Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 24

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

Chapter 24

The Final Test

There's no more doubt, no more hesitation. Whatever fear or confusion once lived inside you has been banished by Mr. Peterson's discipline, by your obedience to his instruction, by his domination of your body and will. Your nipples stiffen, your pussy tingles, your mind is clear and focused. "Yes, Mr. Peterson. I'm ready to earn the collar."

Your teacher gives you a small nod, his eyes burning like dark suns above his small, sharp smile. "Very well, Miss Murray. In that case, it is time for your final test to begin. If you fail at any point, for any reason, this tutoring will be over immediately, and we will never speak of it again." He takes a step toward you, close enough for you to feel his breath across your face, the heat from his naked body on yours. "And if you pass the test, if you can prove to me that you have learned all of my lessons, that you understand the meaning of discipline and obedience, that you are worthy of the collar..." He gently wraps one hand around your throat. "You will belong to me."

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but thanks to the discipline you've learned you're able to keep your voice steady. "Yes, Mr. Peterson. Test me."

His hand constricts, just a little, just enough for you to feel it, and he uses it to guide you toward the bed. You allow him to move your body, your will subsumed by his, your feet taking each step without needing to think. You move where he wants you to move, do what he wants you to do. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, he pushes you down, forcing you to sit. Your eyes are held by his as you once again move below him, and once again you feel the blissful calm of being put in your place. I already belong to you, Mr. Peterson. Can't you see that?

Your teacher releases your neck and takes a step back. "Now, Miss Murray, for the first part of the test: bring yourself to orgasm."

You stop your brows from furrowing in confusion as your body grows warm at the command. After being denied and frustrated all day, after having to prove yourself by turning away from release and satisfaction, you almost want to ask if he's sure. No, it's not my place to question him. My place is to obey.

Still looking up into Mr. Peterson's eyes, you spread your legs and use one hand to rub at your slick clit. Your other hand reaches up to cup your breast, fingers gently stroking the fading bruises your teacher's whip gave you yesterday before finding your nipple and squeezing. Mouth falling open to let out hot, heavy breaths, cheeks growing flushed, you marvel at how different this feels. Even though it's your hands doing the work, you feel as if the building pleasure isn't coming from your own touch, but rather being drawn out from inside you by your teacher. Is this what you want to see, Mr. Peterson?

If Mr. Peterson is enjoying the show you're giving him, nothing about his expression is giving it away. His eyes remain locked on yours, his face a mask of calm authority. "Tell me, Miss Murray, who controls your climax?"

Your hand on your clit starts to move faster as you pull in a shuddering breath. "You do, Mr. Peterson."

"And when will you pleasure yourself?"

You can't believe how wet your pussy is. "Whenever you tell me to, Mr. Peterson."

His smile grows just a little sharper. "And when else?"

You sink two fingers inside yourself. "Mmnnnnnnn never, Mr. Peterson."

He nods, and you feel yourself squeeze around your fingers in response. It's like he has your pussy on a string, responding to his every twitch and whim. "Who will you give your body to, Miss Murray?"

It's already yours, Mr. Peterson. Why won't you take it? Can't you see my pussy needs you to fill it, stretch it, fuck it? You try to clear your head to focus on the test. "You-anh!" No, it's not about what you want, remember? "Whoever... mnh! Whoever you tell me to, Mr. Peterson."

"Very good, Miss Murray." The pride in his voice sends a flare of warmth through you. "And what if I tell you to give it to no one, not even myself?"

Your eyes close as your pussy squeezes around your fingers. Oh please Mr. Peterson don't do that to me, I'll be good. Opening your eyes again, you catch yourself looking right at your teacher's cock before quickly looking back up at his face. "I... haaangg... I will obey, Mr. Peterson. I will give myself to no one... mnnn... if that is what you desire." The thought of being denied his touch fills you with dread, but the flood from your pussy tells you something else. It doesn't matter what I want. I don't get to choose.

It's all up to him.

After all the denial and frustration today you can feel your orgasm already arriving. Your fingers pump inside you, brushing against your sweet spot, and your other hand squeezes roughly at your breast. Lids drooping down over your eyes, you let out a contented sigh. This is so wonderful. No more waiting, no more holding back, just you, your fingers, and Mr. Peterson watching as you come for him. Just a little more...

