Thank you to Zoe for the inspiration for this story. Thank you to Robert (as always) for your helpful comments.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
Chapter Six
The Third Lesson - Denial
It was half past midnight. The top was down and the chilly night air was whipping across my dress. I watched, fascinated, as the wind made the thin material flutter and dance as if it was alive. The cold air was bracing and head clearing, and as the Jaguar wound its way through the empty city streets I glanced over at Cole, his elbow resting on the driver side door with the breeze tousling his wavy brown hair. He looked as if he was lost in thought. I had just been through an emotional roller coaster, being punished for the first time and then used by him. I wanted to take this moment of tranquility and make a frank assessment of my experience. He had made me feel ... feel so alive ... the emotions so raw and sharp edged that I lacked a proper frame of reference to understand why. He inflicted pain on me - pain that I begged for - pain that overloaded my senses - pain that fueled the most intense orgasms of my life.
I had my hands folded in my lap. I looked at my fingers, long and slender, as I thought about them wrapped around Cole's cock, expressing the remnants of his orgasm on my waiting tongue. I felt wet down there, a condition of arousal I often found myself in these days. The past few weeks with Cole had awakened me sexually. In the past, sex wasn't a focus of mine, but it was now an obsession. Every waking moment Cole permeated my thoughts. I even started dreaming about him.
My reverie was broken when doubts started creeping into my mind. Did I want this? Is this who I am? How did I find myself in this situation, as a submissive to a man I knew so little about? How did he read me so easily? Anticipate my desires? My reactions? It was as if our meeting was preordained and that we were now simply playing out a script written long ago. But I wasn't furnished a copy of it. As I was going through this angst Cole's right hand rested on the area between my bare knee and the hem of my dress. He absentmindedly fingered the hem, then slid his fingers to the inside of my thigh. I was already a live wire from that night's session, and his touch re-ignited those feelings of want that made my body his. His fingers walked upwards on the inside of my thigh, willing me to press towards him so he could touch my ever needy sex. I did so, and he pulled away, teasing me in a playful way. Everything he did had a purpose, and his seemingly casual touch no doubt was yet another subtle reminder that I belonged to him. As I was pondering his next move he broke the silence.
"What are you thinking kitten?" he said, making me wonder if he could read my mind as well.
"Nothing Sir," I replied. I wanted to play this chess match. Was this an offhand question or a part of my training?
"We know that's not true. Did you want me to pull over and spank you right now? " he asked, calling my bluff.
"No Sir, I don't."
"Then tell me. This was all new to you. You were the first to feel the sting of my paddle. Did you enjoy it?"
"You know I did Sir. That's what I was thinking about just now. I'm just having a hard time understanding why I liked it."
I could see that Cole broke into a smile. "So you were thinking about tonight, how it made you feel, and what kind of person you are. Am I right?"
"Yes Sir, that's exactly what I was thinking."
Still staring straight ahead at the road, Cole went to the heart of the matter. "So what kind of person are you kitten?"
I thought about it for a moment. This banter was a part of my training. He wanted me to process these raw emotions and say out loud what I thought, as if those words would be cast in concrete as foundational pieces of our relationship.
"I enjoy pain, Sir."
"That you do, kitten. Do you know why?"
"It ... it intensifies ... the pleasure."
Cole made a quick sideward glance at me as if to emphasize the importance of his next question. "So what does that make you kitten?"
Now I had to think and answer carefully. What kind of woman craves pain and then pleasure? The answer crystallized in my mind. "I ... I ... I'm a slut, Sir."
Cole smiled again. Even his smile gave me pleasure. "What kind of slut, kitten?"
"Your slut, Sir."
"That's right kitten. You're my slut. Do you want to continue with your training?"
"Yes Sir. More than anything ..."
"You're learning about submission. How far did you want to go kitten?"
"As far as you're willing to take me, Sir." Cole had exposed my submissive tendencies to the harsh light of day. He was my guide. I wanted him to show me the way.
"Very well. Be ready for a study session with me on Sunday. I'll pick you up at 9 a.m."
