there was room to explore liberties in the direction of stimulation. After all, if my poor wet pet hit an abrupt and hard edge when touched, it was discipline she was learning.