Deconstructing the Professor

"Madison?" I asked, wanting official confirmation.

She avoided answering the question directly, although her facial expression answered it for me, "Mistress disciplined me in her attempt to add you to her harem of subs."

"Harem of subs?" I repeated.

"Yes, I am sorry Professor Jefferson, but she is determined to add you," she informed me.

"How many of them are there?" I asked, trying to get the full scope of Madison's web of debauchery.

"I don't know, at least a dozen."

"A dozen," I gasped.

"Probably more," she added.

"What can I do to help you?" I asked.

Madison's voice interrupted our conversation, "Slut, get over here now."

Eleanor blushed and immediately rushed over to Madison. Madison winked at me and said, ignoring the obvious tension, "See you in class tomorrow, Professor Jefferson." She grabbed Eleanor's hand and led her out. I was left speechless. I also felt a damp spot in my underwear. I couldn't remotely understand what was getting me horny, but the slow burn was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Just as I was getting ready to leave, Madison returned, startling me again. She tossed me a pair of pink panties that landed on the table in front of me. "I think you'll like Eleanor's soaked panties. Be a good girl and maybe you'll get mine."

"Madison, stop," I ordered, my voice sounding strong and determined.

She glared at me.

Realizing I had called her by her first name, and that I had already lost a bit of my power, "Sorry, Ms. Adams, this has got to stop."

Her cold glare faded and a devious smile replaced it. "Oh, Ms, Jefferson, we are just beginning."

Before I could respond, she was gone again and I was even more rattled. Not wanting soiled panties sitting on the table of a class I just taught, I grabbed them and was surprised at how wet they were.

Madison peeked her head in the door yet again, a smile on her face as she saw the panties in my hand, which I quickly dropped, and ordered, "And I fucking expect you in white stockings tomorrow, Professor Jefferson."

Just as quickly she was gone and I shoved the wet panties n my pocket. Conversely, I felt my own panties getting wetter against my will.

I returned to my office and pulled the panties out of my pocket. I couldn't resist, no matter how much I knew it was nasty and wrong, and pulled the wet panties to my nose and took a big sniff. The scent was not as pleasant as either Miko or Emily's, but it wasn't bad either. I sat back in my chair, pulled down my pants and began rubbing my burning pussy. I let out a louder than expected moan the second I touched my usually ignored pleasure zone. I found the wettest part of Eleanor's cum-filled undies and put them in my mouth. Wanting more, I reached into my drawer and pulled out the other two co-ed's used panties. My fingers never leaving my pussy, I took Emily's panties and took in her delicious nectar. I rubbed myself furiously, my head a cloud of forbidden sin. My senses were a tingle as I tasted Eleanor's sweet cum, I smelt Emily's seductive aroma and I gave myself pleasure I usually refrained from. It took only a couple of minutes for me to feel the crescendo of pleasure pulse through my entire body. Unlike what I usually did the rare times I masturbated, this time I kept rubbing my pussy through my entire orgasm. The sensations continued pulsing through me like an electric current of joy. When the last remnants of the orgasm dissipated, I tossed both soiled co-ed's panties on my desk and felt the sudden burn of shame. I was mortified at what I had just done. I quickly pulled up my pants and, desperate to get out of my office which had a lingering scent of my sinful deed, I grabbed the three pairs of evidence and tossed them into my bag.

All the way home, the guilt of what I done filled me with a shame I hadn't felt since I was married. When my first husband made me swallow his cum or fucked me in my ass, I obeyed because it gave him pleasure and thus gave me pleasure too. But as soon as the sinful slutty act was done, I felt an overwhelming shame. I was a dirty whore like so many others and I had to resist such temptations, no matter how good they made my body feel....

7. GOOD VIBRATIONS...a foreshadowing

I got home and put the three pairs of soiled underwear each in their own sealed bag and hid them under my bed. Home early, I decided to have a long shower, so I changed out of my soiled undies and after a lengthy cleansing I put on a clean pair. Thursday is my laundry day, so I went into my children's room and grabbed their laundry, like I always did. The first load was my nasty undies and the rest of my clothing from the week. I went upstairs, started supper, and dusting the house. Oddly, I have always loved cleaning. It is such a relaxing change of pace compared to my workday. I turn on some music and just clean.

