Longhand

"Is that as wide as your legs can go?" he asked.

I spread myself further for him. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Would you like a drink, slut?"

A drink was the furthest thing from my mind, but I knew he wanted me to take it, so I said, "yes, please." And the professor stretched his arm out, he held a tumbler with a straw in it. I moved my arms to grab it, but he admonished, "no, slut, your arms stay where they are." So I leaned into the straw and took a sip of something strong. Whiskey.

"Good girl." He set my drink down and grabbed his own, clinking ice in the glass. "Tell me how you feel now."

I gulped. Somehow it was easier for me to act than to talk. "I feel excited and nervous, Sir."

"Okay, that's a given. Elaborate."

I gulped. "I am...I'm insanely excited, Sir. I love being naked for you, open for you."

He nodded. "Would you like to sit for me all night?"

"No, Sir," I said, a little to quickly and strongly. He chuckled. "I want to touch you. I want you to touch me."

"I want that, too, slut. I want that very much. But, where do you want me to touch you?"

"Everywhere, Sir." I lifted my eyes to him. He was bemused, but a glance at his trousers told me he was clearly aroused.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked.

I gulped. Was kissing part of this kind of play? Well, in my fantasies, it was. "Yes, Sir."

"Do you want me to touch your nipples?"

"Yes, Sir, I would like that a lot."

"How about your cunt, slut?"

A zing shot from exposed, wet slit. "I want you to touch my cunt, Sir. I want you to touch it and suck it and slap it and fuck it." I didn't mean to rhyme.

"You have a very pretty cunt, slut. I can see how juicy it is right now. You're clit is engorged, it's just waiting for the lightest of touch, isn't it?"

"Very much, Sir."

He leaned in to give me another sip of my whiskey, then sat back again.

"Slip one finger inside your cunt, deep inside. Then present it to me."

I chose my middle finger because it was longest. I was so slick that I was buried to the knuckle before I started. I wiggled around inside myself, looking for a release, but Shale must have known what I was doing and said, "Enough," with enough bass in his voice for me to almost jump.

I pulled my finger out. It was coated. Then I realized that I was awkwardly giving him the finger. He tsked me, "slut, do you mean to insult me?"

"No, Sir. I just...I just wanted my longest finger inside me."

"I was going to taste you, slut, but I think it would be better if you tasted yourself. Suck your finger dry."

My cheeks burned as I lifted my own finger, coated with my own arousal, to my mouth. It was more humiliating than anything I'd done, yet. I sat before him, stripped bare, spread open wide, swallowing my own juices as if to say I was a nasty, filthy hungry slut.

I was all of those things. I sucked on my finger slowly, from base to tip, as if it were his cock.

"Turn away from me, on all fours, knees apart, drop down on your elbows," Shale said.

Was this it? Was he going to fuck me? I thought with relish as I got into the position he asked, but quickly deflated when I realized he enjoying toying with me too much.

"This is position two," I heard him stand and draw nearer. My ass and pussy on display, I shivered.
I heard a zipper being opened, but I could not see behind me. Then he was near, and he was pushing a heavy, tapered object into my cunt. I moaned involuntarily.

"You have enough lubrication to go around, don't you, slut?" he said and withdrew the object as quickly as he'd inserted it. Then it was placed at my puckered hole. He pushed it, more slowly, until it popped into place. My ass felt heavy and full and fucking fantastic.

"Mmm, that looks good on you. How do you feel?"

"Really fucking horny, Sir."

"I know, my sweet. It's a beautiful thing to watch." Then I heard him sit back down.

"Now I want to see you clench that ass. Move the plug up and down," he said, and again I flushed with embarrassment. But again I did as I was told, pushing my muscles and letting them contract for his viewing pleasure.

The movement of the thick, dense plug inside of me was just stirring me up more, but it wasn't scratching the itch. It occurred to me that this dance, this exposure, this humiliation was my way of giving myself to him. Of letting him know that I was his. I gasped in pleasure at the thought and worked my ass more vigorously. In that moment, I knew I would do anything, anything at all, if he asked me to.

"Keep it moving," he instructed and got up again. As I worked my ass for him, Shale walked around me, fitting thick leather cuffs around my ankles and then my wrists. Still standing in front of me, he unzips and drops his trousers.