"Stop, Miss Murray. Well done."

Your eyes shoot open. But... but I didn't... "Yes, Mr. Peterson." You take a quavering breath and pull your hands away from your breast and pussy. Before you can remind yourself to focus -- that this isn't about the orgasm, this is about the test, about proving your worth to your teacher -- he's on you.

He uses one hand to push you back by your neck while the other firmly rubs at your sensitive clit. He's over you, looking down into your wide eyes as you try to catch your breath. "You passed the first part, Miss Murray. You proved your obedience, your willingness to surrender your sexuality to me." His hand moves from your neck to tease your stiff nipple. "Now, you must prove your body's obedience as well." He pulls back and reaches down, grabbing your legs behind the knees and pushing them back over you, folding you in half and spreading you wide for him. "For this part of the test, Miss Murray, climax is failure."

You barely have time to pull in a gasping breath before his mouth is on your wetness. For the first time, you feel his tongue dance over your clit, spread your folds, push inside you. His beard against your most sensitive parts is a maddening blend of painful and tickling stimulation. Unable to help yourself, your hands grab at his head, fingers digging into his thick hair as unbelievable sensations rock through you. Your mind is so focused on the incredible things his tongue is doing that you don't even realize you're yelling in uncontrollable pleasure until you run out of breath.

Body arching, head slamming back into the bed, legs straining against the iron grip of his hands as he holds you down, you pull in a tremendous breath before letting it out again as another helpless yell. This is too much. Never in your life have you felt pure, white-hot pleasure like this. You realize the reflexive discipline Mr. Peterson has taught you is the only reason you haven't come already, but even that is swiftly crumbling in the face of his relentless oral assault on your quivering pussy.

The orgasm is coming. You can't help it. This is just too much to bear. Mr. Peterson, please, I want to be worthy, don't make me fail now when I'm so close. You try to focus on his lessons, push back the coming climax just a little bit longer, and it almost works. Just when you think you have it under control, Mr. Peterson clamps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks, hard, the tip of his tongue pressing against it in tiny swirls.

This is it. There's no way you can withstand the overwhelming sexual force of his technique. You let out a choked gasp as your fingers twist in your teacher's hair, and you feel the first wave of orgasm roll through your body from your defeated pussy. As it makes its way up toward your head, you feel a tear prick your eye. I'm sorry, Mr. Peterson, I tried, I really did. I just wanted to be worthy. I just wanted to be yours. I just wanted to give myself to you, let go of my own desires. Surrender, submit, give up control.

Something happens inside you. The raging tsunami of your orgasm comes up against the calm warm glow of your submission and dissipates like sea foam. You can still feel the delirious pleasure of Mr. Peterson's mouth on you, but there's no longer any need to resist it. You thought you had already given your teacher your young body and rebellious will, but that surrender had been piecemeal, incomplete. Now, the two are joined together in their submission to this man who has reshaped your very being. You no longer need to fight against the climax, merely accept that it is not yours to have.

It, like you, belongs to him.

Mr. Peterson pulls his mouth away and gives your wet, trembling sex one last caress with his tongue. He looks up between your spread legs at your face, and his smile sets off a cascade of joy inside you. "I'm very proud of you, Miss Murray. You have passed another part of the test. You have proven that your body has learned the lesson of surrender." He releases your legs and reaches up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you upright against him.

You squeeze your arms around his neck, unable to stop your body from shaking in his strong and comforting embrace. Somehow finding breath, you manage a whisper. "Thank you, Mr. Peterson." Feeling him hold you like this, feeling owned and protected, is everything you never knew you wanted. The incomplete orgasm churning inside you isn't a denial or a frustration, but a promise. Mr. Peterson will take care of you, and that thought alone is enough to fill you with ecstasy.

Before you can become comfortable with this new feeling of safety and certainty, Mr. Peterson pulls back, and you reluctantly unwrap you arms from around his neck. He's kneeling beside the bed, his face level with yours, and the dark fire of his eyes once again holds yours captive. "It's time for the next part of the test, Miss Murray. Present your breasts to me."

