Secret Masochist - Education

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

Chapter 5

You need him to teach you a lesson

It's impossible to think straight, standing there in front of Mr. Peterson's desk in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of increasingly wet panties. His question sends your mind reeling as you consider the possibilities. What kind of punishment could be more intense than the last one? Your imagination goes in a thousand directions at once, but one thought remains a constant: Mr. Peterson. His stern gaze, his commanding voice, the way he holds himself, poised like a predator ready to ambush his unsuspecting prey. You shudder and rub at the welts on your arms as you look at him, and you know the choice is already made.

"I..." You take a deep breath. "I want you to punish me, Mr. Peterson."

You don't really mean that, do you? You're just doing it for the grade, right?

Mr. Peterson gives you a small nod. "Very well, Miss Murray." Does he sound disappointed? Why do you care so much? He reaches into the same drawer in his desk and pulls out another tool. This one is shorter than the switch, made of black leather, with a wide flat bit at one end. "Do you know what this is, Miss Murray?"

You can't take your eyes off it. "N-no, Mr. Peterson. I don't."

"This is called a crop, Miss Murray. It is another disciplinary instrument that is no longer considered politically correct." He walks to the corner of the room and grabs a stool, dragging it over to you. The sound of it scraping across the floor fills the room, but it's not as loud as your heart pounding in your ears. "Have a seat, Miss Murray."

You do as you're told, gasping at the feeling of the cold metal against your ass, your thin cotton panties doing nothing to protect the sensitive skin.

"Now, clasp your hands behind your head. Keep your back straight." He's looking you right in the eyes. You can't even imagine looking away.

You put your hands together behind your head, making your elbows stick out to either side. The position is making your chest stick out, pushing your breasts against the fabric of your t-shirt.

What is he going to do to me?

"Very good, Miss Murray. Now, hook your feet behind the crossbar of the stool, and spread your knees as wide as you are able."

Your eyes go wide and your breath gets shallow, but you obey your teacher. You put your feet behind the cold, smooth metal crossbar, and spread your knees out. With your legs like this, your crotch is pushed to the edge of the stool. You feel completely exposed.

"Now, Miss Murray, we shall work on your openness. This position creates it in your body, which will encourage it in your mind. The two

must

go together." He steps right in front of you. "Do you understand, Miss Murray?"

He taps the crop against an open palm, and your eyes lock onto it. "I... I think so, Mr. Peterson."

"Hm. We shall see, Miss Murray. Now, for this punishment, I will be asking you a series of questions. If you hesitate in answering, I will strike you with the crop. If I determine your answer to be a lie, I will strike you three times, and ask again. Do you understand, Miss Murray?"

You can barely breathe.

He's going to hit me with that, when I'm like this? Where

—

The crop moves in a black blur and strikes at your calf.

Zwip-crack

"

AH!

" You reflexively bend forward and bring your knees together.

"Hold the position, Miss Murray. If you cannot follow instructions, this special tutoring will be over."

You look up at him, eyes wide. You straighten your back and spread your legs again. "S-sorry, Mr. Peterson."

"Now, I asked you a question, Miss Murray. Do you understand the nature and rules of this punishment?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Peterson. I understand." Your body trembles in anticipation.

"Good. Now, next question: for how long have you been sexually active?"

Your mind races.

Shit, what counts as sexually active? How long ago was Brian? Wait, does Emily count?

"Uh, what does—"

Zwip-crack

the crop hits against the top of your thigh. You yelp in pain, but manage to hold your position.

"I am asking the questions, Miss Murray, and I have instructed you to answer promptly. You know what sexual activity is, now, for how long have you been sexually active?"

"F-five years!" You see him raise an eyebrow, and you quickly add "Mr. Peterson!"

Mr. Peterson gives you a small nod. "Much better, Miss Murray. When was your most recent instance of sexual activity?"

Masturbating counts, right?

You see the crop twitch in his hand, and you blurt out "This morning, Mr. Peterson." You feel your cheeks get hot.

"And when was your most recent sexual activity involving

another

person?"

How the fuck...

"Y-yesterday. Last night, Mr. Peterson."

He must think I'm a total slut

.

Wait, why the

fuck

do I care about that?

He continues. "How many times have you been sexually active with another person this past week?"

"Uh...one, Mr. Peterson."

Unfortunately

.

Now he targets your inner thigh, just above your knee.

Zwip-crack

"Ah!"

Zwip-crack

"Hah!"

Zwip-crack

"Nnnh!

Huunnh

... M-Mr. Peterson...?"

"Miss Murray, I

saw

you engaged in some quite

heavy

petting with another student during the lunch hour this past Tuesday."

Aw FUCK I completely forgot about Sascha

.

"Now, Miss Murray, last Tuesday is not last night, correct?"

You tremble on top of the stool. "Y-yes, Mr. Peterson."

"So you would agree you deserved to receive the punishment strikes, since you lied?" His eyes are blazing. Their intensity washes over you, making you feel like you're shrinking.

"Yes, Mr. Peterson. I... I deserved the punishment." You can feel the wetness in your panties spreading.

Christ I'm pathetic

.

"Very good, Miss Murray. Now, once again, how many times this past week have you been sexually active with another person?"

You think back desperately.

Ok, Taylor last night, Sascha on Tuesday, did I...

