Sweltings Academy Ch. 02

Chapter Two: My Hand Slipped

I stretched luxuriously and sank onto the twin bed in my dormitory as my Sunday evening drew to a close. I had had a full week of classes and meetings the previous week, and the coming week appeared to be no less busy. I had been at Sweltings for two months now, and I was still grateful for the first-rate education I was receiving as an eighteen-year-old preparing for higher-level studies. It was a demanding curriculum, but I loved every minute of it.

As I contemplated the events of last week, I rolled over. A sensuous shiver started in my stomach and extended all the way to the tips of my fingers, leaving a mass of chill bumps on all of my exposed skin. I felt the color rise to my face as I realized why. It wasn't because my long blonde hair was falling in silky, fragrant waves to brush my lower back, which was exposed because the camisole I was wearing didn't quite reach my pajama pants. It wasn't because my sensitive nipples rubbed against the tight fabric of the cami. No, it was actually the memory of what had transpired to close my Friday.

Twice a month, I have an appointment to visit the principal of Sweltings. So does every other eighteen-year-old at the school. In these sessions, he uncovers and fulfills all of my sexual desires so that I will not be tempted to be promiscuous. I never can understand what it is about these sessions. I dread them, but I also desire them. The things I do repulse me sometimes, but they also make me shiver in ways that have nothing to do with disgust. It has nothing to do with him. Or almost nothing. At 35, he is incredibly good-looking. If I weren't having sex with him, I would want to. He has dark hair and brown eyes, and sometime between all of his duties as administrator, he must find time to work out. His skin is a tawny gold, and he smells like sandalwood. At first I was skeptical that the discipline regime at the school was logical, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I'm definitely not tempted to be promiscuous knowing I have him to look forward to.

One thing I do miss, though, is masturbating. I was beginning to be uncomfortably aware of it as I struggled to forget the things I had done in his office on Friday. Normally, our arousal isn't a problem. We are allowed to use our roommates to alleviate the natural tensions we experience. But Aubrey was out visiting home, and it would be tomorrow morning before she got back. In a surge of desperation, I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep.

Instead, the scene I was desperately trying to forget replayed in my head. I had walked into his office for the fourth time this year, unsure what to expect. During my first three sessions, he had taken complete control, doing whatever he wanted to my body and forcing me to beg for it. In all honesty, it hadn't taken much effort to get me to beg. I had wanted to. I knew what he wanted from me, what he saw when he looked at me. A naive, sexually repressed, attractive blonde. He wanted me to be hesitant about his sexual advances. He wanted me to resist a little. The fact is, while he was correct that I am sexually repressed, he underestimates my naivete. I knew what he was doing from the second he looked down my shirt during my first interview, and I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to take me hard and treat me like a whore. He definitely fulfilled my fantasy.

This Friday, however, he was staring at me patiently over the tops of his glasses while I stood hesitantly and innocently before him. I suspected he didn't really need the glasses, but wore them to appear stern at moments like this, because he never seemed to have trouble devouring every inch of my skin when I was naked and he wasn't wearing them. I was genuinely unsure what to do, so I looked quizzically at him. Finally, he broke the silence. "Miss Adair, you are aware that in five or ten minutes, you are going to be writhing around begging me to ravish you, are you not?"

When he said things like this, I always felt a blush rise to my cheeks, but a pleasurable squeezing sensation inside. I inwardly grinned at his use of the word "ravish," but his preference for these old-fashioned words was another thing that I couldn't get enough of. I stammered, "Yes, sir."

"Then why are you hesitating to undress?" he asked sternly. Thank God. We were cutting right to the chase. I attempted to appear hesitant as I began unbuttoning my shirt with shaking hands, wanting to at least seem ladylike, to continue fooling him that I am naive. His stern voice had gone directly to the center of my sexual desire and fanned the flame. Soon he would be sucking and biting the mounds of flesh I hid beneath the modest button-down shirt. Soon his hands would be ramming into the sensitive, already-moist crevice between my legs. I should have been repulsed by my wanton desires, but all I could think of was how to get the hell out of the clothes.

