Sex without Stress

"Thanks," she said. "It's a little time-consuming, but..."

She could make the effort.

He leaned his chin on his hand and gave her a devious look.

"I understand from your journal that you're not wearing any panties today."

Naomi had to laugh at his expression, and he grinned back at her.

"That's right," she said.

"You've been waiting all day to touch yourself for me, haven't you?"

"Yes," she lowered her voice, a blush creeping up her face now.

"Do it now."

"Here?" she said, looking around rapidly. They were in full view of a dozen other patrons. It would be rude for her to just start touching herself in public, right?

But she had been working herself into a lather all day, fantasizing about her classmates, her professors, subway riders... what was wrong with a little rudeness, anyway?

Naomi's fingers crept towards her lap.

"Not right here, of course. Go into the bathroom. I'll wait."

She stood up, feeling a wash of relief. Rubbing one out on a restaurant toilet sounded kind of gross, but at least she'd be alone.

As she locked the door to the washroom, which was quirkily decorated with a bunch of little plastic palm trees, her phone rang. A video call.

Gerard's face appeared, its angles oddly changed by the twenty feet of distance transmitted via a tiny, distorting lens.

"That's right, princess," he said. "Sit down and let me see your wet cunt."

"Princess?" she snorted, sliding her skirt up her thighs and sitting down.

"Now that you're my girlfriend, I thought you deserved a pet name."

A frisson of fright ran through her, and not just at the realization that anyone who walked by their table would be able to see her on Gerard's phone screen.

Girlfriend. Then Gerard was her boyfriend? She didn't think that was the sort of thing that could be decided unilaterally.

On the other hand, here she was, on a date with him, spreading her legs in front of her phone camera to show him the sheen of slick all around her cunt.

Girlfriend. There was a certain excitement in that word. A host of new possibilities that bubbled up out of it. She could be a girlfriend. It was so easy.

"Touch yourself, princess."

She did, fingers darting to her clit, the familiar compelling surge of pleasure rising up her core with each swirl.

And there, too, at the back of her neck, was the comforting whisper-tap of the haptic strip against the fine hairs of her nape, settling her nerves, allowing her to enjoy herself without freaking out about a bunch of nonsense.

"You belong to me, don't you?" he said. "Say it."

"I belong to you."

Her fingers spun. Her thighs shook. A shift of her weight, and the seat beneath her clonked against porcelain.

"Your cunt belongs to me."

"Yes."

"You come when I say so, and only when I say so."

"Y-yes."

"Come for me, princess."

She went off.

Naomi was quite mortified a few seconds later when she realized how audible her wailing moan must have been on his phone speaker. Sitting there, trembling, she prayed no one in the loud restaurant was paying attention.

"Shall I book you a cab ride home?" he said later, as they left the restaurant together and made for the tiny city park across the way.

"Um, sure," she said.

"ETA three minutes," he announced, after tapping her address into his phone. He put an arm around her waist, and she leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

Gerard grinned down at her, and pulled her into a long, slow kiss. Naomi could feel his hard-on pressing against her.

"What about you?" she said, drawing her lips back briefly from his and sneaking her hand between them to give his cock a surreptitious squeeze.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll give you what you need soon. I'm going to take good care of you."

The cab was pulling up, and they walked towards it.

Before he helped Naomi inside, Gerard paused to whisper huskily in her ear.

"Now, run along home, and take some time to think about all the uses I'm going to find for your pretty little holes."

She settled into her seat, her thoughts already spinning.

"You can include your ideas in your next stress journal."

The cab door shut, and she sped away, feeling unsettled, almost as if she were forgetting something very important. Then she remembered the heat of Gerard's cock through the smooth fabric of his trousers, and it occupied her mind the rest of the way home.

* * *

Naomi popped into her boyfriend's office to show him her journal, practically bouncing on her feet.

"Princess!" he greeted her. "Take a seat."

He beckoned her to his lap. As he began to read, he rucked up her yellow sundress and found her cunt, his fingers slipping between her slick lips in a lazy motion.

"My goodness, who'd have thought you had such a filthy mind?" he said. "You haven't come without my permission, have you?"

"No!"

"Good."

She wriggled in his grip, becoming nervous at how exposed she was.

"Someone could come in!" she hissed.

There was something bad about this, something on the tip of her tongue. Not just the embarrassment of potentially being caught canoodling lewdly with her boyfriend. Something worse.

"The professor," she said. "This is...Professor Troup's office?"

Wasn't it Gerard's office? If Gerard was a professor, and she was a student... but Gerard would never date a student... never sit a student in his lap and pump his fingers in and out of her cunt, stretching her so good, letting his thumb brush achingly against her clit...

"Not professor, just Gerard," he cooed in Naomi's ear. "Your boyfriend, remember? Your master. You belong to me, professor or not."

Her... master? That sounded like some kind of weird BDSM shit. She'd had a boyfriend before, but never a master. Of course, she'd never had a partner like Gerard. Never trusted anyone like she trusted Gerard.

And she did belong to him. It made sense that the man she belonged to would be her master.

She buried her head in his chest. Something was still wrong, but her body was buzzing, hungry for release, and she cried out in disappointment when he released his hands from her.

"You're right, though," he said. "It wouldn't do for someone to come in and see you like this, princess. Why don't you hide under my desk?"