Zwip-CRACK

the crop hits sharply on the outside of your thigh. "

GAH!

T-two! Two times, Mr. Peterson!" You look up at him, eyes wide.

He pauses, and you can see his hand tighten around the crop. Your pussy clenches in anticipation.

Wait, do I

want

him to hit me again?

Your head is spinning and your breaths are shallow as he continues the questioning. "Do you ever have sexual thoughts during class time?"

Only all the time

. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." You should feel ashamed, but instead you feel... exhilarated that you're telling him all this.

He takes a step closer to you, and your breath quickens. "Have you ever been so distracted by your sexual thoughts that it compromised your performance in class?"

You're looking up at him, feeling crushed by the weight of his presence. "I... yes, Mr. Peterson. Sometimes." Your clit is buzzing.

His voice is low, but there's a hard edge to it. The words themselves feel like a blow. "Have you ever skipped class in order to satisfy your sexual desires, Miss Murray?"

You can't look him in the eyes. You're shaking.

How can I answer that?

Zwip-CRACK

the crop hits your inner thigh. "

FWAH!

" The jolt of pain goes straight to your pussy. Your panties are so wet now they're clinging to the metal surface of the stool.

Tears sting your eyes. You look up at him.

He knows. He knows about the time I ditched his class to get off in the bathroom

. "'Yes, Mr. Peterson. I... I've skipped class to... to satisfy my desires." The buzzing in your clit is driving you insane. You're desperate to touch yourself.

"You're doing very well, Miss Murray. Your openness is commendable." His voice has softened just a tiny bit. In spite of yourself, you feel a small smile touch your lips.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Peterson."

"We're not done yet, Miss Murray."

Your smile vanishes and your breath catches in your throat.

He taps the crop against the inside of your knee. The touch is gentle, but you flinch anyway. "I can see this punishment is having quite the effect on you. Isn't it, Miss Murray?"

Your eyes lock onto the crop. He's right. Sitting there, spreading yourself in front of him, revealing your secrets, being struck by that...

Zwip-CRACK

"HANH! Yes, Mr. Peterson!" You can hear a familiar trembling in your voice.

How am I...?

"Miss Murray, are you deriving sexual pleasure from being struck by the crop?"

"What?!"

Zwip-CRACK

"

GANH!

Yes, Mr. Peterson!" Your eyes widen in shock at your answer, but... you know it's true. The buzzing in your clit, the juice soaking your panties, the burning distraction in your mind whenever you think about him hitting you again... you can't deny it. You're loving this. Even more, you're right on the edge of a—

"Do you want to climax right now, Miss Murray?"

More than anything

. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." Your voice sounds so small, so pleading.

What the fuck is happening to me?

"Do you wish to be brought to climax by the crop, Miss Murray?"

Your eyes lock onto the leather tool. Your voice is barely above a whisper. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." You can't stop shaking.

He nods at you. "Your honesty and openness have shown marked improvement, Miss Murray. You deserve a reward."

With that, he brings the crop down on your inner thigh

Zwip-CRACK

"

Anh!

" You can no longer hide the pleasure in your cries. He strikes your inner thighs again, just outside your crotch.

Zwip-CRACK

"

Hanh!

"

Zwip-CRACK

"

Nnnyah!

"

Zwip-CRACK

"

Gyaaaah!

"

Your pussy is on fire.

Why did he stop? I'm so fucking close, I'm

right

there!

You look up at him, eyes pleading.

"Ask me to make you come, Miss Murray." His eyes are like two deep pits. You feel like you're falling into them.

Your voice shakes, but the words come out by themselves. "P-please make me come, Mr. Peterson."

Zwip-CRACK

the crop hits right on your soaked pussy. Your mind blanks as your body convulses. A low moan is the only sound you can make as the orgasm spreads out from your throbbing pussy. Girlcum squirts out of you, turning your panties into a complete mess and dripping down the edge of the stool. It takes all of your willpower to hold your humiliating position through all of it.

Finally, the orgasm subsides and you're able to catch your breath, but you're too embarrassed to look up at Mr. Peterson.

I can't believe I just came like that, in front of him

. Your thighs are slick with your juices and you can feel your nipples poking against the fabric of your shirt through your bra. You can't understand anything that you're feeling right now, but you know you want more.

"This has been an excellent start, Miss Murray. As I expected, you are proving to be quite receptive to my methods." He reaches out with the crop and uses it to lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "I think this has been enough for one day, but I can see you need more. Don't you, Miss Murray?"

Please

. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." You can't recognize your own voice anymore.

He nods at you and pulls the crop away. "Now, you have another choice, Miss Murray. I have a curriculum in mind that would involve homework, classwork, and more of these after-class sessions. You would be required to obey all of my instructions for a period of at least two weeks, possibly longer depending on your progress."

Your mind races.

Homework? Classwork? Like... this?

"There is another option, Miss Murray. If you would prefer a more intense, in-depth tutoring, I am prepared to offer you an advanced course." He pauses, and your breath gets shallow. "This would take place at my home, over the course of this weekend. I warn you, it will not be easy, but I believe with continued openness on your part we could achieve some significant results in that time."

You feel your clit start to buzz again.

Alone with Mr. Peterson, at his house...

"You will need to decide now, Miss Murray. Which course do you want your special tutoring to take?"