Secret Masochist - Education

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

Chapter 19

On your knees

Mr. Peterson wastes no time giving you orders, and you're eager to obey. You scramble to clean up the breakfast you had ruined. Still embarrassed at your failure, you prepare him a quick meal of leftovers from last night. Watching him eat as you stand meekly beside him, ignoring the rumbling of your own stomach, you're grateful for the residual sting on your asscheeks. When he finishes eating and tells you to serve yourself a bowl of cold oatmeal from the fridge, you almost refuse, feeling you don't deserve it.

After finishing your meager breakfast, you follow Mr. Peterson to the main room. The place where you had dared to challenge his authority yesterday, so long ago. The place where you had asked him to teach your body, not knowing how far he would take you. You glance at the sofa where he had coaxed your submission out of you with nothing but his fingers and his voice. Your cheeks grow warm and your pussy tingles at the memory -- and at the sight of the stain you left behind.

Mr. Peterson turns to face you, and your breath quickens. "I do hope you appreciate how much work I am putting into your education, Miss Murray."

His words catch you off guard. You open your mouth to reply, but you don't know whether to apologize, thank him, or...

"As receptive as you are to my lessons, it does still take a great amount of effort to teach you. Especially when my lesson plan needs to be revised with no warning."

Definitely apologize

. "I... Mr. Peterson I'm—"

"Don't apologize, Miss Murray."

Fuck!

"As I have explained, this transgression will require more from you in order to make amends." He walks over to the large chair by the hearth and sits. "Come here, Miss Murray, and get on your knees in front of me."

Your heart hammers in your chest as you approach him. The idea of being on your knees for him sends a thrill through you. Your clit buzzes with anticipation and your ass clenches around the plug, but there's also an edge of fear. Is this going too far?

Doesn't matter. I fucked up, I need to make it up to him

.

Mr. Peterson looks down at you as you sink to your knees in front of him. "This is a very pleasing sight to behold, Miss Murray. One I have imagined many times, I must admit."

Your head spins with shame even as your body grows warm at his words. Imagining what you look like -- the chain swaying between your clamped nipples, your body on display in this erotic outfit, kneeling submissively for the teacher you hated most -- is creating a storm of emotion inside you. Even after everything he did to you yesterday, after everything you gave him, something inside you is still resisting. That voice is becoming more desperate, though, and right now you are pointedly ignoring it. You need to do as you're told so Mr. Peterson will forgive you. So he'll smile at you again.

So he'll let you come.

Your pussy aches with need as you kneel in front of your teacher, waiting for his next command. He made you come so many times yesterday, but ever since failing the test last night you've had nothing but denial and frustration. You want to believe that there's more motivating you than an orgasm, but your juices dripping onto the floor tell another story. Whatever it is that Mr. Peterson has in store for you, at least your body is eager to give it to him.

"Remove my shoes and socks, Miss Murray."

Brow furrowing in confusion, you lean forward to obey. Slipping his shoes off, and then rolling his socks down and off his feet, that strange feeling flares in your chest. Not arousal, not anxiety, but something else. The newness of it frightens you, but as you complete your task and look back up at your teacher, you have to admit it feels... good. In spite of yourself, you're excited to do more. What will he ask you to take off next?

"I spent a substantial amount of time on my feet yesterday, Miss Murray. Teaching your body and breaking you was an arduous task. Have you ever given a foot rub before?"

Are you kidding me?

"Er, no, Mr. Peterson. I haven't." You can't hide the confusion -- or the disappointment -- in your voice.

"Now is an excellent time to start, then."

Taking your teacher's foot in your hands, that strange new feeling grows even stronger. As Mr. Peterson guides you through the motions, teaching you how to work the stiffness and knots out of his muscles, the feeling fills your whole body. You feel at peace, calm, relaxed, almost like you're the one being pampered. You're still not sure what's going on, but it feels nice.

Still not as nice as an orgasm, though.

"Is something wrong, Miss Murray?"

You look up at Mr. Peterson as you caress his foot in your soft hands. "Er, no, Mr. Peterson, not really. I just... I was wondering when today's lesson was going to start."

Mr. Peterson smiles down at you."Why, Miss Murray, the lesson began the moment you awoke this morning."

What?

"I... what do you mean, Mr. Peterson? We haven't... I didn't..."

"You haven't earned a climax, yet?" His words make you blush, but you can't deny he's right. He continues, "Miss Murray, the object of today's lesson is obedience."

Obedience

. Your pussy clenches, and your breaths get heavy.