Shaking, she slid from the big desk chair onto the hardwood floor. Beneath the huge old oak desk, there was indeed a cavernous space that quite hid her from view of any but the most determined visitor.

"Now, I have some papers to grade, princess. But if you're feeling horny, you may suck your master's cock while I work. No hands or teeth, please."

Naomi felt a flash of indignation at being dismissed to cower at his feet and attend to his pleasure while he did other things. But she was horny. She desperately wanted to slip her fingers between her legs and finish herself off, but her cunt belonged to him, and she wasn't supposed to come unless he said so. It was okay. He would take good care of her.

She wasn't sure if she was allowed to use her hands or teeth to unzip his fly, but she decided to play it safe. She was pretty confident she could grip the zipper between her lips -- yes!

The button was harder, but she managed. Naomi's master gave a light chuckle and stroked her hair as she struggled, which she took to mean she had chosen correctly.

Getting his cock out of his boxers, however, proved an impossible task.

"Help," she said, and he took pity, popping his erection loose for her.

Her prize within reach at last, Naomi took his cock in her mouth eagerly. She'd never given a hands-free blow-job before, having preferred the safety of her fingers wrapped around her partner's shaft to keep it from going too far down her throat. What had she been so worried about? She could manage.

"That's right, princess. Keep going. Deeper."

It certainly looked uncomfortable the way the porn stars did it in those degrading videos, coughing and gagging on great big dicks shoved deep down their throats -- the very idea of it had once made her recoil. But recently, watching ever-filthier porn for her stress journal, she had started to find it exciting.

Dread pulsed through her, but it didn't rise to overwhelm her, it only sat there calmly, alongside the other emotions circulating in her brain.

Naomi had always thought any guy who wanted his girlfriend to choke on his cock had to be a misogynistic creep. If Gerard wanted it, did that make him a creep? She certainly felt objectified and humiliated enough.

Maybe that was fine. Maybe she liked that he was creep. Naomi knew she'd disliked creeps in the past, but things were different now. Back then, she'd just found them repulsive. She'd never found herself sucking their cocks, thighs dripping, struggling not to touch her clit.

And anyway, shouldn't she aspire to be a blow-job pro like those porn stars? If her boyfriend wanted the best, did he deserve any less?

She went down, and down. It was difficult going, but that didn't surprise her. Her efforts brought tears to her eyes, and sent rivers of spittle rolling down her chin, and still she wasn't sure she'd managed to take all of him.

There was an awkward moment when the door creaked open and Gerard spoke briefly with a student. Naomi hoped the honking John Coltrane solo blasting down the hall had masked any telltale slurping noises he might have heard on his approach. She remained very still until the young man left.

Finally, they were alone again, and she returned to her task, letting him slide back up her tongue, trying to make her throat pliant and welcoming for him.

But the arrival of the student gnawed at her. Naomi was a student, too. And Gerard was a professor. Just a few days ago, he had been her professor -- not boyfriend, not master. What had changed?

Something was wrong. She kept agreeing to things... blowing past all her danger signs...

Gerard was manipulating her somehow. Which didn't make sense. She trusted him.

The haptic collar.

Naomi reached for the leather strap, fingers groping for the clasp. She didn't quite understand why, but she knew she had to remove it.

Well, okay, she wasn't quite sure she had to remove the collar, but she was definitely supposed to be giving a blow job, and that was taking a lot of her attention. It was surprisingly difficult to work the clasp while trying not to gag on her master's cock.

Then she heard his breathing change, and his fingers gripped her hair hard, pressing her down, and she felt the shock of his come flooding the back of her throat. She swallowed in desperate triumph.

"Good girl," he breathed.

She'd done it, just like a pro. A rush of pride warmed her as she released her lips from his spent cock with a hard gasp.

He tilted her chin up, gazing into her watery eyes.

The haptic collar. Take it off.

"Look at you," he said. "Look how pretty you are, all covered in drool, with your face red and your cute makeup smeared and your hair mussed. You used to be so anxious, so burdened with stress and hang-ups and self-loathing, stuck in a bad relationship with some dumbass kid -- and now you're just what you were born to be: my happy little slut."

Naomi shivered. It was true, she was so much happier now. It didn't all make sense, but that was why Gerard was the scientist and she was just his princess.

"Come home with me tonight. I know you'll enjoy getting out of that crusty dorm and sleeping in a real bed."

"I, uh, didn't bring a change of clothes," Naomi said. She could certainly stand to shower and get out of this sticky sundress.

"Don't worry about that. Don't worry about anything. Master will take good care of you."

She nodded.

"You're going to look even prettier soon," he went on. "You're all mine, and I'm going to breed your tight cunt every day until your tits are big and milky and your fertile belly is kicking with life."

Naomi had always been very careful about using birth control. She remembered how she'd once had a lot of anxiety about becoming pregnant. Wasn't anxiety a good thing, sometimes? Wasn't it supposed to protect you, like physical pain did?

She reached up behind her neck for the collar again, uncertainly, but then Gerard's hands were on it, cradling her throat with a caress, and covering the clasp.

"Extraordinary device, isn't it?" he mused, shaking his head and stroking her temple with his thumb. "You mustn't ever take it off again, princess. It's perfect on you."