His cock stood up straight, thick and swollen. He guided his member to my lips and I did not need to be told what to do. I opened my mouth and greedily take in the head of his cock. I closed my lips around it, ran my tongue around the smooth ridge. Shale let out a hiss and I swallowed all of him in one gulp, and work my mouth up and down, slowly at first, until he rocked his hips back and forth. I pick up the pace, I feel him in my mouth, as hard as stone, and I swallowed him deeply again, then sucked down his shaft. I could hardly wait for this cock to be buried inside of me, and as I worked him I wished for three of him, three beautiful penises, filling all of me at once. As I sucked him in I clenched my pussy, my asshole, while I worked my tongue and lips around him and with a near silent growl, he spasmed into my mouth, over and again. I swallowed all of him and licked my lips. He pulled up his trousers and watched me.

"Position one, now." His voice was husky and low.

I knelt back on my heals with my legs spread wide. He went to the little black case again. Then his hand was at the top of my slit, pinching and pulling out the hood of my swollen clit. I gasp at the sudden pang of pleasure pain, and before I can recover, he is fastened a little clamp there. If my cunt was throbbing before, it was pulsating like an out of control heartbeat now. There was a chain on the clamp, leading to a central point, with two more chains and clamps on those ends. This was no novelty jewelry, either. The clamps are steel and adjust, and the chains are wide and heavy.

He pinched and pulled on my nipple and slipped a clip over it. I know that, with a single, well aimed touch, I am moments away from coming. I breathed hard as he tightened it down and felt the sweet zings of his touch. I thrust my chest for him when he started on my other breast, and he chuckled at my eagerness. The clamp came down and I feel myself dripping down my thigh.

"My sweet, dirty slut loves this, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does," I said, easily slipping into third person.

"Okay, slut. We're going to my favorite room in the house, now. The basement. Follow me. On your hands and knees."

I was so beyond questioning, I climbed down the ottoman and onto the soft carpet. I realized quickly that each motion I made sent a jolt through all of my pleasure cores. The plug stretched and jostled my ass as my clit and my nipples feel the tug of the chain, swaying back and forth. I crawled behind the professor with as much pride as I can muster. Pride in my choice of him. Pride in my courage to follow my desires. Pride in my unfiltered lust, in my own aching dirtiness.

The door to the basement opens, and I could only wonder what was in store for me down there.

* * * * * * * *

On my hands and knees, I faced the stairs that led down into darkness. The professor stood beside me, waiting for me to descend. I was so shaky and disjointed I did not trust myself to crawl down. For the first time that night, I felt a real chill of fear. After a pregnant pause, I turned around so I could crawl backwards.

I took each step slowly. The chains dipped low enough to sway into each step, causing me a jolt to all my most sensitive spots. The plug in my ass made itself known, too, each time I carefully lowered a knee it bobbled in me. The stairs seemed to go on forever. I was breathing hard.

When I reached the landing, the professor flipped on a light and my throat caught. This was no TV den. At a quick glance I saw tables, benches, a saw horse. There was more, but I couldn't look long. The professor was in front of me, demanding my eyes stay on him.

"Yes, Sir," I said, my heart beating rapidly. It took all of my willpower to force my gaze up to his standing figure. He was the very picture of authoritative calm. This both comforted me, and turned me on.

"You are doing very well, my sweet little slut. You may stand, but stand straight and don't squirm."

My heart swelled at his words, his approval. As much as I wanted to be fucked silly, I wanted to hear his praise. I stood slowly, with as much grace as I could.

"Tell me, are your nipples sore?"

Blushing, I said, "yes, Sir, but in a good way."

He seemed pleased with my answer. He took a step closer and removed the clamp that pinched the hood of my clit. His fingers so near, and the blood rushing back to that nerve center made such a sweet ache I tried to chase it through my body, to hold on to it. Then he slowly loosened the clamps on my nipples and one sweet ache was replaced by another.

Tossing the chain aside, he reached up and stroked my swollen, sore nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Waves of intense pleasure rolled through me as he toyed with my nipples, even his gentle touches had weight, were electric. Not of my own will, I moaned softly.

At the sound of my cry he began pinching me harder, both nipples. It hurt but not unbearably, and I was surprised to find myself even more excited by it. I wanted him to use me, terribly. My empty, hungry cunt was dripping. I thrust my chest out, giving myself to his torture.

