Dear Reader: This is a continuation of a series I began posting several years ago. If you would like the background, please read "Impulse Control 101" and "An Intimate Evening" first. I apologize for not putting these stories into proper chapters, but they've mostly been random blurts that had to get out in their own time.
*****
I spent most of the next week nervous, distracted, and extremely horny. Dinner with Mark had left me excited but more than a little embarrassed. I wasn't sure when my brain had shut off and I'd gotten so cooperative. I kept wondering if the wait staff had any idea what had happened. I wondered if it might happen again. Would I even "let" it happen? My pussy felt sore and abused, but every time I twitched or sat down too hard, I got these amazing little jolts that reminded me of that night.
I thought I should be upset about it, but I kept replaying it over and over again and getting all hot & bothered when I did. It had all seemed very spontaneous, but I couldn't shake this feeling that it really wasn't, and he knew exactly what was going to happen from the moment I got in his car.
I hoped to see Mark at my Tuesday lecture class, since he was usually in attendance, but he was nowhere to be found. Wednesday's lab class was a lesson in frustration. He barely made eye contact with me, never gave me a nod when I thought I had an answer, and basically told me to get lost when I tried to talk to him afterwards. Granted, two of my classmates were totally confused and had asked for help, but all he said to me was "later" with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Maybe he was mad at me. Maybe my behavior really was as appalling as I'd thought, and he was embarrassed too. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I tried my best to distract myself with studying, working on a newly assigned paper for history, and just hanging out with my friends.
Thursday afternoon I saw Mark walking across one of the campus courtyards. I hurried to catch up with him and called his name when I got close enough. He stopped and turned to wait for me, with a smile on his face. Whew! Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. I reached him and just said "hi," then fell silent, suddenly unsure of what to say or do next. He put his hand out and brushed a stray hair from my face, then brushed his thumb over my lower lip, making me shiver. He chuckled and then looked at me expectantly.
"I, um, wanted to thank you for dinner," I stammered. "It was very good and, ahhhhh, surprising." He raised an eyebrow and I felt myself blushing.
He grinned wide. "I enjoyed having you for dinner, too." His eyes twinkled, and I blushed even more. "Look, I have a department meeting in a few minutes. I can't tutor you today, but wait for me after class tomorrow. We'll talk then."
I nodded mutely. He kissed me on the forehead and headed toward the door, leaving me standing there, blinking. What if I had plans tomorrow? I didn't but that was awfully presumptive. I tried to gather up some serious resentment and totally failed. What, exactly, did he want to talk about?
*****
I tried, I really did, to pay attention in class the next day. Twice Mark called on me and I had no clue what the question was, let alone the answer. The second time he kindly repeated the question and I managed a half-assed answer at the last minute. Class finally ended and I lingered until everyone was gone.
Mark snapped his fingers, making me jump. He almost smiled but I guessed he was unimpressed by my daydreaming during class. I picked up my books and approached him.
"I'm sorry," I started. He held his hand up to stop me, and I snapped my mouth shut.
"I've been thinking," he began. "I'm not sure I can tutor you anymore."
My heart dropped and I blurted out "Why? I can do better! You've helped me a lot already."
"Yes, despite today's abysmal performance, I think you are catching on. But that's not the problem. The trouble is I'm not sure I should teach you and....date you at the same time."
I just stared at him.
This time, for once, he looked uncomfortable.
"Look," he started, stepping closer to me, "you're interesting, exciting...I have ideas about you that I'd like to explore, if you're willing. Dinner last week was great, and I want to find out more about you. I suppose we could have more of those different tutoring sessions, but I don't think that's going to be enough for either of us. And I don't believe it's correct to mix that with other instruction. I can help you, but it's going to be difficult enough just being your TA in class. I think you're on the right track now anyway. Can you accept that?"
I stared at him a little bit longer, not sure what I should say. I had my high school boyfriend back home, but we hadn't made any real promises. I'd heard all those stories about teachers trading grades for sex, yet here he was, trying to get away from that. So much for getting an "easy A."
I grinned at him, the thought slipping out. "I guess this means I have to work for my grades then."
"Oh yes, you'll definitely have to work hard. You'll be held to a very high standard."
Why did that sound...dangerous?
*****
He asked me to meet him the next evening at his frat house. He was a sort of 'house mother' grad student with his own room on the top floor. I knocked on the front door and a guy about my age answered. He showed me to the lounge and ran upstairs to get Mark. I looked around the cluttered room, hearing trickles of music and deep male voices, and then the squeak of the stairs as someone descended. .
