Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 09

(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)

Chapter 9

You want to learn

Before you even have a chance to think, the words come out on their own.

"Yes, Mr. Peterson."

Your voice trembles, betraying your inner conflict. Those three words come so naturally to you now, almost like a reflex. You are ready to receive his instruction. You need to understand what's going on with your body, and you feel that Mr. Peterson holds the key. His words, his lessons, his punishments, they've shown you things about yourself you'd never realized. And yet, you feel like you've only scratched the surface. What else will you discover about yourself if you allow him to go deeper? Are you really ready to go there?

Why did it have to be him?

Mr. Peterson nods to acknowledge your words, but his eyes continue to bore into you. Like he can see the turmoil inside. Like he knows that all you need is a little push. "Very good, Miss Murray. I'm glad to see you take this step. Now, seat yourself on the sofa."

Somehow, you're able to tear yourself away from his gaze. You walk on unsteady legs across the room and sit down in the middle of the sofa. Legs pressed together, hands clasped tightly in your lap, you try to catch your breath. You want to look down, but you're too ashamed of your stained stockings and glistening thighs. Instead, you're forced to look up, watching Mr. Peterson as he slowly crosses the room to stand directly in front of you.

"I must say, Miss Murray, I had my doubts this morning as to whether you were truly ready for this advanced tutoring. It is very encouraging to see this... improvement in your behavior. The punishment seems to have had the desired effect."

You feel a flare in your chest. The idea that you wouldn't be able to handle this, that you needed this asshole to... to punish you... makes you grit your teeth. He's right, though. His... his punishment has affected me. Your breathing gets heavy as you realize just how much Mr. Peterson's tutoring has already shaped your thoughts, your choices. Before yesterday, could you have even imagined you'd be sitting here on his couch, trembling...

...not wearing any panties?

"Open your legs, Miss Murray." The sheer authority of his voice stops your breath in your throat.

Not thinking, barely understanding, you place one hand on each knee and spread them apart. Your heart hammers in your chest. How? How is he doing this? You stubbornly resent him even as a part of you understands why you need - why you want - to obey him.

Mr. Peterson gives you a small smile. Even though it doesn't touch his eyes, you feel a small thrill, and you hate yourself for it. Why? Why do I want... want to please him so much? I can't fucking stand this asshole! Your cheeks burn. His gaze holds steady on your face, but you are acutely aware of the fact that only a thin layer of fabric is preventing him from seeing your dripping pussy.

"Miss Murray, you admit that your sexual impulses are out of your control. Or, to put it another way, you do not choose to control them." His dark eyes fill your vision. "I can teach you, Miss Murray, if you choose to let me." He pauses for a heartbeat that stops your breath. "Will you choose to give me control, Miss Murray?"

The question overwhelms you. There's only one thing you can say.

"Yes, Mr. Peterson."

That smile again. "Lift your skirt, Miss Murray."

Your face goes crimson and your pussy clenches. Before you can even think, your hands are moving. No... he'll see... I'm so fucking wet...

You grasp the hem of your skirt and pull up, exposing your glistening pussy to him. Even now, his eyes don't leave your face. You moan plaintively. What the fuck is happening to me?

"Very good, Miss Murray. You seem to understand the nature of my authority here." He steps forward, between your open legs. He's looking down at you, and you have to lean your head back to meet his eyes. "By opening yourself to me, you accept that it is not within your power to make these changes yourself. That you need to receive strong male guidance. Isn't that right, Miss Murray?"

Your mouth falls open. Sitting like this, on display, looking up at him, you feel a storm of confusion inside you. Everything he's saying goes against what you believe. About life, about the world, about yourself. And yet, your body won't stop responding to him. Won't stop obeying his commands. Won't stop trembling.

He crouches on one knee in front you, and his right hand reaches out to touch your throbbing pussy. You gasp and shudder, even that gentle contact sending a thrill through you. "Are you ready, Missy Murray? Are you ready for me to show you, teach you, that your desires can be controlled?" He starts to slowly rub his hand up and down, spreading your shining folds. "Are you ready to give yourself to my male authority?"

You somehow find the breath to whisper "...yes, Mr. Peterson." Your mind is still not understanding, but something deep inside has already given itself to him. Why? I... I don't...

"Lie back, Miss Murray, and keep your legs spread."

You do as you're told. The sofa is deep enough that you're nearly flat, your head propped up enough so you can watch as Mr. Peterson continues to gently touch you.

"Use your hands to pull your legs back towards you."

