Owning Professor Ballard Pt 08

***WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL FUCKERY AHEAD*** Welcome to my world where all women are lesbians, all lesbians are squirters and absolutely everyone is in to extreme BDSM. You are hereby informed that the following story contains dark elements of non-consensuality and deceit. Trigger warning: most of my characters are psychopaths with no redeeming qualities, my story has no real meaning other than stream of consciousness debauchery and I definitely do not know what is going to happen next. I do not allow comments because I don't want to deal with haters, but please feel free to send me a note if my story amused you.

*****

Daphne leaned back on the edge of the bed and looked down into the eyes of her new slave, savoring the moment.

Professor Ballard looked up at her new mistress pleadingly. She was naked and collared, on all fours in the master bedroom of the house she had previously shared with her ex-husband, Richard. Her tongue was buried deep inside his current wife's pussy.

The slave was trying desperately to coax a third orgasm from Daphne in the allotted time period.

Ping!

The egg timer chimed, impossibly loud in the stillness of the morning.

"Time's up!" exclaimed the pert blond mistress. "Spread-em and take your medicine like a good girl, Kathleen."

Professor Ballard closed her eyes tightly and grunted in frustration into Daphne's pussy. Daphne let her have a moment to collect herself, then spoke very slowly and deliberately.

"You have exactly ten seconds to present your ass to Richard, Pofessor. And don't you dare stop licking."

The slave paused for a few beats, then seemed to steel herself. Her tongue never faltered as she reached back with both hands and slowly spread her ass-cheeks wide apart.

Daphne smiled mischievously as she watched her husband kneel down and position himself behind his ex-wife, his large, erect penis bobbing up and down before him.

Richard smiled at Daphne, then licked the palm of his right hand, the only lube the slave was ever allowed, and wet his cock. He pressed the head against his ex-wife's delicate rosebud.

Daphne' smile widened as she watched her slave wince at first contact with her ex-husband's cock. Ballard looked away from Daphne, bracing herself. She began to breath heavily through her mouth.

Daphne reached down and grabbed a fistful of the hapless slave's hair.

"Look at me, cunt," she hissed, locking eyes with the older woman. "So, this is the high and mighty Professor Ballard," she taunted. "Look at you now. How does it feel to be owned, bitch?"

Professor Ballard said nothing. She sagged visibly.

Daphne smirked, then glanced over at her husband. "Now! Do it now, Richard!"

The slave felt the strong hands of her ex-husband grip both of her haunches. Richard grunted once, then entered his ex-wife's ass in one hard thrust.

Daphne watched with unabashed glee as her slave's eyes popped wide open in agony, the whites suddenly swelling like hard-boiled eggs.

Professor Ballard howled into Daphne's warm, wet flesh.

Daphne began to cum...

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Daphne's eyes fluttered open. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, temporarily disoriented.

It was a dream. A fucking dream.

With a grunt of frustration, the pretty blond slapped the snooze button on the alarm clock on the nightstand, then flopped back down on her back.

She looked over at Richard's side of the bed. It was empty. For a moment, Daphne was puzzled, then remembered that her husband was out of town at a medical conference. She smiled remembering the events of the previous night, then shifted her gaze upward and stared at the ceiling in the dim morning gloom.

Shit.

Today was Friday. It had been two days since Daphne had trapped Kathleen Ballard in her own office and coerced her into going down on her. The idiot had come to work with a vibrating butt plug in her ass and Daphne had taken advantage of the situation. Much to Daphne's surprise, it turned out the old bitch really knew how to eat pussy. She had chowed down like a champ.

Now Daphne couldn't stop thinking about owning Professor Ballard.

Ever since their encounter, she had been obsessing about her rival and had finally made up her mind: she would turn Ballard into her personal pet.

She had it all figured out. Ballard would move in to their house and serve both she and her husband. Richard would take some convincing, but Daphne could handle him. She would make up some story. He was such an idiot, he would fall for anything she said.

Daphne had trained many slaves at the university, but Professor Ballard would be her sweetest conquest yet. The very thought of breaking the bitchy older professor sent chills down her spine. Her mind swam with the delicious humiliations she would wreak. She would have her pierced and marked like all of her slaves. She wondered what Ballard would sound like when she cried.

"Imagine owning her," she said aloud to the quiet room, then sighed.

Her right hand snaked down to her pussy. As usual, imagining Ballard on her knees had made her wet. She began to flick her clit gently.

"What am I doing?" she said to herself and snapped her fingers loudly.

Immediately a figure laying on the floor by the side of the bed rose up on her knees and faced Daphne.

"Good morning, Mistress," said the girl softly, averting her eyes.

"Good morning, cunt," replied Daphne cooly.

The slave was naked aside from a thick, black leather collar. She was a nineteen year-old sophomore Daphne had seduced over a year earlier. The wide-eyed freshman had been an easy mark.

Daphne looked over and surveyed her property appraisingly. The pretty blond mistress felt a swell of pride. The girl's name had once been Clarissa or Clarice or something, but now she answered to the much simpler moniker of cunt.

