(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)
Chapter 20
Giving you what (you think) you want
Kneeling at Mr. Peterson's feet, face inches from his hard cock, your mind is focused on one thing.
I need to prove myself to him. I need to learn his lessons. I need to show him how far I've come.
Come.
I need to come.
The sharp ache in your pussy dominates your thoughts. You feel like you're going crazy with how much you need to get off. It's not like you've never gone without an orgasm for this long before, but you've never had to endure something quite like this. Everything you've done today -- everything Mr. Peterson has
made
you do -- has just turned you on even more. That voice inside that tried to push back against your submission is silent now. All that's left is a determination to do whatever he tells you, no matter what. You
need
that orgasm.
That's all that matters. I can't take this any longer. I just need to get off, I don't care about being... ordered around.
"Stand for me, Miss Murray."
"Yes, Mr. Peterson." As if mocking your inner voice, your body thrills at being given a command, and you practically jump to your feet. Trying to demonstrate that you have at least
some
discipline, you keep your eyes fixed on your teacher's face. Not looking at his cock, still hard and hot in his lap, is one of the most difficult things you've done all weekend.
"You have properly atoned for your failure this morning, Miss Murray."
Relief floods through you. "Thank you, Mr. Peterson."
He reaches under his chair and pulls out a small box. "As a reward, I shall give you the vibrator I promised for your good behavior." He removes a small, flat object from the box. "Lift your skirt for me, Miss Murray."
"Y-yes, Mr. Peterson." It feels silly, since the skirt is sheer and doesn't cover much anyways, but you do as you're told. You gasp as you feel him push the small vibrator into the pocket at the front of your crotchless panties. It rests just above your clit, not quite close enough to provide direct stimulation.
"Who owns your body, Miss Murray?"
Your ass clenches around the plug. "You do, Mr. Peterson."
He smiles at you. "Then it is my responsibility to take care of it. Those clamps have been on your nipples for quite some time. It is important they have a chance to recover." He reaches up and removes both clamps. The chain clinks softly as he places them to the side.
You feel a little disappointed at having them removed, but also a deep and surprising gratitude that he would be so mindful of your well-being. "Thank you, Mr. P-
ah!
" Your nipples start to swell and ache with surprising intensity. The pain is somehow worse than when the clamps were on.
Mr. Peterson sees the confusion in your eyes. "The blood returning to your extremities will make them quite sensitive, Miss Murray." He pulls two small vibrators attached to adhesive strips from the box. "Now, hold still."
You pull in a sharp breath as he attaches a vibrator to your right nipple.
"A reward for your obedience this morning." He attaches the other to your left nipple. "And a reward for your enthusiasm."
Your breaths are heavy. With as raw and sensitive as your nipples are, even just the feeling of something against them is enough to send jolts of pleasure through you. Hopefully he won't...
Mr. Peterson pulls a small remote from the box. "And now, Miss Murray, we shall begin your instruction in discipline. Stand as you are, keep your skirt lifted, and do not climax unless given permission." He clicks the remote, and all three vibrators begin to buzz at once.
"
HnnnnAAHH!
"
You're immediately overwhelmed. The vibrator at your crotch is giving your clit a tantalizing indirect stimulation. Just enough to feel pleasure, while still leaving you aching for more. The vibrators on your nipples, meanwhile, are almost too much to bear. Your swollen buds feel so good they hurt, the direct contact driving you wild. The dueling sensations of too much and not enough are melting your mind and driving your body toward your long-delayed orgasm. You can't help but let out small moans and whimpers, not caring how pathetic you sound.
"What do you want, Miss Murray?" Mr. Peterson's calm voice washes over you.
I... I don't know. I want this to stop, I want more, I want your cock, I want you to hurt me, I want...
"I-
hanh
... I want to come, Mr. Peterson." You have to stop yourself from begging.
"And why do you want to come, Miss Murray?"
What do you mean, why?
Your mind can't process the question, forcing you to answer from pure instinct. "
Mmmnnnn
... it's...
ah
... it's too much, Mr. Peterson. I can't take it... I need to come... p-please..." Your orgasm feels so close you can taste it, but you have to hold back. You can't disobey your teacher.
"So you desire to come in order to relieve your need?"
What the fuck are you talking about?
"Y-yes...
nngh
... Mr. Peterson..." Your clit starts throbbing, aching to be touched.
"Miss Murray, do you believe your desire to reach orgasm will be gone after climaxing now? Or will you still want more?"
Your cheeks burn with shame.
I'm sorry, Mr. Peterson... I can't help it...
"I...
haaanh
... I'll want more, Mr. Peterson." You can feel the blush start to spread from your cheeks down your neck.
