Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 21

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

Chapter 21

You need to know

You want to come so bad. He... he said I could... all I have to do is let go... Pussy squeezing around his finger, body vibrating with denied pleasure, the words please let me come, Mr. Peterson start to bubble in your chest. Something in your teacher's eyes stops you. That dark, burning intensity is still there, but there's also something more. Something warm, something open, something inviting. Like he wants you to follow him toward a new understanding of yourself.

What will be waiting for you, if you can make it there?

With your body still straining for that orgasm, you force yourself to speak before it's too late. "Mnnah! Please, Mr. Peterson, I need to know. T-teach me."

Mr. Peterson smiles at you and clicks the vibrators off. Warm relief floods through you. Pleasure still buzzes inside your body, eager for release, but that desperate edge is gone now. "I am very proud of you, Miss Murray. You demonstrated remarkable discipline, and you continue to show an admirable commitment to your education." He slowly pulls his finger from inside you. "Now, tell me you need my strong male guidance."

There is an absence inside you. A place where you should be feeling anger, a void where a snappy comeback should be. From that emptiness come the words "I need your strong male guidance, Mr. Peterson." Your voice has a slight tremble to it, not of uncertainty, but of fear. Even though your submission feels... good, you're still terrified by how unfamiliar it is. You've never imagined being in a place like this, and that uncertainty has you desperate for something solid to hold on to.

Something like Mr. Peterson.

Your teacher's smile widens, and he walks over to the hearth. He flips a switch, and the wide fireplace fills with bright yellow flames. He removes his sweater and tosses it aside. As he turns to face you, cock still standing proud, fire dancing behind him, you're captivated by the sight. His nudity makes him seem somehow more powerful, like he's unleashed something inside himself. Overwhelmed by his display of sheer dominance, you feel your knees grow weak and your breaths grow short.

"Come now, Miss Murray. It's time I show you what this has all been leading to. Have a seat beside me, and I will teach you in the only way I know you can understand."

Please, Mr. Peterson, I'm yours. Just show me what I need.

You obey his command and sit at the desk chair beside the hearth. You look up at him, hands in your lap, and you can't help but be reminded of how all this started. It feels like a lifetime ago. Sitting at your desk, just like always. Talking back to Mr. Peterson, just like always. But then, there was steel in his voice, stopping your breath. There was a switch in his hand, marking the creamy skin of your arms with the evidence of his discipline. There was the juice in your panties, giving the lie to your pathetic attempts at denying what was happening to you.

"You remember, don't you, Miss Murray? You remember how this all began. Who was responsible for us taking this journey together." He takes a step towards you, and your body grows warmer. "Give me your arms, Miss Murray."

You extend your arms out to him, palms up. The welts from the switch are still just visible in the firelight. Taking a deep breath, you remember how you felt then. Angry, shocked, afraid... and excited. There was something you were discovering inside you, something you never even knew you were missing before that moment.

Mr. Peterson reaches out and gently touches you where the marks are still visible. Kneading your flesh, softly dragging his nails across the welts, reminding you of how it was him who changed your body like this. "Why are there marks on your arms, Miss Murray?"

Because you gave them to me. You know he wants more than the obvious answer. He's taught you better than that. "I... I needed to be punished, Mr. Peterson. I needed to be taught discipline."

"And why was that, Miss Murray?" His hands continue to gently touch you.

You close your eyes, looking inward, allowing his words and his touch to guide you. "Because... my lack of respect for your authority was... was keeping me from learning." You open your eyes as your heart beats wildly in your chest, and see that Mr. Peterson is smiling. You can't believe those words just came out of your mouth, but you know they're true. That void, that emptiness where your sense of self used to be is growing. You can't remember ever being so afraid.

"Very good, Miss Murray. You are beginning to understand." He pulls his hands away from your arms. "Now clasp your hands behind your head and spread your legs."

You obey, your mind again going back to that first tutoring session. This position had been embarrassing enough when you had your t-shirt and panties on. In this revealing outfit, you should be feeling utterly humiliated. Instead, you feel a thrill at displaying your body for Mr. Peterson, in the clothes he gave you. Your ass clenches around the plug that bears his initial, and the feeling is... comforting.

Mr. Peterson gets down on one knee, putting his face level with yours. He reaches out, softly stroking your inner thighs. The gentle touch is nothing like the sharp impact of the crop he struck you with that day. Somehow, that distinction just makes the memory of that orgasmic punishment even more vivid.

