This is a stroke story. It's ridiculous and unrealistic. No one is worried about STDs, sizes are exaggerated, everyone is bi (or at least the women are) and people can fuck for hours without chafing. This chapter has simulated non-consensual sex and unsafe BDSM practices (seriously, people, use safe words). Caveat reader.
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It was a bit past two AM when I crept into my professor's house.
I used her key to unlock the door, taking care to move quietly. I was carrying a small bag of zip ties, some bondage tape, a blindfold, and a pocketknife. I knew she would be asleep and alone as I crept silently to her bedroom. When I got there, I took a long look at Dr. Carrington as she lay peacefully on her bed.
Anne Carrington was indisputably gorgeous. I figure most of her male students (and more than a few ladies) fantasized about doing what I was about to do. She was 29, a bit below average height, and slender without sacrificing curves. Her strawberry-blonde hair was scattered around her head like a halo. Her perfectly formed breasts, each just a bit more than a handful, were currently covered by her black negligee, rising and falling slowly as she breathed. It looked like she had kicked off her blanket; it was pooled around her feet and left her long, pale legs bare. She was also wearing a sleep mask, which made the blindfold unnecessary. She was laying on her side, her knees pulled up slightly, with her hands clasped in front of her as if she was praying.
Up until a few weeks ago, Dr. Carrington had been a bitch with a capital B. She had a degree from some Ivy League school and thought that teaching the hicks and hillbillies who attended my small Southern college was an insult. But recently, her attitude changed. No one knew why, except me. Her attitude changed because I cornered her in her office after class and fucked her into total, abject submission. I took the things that made her proud and destroyed them. Dr. Carrington had a deep-seated need to be dominated, and I did just that.
I made her give me a key to her home so I could use her at my discretion, but up until now I had always showed up early in the evening. For the past few days, I hadn't seen her at all; I didn't even come by her office for my morning blowjob. She had tried calling me, but I ignored her. There were two reasons for my callous behavior: first, I had been fucking Alyssa and Melanie, two roommates who had devoted themselves to satisfying my carnal needs, and so I didn't need the services of my slut professor. Second, and more important, was that by ignoring her I could drive her crazy with need for me. When I decided to show up and take her again, she'd be so desperate to please me that I could get her to debase herself in all kinds of new and interesting ways.
At least that was the plan, and why I was sneaking into her house with a whole bunch of scary gear. Her confidence would have been shaken by my disappearance from her world, and my sudden return would make her even more confused and needy.
I quickly grew bored watching her sleep. I took the zip ties out of my pocket and put them down on her bedside table. Then I lunged for her, clapping one hand over her mouth before she really woke up. She quickly tried to scream, but it was muffled and barely audible under my hand. She started to thrash about under me. I put my lips close to her ear and growled, "Stop moving, whore." She instantly stopped struggling, but she also reached for her sleep mask at the same time. I slapped her hands away, then backhanded her across one cheek. "Are you too stupid to understand orders, slut?" Dr. Carrington froze completely, whimpering in pain and terror.
I let her panic continue for a few sublime moments. Then I started giving her orders: "I'm going to let go of you. I want to you roll onto your stomach and clasp your hands behind your back." She nodded a bit; it was barely visible, but I felt her move beneath my hand. I backed off, and she rolled over quickly, folding her arms behind her back so that her left elbow rested in her right hand and vice versa.
Reaching over to the bedside table, I grabbed the bag of zip ties. I looped one around her arms near her right wrist. As I did, Dr. Carrington started to ask a question. I figure she was going to ask what I was doing, but she only got as far as "what" before I smacked the back of her thighs with my open hand.
"Did I say you could talk?" I asked. She whimpered again and shook her head in a very small movement, as if she was afraid to draw more punishment. I pulled the zip tie tight around her arms, and then added two more—one by her left wrist and one in the middle. Then I pulled out my pocketknife and flicked it open, right by her ear. She twitched and seemed to want to bury herself in the bed. I ran the blade (the dull side—I'm not going to risk slicing anyone open) down her skin, from her ear, following her jaw line, down the side of her neck, along her back, all the way to her hips. Then I made two quick cuts, severing the sides of her lacy black panties. I yanked them off her and balled them up. "Open up," I commanded. When she hesitated, I let her feel the cool metal of the knife blade again and she promptly obeyed. I shoved her panties into her mouth and pulled out the tape. A few moments' work was enough to give her a makeshift gag.
The last thing to do was secure her legs. A light slap on her ass and a barked command got her to bring them together, and then I bound them with more zip ties around her ankles, under her knees, and at mid-thigh. Once she was bound and gagged, I quickly cut her negligee off her, leaving her naked except for her sleep mask, which was currently serving as a blindfold. I took a moment to admire my handiwork. My professor was lying on her stomach, arms bound behind her back, legs tied together, gagged with her own underwear, and unable to see what was coming. She was quivering in terror, but I sensed her need underneath the fear. Her bare pussy had started to get wet from my slaps and commands, and her nipples were prominently erect. I didn't know or care if she knew that I was the one doing this, or if she thought it was a genuine home invasion.