When the first load of laundry was done, I went downstairs and put the wet load in the dryer, happy the incriminating evidence of my brief lack of control was now washed away. As I dumped the second load in, my daughter Nicole's, I felt my hand working on its own, pulling out my daughter's worn underwear. I had touched and washed her undergarments for eighteen years, but suddenly they were enticing, intriguing and intoxicating. I impulsively sniffed all five pairs of her dirty panties. The scent was similar in each pair, although one pair had a different scent that had my fresh panties getting wet. I kept the unique smelling white undies and tossed the rest into the machine. Once I had started the machine, I leaned back against it and lingered smelling my daughter's unique aroma. I realized the bouquet was a mixture of her juices and sweat, probably from working out. These were clearly her gym undies. As my pussy involuntarily rekindled the fire down below, I looked at the old drying machine, vibrating and humming like it always did, and felt my legs lead me over to it. Positioning myself so my vagina was making contact with the shaking machine, I leaned forward, closed my eyes and let the vibrating sensations pleasure my body while my daughter's sweaty undies were in my mouth and pressed against my nose.

As soon as my eyes were closed, visions of Madison popped up, her legs open in class, her finger beckoning me forward, her smile so sweet, her open legs so inviting. I saw myself walking over to her, falling to my knees. She opened her legs wider, allowing me clear visual access to her panty covered vagina. Desperate to smell her pussy, to taste her juices in her thin cotton fabric, I lean forward, but am stopped by her hand.

I hear her voice, powerful and unwavering, "Beg, Nigger."

The harsh word feels like a thousand daggers stabbing my body, yet the humiliation only seems to make my pussy wetter and my desire to smell and taste her stronger. I look up into her hypnotic eyes and ask, weakly, "Please."

She closes her legs completely and the treasure I was craving is no longer in view. "That is terrible. When your older daughter LaKiesha submitted to me, she begged like a good Nigger should. She panted like a dirty fat black whore. Like the Nigger slave she wanted to desperately be."

Hearing her talk about my eldest child in such a degrading way reinserted the daggers, and yet, most disturbing and disgusting, got my juices gushing all the more. I stammered, "M-m-my daughter?"

"Yes slut, your daughter is a good Nigger slave. She is a very obedient girl," Madison purred. Her eyes bore into mine until I look away out of utter humiliation. "Is your cunt wet, Nigger?"

I should have been furious at being called a Nigger, but instead my vagina got wetter. Ashamed to admit the truth, I remain silent.

Madison called, her tone condescending and arrogant, "LaKeisha, get your coon ass out here."

In seconds, my daughter, my 25-year-old lawyer, crawled out, completely naked, except for white stockings. Once she was beside me, not making eye contact with me, Madison ordered, "Slut, check to see if your Mammy's panties are wet."

"Yes, Mistress Madison," my stubborn daughter replied and moving behind me, roughly put her hands directly on my juice-filled panties. Her touch was so rough that some of my juices leaked down my leg. "She is fucking drenched, Mistress Madison."

"Of course she is, she is a Nigger slut just like you," Madison announced with confidence. I winced at being called a Nigger again, but my vagina continued to feel tingles of pleasure.

"Yes, Mistress," my daughter agreed.

"Now come and show your still-in-denial Mother what a good slave does." Madison opened her legs and I watched transfixed as my daughter crawled between the co-ed's legs and buried her face into Madison's panty-covered vagina.

Watching my daughter submit completely had my vagina bubbling to the brim and jealous that she was allowed the privilege of white pussy.

Madison looked directly into my eyes and explained, while giving soft moans, "All you have to do to come, Nigger, is admit you are mine."

The last Nigger shot was the final straw. My hot vagina, my wet pussy, my burning cunt, spoke for me as my orgasm burst, "Madison, I am yours, use me as your Nigger slave. Own me. Own Me. Own me. Own me."