"What happened next, Miss Murray? What did you do after receiving my discipline?"

"I opened myself to you, Mr. Peterson." You remember how strange it felt, then, to be telling your history teacher intimate details of your sex life. If you only knew what else you would give him, barely a day later.

He pushes his hands forward until they're not quite touching your pussy. "And what did you learn in the process, Miss Murray?" He taps his fingers against your slick outer lips.

Your whole body shudders. "I learned..." you take a deep breath, the intensity of the memory causing your denied orgasm to flare inside you. "I learned that I find pleasure in pain, Mr. Peterson." Your eyes are locked on his, unable to escape the dark fire that drew you in that day.

Mr. Peterson stands, bringing his hard cock level with your face. Your eyes follow his, but the masculine scent of his precum dominates your mind. You're grateful for the discipline he taught you, because your mind and body both long for you to reach forward and taste him. Your tongue rebels against your self-control and licks your lips, but you manage to hold his gaze.

Your teacher gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging your inner struggle. "Stand for me, Miss Murray." You obey, trying to ignore how close his cock is now to your dripping pussy. "Now tell me what choice you made after this discovery."

What other choice could you have made? "I chose the advanced tutoring, Mr. Peterson." After how far he had pushed you in just one afternoon, you had to find out where else he could take you. "I chose to commit to my... my education."

Instead of nodding, or smiling, he turns and takes a few steps away from you. Anxiety grips you, and you can feel yourself falling into that void inside. Why? Why do I care so much?

What happened to me?

"And what did you do, after I agreed to share that commitment? After I opened my home to you?"

Tears prick your eyes, and color rises in your cheeks. "I... I disrespected you again, Mr. Peterson. I'm sorry, I—"

"Come now, Miss Murray." Even facing away from you, his sharp tone cracks at you like a whip. "You know it was more than that."

You start to tremble. The shame of your past actions, the memory of the punishment he gave you, him facing away from you now, all come together to crush you. Push you deeper into that yawning void of self-doubt. "I...hic...I..." you struggle to find the words, barely understanding what it is you're trying to say. "I put myself above you, Mr. Peterson. I acted like my own... my own assumptions, my own emotions... were more important than... what you had to teach me."

He turns to face you, and again you allow the fire in his eyes to consume you. It feels so right. "I'm happy to see you've been paying attention, Miss Murray." He takes a step toward you. "You're getting very close now."

Without warning, he lifts you up, again demonstrating that surprising strength. He strides across the room with you in his arms, your heart bursting with joy at his touch, at his control. He lays you down on the sofa, just like you were yesterday, except this time it's his hands spreading your legs. What is happening to me? Why do I feel like... like a pathetic little girl in a love story? You look up at him, breathless, longing for him to pull you out of the pit you're still falling into. I don't know who I am anymore, Mr. Peterson.

"Keep going, Miss Murray. Did you learn your lesson or not?"

"I... I did, Mr. Peterson." You fight to control your breathing. "I learned... I learned to accept my place... my place as your student."

He smiles. "And how did that feel, Miss Murray? How did it feel to fully submit to my instruction?"

You've fallen so far into the void now you can barely remember how you used to feel. You know you resisted, in that moment. Part of you was terrified of taking that leap, and now you know why. Your voice is a trembling whisper as you answer your teacher. "I was scared, Mr. Peterson. But... but I wanted it."

"I know you did, Miss Murray." Without warning, he turns you over so your knees are on the floor and your ass sticks out from the couch. "I also knew what else you wanted. What was that, Miss Murray?"

You pull in desperate breaths with your face pressed into the cushion. It feels so wonderful when he moves your body like that. "I... I wanted you to teach my body, Mr. Peterson. I wanted you to break it."

"Very good, Miss Murray." Suddenly, there are no more gentle touches, and he brings his hand down hard over your ass and thighs, over and over again. You let out a deep groan at the familiar sensation of pain. It feels so desperately good, like fresh water in a desert. As you focus on it, needing more, you start to see a light at the far end of the void. Just a spark, a twinkle, but in that gaping nothingness where your self used to be it shines like a newborn star.

He finally stops, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath. You had been so focused on the sweet pain you barely noticed that you'd been pushed back to the brink of orgasm again. Mr. Peterson gently touches your wetness, and two things happen inside you at once. The climax you've been craving since last night tries to burst free, and your body reflexively holds it back, keeping it at bay. You take a deep breath as you realize that your teacher's discipline is a part of you now, and that light in the void gets a little brighter.

