This story needs some context as it is a spin off of a private piece I did, hence the lack of specific description. Dahlia met Felix at a bar a short while before she started at university. A one night stand led them to kinky sex thinking they'll never see each other again. Surprise surprise, he's actually her professor. Regardless of that fact, they continue a semi-casual sexual relationship. These two characters have a sexual non-exclusive relationship until the end. This story does focus a bit on relationship but it's interwoven with erotica. As this is my first piece I do appreciate constructive criticism but please be kind.
Disclaimers: This story isn't supposed to depict an accurate BDSM relationship. Always discuss questions such as exclusivity with your play partner as well as any boundaries. All characters are over 18. Any resemblance to people dead or alive, particular places, etc. are purely coincidental.
Enjoy my first work.
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I take a huge breath as I exit my dorm. I need to calm down! A week's worth of bratting is about to pay off. I can't wait!
I saunter down the hall, then up 6 floors. This is where the rich people of the campus live. Instead of a giant open plan, pitiful excuse for a kitchen and separation into a tiny bathroom, these rooms have separate everything. They're basically terrace apartments, not studio ones. As I pass by sophomore guys' dorms on my way up I get catcalls, wolf whistles, yelling back micro-dick to all of them. They all want what they can't or shouldn't have.
As I get to the door room 380, I take several inhales of breath. Maybe this was a mistake. Welp, too late to back out now. I rap at the door, head down.
"It's open," I hear.
Turning the handle is a herculean task with my sweaty palms contrasting the cold smooth metal. I walk in with slight nervousness in my step that the average person wouldn't notice. But that sexy man in the armchair opposite the door notices everything. Nothing slips past his analysis.
He closes his copy of Dracula, and stands. He keeps hypnotising eye contact with me as he grabs two unmarked shopping bags and approaches me. The closer he gets the little bit more he's gotta look down to keep the electricity flowing from his gaze to between my legs.
When he's oh so close to touching me but not quite there, he stops his advance, and it's in moments like these that his 6'3 frame really reminds me that I'm only 5'5. He hands me the bags and in his usual soft tone and voice that reveals nothing, he commands
"Put that on. When you're done join me in my study."
"Yes Professor," I reply softly. He gets off every time I call him that
"Remind me of your safeword"
"Knightsbridge" he nods and leaves me to change.
I open the first bag and find a box and crepe paper packages. The first package didn't reveal anything, just a white blouse, but the second really filled in the gaps.
The second package contained a red and black plaid skirt. I must be dead or dreaming. He figured out this was what I wanted all along! The box had a pair of black and white patent leather saddle shoes, and I'm so grateful all of these things are my size and not too small.
The other bag contains a pair of white knee-high socks, some hair ties, two red ribbons and a red lip stain. I notice that a bra and panties aren't included in the bags.
I don't think it's an issue until I actually put the clothes on. Yes, it all fits, but I can clearly see the tailor's marks where the skirt has been hemmed so that when I sit down, I'm sitting on my bare ass, and the blouse so that the buttons are straining against my breasts.
Fuck this is hot!
I put my hair into pigtails with ribbons, put on the lip stain and head to the door of the study. This scene is gonna be so fucking hot, I can't wait! I knock on the door.
"Come in," I obey.
The room is darkly decorated. Dark blue walls and all wooden furniture is mahogany.
Felix is clad in different clothes than before too. He exchanged the jeans and cable knit sweater for a business shirt, slacks, a tie and an overcoat that is draped over his leather chair. He looks up from some papers
"Miss Pearson, I've been expecting you. Please take a seat" so the play begins. I obey the command again.
"When last we spoke," he begins calmly, "I believe I told you to abstain from masturbation for a week. Isn't that so, Miss Pearson?"
"Yes professor," oh he definitely knows
"Did you obey my command?"
"Yes, professor,"
"Well, a little birdie told me you're a liar, Dahlia. Are you lying to me"
"No professor. Just like you told me. I didn't masturbate" he runs a hand through his hair
"Maybe I should rephrase the question. Did you at any point this week cum by a hand that wasn't mine? And don't you dare lie to me." I look down.
I've always been a terrible liar.
"So I take it my source was right," he breaks the silence "I want you to tell me exactly what you did. How many times did you cum?" He's so calm. Not expressing his anger through words, but I know he's gonna soon.
"Well, every day a different guy from class would help me get off." I begin. He's gonna get so pissed! "Let's see; Monday Harvey Astor made me cum in the back seat of his G-Wagon, Tuesday James Sinclair made me cum on the floor of his dorm, Wednesday Dash McEvoy made me cum twice; once on his bed and once on his face but not in that order, Thursday Maxwell Hastings made me cum but only once because we were interrupted by his older brother who I was sorely tempted to ask to join us, Friday Ambrose Buchanan made me cum 4 times; once in his hot tub; once on his armchair; once in the back seat of his car and once on the hood, Saturday Erskine Wallace made me cum 3 times; once outside of the coffee shop on his fingers; once in a public bathroom; once on his bed, and precisely 15 minutes ago Alexander Fitzgerald made me cum twice, nearly three times but your darling roommate interrupted us."
He stands after contemplating for a minute, pushing his tall frame up with his palms, then using them to bend closer to me.
"Bend over the desk," each word a gently shot bullet that compels me to obey.
His desk is this huge wooden thing, probably a real antique from the 1920s. Maybe even an old mafia boss'.
Why am I talking about it?
Oh!
Because it's built higher than a regular one, and that means my legs can't touch the ground and my short skirt is gonna ride up. The sexy bastard really thought everything through, didn't he?
As I lay over the desk he circles it to get to my side of it. He gently pats my head in an attempt to put me at ease before he grabs the closest pigtail and yanks my head up.
I gasp at the sudden tug and the burn on the left side of my head. He goes to my ear, his voice a little less in control than before.
"Dirty little slut! I tell you to abstain from masturbation, and that's your loophole? Were you that desperate you fucking whore, that you couldn't come and find me? Hm?"
He steps behind me now, dropping my hair and bracketing my throat, slowly cutting off circulation to my brain.
"Or maybe you just wanted your professor to punish you? Is that it, slut? Is that what you wanted? Tell me!"
He lets go expecting me to respond.
I do nothing of the sort.
I just push myself up by my palms, arching my back, and do the unthinkable.
Ladies and gentlemen, I glare at him.
I seem to have successfully offended him because he pushes me back onto the table, putting pressure on my cheek as it sits flat against the desktop
"This isn't a fucking joke," he grits through his teeth "You stole 14 orgasms from me. 14 that were rightfully mine. Mine to bring you to, mine to watch, mine to take credit for. Now that's 14 times you will miss out on because you decided to be a dirty fucking brat." He flips my skirt up, gently rubbing his hand on my ass before adding
"Ready for your punishment, slut?"
"Depends"
"On?"
"Whether or not you're gonna let me cum."
"You came 14 times this week and you still want more?"
"Yes professor"
"Desperate little whore! Well if you're a good girl and quit bratting out I might let you."
With that he signals his wish to end the conversation by bringing his hand down on my ass with a whack. I welcome the sting, my pussy getting wetter.
Each time he slaps me it gets progressively harder, but let's be honest, it's same-old same-old! I have to do something to remedy it.
I let out the first sound that I've made since the beginning of the spanking. I ever so softly moan after the next blow.
He stops.
I think I might have screwed this up.
He then slowly leans down to my ear and gently, almost lovingly whispers
"Do you like that, my little slut? Are you enjoying your punishment"