Mr. Ash raised an eyebrow as I tossed my shirt carelessly aside. I knew why. I had decided not to bother with undergarments. He licked his lips unconsciously, one of the few times I had ever seen his Stoic exterior crumble. I knew he wouldn't comment on it yet, though.

"Very good, Miss Adair. You did that quite efficiently. Now come here." When he praised me like that, it always made my knees week. I managed to walk relatively smoothly toward him as his eyes flicked appraisingly up and down my tanned, toned body. He nodded unconsciously, his stamp of approval, but I never got the impression he found me remarkable. Merely average. I loved that I didn't blow him away. I loved the control and experience he had.

"Now, Miss Adair," he began, as he walked around me and stopped behind me, inches from my quivering body. He spoke softly into my ear, but never dropped his schoolmaster tone. "I can see you are unusually eager for our session today since you neglected to wear your customary black lace undergarments." He paused, and I shivered from the sensation of his breath against my ear. He leaned down and kissed the hollow of my neck, flicking it with his tongue. I managed to squeak, "Yes, sir." He abruptly stopped kissing my neck and stepped back with an air of waiting. I gathered my thoughts, attempting to strike just the right blend of embarrassment and eagerness. This wasn't too hard, since it was a very real mixture. "I mean, sir, I've been looking forward all day to feeling your hands on me, pawing my tits, plowing into my cunt with your cock, and I didn't want to waste time with having to take off the underwear."

He smiled approvingly but professionally. "Very good, Miss Adair. I see you are learning what I expect to hear. Honesty and thoroughness." As a reward, he stepped closer, pulling me against his fully-dressed form. The hardness of his muscles cushioned every inch of my back, but he was especially hard against my ass, and I found myself wriggling against him, eager for penetration. That was when he reached from behind me to cup my breasts in his hands. I have large breasts--36C--but he also has large hands. He began massaging them, pinching the nipples, and I thought I was going to melt into a puddle. He leaned down slightly to murmur in my ear, "Miss Adair, I'm leaning down so that I could see your tits as I play with them. Your nipples are very hard, and you seem to be enjoying the fact that I am squeezing them, rolling them around in my hands, milking you like a cow. How does it make you feel that I can make you squirm like this?"

I moaned, but I knew this would not be a satisfactory response, so before he could remove his hands, I managed to gasp, "Sir, it makes me feel like a slut, but I like it. It feels so good when you pinch my nipples. Aubrey can't do it like you do." He responded by kissing the hollow of my neck again. Then he began trailing kisses down the front of my chest, and I felt us sink into his chair. My legs were spread wide, draped on the outside of his own moderately spread legs, exposing my pussy to anyone who walked in. Not that they would. The door was locked. Not that I cared at that moment, although the lewd way I was draped across his lap and my exposed pussy gave me a rush. I was positioned just above his growing fabric-covered erection, and the pressure was exquisite. I felt my vaginal walls contract once, slowly, in anticipation of what would soon be coming. He took my left breast into his mouth from behind me, and I gasped at the pleasure as he savagely bit my inflamed nipple. I started begging him to bite harder, telling him how good it felt. He finally relinquished the nipple when my screams of ecstasy and the liquid warmth pouring from my pussy onto his lap told him I had reached orgasm.

Then he started on my right breast. As he sucked it, his right hand began circling down my stomach. I knew what he was waiting for, so I begged him to finger fuck me. He had captured my nipple between his teeth, and as he raised his head to look at me, he pulled it taut, bringing a new wave of pleasure. He released it to say in his encouraging voice, "Miss Adair, you really are becoming very teachable. You are quite possibly one of the quickest girls I've had." Then he was pounding two of his large fingers into my dripping snatch, and I have no idea what I was saying to make sure he didn't stop, but judging by the intensity he smashed his fingers into me, it must have been obscene. When I finally came on his hand for at least the third time, he withdrew it and looked very impressed with me.

"Young lady," he said with a touch of awe. "Are you aware that I inserted three fingers into your cunt, and you were still begging for more? Why is that?"

