Secret Masochist - Education

(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)

Chapter 4

It's too embarrassing

How do I feel

? The question makes your cheeks burn red hot. You feel confused and ashamed and excited all at once. You feel proud that you were able to endure the punishment from Mr. Peterson. Remembering the small smile he gave you, you feel an intense need to... please him?

What the fuck

? More than anything, though, you feel like your pussy is on fire.

How can you tell him any of this? Just

thinking

it makes you sick with embarrassment. Your least favorite teacher just hit you with a stick, and now your panties are soaked. It doesn't make any sense.

"Miss Murray? I asked you a question." Mr. Peterson's voice is calm, but there's an intensity waiting just below the surface. You squeeze your legs together.

"Er, sorry, Mr. Peterson. I feel... fine. I feel... ready to continue the lesson?" His eyes are boring into you, like they can see your thoughts, your feelings, everything. Part of you wants to look down at the floor, ashamed of the lie, but you can't look away.

"Miss Murray, this special tutoring will not work without openness on your part. Now, how do you feel?"

Your breaths are shallow.

He knows

. "I... I mean, my arms hurt, a bit. Er, Mr. Peterson. I feel... bad that I needed to be punished... I guess." You know he knows you're lying but you just can't tell him the truth. You barely even know what the truth

is

.

Mr. Peterson heaves a heavy sigh that makes your stomach drop. "So you do not feel at all aroused?"

Your eyes grow wide and your breath catches in your throat. "I...what? N-no, Mr. Peterson, what are you t-talking about?"

Jesus Christ RC you've never sounded more pathetic in your life.

Mr. Peterson presses his lips together into a thin line. "Miss Murray, I am

extremely

disappointed in you. In fact, I am beginning to question myself. Perhaps I misjudged you when I offered you this special tutoring."

Fear grips you. "Please, Mr. Peterson, I—"

"Miss Murray, I studied psychology and biology in university. I know what female arousal looks like, and I

know

when I'm being lied to." He takes a step closer to you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. "Now, one last time, Miss Murray. Are you, or are you not, aroused?"

You can't stop trembling. You feel like you can't breathe as you look up at your teacher towering over you. Most importantly, you can't abandon the lie now. You look down from his face, and your eyes catch on the switch still in his hands. Your pussy clenches, but your stubborn nature forces the words out of you. "N-no, Mr. Peterson. I'm n-not... aroused."

Oh fuck what am I doing?

Mr. Peterson turns his back on you and steps away. "Stand up, Miss Murray."

You're practically hyperventilating at this point.

Oh shit oh fuck what have I done?

You stand from your desk on unsteady legs.

"Now, Miss Murray, I will remind you that you agreed to follow my instructions and submit to my teaching methods when you decided to take this special tutoring. Is that correct?" He's still facing away from you. Something about that makes you feel desperate.

Desperate for what?

"Y-yes, Mr. Peterson. That is correct."

"I'm glad your memory is working better than your honesty. Now, we need to work on that. Honesty, and openness." He turns around to face you again, and a small part of you feels a little thrill. "To begin, you will lower your pants and show me your underwear."

"W-what? Mr. P-peterson, I-I-I—"

"You will obey my instructions, or this tutoring is over right now. You have made a provable claim, Miss Murray. Now, prove it, and we can move on."

His face is a mask of calm, but his eyes burn like dark coals. You look down at the floor, breathing heavily. You need that grade. You need this tutoring to get that grade. But you also need to make Mr. Peterson smile at you again.

What? Where did that come from?

While you were deliberating in your head, your hands had moved on their own and undone the button of your black jeans.

There's no turning back now

. Slowly, you unzip your fly. Your whole body is shaking, and you can feel your cheeks glowing bright red. You hook your thumbs into the waistline of your jeans and take a deep breath.

"Look at me, Miss Murray." Mr. Peterson's voice is low and calm. You look up at him, and see the burning coals of his eyes are now blazing.

Eyes locked on his, body trembling, breaths heavy, you slowly push your pants down your hips until your panties are exposed. You feel the cool air of the room against the damp fabric over your crotch. You desperately want to close your eyes or look away in shame, but you can't disobey your teacher.

What the fuck is happening to me?

"Now, Miss Murray, you are aware a large part of the front of your underwear is wet, yes?" How is his voice so calm?

"Y-yes, Mr. Peterson." Your stomach is roiling. You've never been this embarrassed in your whole life.

"Do you mean to tell me that wetness is urine?" His expression is so stern, so... commanding.

A hot tear falls down your cheek. "N-n-no, Mr. Peterson. It's n-not... urine." You feel like no matter how hard you breathe you can't catch your breath.

"So what is it, Miss Murray?" He's making you feel like a naughty child, caught breaking some petty rule.

"It's... I..."

Why can't I say the words? What could I even say to him? That getting punished made my pussy wet?

Mr. Peterson slowly starts to move towards you. "It's what, Miss Murray?"

More tears fall down your cheeks. "I... I... It's..."

He's right in front of you now. "I need you to tell me what it is, Miss Murray. Openness."

You're hyperventilating now. He's so close to you. "M-Mr. Peterson... please..."

He gently touches the front of your panties, not quite over your pussy. The feeling of contact makes you gasp. He holds his now moist fingers up under your nose. "What does this smell like, Miss Murray?"

His gaze is overwhelming. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing more tears out. "P-p-pussy juice, Mr. P-Peterson."

"Look at me, Miss Murray." You open your wet, quavering eyes. You see his expression has softened. Just a tiny bit, but enough to make your breath catch in your throat. "You know that vaginal secretions are a sign of female arousal, yes?"

Fucking goddammit RC, why did you think you could lie to him?

"Y-yes, Mr. Peterson."

"So you are aroused?" The fire in his eyes is burning you. You feel so hot.

"I... y-yes, Mr. P-Peterson. I am... aroused." Saying it out loud to him somehow makes you even wetter. Your knees start to shake.

"So you lied to me then?"

A small sob escapes your lips.

Why? How is he doing this to me?

"Y-y-yes, Mr. Peterson. I'm s-sorry."

His face is so close to yours. "So what needs to happen now, Miss Murray?"

You almost drop your pants in shock as the answer leaps out of you. "I need to be p-punished, Mr. Peterson."

What did I just say?

He smiles at you, making you almost collapse in relief. "Very good, Miss Murray. You are an exceptionally difficult student, but it's clear you're capable of learning." He turns and steps away from you towards his desk. "Now, remove your pants and shoes."

You don't even think about questioning him. You do as you're told.

This is going too far, RC. Do you really need the grade that bad?

Is it even about the grade anymore?

Mr. Peterson is back behind his desk when he turns to see that you've obeyed his last command. He nods in approval. "Very good, Miss Murray. Now, another choice for you. I want to keep you involved in this process. You admit you need to be punished for lying about your arousal, yes?"

You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to cover the damp spot over your crotch with your hands.

What's the point?

"Yes, Mr. Peterson." You can't believe how meek you sound.

"You have the option, Miss Murray, of administering your punishment to yourself, if you feel capable of doing so. Or, if you doubt yourself, I can carry out the punishment, but I warn you it will be more intense than the last one."

He opens another drawer.

What's he getting this time?

Anticipation makes your skin tingle and your clit buzz.

"Well, Miss Murray? What shall it be?"