I folded the knife back up and tossed it aside, along with the zip ties and tape. I took off my belt and grabbed both ends in one hand, took the middle of the belt in the other, and jerked both hands in opposite directions. This made a loud POP! and Dr. Carrington started to squirm. I did it again, closer to her ear, and she let out a small scream around her panty gag. I swung the belt down and struck her bed, right next to her ass. She recoiled, rolling partly on one side and pulling away from the last place the belt struck.
I'm told that interrogators have a saying: violence perceived is violence achieved. They're right. Dr. Carrington couldn't know exactly what was happening, but she could hear the crack of the belt and the sound of its passage. She could feel it when it struck the bed next to her. She knew that something could happen to her, and that was frightening, and that's why she moved away from the belt—but since I told her to stay still, that meant she had disobeyed me. I clucked my tongue and used my booted foot to roll her over on to her back.
"God, you must be the dumbest whore in town. I told you to stay still. You disobeyed once already, and you were punished for it. But clearly that didn't sink in, since you've done it again." I paused. "What sort of punishment should I use this time?" I paused again and walked around the bed to stand at her side. Then I brought the belt down on her exposed stomach, hard enough to leave a red line across her midriff but not quite hard enough to raise a welt. Dr. Carrington screamed again, this time fairly loud even with her gag. "And I told you to be silent. You really can't follow instructions at all, can you?" I whipped her with the belt again, this time across her thighs. She trembled, but managed to keep still and silent. I waited for a few seconds and then whipped her legs again, then the top slopes of her tits, and finally her stomach just her cunt, all in quick succession. I could see tears running out from beneath her blindfold, and she was shaking all over in her efforts to stay still and restrain her screams, but she managed to hold together.
I sat down on the bed by her head and started gently stroking her strawberry-blonde hair. "You know you deserved that punishment, don't you?" I said, quietly. "You can nod." She did. "Are you sorry?" She nodded again. "Good little slut." I continued to sit by her, stroking her hair and comforting her, until she stopped trembling. Still speaking quietly, I asked her if she knew what was going to happen next. She shook her head. "I'm going to take you. I was going to let you choose how. Do you think you deserve that?" She shook her head again. "That's right. Remember that you're an undeserving cunt. Every time I take you, I'm giving you a precious gift." She nodded. "Now get on your knees here on your bed."
Dr. Carrington struggled to obey. She rolled over onto her stomach and eventually managed to get her knees under her, which let her rise up to a kneeling position facing me. I took my belt and looped it around her slender throat, making it into a combination collar, leash, and choke chain. I yanked her forward, almost making her fall face-first onto her bed. I let out a sigh of disgust. "I want to give you a gift and you're acting like this? That's not very good behavior." I saw a fresh tear slide down her cheek from under her blindfold. That brought out an evil grin from me.
I picked her up bodily and positioned her where I wanted: kneeling, on the edge of her bed, facing out. I got on the bed as well and knelt behind her. I took up one end of the belt around her neck in one hand and with the other pushed gently on her back, making her bend at the waist so that her upper boy hung out in empty air over the edge of the bed. With her arms legs bound, the only thing that kept her from falling was my belt, which was securely wrapped around her neck. But she couldn't let it support her weight entirely without cutting off her air. After a few seconds, I heard her breathing hard and saw the muscles in her lower back tighten as she attempted to find a way to breathe comfortably without straining her back.
Enough foreplay, I thought. I unzipped my pants and hauled out my rock-hard pussy wrecker. At 13" in length, that was easier said than done. I lined up my cock with Dr. Carrington's slick gash and drove it home in one powerful thrust. The impact forced her forward and I heard her struggle to take in air. I pulled out, slowly, leaving just the tip of my cock in her, and then plowed into her again, timing my thrust to interrupt her efforts to take a breath. Then I did it again, and again, and yet again. Her face had gone red by this point, and I could feel her cunt juices dripping from my balls as the fear, loss of control, and arousal combined to push her close to climax.
I started to fuck her in earnest then, slamming my hips into her ass twice a second as she choked and fought to keep from screaming. I couldn't help but be proud of my bitch for keeping that order in mind, even though I hadn't planned on enforcing it once the fucking started. She came first, as usual, her back arching and her cunt squeezing down on my cock like a fist. I followed her into orgasm, pumping my first batch of cock cream into her hot tunnel, then pulling out to shower her back and shoulders with a dozen thick white lines of hot spunk. My jizz ran down between her shoulder blades and pooled in the small of her back, its flow dammed by her bound arms.