I blushed with shame and arousal. "Sir, I love it when you fill my pussy with anything. The only time it really feels full is when your cock is slamming into it, though. Are you going to fuck me soon?"

His teacherly smile was back in places. "Yes, Miss Adair. But first, I want you to undertake an exercise with me."

This sounded intriguing. "Yes, sir," I responded with a hint of eagerness.

"It has not escaped my notice that you are an exceptionally naughty girl," he began matter-of-factly. "You like me to be rough with you. You desire me to do some things I have not yet done to you. I want you to express one of those things and then watch you writhe and whimper while I do it to you."

I was momentarily stunned with the embarrassment, fear, and arousal I experienced as I heard myself say without missing a beat, "I fantasize about you fucking my tits."

"That can be arranged," he responded professionally. "Get on your knees in front of this chair." I did as he commanded, anticipating the feel of his cock rubbing between my breasts. After he calmly and precisely removed and folded his clothes, he sat down in the chair and pulled me between his legs, grabbing one breast in each hand. He was slightly rough, and I moaned when he squeezed them together. Then I felt the spongy head of his prick seeking entrance at the base of my cleavage, and I uttered a string of whimpers begging him to take me. He plowed through the mounds of flesh until the tip of his prick peeked between my tits, and the friction sent shivers through my whole body. He withdrew and thrust in again twice more before thrusting harder and farther. His cock was inches from my mouth when he froze. I stared in fascination at the pearly precum that glimmered on the firm, rounded head of the cock that had just ravaged my young, tender breasts. I licked my swollen lips, wanting inexplicably to taste it, to take the delicious looking flesh in my mouth and suck it like candy. I began to lean forward, hoping he wouldn't stop me.

His voice brought me up short. "Miss Adair, would you kindly look at yourself?" he asked half-mockingly. "You are sprawled in front of my chair while I maul your tits, and you are obviously seconds away from taking my cock in your mouth. Is this any way for a lady to behave?"

His derision was an aphrodisiac, but I murmured the answer, "No, sir." He withdrew his cock from my breasts and lifted me from the floor to a standing position.

"But did you enjoy having your tits fucked by someone you barely know?" He stood before me.

"Yes sir," I responded honestly and wholeheartedly. He grabbed my hips and ground his massive member against my clit, making me gasp and writhe.

"Did you want to put my cock in your mouth and suck it?" He pulled back and drew my nipple into his mouth. I arched my back and practically screamed at him, "Yes, YES!!" He stopped his ministrations and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, WHAT, Miss Adair?" Obviously, I had been screaming about his touch, but I managed to clarify, "I wanted to suck your dick. I wanted to lick the cum off the head and swallow it like marshmallow creme." He ground his pelvis toward me again, and the friction against my clit made me gasp, "Oh God, Mr. Ash, please fuck me!"

"Miss Adair," he breathed into my ear as he slid his rod between the lips of my pussy but not into my aching cunt, "you know how I always take whores like you." He pulled his hips back and slid his cock back to its teasing position as he explained, "Whores who enjoy being tittyfucked, whores who want to drink my cum."

I tried to tilt my pelvis to take him inside my quivering canal, but he pulled back entirely and waited for me to acknowledge him. "Yes, sir," I breathed, incredibly aroused by his words. I lost no time in staggering to his favorite corner of the room and dropping to my hands and knees. There was a mirror there that hadn't been there before, and I was amazed to see how wanton I looked and how predatory Mr. Ash looked. My hair fell in tendrils around my flushed face, and my eyes were wide with desire. I watched him and felt him cover me with his body, but he didn't enter me yet. He brought his lips to my ear again and queried, "Miss Adair, does it make you ashamed to see what a sex-crazed maniac you appear to be right now? Does it turn you on?"

I responded with a simple but heartfelt yes before he pounded the seven inches of his thick, heavy cock into my dripping cunt. I tossed my head back in a scream of pleasure, and as I began to lower it again the image in the mirror acted like liquid fire in my veins. Mr. Ash was fucking me so hard that my tits were bouncing crazily, slapping each other and sometimes my face. The look on Mr. Ash's face was intense and primal as he thrust in as hard as he could. I had never seen him look so erotic, and it was the snarl of lust on his face and the power of the grunts from behind me that brought me to orgasm. I watched myself cum, but I didn't want him to stop so I begged him to keep going.