"You like this, don't you, slut?"

He was pinching something fierce, now. I want panting, but I managed to choke out the words, "Yes, Sir." He dipped his head down and sucked in one nipple while still pinching and twisting the other. "Oh, god, yes, Sir," my voice reached a higher pitch. His tongue toyed with my bud and I felt certain that if kept it up I would cum.

He stepped away abruptly. "We can't get carried away just yet, now can we?"

I gulped. "I wouldn't mind...getting carried away. Sir."

He just chuckled at that. "I know you wouldn't, my little slut. That is why you belong here. That is also why I'm calling the shots."

"But, Sir, I --" I began to try an make my case, and was interrupted with a sudden, sharp slap on the tit. The force caused my breast to swing heavily. It stung, but made me even wetter. What was happening to me?

"No 'buts'. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I said. Color had crept up my face, I couldn't meet his eyes.

With a tip of his head, he lead me further into the room. He instructed me to stand against a wall that was dotted with bolts and rings. His hands on my shoulders, he guided me into the exact spot he wanted me.

My eyes darted behind him to take in the rest of the room. There was a lack of color to the room, adding to the severeness of steel, leather, hard wood. He noticed and scolded me. "Eyes on me, slut. Haven't I already asked that of you?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

He said nothing; instead, he raised my right arm above my head and angled it away from my body. He used the ring on the leather cuff to clip my arm to the wall, and did the same with my other arm. My heart started its rapid beat once again. To act helpless was one thing, to lose the freedom of movement entirely another.

"Legs apart," he said.

I did as instructed, and he clipped my ankles to the wall as he had my arms. There was very little give in the restraint, I could not move. He stood back, taking in the sight of me; I focused on keeping eye contact, which was difficult. His eyes were dark, smoldering. This was exactly what I wanted, yet I was terrified of what would happen next.

He turned away to fish some items out of a drawer. He approached me and fastened a piece of heavy black cloth to cover my eyes. Plunged into darkness I felt even more helpless. "This should help with your wandering eye problem," he growled, his face still close to mine. He dropped his voice to a near whisper, "your word is Philadelphia. Do not use it lightly. Do you understand?"

"I do, Sir." My voice was shaky.

"Good." He grabbed my left breast in his hand and gave it a mean twist. Then, the heat and nearness of his body were gone.

"Do you know what lessons you are bound to learn right now, slut?"

My mind went as blank as my eyesight. All I could think of was my naked, exposed body and what he was going to do with it. What I wanted him to do with it. "No, Sir," I said at last.

There was a quick, sharp thwack on my upper thigh. A smallish, thick piece of stiff leather. I guessed a riding crop. "Think, slut. What have you done that needs correcting?"

I must have hesitated too long because there was another strike, this time to my other thigh. It smarted, but I was certain he wasn't using near his full force. "I -- I talked back to you, Sir." Quickly I added, "I shouldn't have done that."

He used the crop to lightly trace a line across the top of my breasts. "Good. What else?"

He was drawing the crop from the inside of my ankle, up. Slowly. It made it hard to concentrate on anything but the sensation, traveling towards my moist heat, my wet cunt that was craving something. Anything. Just as he reached my inner thighs, he stopped the upward motion and smacked the crop against the spot where it had left off. I had taken too long to answer, I knew.

"I..I lost eye contact, with you, Sir. I looked where I shouldn't have," I sputtered.

He tapped the top of my mound with his instrument. Once, twice, little electric zings through my body. "Yes, you did. How much punishment do you think you deserve?"

"None, Sir?" I asked hopefully. I was trying to be cute.

THWACK! went the crop brutally against the side of my breast. My body tried to jump from the force but was unsuccessful. "I gave you a choice but now that choice is gone, slut."

He traced the flat end of the crop across my nipples and my breath hitched. Then the crop came down, swatting the tender, tortured bud. I gasped but stayed silent, and he repeated the action, just hard enough to cause me a jolt. He hit my other nipple next, with a little more force. The snaps of pain gave way to waves of pleasure as he alternated smacking my stiff, swollen nipples, harder, just a little harder each time.