My dream orgasm flooded into reality as I came hard all over my washing machine, my scream shaking the walls. I humped and ground as best I could on the machine, not wanting the intense orgasm to ever subside. The orgasm spread through every one of my pores and lingered for a few minutes. Once it subsided, I came to my senses and quickly stood up, my youngest daughter's dirty panties falling from my mouth. I opened my eyes and looked around, mortified at what I had just done, what I had just fantasized. I had just had the most amazing orgasm of my life humping my dryer while thinking of my eldest daughter and me becoming sex slaves to Madison. I got myself together, took off my second pair of soaked panties today and, realizing I had not started the second load of laundry yet, tossed my symbol of sin and my daughter's last pair into the machine and started the machine.

I had just recovered my breath completely when I heard the door open. I also realized my water for spaghetti was probably boiling over by now and rushed upstairs. Although neither my son or daughter noticed anything different about me, I felt like my sin was on full display, that they knew I had sinned in such a nasty way. It was an illogical thought, but it was the one that stayed in my head all evening and helped make sure I didn't return to the temptation again that night.

8. FUCKED UP FRIDAY

I woke up fresh and determined not to allow my weakness to overcome me again. I wore a black skirt and a blue blouse and, like every Friday, went bare legged (it was my version of casual Friday). I purposely did not wear the white stockings, determined now more than ever not to submit to anything the bitch might attempt to get me to do.

Friday's classes are always current event pieces and how they relate to the course. Students come to class with newspaper articles, internet postings, even tweets and we discuss their significance. Not wanting to have to deal with Madison by accident, I was late again by a couple of minutes. When I looked up, I saw that Madison was in her usual spot, dressed in a flowery summer dress and beige pantyhose, much more conservative than the past month. Miko, on the other hand, was again in white stockings and 4-inch heels, but wearing a leather black skirt, white almost see-through blouse, and a black choker. It was easily the most shocking thing someone like Miko could wear. Both Emily and Ashley, Madison's best friend, were not in class, which was odd.

Twenty minutes into class, Ashley arrived in jean shorts and a t-shirt and apologized for being late before she sat down. The class was uneventful; even Madison was not stirring the pot like she usually does, and I began to think maybe I had made my statement. The class ended, and everyone dispersed as they usually do on a Friday, lightning quick.

Finally relaxing after being tense all morning, I returned to my office and saw a line of three boys I didn't recognize waiting at my door. As soon as they saw me they scattered as if they had been caught red-handed, which I thought very odd. I opened my door to my office, which was unlocked which was also strange and was greeted with the most shocking thing yet. Emily was naked, except white stockings, tied to my chair and was sucking the cock of some really overweight student.

I said, "Excuse me, what the Hell is going on here?"

The chubby boy, jumped, pulled up his pants and stammered, "I-I-I'm sorry," and rushed out.

I closed my door and looked at poor Emily. Her face and chest was coated with cum and tears streamed down her face. I untied her and pulled her in for a motherly hug, not thinking about the cum that would transfer to my clothing. I let her cry and just be held before I finally said, "Emily, this has officially gone way too far."

Through sobs Emily blabbered, "I-I-I know, Professor Jefferson. But, but, there is nothing I can do."

"We can call the cops," I suggested.

"On my own sister?" she questioned.

"Well what kind of sister does this?" I countered.

"It was my fault," she defended Madison, like a typical abuse case.

"No, my dear, it isn't," I comforted. "You are a victim."

"But I, I, I like it," she stammered, tears rolling down her face again.

"You do?" I questioned. "What do you like?"

"I am submissive. Which means even though my mind hates me and throws society's morals at me, my body weakens and gives in to powerful people. Being told what to do sexually, being tied up and being pushed to do what I shouldn't or normally wouldn't do, is the only way I get...." she explained and quit in mid sentence.

"Get what?" I asked, oblivious of her meaning, though it should have been obvious.

"Get off. It's the only way I get off," she admitted, frustrated and embarrassed by her revealing the truth.

Having got off on such submissive, masochistic humiliation in my head yesterday, I understood her in a way I wouldn't have a day earlier. I continued to try and comfort her, "Emily, it is ok; I can help you get through this."

"Ma'am, it is too late for me. My relationship with my sister, my Mistress, is a love/hate one. I hate my sister with every fibre of my being. She is a selfish bitch; a sadistic diva; a ruthless Mistress. But, underneath all that, she knows exactly what I need. It is so frustrating that I need her, but I do."

