Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 16

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

Chapter 16

You need to show him what you can do

"Please Mr. Peterson, I want your cock inside me? What the fuck is the matter with you, RC?"

You're staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror in Mr. Peterson's room. You hadn't noticed it in the gloom last night, but it caught your attention the moment you rose from the bed. Mr. Peterson was already gone -- who knows where -- and you had felt compelled to look over your body, at the toll yesterday took on it. The bruises and welts had begun to fade, but were still clearly visible on your creamy skin. No longer shocked at the sight of the external changes, you were instead amazed at how much of a mark your teacher had left inside you.

And part of you was furious with yourself for letting him in there.

"Were you really gonna give him your pussy, RC? Him? The prick who doesn't have a single woman in his bullshit sausage-fest of a class curriculum? The motherfucking asshole who singles you out in class every time you push back against his patriarchal worldview? What the fuck were you thinking?"

Your reflection smirks at you, and your eyes go wide as it talks back. "Did ya ever wonder why it was his class you kept getting horny in, RC?" The mirror shatters, and your reflection steps out of it, the mocking grin still on her face. "Maybe the idea of that chauvinist pig admonishing you turns you on. Maybe you were hoping he would notice you squirming in your seat during his lectures. Or maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to catch you when you cut his class to frig yourself in the bathroom."

Your jaw drops, the accusatory words of your doppelganger cutting deep. No, no no no I didn't want this, I didn't want him to... to catch me, discipline me, punish me.

Your other-self laughs. "You know I can hear your thoughts, right? I'm you RC. I'm us. And I know exactly what it is you really wanted."

"NO!" You reach out to push yourself away, and suddenly there's a whip in your hand, and you're standing over yourself tied down to a table, and the whip comes down again and again and again over your ass and your back and your legs and your soaking wet pussy.

Your other-self laughs and cries out in joy. "Yes yes yeeesssss! OH RC we love this we need this YES!"

The blows keep coming, your arm is a blur as you bring the whip down harder and faster, again and again. You can feel each strike, the pain and the pleasure twisting together inside you, driving you mad. Tears of rage stream down your face. "No no NO! This isn't me! Why am I letting him do this? How did I let him change me so much?!"

Your other-self twists her head around to look you straight in the eye. "He didn't change a thing, RC."

"He just set us free."

You open your eyes, and you're still in Mr. Peterson's bed. You gasp for breath, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy crying out for release. The denied orgasm from last night throbs inside you, making your clit buzz and your pussy burn. Your hands make their way down between your legs, more out of habit than anything else. An orgasm would be nice right now, especially with that strange feeling of unease lingering from your half-remembered dream. Wasn't there a mirror in this room?

"Good morning, Miss Murray."

Gasping, you pull your hands away from your crotch and sit up in the bed. Mr. Peterson is standing over you, wearing the same burgundy robe from last night. He gives you a small smile. "Pardon me for interrupting your morning routine."

Your cheeks go crimson, and you fight the urge to cover your bare breasts. Don't embarrass yourself more than you already have, RC. "Um, g-good morning, Mr. Peterson. I... I was just..."

"Oh, I know precisely what you were doing, Miss Murray. You already shared with me that this is how you begin each day, remember?" His dark eyes bore into you, that small smile still on his lips. "Now, I want you to show me."

Your eyes go wide. "Sh-show you?"

"Yes, Miss Murray. You were about to relieve your carnal needs, were you not?" The smile vanishes, and his voice takes on a firm edge. "Show me."

Breaths heavy, you lean back into the bed and move your hands back down between your legs. You close your eyes as your fingers start to gently circle your clit and rub at your slick lips.

"Look at me, Miss Murray." You obey your teacher. "The blanket is obscuring your actions. I told you to show me."

Your cheeks go an even deeper shade of red as you sheepishly use one hand to push the blanket down your spread legs, revealing your wet pussy to Mr. Peterson. His gaze is still locked on your face as he gives you a small nod, which you take as a sign to continue.