We arrived at my apartment building. He hopped out of the car and ran over to the passenger side to open the door for me. He extended his hand to help me out of the car and then gave me a peck on the cheek. "Sweet dreams, kitten," he said as he let go of my hand.
Even though I slept well that night I was on pins and needles all day Saturday. I spent the day going over my notes for the week and spent an extra hour on my organic chemistry textbook. I told my roommate Bess I had to study and watched her leave for the night with a couple of her friends. She had accepted my relationship with Cole and was out and about exploring her own sexuality, which at present was leaning heavily towards women. That night I ate a grilled cheese sandwich, watched an old movie on AMC, and fell asleep on the sofa. I woke up in the middle of the night when Bess stumbled in with another woman, a tall, stunning redhead, in tow.
"I've got my own Mistress here," Bess said, slurring her words. "This is Kasey."
Kasey, in her heels, was a foot taller than me. I sat up straight on the sofa. "Hello Mistress Kasey."
The redhead flashed a big smile. "Don't pay any mind to Bess. Let's run along now ..." she said as she gently pushed Bess towards her bedroom. As she was walking the Domme turned her head to look back at me. The expression on her face was one of understanding. Perhaps Bess told her about me and Cole.
I knew it was going to be a tough night for sleep for Bess and me.
I set my alarm for 8 a.m. but almost slept right through it. I could hear Bess and Kasey through the paper thin walls that separated us, and it was clear that Bess spent the evening exploring her submissive side with a very experienced Domme. I could recognize Bess's moans of pleasure. I ended up masturbating to the sounds of their lovemaking and didn't fall asleep until 5 a.m.
I finally pulled it together and wrested myself out of bed at a half past eight. I took a hurried shower (I wasn't going to make the mistake again of forgetting to shower) and got out to the curb with seconds to spare. Promptly at 9 a.m. a different vehicle, an old battered Chevy pick-up truck, pulled up at the curb. Cole was driving, but dressed casually in jeans and a faded t-shirt. He looked handsome as usual (although truth be told he would have looked handsome wearing a black garbage bags with holes in it for the arms and legs). The windows in the truck were down. He called out to me.
"Let's go Zoe," he said, surprising me by using my name.
"You used my name Sir," I noted, as I got into the truck. There was a large paper bag sitting on the bench seat. Good smells were coming from it.
"I did," Cole said as he pulled away from the curb. "I think we should separate 'student time' from 'sub time.' When you're in my class or we're out in public I'll address you as Zoe and you can address me as Cole. But anytime I want you to be my sub, I'm going to say the word 'Now' to you. That's your cue that you're to revert to being my sub, no matter where we are. Is that understood?"
"Yes ... Cole."
"Sorry about the wheels. Jaguar's in the shop. We're going to slum it in my truck for the next couple of days."
"It's fine Sir. My uncle used to have a truck just like this. Brings back fond memories of visiting his farm."
Instead of going to his house, Cole drove me to the college's chemistry building faculty parking lot. He gave me the paper bag to carry. We walked from the parking lot to the building, going up a set of stairs to the tall wrought iron and oak doors that guarded the entrance. He fished out the key and unlocked a door to let us in. As we walked into the lobby I heard the door close and lock behind us. We went up the elevator to the third floor, walking down a long corridor lined with heavy oak doors with frosted glass panels identifying the occupant of each office. We finally arrived at a door marked "TA - Chemistry." Cole unlocked the door and let me in. He turned the inside lock handle, which closed with an authoritative "click."
I put the bag on his broad uncluttered desktop. He pulled out two large cups of coffee and two almond croissants. He handed me a paper towel and took one for himself, which we used as impromptu plates. We sat there, silently, savoring the aromatic coffee and fresh pastry. It was dead quiet. We were surrounded by shelves full of books and stacks of papers. You couldn't help but feel you were in the heart of academia, a TA and his student enjoying a Sunday morning working together. Cole had me sit next to him, and for two hours we reviewed the previous week's material, sipping coffee and enjoying each other's company. I then took a practice exam, last year's mid-term, which I aced.
"Well done, Zoe," he said proudly, handing back my practice test with nary a red mark on it. "Here's your reward - Now."