"What happened to your body after I broke it, Miss Murray?"

You let out a blissful sigh at the memory of your surrender. "I gave it to you, Mr. Peterson."

He slowly drags his fingers up along the outside of your slick pussy and wraps them around the base of the plug. "And what does that mean, Miss Murray?" He starts to move the plug in and out of your ass, just enough to make your tight ring stretch around it without denying you the feeling of fullness.

It means I want you to fuck me, Mr. Peterson. "It means... mnnnh... it means you're responsible for it, Mr. Peterson. Haaanh... it means you... you can do whatever you want to it... to me. It means..." The light in the darkness flares suddenly, like dawn breaking through an endless night. "It means I don't have control anymore."

Mr. Peterson pushes the plug fully inside you again. He reaches forward to wrap an arm around your shoulders and pulls you upright against him. His other hand reaches down to cup your pussy, not giving you pleasure to resist, but making you feel... protected. Owned. His voice in your ear is a hot whisper. "I'm very proud of you, Miss Murray. You're almost there."

He holds you against him for a few more breaths. You lose yourself in the feeling, melting into his embrace. He stands, pulling you up with him, before letting go. The absence of his touch is offset by the warm light inside you. That void is almost gone now, in its place... "Turn around, Miss Murray."

Mr. Peterson is back in front of the hearth again. The golden flames dancing behind him make him into a dark silhouette, like an avatar of pure masculinity. Heart hammering in your chest, breaths heavy, you feel yourself drawn to him. Longing to move closer, you stop yourself, waiting for his command.

"Tell me what you want, Miss Murray." His voice is a soft invitation wrapped around commanding iron.

Your ass clenches around the plug, remembering the feeling of his cock as it emptied inside you. Your mouth waters as you recall the scent of him, his sweat and musk and precum. Your pussy throbs, dripping juices down your thighs at the thought of giving yourself to him completely. "I want you to take what's yours, Mr. Peterson." That light inside you shines nearly as bright as the flames.

"Take a step forward, Miss Murray."

Your feet move on their own, and it takes an effort of will to keep them from taking you any closer. Your body cries out for his touch, but your mind is compelled to obey. A soft, wet gasp escapes your lips as the vibrator near your clit starts to buzz.

"Tell me who controls your climax, Miss Murray."

Your clit tingles, both at the stimulation from the vibrator and the memory of all the orgasms Mr. Peterson has given you. The answer feels so obvious it barely needs to be said. Of course it's him. You realize now how true it is, how it's been true since even before this tutoring began. All those times in his class when you were too distracted by lust to pay attention, that time you went to relieve your need in the bathroom. It wasn't just your overactive libido, it was him. His authority, his mastery of his subject and his classroom, the way he challenged your very conception of the world. "You do, Mr. Peterson. I... I need you to control it... control me."

"A little closer now, Miss Murray."

Again your feet move forward, and again you force yourself to stop. Crying out as the vibrators on your nipples switch on, you focus on the light inside. It warms you, guides you, fills that space where your old idea of yourself used to be. You've come so far; you can't fail now.

"Tell me why you obey, Miss Murray."

At first, you're taken aback by the command. Why do I obey? Your body strains for that orgasm, pushed along by the vibrators, and it takes all of your conscious effort to hold it back. You can't think, you can't hesitate, you can't doubt yourself. Honesty and openness. "I... Mnh! I obey because it is my nature, Mr. Peterson." The light has grown beyond the void and fills your whole body now. "Haaannnnhh... You taught me that, Mr. Peterson. I learned who I am, what I need. I know now that...NNnnngh... that obedience is... is what I am meant for."

"Come to me, Miss Murray."

Your heart sings out as you take the final steps to join your teacher in front of the dancing flames. Your body hums with the pressure of the barely-contained orgasm, but you hardly notice anymore. Mr. Peterson has not yet given you permission to come, and so you will not. It's not up to you anymore. The light inside is bursting out of you now. A smile of the purest joy is on your face, and you only notice you're crying when Mr. Peterson reaches up to brush the tears off your cheeks.

"I am so very proud of you, Miss Murray. You have finally learned your lesson." He gently strokes your cheek. "Now, you may choose your reward."

Looking up into Mr. Peterson's eyes, their dark flames burning brighter than the fire behind him, you let out a long, blissful sigh. You know exactly what you want.