Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 15

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

Chapter 15

You're not done learning

You feel your body being drawn to Mr. Peterson. Resisting the urge to move closer, reach out to him, you instead open your mouth to speak. "I... I'd like another lesson, Mr. Peterson." Your mind is still trying to push back, afraid of how willingly you're going along with every step of this special tutoring, but your body grows warm with your submission. You feel your pussy tingle and your nipples harden as you await his response.

He gives you a small nod. "Your continued commitment to your own education is quite encouraging, Miss Murray. Now, follow me, and we shall see how much you've truly learned so far."

He leads you upstairs and allows you to freshen up in the bathroom. After you do your long-overdue business and wash up, you take a long look in the mirror. You barely recognize yourself. The outfit is one thing -- you could imagine dressing up like this for a particularly kinky partner someday -- but your face is somehow... different. You can still see your inner fire deep in your eyes, but the rest of your features are softer, more open, more pliable. A cold knot of fear forms in your stomach, but it's buried under layers of warmth as you remember how much delicious pain and dizzying pleasure Mr. Peterson has given you.

He did this to me. He taught my body how to behave, how to respond to his commands, his... desires.

And you let him, RC.

You wanted this.

Splashing water on your face, you escape your self-interrogation and make your way to Mr. Peterson's room. You hesitate just outside the door, briefly considering changing your mind. Before you can second-guess yourself, your hand comes up and softly knocks on the solid wood.

"Come in, Miss Murray."

Your whole body gets warm and you feel your pussy juice start to drip down your thighs as you open the door and step inside. The room is sparsely furnished, dominated by a large bed with a wardrobe and several bookshelves along the walls. A single lamp on a nightstand provides the only illumination, leaving most of the room in shadow.

Mr. Peterson stands by the bed, having changed into a robe of burgundy silk with dark grey trim. He waits until you fully enter the room and close the door behind you before speaking. "There is much you have learned since the beginning of this tutoring. Isn't there, Miss Murray?"

His question sends your mind back to the moment when you agreed to submit to his instruction. It seems so long ago, almost like a different life. Would you have still said yes, if you knew then what you know now? "Yes, Mr. Peterson."

He gives you a small smile, that slight curve of his mouth that has pulled your emotions in so many directions over the past day and a half. "Come closer, Miss Murray. Stand in the center of the room, and we shall have a... recital, of sorts."

You step towards him, your body obeying his commands before your mind can even fully process the thought.

"What was the first thing I taught you, Miss Murray?"

You think back, remembering the first time he punished you. Your forearms tingle where he had struck you, and you resist the urge to rub them with your hands. "You taught me... you taught me to speak to you with... respect, Mr. Peterson."

He nods. "Would you agree that this lesson has proven useful, Miss Murray? Has there been value in respecting my authority?"

Your body shudders as you imagine the alternative. Even your small outburst from this morning had resulted in the crushing psychological punishment of being made to stand in the corner, wet panties in your mouth. If I had been speaking my mind like I used to, if I'd let him know how I really felt... used to feel... "Y-yes, Mr. Peterson." Your voice is soft, and has a slight tremble to it.

"And what were the keys to this tutoring that I gave you, Miss Murray?"

The answer comes like a reflex. "Honesty and openness, Mr. Peterson." Your pussy is gushing now. As you think back on everything you've shared with him, all the secrets that the two of you have uncovered together, you know that he can see your thighs glistening in the golden lamplight. Once, that would have made you sick with shame. All you feel now is pride that your body is reacting so well to your teacher.

"What did we unlock with those keys, Miss Murray? What did you give me?"

You feel your asshole relax, allowing the last bit of his cum to leak out and join the stream of your own juices. "Haaanh... my body, Mr. Peterson."

"Show me what is mine, Miss Murray."

Breaths heavy, your arms reach up to unbutton the white uniform shirt, slowly revealing the bruises he gave to your breasts. After the last button is undone, you slide the garment off your shoulders and down your arms onto the floor. Mr. Peterson's eyes remain locked on yours, holding you captive. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your skirt, you wait just a moment for another command. Receiving none, you push the skirt down past your hips, allowing it to fall down your legs and join your shirt at your feet.

Now that you're fully naked, Mr. Peterson indulges himself and leisurely takes in the sight of your trembling young body. His eyes rest on your mound, on the beads of juice shining like jewels on your brown bush. Your clit tingles at the attention. I... I gave him my body... will he take...

Mr. Peterson steps forward, close enough to reach out and touch you. "What did I do with your body today, Miss Murray? What did I teach you about it?"

All of the welts, bruises, marks he gave you start to tingle in concert. "You... you taught me about pain, Mr. Peterson. You taught me how my body... responds to it."