Going back to work, you try to fight the feeling of awkwardness. This is far from the first time you've played with yourself in front of someone else, but this time feels different. Before, you were having fun with a partner, either mutually masturbating or giving them a sexy little show. This feels like you're being tested. Being judged. It feels unnatural, but the more you think about it -- the more you think about your teacher ordering you to give him a performance -- the wetter you feel yourself get. Your mouth falls open as your fingers go faster, deeper. Looking into Mr. Peterson's dark eyes, soft moans start to escape you. Am I doing a good job, Mr. Peterson?

"Much better, Miss Murray." His words send a thrill through you, intensifying the pleasure. "But I would still like a... more revealing view. Get up on your knees with your head down and present yourself to me."

Unable to help yourself, you moan as you obey his command and turn over. Cheek pressed into the smooth sheets, ass raised high, you push two fingers inside your tight passage as your other hand rubs at your clit. Knowing that your teacher can clearly see everything you're doing is driving you wild. Your breaths are hot and wet and you can almost feel his eyes on your ass as he watches you.

"Do you enjoy being watched, Miss Murray?"

Your hands start to move faster. "Ah...hanh... yes, Mr. Peterson. It makes me feel hot when you watch me play with myself. Mmmnn."

"Spread your netherlips for me, Miss Murray. Show me the inside of your sex."

C'mon, Mr. Peterson, I was so close! You reluctantly pull your fingers out and use them to spread your pussy open. Your insides tingle at being put on display for your teacher, and your other hand still desperately rubs at your clit as you chase your climax.

"Very good, Miss Murray. Now, take your hand from your clitoris and use it to stimulate your ass."

Whining in frustration, you do as you're told. "Nnng... yes, Mr. Peterson." Still holding your pussy open for him, you start to rub at your asshole with your other hand. It's still a little sore from last night, and that pain -- and the memories that come with it -- add a new edge to your arousal. If you could just masturbate like normal you would have gotten off by now, but you can still feel the orgasm getting closer.

"Put your fingers inside, Miss Murray, as many as you are able."

How many is that? Even after taking Mr. Peterson's cock in there last night, you're not sure how many fingers you could comfortably fit. Not wanting to disappoint him, you start by slowly sliding two inside. They're slick from playing with your pussy, but it's still a tight fit. The feeling of being stretched down there is still new, but the thought of doing it on command -- and on display -- gives you an electric thrill.

You pump your fingers in and out of your ass, waiting for another command. Mr. Peterson's silence makes you desperate, like you're somehow failing. Pushing a third finger inside, you let out a deep moan, your asshole now stretched painfully wide. Even though your clit and sweet spot are untouched, you can still feel that orgasm coming. Did... did he really teach me how to get off with my ass after only fucking it once?

"Impressive, Miss Murray. I am pleased to see you push yourself. Now, how does it feel?"

Like I'm a pathetic little girl who gets hot from showing off for her teacher. "Ahn... ahn... it feels really good, Mr. Peterson. It reminds me... haaanh... it reminds me of how your cock felt... MMNnn... when you were fucking my ass... HANH!"

"Do you wish to climax, Miss Murray?"

Fucking finally. "Hnnngyes Mr. Peterson!"

"Well, Miss Murray, that will have to wait. We have a long day ahead of us, and we still need to get dressed and ready. Stop touching yourself and get out of bed."

What? Slowly, reluctantly, you pull your fingers out of your ass and move your other hand away from your pussy. "I... y-yes, Mr. Peterson." Cheeks flushed and breaths heavy, you stand from the bed on unsteady legs and turn to face your teacher.

"I have some... special articles in mind for your outfit today, Miss Murray." Mr. Peterson walks to the large wardrobe on the other side of the room. "They should help get you in the proper mood for today's lesson."

Your pussy is dripping down your thighs, both from the pressure of your still-denied orgasm and from the excitement at his words.

What could he possibly have in store for me now?