Daphne named all her slaves cunt.

This particular specimen was a former prom queen from New Hampshire. As with all the others, the girl had considered herself straight until she fell under Daphne's spell. Now, after fourteen months of training, she had eaten more pussy and ass than any lesbian twice her age and was hopelessly addicted to Daphne's vagina.

The slave had flawless, alabaster skin and close cropped red red hair framing a perfect oval of a face with striking green eyes. Her breasts were large and firm, her belly taught. She had sculpted thighs that tapered down into shapely calves.

'Did you sleep well, cunt?" asked Daphne. "I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory."

"Very well, thank you, mistress," the slave lied.

In reality, the poor girl had tossed and turned all night on the hardwood floor beside the bed, without a pillow or blanket, but she knew better than to complain to her mistress.

Daphne leaned over the bed and flicked the slave's right nipple ring. The girl winced, but didn't move.

"I think we'll move you up to the wider gauged rings next week," said Daphne casually.

"Yes, Mistress. I will make the arrangements," replied the slave immediately.

"Stand. Present my pussy," said Daphne.

The girl stood up straight and crossed her elbows behind her back. She spread her legs and tilted her vulva forward, presenting herself for inspection.

Daphne reached down with her right hand and cupped the six thick labial rings adorning the slaves inner lips, three on each side. The rings had grown steadily in size as the slave's training progressed. The current rings were almost as thick around as a Daphne's pinky.

"Let's upgrade these rings as well. Go two sizes thicker," said Daphne curtly. "You're stretching out nicely, but I want you hanging down a full three inches before the end of the semester. I want you nice and floppy when you go home for the summer. It's the only way I can be sure you won't let anyone else play with my pussy when I'm not around."

A stricken look flashed across the slave's face, then was quickly replaced by an expression of practiced docility.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, ma'am," replied the slave softly.

Daphne ran her hand across the slave's hairless vulva. All pubic hair had been permanently removed with laser treatments months earlier. The tender flesh was currently marked with deep red welts from the previous night's whipping, but the thick-lettered black tattoo was still plainly visible.

DAPHNE'S CUNT

Daphne smacked the slave's pussy smartly.

'You were a good girl last night, cunt," she said evenly, gently fingering a particularly angry welt criss-crossing the slave's slit. "I'm afraid I got a little carried away with the whip didn't I?"

"Not at all, mistress," replied the slave warily. "It was my pleasure to suffer for you," she added softly.

Daphne smiled.

"Good answer, cunt. Now get up here and service me," she said brusquely. "Do a good job and I might let you jingle for me," she added with a wink.

The slave's eyes widened with astonishment. It had been over four months since she had been allowed release of any kind.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, mistress," replied the slave breathlessly as she crawled up on to the bed and positioned her face between Daphne's thighs.

Daphne allowed herself to be carried along on the waves of pleasure created by her slave's clever tongue for a few seconds, then sighed and thought about Professor Ballard.

She hated the woman deeply. First, the bitch had divorced Richard for no good reason, then had the temerity to resent Daphne for taking her place.

Daphne and Richard had been married now for over two years, but Ballard still couldn't accept the ‪new order‬ of things. Every chance she got, Ballard fucked with her and tried to get between her and Richard.

Christ, even her own daughter, Pippa, hated her. Daphne smiled thinking about the hours she and Pippa had spent making jokes at Ballard's expense around the dinner table, until Richard invariably intervened on his ex-wife's behalf.

Both Daphne and Ballard were tenured English professors who worked in the same department at the university. They saw each other every day. Ballard was constantly bad-mouthing her and running her down in conversations with their colleagues.

It was an open secret that Ballard called her the office bimbo. So what it Daphne had used her feminine wiles on occasion to get ahead? Who hadn't? Who was Ballard to judge?

The old battle-axe was a constant thorn in the younger woman's side.

Now Daphne was going to turn the tables once and for all.

During their encounter, Ballard had revealed that she was being trained as a slave by a female student. It followed logically that the older professor was going to be very active in the burgeoning BDSM scene on campus. Although Daphne didn't know the details yet, she knew she could use this information to ensnare her nemesis into submission. She just needed to catch her in a compromising position.

But how?

The slave was doing a good job between her legs. Daphne was close to orgasm. As her pleasure crested, an idea seemed to form in her mind. It was dancing just out of the the edge of her perception.

The slave's tongue quickened, flicking her clit rhythmically. Daphne began to unconsciously buck her hips slowly, grinding herself against the girl's face.

The first step in capturing Ballard would be to find out which student was training her. Who was her secret mistress?

Daphne was close now. She was imagining herself sitting on Ballard's face and having her eat her ass while Richard watched and laughed.

She was so close. What was the idea that was lurking in the shadows of her mind? She had a flash of an image, an envelope on her desk.

"Ahhhh!!" Daphne screamed as she exploded in her slave's mouth. The girl gulped down her essence without spilling a drop, groaning with ecstasy.