"Yes, Miss Murray, obedience. It is important for you to learn to accept my authority without question. This is both for my benefit, and for yours."

My benefit?

Your clit buzzes.

"Tell me, Miss Murray, have you done anything today that wasn't at my explicit command?"

You think back, mind racing. "I... I don't..."

"You wanted to masturbate, but it was I who told you to do so. You wanted to be prepared for the lesson, but it was still the articles I gave you that you're wearing. No doubt you were hungry when you made breakfast, but it was at my command that you went to the kitchen." He pauses to let his words sink in. "And now here you are, on your knees, performing one of the most fundamental acts of servitude. Tell me, Miss Murray, how does all of this make you feel?"

Your heart is pounding. You feel like you can't breathe. His words rock you to your core, but you're still compelled to answer him. "I... I feel..." Tears sting your eyes as you're forced to tell him the truth. "I feel good, Mr. Peterson. I... I don't..."

"You don't understand, Miss Murray?"

You shake your head, a few hot tears making their way down your red cheeks. Mr. Peterson's small smile almost makes you gasp with relief.

"I will teach you, Miss Murray." He pauses, allowing his words to fill you with anticipation. "Remove my slacks."

You take a deep breath. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." None of this is making any sense, but for some reason that isn't important. Hands moving on their own, you unbutton your teacher's pants and slowly pull them down off his legs. As you place his slacks to the side, you can't tear your eyes away from the bulge in his underwear.

I was so close to having that inside me last night. Why couldn't I have just obeyed? What's so bad about kneeling, about... subservience?

Breaths shallow, you look up at Mr. Peterson, eager for another command. "My legs are stiff as well, Miss Murray. Continue with your attentions."

You slowly start to rub at his calves. One leg at a time, feeling his firm muscles underneath the thick, dark leg hair. Touching him like this, immersing your senses in his sheer masculinity, is quieting that part of you that still wants to protest. That strange new feeling is becoming sharper, clearer. The more effort you put into serving him, the better you feel.

Like this is what you were meant to do.

"Are you beginning to understand now, Miss Murray? Do you see how your feminine nature is meant to bend to my masculine will?"

Tears flow freely down your cheeks now, even as your pussy drips onto the floor. There are tears of shame, and anger, but also joy. His words resonate with that new feeling, breaking down the last layers of your resistance. He's right. Part of you still hates him -- and yourself -- for it, but you can no longer deny the truth. Looking up at him, your mouth twists in a grimace as you're forced to answer "Y-yes, Mr. Peterson."

His smile widens, making something inside you melt. It feels

so good

to make him smile. "So you admit you desire to serve me, Miss Murray?"

Come on, quit toying with me and let me come already

. "Yes, Mr. Peterson." In spite of your frustration, part of you is loving how much he's pushing you. How much he's making you reveal to him.

"Are you deriving sexual pleasure from submitting to me, Miss Murray?" His smile is touching his eyes now, but instead of gaining warmth, they burn with dark fire.

You take a long, shaky breath. The answer is written all over you, but you know he wants you to admit it anyway. Cheeks flushed, pussy burning, eyes wet and pleading, you whisper "

Yes, Mr. Peterson

."

"Remove my briefs, Miss Murray."

Unable to help yourself, you lick your lips as you reach up and grab at the waistband of his underwear. Pulling them down his legs, your eyes lock on to his erect penis as it comes free. You can't look away, the shape of it dominating your mind, the precum glistening on the tip making your mouth water. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Do you wish to touch it, Miss Murray? Do you wish to service my maleness?"

Will you let me come if I do?

You swallow, eyes still fixated on his throbbing organ. Not thinking, you lean forward, wanting to kiss it, taste it, take in your mouth.

Let me serve you, Mr. Peterson. I can show you how much I've learned.

Just before your lips can make contact, you feel him touch your head, stopping your movements. His cock is so close. You can feel the heat of it on your face. You look up at him, confused. His smile is gone. "Did I tell you to touch me, Miss Murray?"

Your eyes go wide, and a cold spike of fear pierces your chest. "N-no, Mr. Peterson, I... I'm—"

"No apologies, Miss Murray." He begins to stroke your cheek, and you lean into his touch. "Your enthusiasm is commendable, but I can see it's time something is done about your lack of discipline."

Fresh tears sting your eyes. "Please, Mr. Peterson. Teach me discipline."

He smiles at you again, and your heart swells.

I just want to be a good student. I want to learn, I want to obey, I want to come.

Please teach me to be worthy of your cock.