Normally, he fucked me harder and faster until he reached his climax, but this time, he slowed to a leisurely, sensual thrusting as he bent low to my ear again. "Miss Adair, your pulsing cunt and unearthly shrieks are telling me that you enjoy watching me fuck you from behind. Does it not embarrass you that you are begging someone to pound your pussy so hard that your tits are flopping everywhere? The same tits you begged me to fuck just minutes ago?"

As he expected, the combination of his words and his slow thrusts brought me again as I panted, "I look like a bitch in heat. I feel like a bitch in heat. It turns me on that you make my tits flop everywhere. It feels so good. Don't stop, God, don't stop!" I uttered a bestial groan as I came, but recovered myself enough to beg between his thrusts of increasing intensity, "Take me hard, take me like the slut that I am!" He reamed my pussy again and again as if he were a piledriver, and finally I collapsed for the final time under the spell of an orgasm of such intensity I couldn't move. He shot his load deep into my womb, making the walls of my pussy contract once more in a spasm of pleasure. I never worried about pregnancy--I was on the pill.

After the mind-blowing sex we had had, I expected to see a large chink in the armor of Mr. Ash, but as soon as I could move, he merely smiled professionally, handed me my pile of clothes, and ushered me to the shower before parting with the words, "That was very nice, Miss Adair. I will see you in two weeks. We really made excellent progress today."

God, his indifference was hot. But it would be two weeks before his magic pole was pounding into my aching pussy again. I felt it twitch in protest and hunger as I stared at the ceiling, willing myself to forget about it. I turned on the television, but whatever insipid shows were on could not take my mind off the fact that my nipples were erect, painfully erect, and my panties were beginning to be soaked at the thought of Mr. Ash and everything I had begged him to do. Or the tantalizing thought that next time, he might let me put his dick in my mouth. My lips began aching at the thought, and my mouth actually watered. If Aubrey were here, at least she could soothe my aching breasts by swirling them in her mouth, and she could eventually insert her entire fist in my pussy until it was satisfied. After all, two of her delicate fingers were the same size as one of Mr. Ash's. If he had fit three into me, she could easily fit five. But she would not be back until tomorrow night. I knew I couldn't wait that long.

It was then that I realized I had grabbed my breasts in my hands, pinching them and massaging them in an effort to relieve the tension. I let out an involuntary moan as I tried to stop myself--masturbation was strictly prohibited at our school. But my body had a mind of its own. I finally managed to untangle my right hand from the breast it was gripping, but immediately I realized that was a mistake. Except this was what I actually wanted. My right hand made a beeline for my pussy, and I didn't have the strength to resist. I massaged my clit with my middle finger, moving it in gentle circular motions, remembering the feel of Mr. Ash's hands on me and feeling incredibly turned on by the thought of his cock between my tits. Then I began sawing the fingers of my left hand in and out of my cunt, tossing and turning in the ecstasy and release it brought. I licked my lips, which were still aching to graze the shaft of his rod, and I began to imagine he was fucking my mouth just like I was finger-fucking my own pussy. I wasn't making any noise at first, but if felt so good getting away with plunging my fingers into my own cunt even though it was so wrong. I heard myself whimper. Then I got lost in the rhythm of my hands. Finally, I was overcome by a wave of pleasure that took the top off my arousal. The walls of my cunt were jerking spasmodically as I gasped for breath. I didn't realize it, but I had been moaning Mr. Ash's name. I became conscious of it when I recovered from my orgasm and found myself still whispering it.

Someone in the room cleared his throat. I squeaked and sat up abruptly, whipping my still-submerged left hand from the depths of my pussy. Two security guards had keyed into my room and were waiting to take me back to Mr. Ash's office to be disciplined. I felt a thrill of humiliation and excitement as I hung my head and moved from the bed to stand between the two guards. I had no idea what the punishment would be, but Mr. Ash had assured me I wouldn't like it. I stifled a smile. He was probably wrong.