He reaches up and pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from you. "Indeed I did, Miss Murray. What else did I teach you about it? What did you learn to do?"

Your knees are trembling now. "Mmn... you taught me to... control myself... control my reactions."

His other hand comes up and begins to gently brush your clit with one fingertip. "Very good, Miss Murray. You have almost earned a special reward tonight. Now, do you wish me to test you with pain, or with pleasure?"

Either. Both. What's the difference? "Hah... Hah... I... I don't care... I just want you to keep touching me... Anh... Mr. Peterson."

He gives you another small smile. His fingers release your nipple and he reaches his hand up to brush your cheek. "Such honesty." His hand comes down to close around your throat, and he uses it to shove you back onto the bed, making you cry out in surprise. No one has ever moved your body like this. Such force, such control. Like your own will doesn't matter at all.

"Now open yourself for me, Miss Murray." His hand is still around your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make breathing an effort. For the third time today, you reach down and pull your legs back, exposing your dripping pussy to him. His hand that was gently touching your clit pushes two fingers inside you, forcing a loud moan from deep in your chest.

"You are not to climax unless given permission, Miss Murray. Do you understand?" His two fingers start to move inside you, curling slightly on every thrust, rubbing against your sweet spot and sending agonizing waves of pleasure rocking through you.

"Hng... hanh... ANH... YesssAHH... Yes, Mr. Peterson... Mnh!" He feels amazing inside you. You've never had anyone make you feel this way before, and all you can think about is how much you wish it were his cock instead. More, please, I just want more of you.

"Your body has learned much today, Miss Murray. I can feel the difference in how your sex responds to my attentions. You are more receptive, and yet more disciplined. I am quite pleased." His thumb has started to rub against your clit as his fingers pump inside you. The sensation is overpowering, and you know that without the lessons Mr. Peterson has given you an orgasm would already be shuddering through your body.

"Haaaaaanh... haaaaAAAANH... th-thank you Mr. PetersooooooooooOOH FUCK!" He's doing something with his fingers inside you that you can't even describe. Every ounce of willpower you have is focused on holding your orgasm at bay. You can't take much more of this.

"Excellent work, Miss Murray." He slowly pulls his glistening fingers out of you and releases your neck, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. "Of course, pleasure is only part of the equation."

With that, he slaps your breasts once, twice, three times, then pinches both nipples and twists. "NNNYYAAAAHH!" Your whole body shudders, the jolts of pain shooting straight to your soaked pussy.

"As much as you crave pleasure, Miss Murray, I am beginning to believe that pain is your preferred stimulation." He releases your nipples and slaps your breasts again. "Would you agree?"

You pull in a sharp breath. "I... yes, Mr. Peterson." You feel like you should be shocked at yourself, but the answer feels true as you say it. The thoughts barely need to process before they become clear. Mr. Peterson has shown you so many things about yourself, and trained you to be honest with him. All he needs to do is pose the question, and the answer finds itself.

In response, Mr. Peterson sharply slaps your exposed pussy, right on your clit. "HAANH!" You gasp for breath. The sudden impact had nearly forced your orgasm past your self-control. You tremble with barely contained pleasure, your eyes pleading with your teacher for release.

"Do you wish to climax, Miss Murray?" He slaps your clit again.

"GAAANH! Y-yes, please, Mr. Peterson." You could feel the first tingles of orgasmic release that time, and were only just able to keep them from spreading. You know you won't make it through another slap.

"Is there anything else you desire, Miss Murray? Anything at all?" His hand is hovering just over your pussy.

"Your cock!" Eyes wide, voice trembling, you can't help but beg. "P-please, Mr. Peterson, I want your cock inside me. I want you to fuck my pussy. I need it."

He gives you a wide, warm smile. "Very good, Miss Murray. You have demonstrated both honesty and openness, and proven that your body has learned its lessons well." He stands and undoes the belt of his robe, allowing it to open and reveal his hard cock standing proud. "Now get on your knees, Miss Murray, and tell me your place is to obey. Admit your subservience to my male authority."

What? You release your legs, but stay on the bed. "M-Mr. Peterson?" I... I want him inside me, I want him to use me, hurt me, fuck me, fill me, but... admit subservience?

"You may have given me your body, Miss Murray, but your will remains your own." He closes his robe, hiding the object of your desire. "We will need to work on your rebellious nature during the remainder of the tutoring tomorrow. For now, reflect on your decisions, and get some rest." He steps forward and brushes his fingers, wet with your juices, across your upper lip.

Mr. Peterson turns off the lamp and goes to lie down on the other side of the bed. You sit in the darkness, mind reeling, the smell of your own desperate arousal filling your nose.

It smells like failure.