Your cheeks burn and you pull in a shuddering breath as you obey your teacher. You barely have time to register how humiliating it feels to be so exposed before he pushes two fingers inside you.

"Hnnnyah!" Your dripping passage squeezes around the invading digits. Clit buzzing and breaths heavy, you can't look away from his eyes. Oh god, oh fuck, he's taking me, I don't... I can't...

He begins to slowly pull his fingers out before pushing them back in again. You take deep, gasping breaths punctuated by small moans. Your mind is still unable to comprehend what is going on, how you're allowing him to do this to you, but your body has already surrendered. Your body just wants more.

"I can feel you, Miss Murray. I feel you giving yourself to me. Your face is conflicted, but your inner self understands." He intensifies his movements. "Let go, Miss Murray. Give up control. Let me help you."

Every breath is a moan of need. His fingers are doing incredible things inside you, touching all the right places, stretching you in all the right ways. You feel yourself opening to him, wanting his touch, but also... his control.

It's alright, RC. Stop fighting. Let him in.

What? Why?

Mr. Peterson brings his other hand up and brushes his thumb against your clit. It's the softest of touches, and yet your whole body convulses. "Hah! Hah! Mr... Mr. Peterson..."

His fingers gently circle your clit as he continues to pump into you. "You wish to climax, don't you, Miss Murray?"

Your pussy squeezes his fingers. "Ah! Yes, Mr. Peterson!"

He pushes all the way inside you and stops, his other hand still lightly playing with your clit. You vibrate on the edge, desperate for him to keep going. "Do you want to be the one who chooses when you climax, Miss Murray?" His eyes bore into you as he presses more firmly against your sensitive node. "Do you want to be at the mercy of your desires? Always bowing to the whims of this little nub?" He flicks his thumb against you.

The only sound you can make is a pleading moan. You shake your head. Please, please, Mr. Peterson, I can't...

"Do you want me to choose when you climax, Miss Murray?" He slowly starts to move inside you again. "Do you want me to be in control of your desires? Of your body? Of you?"

You feel your body relax. You let out a deep breath as your pussy gushes around his fingers. Wait! No! "Yes, Mr. Peterson."

Mr. Peterson smiles at you, and in spite of your inner cry of despair, you smile back at him. "Then come for me, Miss Murray."

His fingers inside you curl up to press against your sweet spot, and his thumb rubs firmly against your clit. The dual sensation, combined with the sweet release of giving yourself to Mr. Peterson, sends you soaring into the hot embrace of an orgasm. You sing out, your voice reaching peaks you didn't know you were capable of. Girlcum squirts out of you as your body convulses. Mr. Peterson's fingers are still making small movements against your most sensitive places, just enough to keep you at the height of your climax a moment longer.

He feels so good oh my God oh fuck I've never felt like this don't stop please.

When he finally stops and pulls away from your trembling pussy, you can barely think. You don't remember him telling you to release your legs and sit up, but he must have. Because that's what you did.

He's standing, holding his two fingers in front of your face. They're dripping with your cum, and part of you knows you should be embarrassed by that. Why am I not?

"Look at me, Miss Murray."

You look up, cheeks flushed. It feels so natural to be below him like this.

"I am very pleased with your decision, Miss Murray. Now, what do you say when you are given a reward by your teacher?"

There's no hesitation. "Thank you, Mr. Peterson." RC... what happened to you?

"You seem to have made a mess of my hand in the process of receiving your reward, Miss Murray. Clean it up."

Without looking away from his face, you lean forward to take his fingers in your mouth. You moan as you taste your juices on him. Still just doing this for the grade, RC?

As you suck your girlcum off his fingers, you realize you don't care about your history grade anymore. Not really.

But you still want to learn.

You still want him to teach you.

"You're doing very well, Miss Murray. We've finally made it through the first lesson. Now..." he pulls his fingers from your mouth. "You have another choice in front of you. Both your body and your mind require significant... instruction." You shudder. "Both will need to be addressed before this advanced tutoring is over. Which is first is up to you."

He steps aside, and across the room you see the entrance to the hallway on one side, and the staircase on the other.

"Down that hall, Miss Murray, I keep a collection of... tools. With them, and with your openness, I can teach your body to be... controllable."

Your heart is pounding in your chest.

"Or, we could go up the stairs to my bedroom, Miss Murray, where I can show you what it means to give yourself to authority."

You can't breathe. You look up at Mr. Peterson, needing an answer.

"The choice is yours, Miss Murray."