You're not sure exactly what he means, so you do the first thing that comes to mind. Planting your hands on the bed just behind your back, you push your chest forward, making your breasts stand out, ready for your teacher to do whatever he wants to them. All you have to do is ask, Mr. Peterson, and every part of me is yours.

"Tell me, Miss Murray, how have you defied me with your words?"

What? You're not sure what he means. You don't want to defy him, you want to obey. Before you can collect your confused thoughts, Mr. Peterson's hand comes down hard on your breast. "HANH!"

"Come now, Miss Murray, don't be coy." He savagely pinches the nipple he just struck, making you squeal in pain. "You have a long history of inappropriate behavior to make up for before I can consider you worthy of the collar. Now, think back, and tell me all the ways you have defied me with your words."

He smacks your other breast without releasing your nipple. "GUH! I... I've been disrespectful, Mr. Peterson, I'm—" you bite your tongue before you can apologize. He didn't ask for an apology, RC. "I've been rude, I distracted the other students, and... and myself."

Mr. Peterson brings his hand up to pinch your other nipple as well, and begins to slowly twist both of them. "Keep going, Miss Murray."

Openness. "Aaaangh... I... I questioned your authority, Mr-MNH!... Mr. Peterson." He's still twisting. "Hnnnnng! I... I challenged you... ghk... when I had no right... when all I wanted to do was... was..." Was what? His hands twist sharply, and the sudden surge of pain focuses your thoughts. "NYAAaaaanhh when all I wanted was to put myself above you."

Mr. Peterson releases your aching buds. "And are you above me, Miss Murray?"

Your eyes are wet with tears. "No, Mr. Peterson. I'm your obedient student."

He smiles at you. "Very good, Miss Murray. Now, turn over and present your ass to me." After you obey, pushing your face down into the bed and raising your ass high for him, he continues. "Tell me all the ways you have defied me in action."

You take a deep breath, thinking back. Your teacher's hand comes down hard against your upturned rear, SMACK, and once again the pain helps you focus. "I... I've been late to class, Mr. Peterson..." SMACK! "Mnh! On purpose, I've been late on purpose. I..." SMACK! His hand is sharp against your creamy behind. He's keeping his palm flat, coming at you from an angle, maximizing the force of the impact. "Hnnh! I... I put snarky comments in my homework and... and my papers. My..." SMACK! SMACK! "Ffffnnnnng... My body language is almost... is always disrespectful..."

"You're leaving out the most important one, Miss Murray. We've already covered this, but I need you to account for it now, as a final show of contrition."

Of course Mr. Peterson, how could I forget? "I..." SMACK! SMACK! SmacksmacksmackSMACK! "AAGH! Haaaaanh... I took myself away from your instruction to give in to my carnal desires, Mr. Peterson."

His hand lovingly strokes your red, glowing asscheeks. "Very good, Miss Murray. Now, turn over once again, and present your sex to me."

Oh, fuck. In spite of the spike of anxiety about what you know is coming, your clit buzzes in anticipation, and you feel a fresh flow of juices as you obey your teacher and turn over onto your back. You scoot your crotch up to the edge of the bed, and grab your thighs right by your pussy. Lifting your legs high and wide, pulling at your flesh with your fingers to make your shining lips spread for him, you look up at Mr. Peterson, mouth hanging open to let out hot, shallow breaths.

"And now, Miss Murray, tell me all the ways you have defied me in thought." The irresistible authority of his voice is matched by the dark fire of his eyes. You feel open, exposed, naked in a way you've never known was possible.

His open palm comes down over your pussy, making a wet, juicy sound and sending a shock of sweet pain through you. "FWAH! I... I always thought of you as someone... someone to be mocked. Someone to be ignored and... and..." Again his hand comes down, higher, focusing the impact on your clit. "HNNnnnnngh... rejected. I always rejected your instruction in my mind, because it was coming from you. I couldn't... I wouldn't..." He gives you a series of short, sharp smacks all up and down your open sex. "Hah! Hah! HaaaaAAAANH! I wouldn't allow myself to give any part of myself to you, even in something so small as a history lesson."

He gently drags his nails down the length of your lips, not hard enough to do any real damage, but definitely letting you feel it. "And why was that, Miss Murray? Why did you resist me so totally?"