The next hit he aimed right on my open pussy; I made an involuntary cry, out loud. He returned to my tits, my poor, tortured nipples, and every third or forth blow he aimed at my cunt. I felt every bit of it, yet I knew the blows were carefully measured. I knew this and felt protected by his tenderness, even as he smacked my most sensitive areas. He kept me there, on the edge of pleasure and pain, waiting for each blow, wanting his flesh in place of leather, loving it and hating it more as he hit me harder, until I cried out something loud and indistinguishable.

"Have you had enough, slut? Have you learned the consequences of your actions?"

I had to gasp for air before I could speak. "Yes, Sir," I croaked out at last.

I had not heard his footfalls, but suddenly the warmth of his body was near mine. And then his fingers were spearing my cunt, and his mouth was on mine and every nerve in my body sang as he attacked me with his lips and his hand.

"You did very well, my sweet slut," he said, pulling away too quickly. "You are so hot for me, aren't you, little one?"

"God, yes Sir. I can hardly stand it."

"Tell me what you want me to do, now?"

I knew what I wanted but was afraid to say it. Remembering what had happened when I hesitated earlier, I blurted out, "I want your cock, and your hands, and your mouth all over me. I want your cock inside of me, Sir."

"Patience, my slut." He drew his finger through the folds of my pussy, upwards, stopping just shy of my clit, and I whimpered.

"I love how wet you are for me," he said and begun to unfasten the me from the wall. He was removing the leather cuffs, as well. "You want to cum very badly, don't you?"

"I do, Sir. I really, really do."

He chuckled -- a sound something between wicked and amused -- and undid the last of the bindings. He guided me away from the wall to another spot in the room. He positioned my legs, spread wider than before, and guided me to fold down over a narrow pad, until I bent over at the waist low enough to touch the floor. He guided my hands to two steel bars and told me to hold them. Then he tied my hands to the bars with a soft rope. He tied my ankles down as well. I was helpless again, this time with my cunt and ass vulgarly exposed, open.

"I'll ask you again: what sort of punishment do you deserve?"

I wanted to scream. I'd been nearly perfect for him, or at least I was trying to. As it was there was still a part of me in disbelief over what I was doing. What I allowed him to do. I answered him honestly. "Sir, I am not certain that I've done anything else wrong. But if you feel I deserve more punishment I will accept that."

The flat of his hand came down on my ass, and I yelped. "I stopped earlier because of your scream. Not because we were done," he said and smacked me again on the same spot. His other hand came between my legs, toying between my open folds. I groaned, and he spanked me again.

He slipped two fingers inside of me, curling up. "Besides, I think you like it." His hand came down on my ass again and my cunt clenched his fingers. "You do like it, don't you?" He began to move his fingers slowly out, then thrust them back inside me.

"I...I don't know, Sir." He spanked me again, his fingers still toying with me. "I like being here with you." His slick fingers withdrew and rubbed my clit, at the same time he caressed the most certainly red spot on my ass. I thought I was going to lose it then and there, but his fingers were removed far too soon.

"You like all of it?"

"I do, Sir."

I felt him playing with the plug that was still in my ass. "Do you like wearing this, slut?"

"Yes, Sir," I did not hesitate.

"You like having things shoved into your ass, my dirty slut?"

"I do, Sir." His fingers returned to my clit, tapping it slowly, maddeningly.

"Have you ever had a cock in your ass?"

"No, Sir."

"Are you ready for mine?"

"Yes, Sir," I panted. He was working the plug slowly out of my ass. When it popped out, I felt empty, and missed the weight of it. I didn't have to wait long before his hand returned, this time to my cunt. He rubbed his fingers through my pussy lips, back and forth, with quick little passes over my clit. My world was dark yet it was full of color, different shades and tones of each sensation passed through me and I could almost see it. Maybe he was a drug and I was hallucinating. I couldn't focus on the thought long, as pleasure coursed through me it overrode any sort of clear thinking I might once have had.

He swatted my bottom almost gently a few more times as his fingers soaked up my wetness. Each sting coincided with a little pinch of my clit, bringing sharp bright blooms of heat to my already overexcited body. Two fingers plunged deeply into my cunt and I groaned.

The next moment, those very same fingers were poised at my other hole, teasing my ass. Gently, he dipped his finger in, coaxing it open. Sliding in, slowly, further, deeper, until the could go no further. The warm moving flesh was much better than the plug, it felt naughty and delicious and I loved it.