I stood up to greet Mark as he entered the room. He gave me a quick, awkward hug then led me upstairs, telling me not to mind the guys or the mess on the way up. We ascended a wide staircase then turned to walk down a spacious hallway. Doors on either side were randomly open or closed, and a few guys were lounging in one doorway. I got a few stares and a few friendly smiles.
One guy winked and commented that I could always visit him if I got bored with Mark. I grinned and told him I'd keep that in mind, and we turned to climb a narrower, plainer staircase. We made the same trip down another hall, did another flight of stairs, and ended at Mark's door.
He showed me in and followed right behind me, grabbing my wrist to keep me in place as he closed the door. He turned me toward him, putting both hands up to my face and slowly, gently kissed me. He slid the tip of his tongue over my lips then claimed my whole mouth, probing deeper and harder until he had me moaning into his mouth as I struggled to keep up and kiss him back.
My knees got weak and I clung to his shoulders until he pulled away, ending with an improbable kiss on the end of my nose. He stepped back and waved towards a dark blue, overstuffed chair by the dormer window. I sat on the cozy chair, wobbling slightly as I landed, and he perched on the edge of his bed, facing me.
I struggled to catch my breath and just watched him. He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, wiping his palms on his jeans and taking a long slow breath.
"Before anything else happens, I need to talk with you," he began. I smiled at him, murmured an "okay" and waited expectantly.
He took another deep breath and chuckled. "This is more difficult to explain than I'd thought."
I frowned with concern, how hard could this be? "I'm listening, whatever it is."
"Well, let me ask you a question, instead of giving you a lecture, for once." We both laughed. "Tell me what happened with you, exactly, after dessert."
My turn to be at a loss for words. I could feel myself blushing before I even gathered my thoughts together.
"I....you....ummmm," I stalled, eloquently, "you were so big and I was so wet, you filled me so fast and it hurt, but it felt so good all at the same time. You gave me time to get used to... you. When you pinched my nipple, it hurt too! You made me jump and it was all too much but I couldn't get away from you and then...I don't know! Something just happened and everything I was feeling just melted together and came out good."
"Did it still hurt?"
"Yes, sort of. My nipple was throbbing but I almost couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Man, that's so weird!"
Mark gazed at me for a moment, then leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. I held my breath, thinking he was going to tell me to go away, I was too weird for him.
"Now I'll tell it to you from my side, so you can understand." He paused and I nodded. "You were very wet and excited when I bent you over, and so willing, and that turned me on. When I entered you, you felt even better than I expected—you were so tight and hot. It took a lot of self-control to not just pound into you and take my pleasure," he grinned at me, wolfishly. "When you jumped, I was pretty sure of the reason, but your comment about 'hurts so good' got my attention. When I pinched your nipple--and your clit, which apparently you didn't even notice--and threw yourself onto me, I was a goner. You didn't fight me, didn't pull away, oh no, you had an orgasm instead...an orgasm strong enough to bring me off, too."
I felt myself blushing right down to my toes...and I knew I was getting wet from remembering. I looked away, not knowing what to say.
"Look at me," he said softly. "I loved the way you reacted, there's nothing to be upset about."
I looked back, cautiously, afraid to see the look on his face. To my amazement he was smiling.
"I suspect that pain, for you, done in the right way, excites you immensely. I'm sure that sounds wrong to you, but as I told you before, don't let others judge how you feel. There are people who are just wired that way; it's like an added flavor."
I nodded, thinking it all through.
"For others, giving that same pain is just as exciting. It's not exactly about hurting someone as it is, well, adding sensation, and controlling the experience."
"Controlling?" I questioned.
Again with that smile. "Oh, yes, definitely. Someone is in charge, deciding what happens next, how far it should go, though ultimately the recipient always gets to say whether it should stop or continue."
A knock at the door made us both jump. Mark got up and answered, a voice murmured in the hallway, and he turned back to me. "I have a phone call. I'll be right back." He slipped out and his footsteps receded down the stairs.
I sat back and sighed. I sort of understood what he was getting at, though I'd never really believed that stuff was true before. I'd read all sorts of stories growing up: cheesy romances, hot stroke stuff in my boyfriend's magazines, and a few other books here and there.
Girl gets seduced, girl resists, bad guy teases and torments her, and manipulates her into falling for him anyway, because he's really not so bad after all. Sometimes it was just sex and innuendo; sometimes she was actually captured and tortured in some way. Those stories had always gotten me hot & bothered, way more than the regular ones.