Daphne had a brief moment of perfect post-orgasmic clarity.

The party!

Tonight, the Lambda Epsilon Sigma girls were having their annual spring gala. Daphne had seen the invitation on her desk earlier in the week. The exclusively lesbian sorority used the occasion to officially welcome their new pledges into the fold.

Over the past decade, the sorority had also earned a reputation as being the hot spot for the campus lesbian BDSM community. Consequently the spring gala had become known as the coming out party of sorts for novice slaves, a place where Mistresses came to show off their new pets.

Surely, Professor Ballard would be attending the festivities with her new Mistress. She would be hooded, of course, but how hard would it be to identify a middle-aged slave mixed in among all the other students? At the very least, the identity of Ballard's mistress would become apparent.

Daphne smiled to herself,remembering the several occasions she had attended the gala with her newly minted slaves. Things had certainly gotten wild. This was before she was married, of course. Unfortunately, she could never attend such a function now, given her current standing in the community. After all, she had tenure and was married to a prominent doctor.

Daphne reached down and tapped the top of her slave's head impatiently.

"That's enough, cunt," she said sharply. "Clean me. Quickly, now. Then you can jingle."

The slave began to lap at the folds of Daphne's vagina with broad, slow strokes of her tongue. After a moment, she reached up and spread her Mistress' cheeks so she could clean her perineum and anus, wriggling her well-muscled tongue deep inside.

"Tell me, cunt. Are you going to the spring gala tonight?"

The slave paused and looked up.

"No' ma'am. My parents are coming to town. I'll be with them all weekend," she answered gloomily. "I heard it's going to be a good one, too," she added morosely, then bent back to her task.

Daphne tousled her slave's hair playfully.

"Your parents, huh?. That's nice. Maybe I should meet them, cunt. Why don't your bring them by."

The slave froze and looked up, her expression pained.

Daphne smiled.

"Just kidding, cunt," she said said breezily. "Don't worry, hun. Your secret is safe with me."

The slave smiled uncertainly, then dropped her face back into Daphne's crotch.

Daphne shuddered as the slave's long and talented tongue delved deep into her pussy, the tip curling expertly to scoop out any residual secretions.

The pretty mistress patted the slave's head proprietarily as she attended to her pussy. She almost felt bad for the girl. Now that she was trained so thoroughly, Daphne was starting to lose interest. It happened every time.

In fact, Daphne had already talked to another mistress about selling her. The potential buyer was a portly fifty-five year old leather dyke named Sylvia who lived in a trailer park on the edge of town. Daphne had sold her over a dozen slaves over the years. Sylvia pimped them out to lonely housewives during the day. Some of the girls stayed in school after they were sold, but most didn't.

Daphne looked down at her slave and wondered if she would enjoy her new life as a lesbian prostitute, then realized she didn't really care. Money was money.

The asking price was $500. Pin money, really. Daphne would buy a new handbag.

Daphne wondered briefly if her current slave would go willingly to her new home or if she would need convincing. Most of her girls, having been properly broken in by Daphne, went eagerly to their new owners. For the others, a veiled threat to post the images she had carefully compiled and catalogued on her cell phone during their training usually sufficed. Daphne loved to watch the rebellious slaves cry when the finality of their predicament descended upon them.

Daphne picked up her phone from the nightstand and opened the camera. She focused on her slave's face as she continued to lave her pussy.

"Smile, cunt," chirped Daphne.

The slave looked up at the camera and smiled, then extended her tongue lewdly, flicking Daphne's clitoris several times before going back to her cleaning.

Daphne snapped a few pictures.

Daphne felt a brief stab of remorse. It was just too easy. She had performed the same dance with dozens of pretty girls over the years. Maybe she should just let this one go. After all, she had been a good slave. For a moment, Daphne wavered. Maybe she was getting soft in her old age.

Fuck that.

Why start caring now? She wanted a new handbag. A small, familiar nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her for the thousandth time that she was quite likely insane. Daphne didn't mind. She was having fun.

Daphne closed the camera and opened up the phone keypad. She had a call to make.

'That's enough, cunt. You have five minutes," said Daphne curtly.

The slave immediately rose up on her haunches and twirled around on the bed. She got up on her knees, then squatted over Daphne's right foot, facing her mistress. As usual, there was a brief tickling sensation as the cool steel of the labial rings made contact with Daphnes's warm flesh. The slave carefully aligned her vulva against the dorsal aspect of Daphne's foot, then paused and looked expectantly over at her mistress.

Daphne snapped her fingers.

The slave immediately began to hump her mistress' foot for all she was worth. Her labial rings jumped and danced, jingling merrily as she rocked. Daphne smiled benignly at her effort, then dialed a familiar number on her phone.

If she couldn't go to the party, she knew someone who would certainly be there. If all went well, Daphne would know the identity of Ballard's young mistress before the clock struck midnight tonight.

Then she would pounce.