She stood up and began to get dressed. She explained, "But you are different than me. You are a professor. You are self-assured. You are proud. And you're a good person with strong morals. I just was trying to protect you. Once you succumb there is no going back."

The compliments flattered and shamed me. If she only knew the dreams I had been having, or that I had got off smelling her stained panties, or that I had the greatest orgasm ever just yesterday while fantasizing of becoming her sister's slave. Just the thought of yesterday had my vagina tingling again. I tried to ignore the temptation to touch myself, to stay focused on our conversation. "Thank you, Emily. I always thought you too were a strong personality."

Emily smiled for the first time. "I used to be."

"What changed?" I asked.

"Madison's punishments can be pretty extreme," Emily admitted, now fully dressed. She added, "Like for example sucking cock after cock in my favourite professor's office."

"I am so sorry, Emily. There must be something I can do for you."

"There is."

"What can I do for you, Emily?"

"Don't submit. Be strong. If you can resist her, maybe one day I can too," she said, with a sigh so heavy that she had already accepted her fate was sealed.

"I won't submit," I confidently promised.

Emily's smile returned slightly. "I got to go. Madison will want full details of our conversation."

"What will you say?" I asked.

"I'll lie and tell her that I offered myself to you like she requested. That you threatened to expel me if I didn't leave immediately."

"You think that will work?" I asked, my undies getting damp at the thought of the very cute Emily pleasing me. I tried to push away the thought of her beautiful pale face buried between my dark legs.

"I doubt it, but it is worth a try," she shrugged. She took my hands in hers, looked into my eyes and said, "Good luck, Professor Jefferson. Be strong." She squeezed my hands and left me alone.

Rattled and undeniably horny, I decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air would calm me down. Replaying the week, I realized Emily was right. I was strong. Yes, I did succumb to my lusty hidden desires on a couple of occasions, but always in the privacy of my office or home. I had resisted the orders of a clearly powerful girl, who usually gets what she wants. Feeling precariously victorious and proud, I returned to my office, planning to finish assessing my final couple of essays.

When I returned though, all my pride vanished. On my desk, was another pair of panties and an envelope. I quickly closed my door, which had been locked, and collapsed into my chair. The new panties were also white, but had a red bow on the front distinguishing them as different from the other three I already had. I avoided touching the new pair of underwear while I picked up the envelope and noticed it was addressed to Professor Jefferson. I tentatively opened the envelope. Like the last one it was typed, although this time the tone was much different.

Professor Slut,

I thought it was made clear to you what was expected from you. You have disappointed your future Mistress and have already had not one, not two, but three punishments scheduled for you once you submit to me as my slave. If you don't want that number added to you will follow the instructions like a good little pet.

1. You will come to school on Monday dressed entirely in white, the color that you wish you were born and the color you have attempted to emulate your entire pathetic life. If you have to go shopping then do so. I expect white bra for those cow tits you have, I expect white panties to cover that fat black butt ass and coochie cunt of yours, I expect white stockings to hide as best you can those dark legs of yours and I expect a white skirt and blouse or a white dress to finish your race makeover. Any deviations from these instructions will add to your punishment when you succumb to me as your supreme White Mistress.

2. You will masturbate right now while sniffing your future Mistress's dirty panties. I came in them twice already today. You will soon be sniffing the scent directly from the source. Once you have come like the nasty whore you are, you will leave your cum-filled panties in your desk, where one of my other slaves can find them. If this task is not completed to my satisfaction, yet another punishment will be added to you when you eventually submit to me wholly as my personal black play thing.

3. Tonight and twice tomorrow, you will masturbate yourself to an orgasm without using your fingers or toys. I expect a detailed written summary of how you accomplished this task ready by Sunday at lunch. If this order is not fulfilled your White Goddess will add another punishment when you bow at my feet like a good slave.

4. You will go to church on Sunday without wearing any underwear. If you disobey this simple expectation another punishment will be added to you once you are on your black knees begging to smell my sweet white pussy.

5. Lastly, you will go to Mac's Diner after church and find as secluded a booth as you can. A slave of mine will meet you there to check your cunt and make sure you obeyed my command. She will also explain to your stubborn dumbass nutshell of a brain the consequences of disobedience to your White Mistress.