You look into his eyes, allowing him to reach inside your mind and draw the answer out of your past self. "I was... afraid, Mr. Peterson. I was afraid of what it would mean if I gave into you, even a little." Your voice trembles under the weight of revelation. Part of you can't believe that, even after everything that's happened this weekend, there are still things to discover about yourself.

What else will he show you? Where else will he take you? How could you ever turn back now?

Mr. Peterson pulls back and smiles at you. "Almost there, Miss Murray. On your knees."

You obey, sliding off the bed and kneeling in front of your teacher, hands folded meekly on the tops of your thighs.

"Close your eyes, Miss Murray."

The last thing you see is his semi-erect cock hanging in front of your face.

"Now, tell me what submission means to you. Tell me what the future holds, if I allow you to become mine." You can hear the sharp smile in his voice. "Give me a vow worthy of the collar."

You take a deep breath. This is it. The moment that everything else has been building to. You can do this, RC. Trust the lessons he's taught you. Trust yourself. "I will be yours, Mr. Peterson. I will obey, I will be respectful, I will be attentive and open to everything you have to teach me." You take another breath. "My body will belong to you, in every way. It will be yours to use, to inflict whatever pain or pleasure upon it that you desire." Your clit throbs, your skin tingles, your nipples are two brown diamonds. "My mind will be open and honest, I will receive your instruction willingly, and never hold back any part of myself..." One last thing, a small but vital detail that you know makes every other piece of your submission worthwhile. Thank you for teaching me what it is to be myself, Mr. Peterson. "... and I will never give up what it means to be me. I will hold on to everything you have taught me about who I am, and will submit my whole unique self to you. Always, and forever, Mr. Peterson."

There's a moment when all you can hear is your own heart, beating away in your still chest. You aren't breathing, aren't thinking, merely letting your vow hang in the space between you and your teacher. You know the old you would have felt doubt, anxiety, fear inside this empty space, but that's not you anymore. When you at last feel Mr. Peterson slip the small, smooth leather collar around your neck and click the clasp shut, you smile. You are worthy. You are owned.

You are Mr. Peterson's.

"Look at me, Miss Murray." Do you hear some emotion thickening his voice, or is that merely an extra layer of authority? You open your eyes and look up at your teacher, your owner, the man you owe everything to. "You have passed the final test. You belong to me now, and it is time I give you your ultimate reward."

Before you can thank him, he reaches down and lifts you up, placing you on the edge of the bed. Your back hits the sheets, and you look up in breathless longing, reveling in the new but already familiar feeling of the collar, snug around your neck. Mr. Peterson uses one hand to hold your leg high and wide, and his other guides his hardness toward your waiting pussy.

You're compelled to watch as he finally enters you, captivated by the sight of his length sinking into your welcoming wetness. His claiming of this final part of you is unhurried, allowing you to savor the way he stretches and fills your depths. When his tip at last touches your core, the pulsating bubble of the unfulfilled orgasm is pierced. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, your back arches, your throat chokes out a gasp. The climax bursts out in waves, each pulse starting right where his thick head touches your trembling center, filling your body, making your very being vibrate with the pure joy of release.

Girlcum floods out of you, soaking your teacher where his body is joined to yours, and before you can give voice to the wordless gratitude of your long-awaited surrender Mr. Peterson's hand is behind your head, digging into your short hair, pulling your mouth onto his, pushing his tongue against yours even as he swallows your screams of ecstasy. You want to wrap your arms around him, pull him even closer, but you can't seem to let go of the sheets, bunched into your fists in a white-knuckle grip as you ride out the most powerful orgasm of your life.

That moment -- that feeling of finally giving every part of yourself to your teacher, of having him take you, totally, consuming everything you are -- is only the beginning. Your reward for your complete submission is to be taught what it means to be dominated in bed, physically, mentally, emotionally. Here he is, over you, your legs behind his shoulders as he pounds down into you, folding you in half, his hands on your neck and your breasts and in your hair and over your face. There he is behind you, savagely claiming your wetness with the iron rod of his cock as you come yet again for him, his mighty blows against your sore ass a reminder of the pain he used to break you down, so long ago. You submit to his ravishment eagerly, finally discovering what it was that was always missing from your sexual experience: