The Tutor

"All the stress of work, all the anxiety about money, all the worry about Fiona, it can all go away in an instant," she said, as though she were agreeing with me. "I can take it from you." She snapped her fingers. "Like that."

I quivered at the sound, and wondered for an insane moment if I had been hypnotized, and if I was going to do something monstrous now. But I only continued to lie there.

"Would I have to have sex?" I blurted out suddenly.

There was an extended pause while Kanae considered me. I felt like a fish wriggling desperately on a hook, being measured by the fisherman who was deciding whether to throw me back, and I felt a sudden illogical pang of loss at the thought of being thrown back.

"You would," she said at last. "Not all my slaves do. But yes. You, specifically, would have to submit in that way."

Tears started to my eyes once more. It was so unfair. The one thing I had promised myself I would never do again, the one defense I had against being hurt in the way that had maimed my life. Why did this demoness insist on taking that away from me too?

"All right," I heard myself say, far sooner than I meant to. It was like my voice had decoupled itself from my brain, and was making its own calls while the rest of me scrambled to recapture the runaway faculty. "I'll do it. I'll be your slave."

I felt her hands grip my ankles tightly, just under where the cord tied them together.

"You understand that if you agree to this, you can never go back?"

I whimpered.

"Your submission to me might end some day, but it will only be if and when I say it does," said Kanae. Her voice seemed to echo in my ears, as though my swimming head had become cavernous.

"Yes," I breathed at last.

"You will do everything I say, no matter how humiliating or objectionable or illegal or inhumane?"

My heart was truly hammering now. What had I let myself in for? Drug running? Organ harvesting? Human trafficking? Blood sport?

"Yes." My voice was a whisper.

"You agree to be punished by me at any time, for any reason, or for no reason at all, because your body and soul are mine to control."

God help me.

"Yes," I said again.

"And you agree to receive rewards from me at any time, for any reason, or for no reason at all, because your body and soul are mine to control."

The tears were streaming down the sides of my face.

"Yes."

"Then, Lexxxi----" her fingers worked quickly at the knots on one ankle, and the rope uncoiled, and she shoved my legs apart widely, roughly, with an urgency that her voice had yet to match---- "I order you to masturbate for me."

I lay, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling, for I didn't know how long. Blood was pounding in my ears; I felt my breath coming hard and strangled through a dry, choking throat. But she was waiting. She had given me an order, and she only had so much patience.

My hands began to steal down my body towards my naked crotch, which she was leaning down in front of and watching closely.

"It's been so long," I said nervously, by way of apology. "I don't know if I can."

"I didn't tell you to come," she said. "I told you to masturbate. One step at a time."

My hands reached my hairy bush, which I had let grow wild for the past decade, precisely because Jason had made me shave it. My body trembled at the realization that Kanae would probably have an opinion on how I should be groomed, and I would have to follow her orders. Her own nethers, as far as I had been able to stand looking at them, were bare.

One hand plucked feebly at the curly hairs, the other slid its way on down, inch by sickening inch, to the folds and recesses I had done my best for more than fifteen years never to acknowledge. Lightly, so very lightly, it grazed a bump, and a noise escaped me, a noise of horror, disgust, agony, fear, and something else that lingered long after, as my hands cramped in tight claws pulling away from the sensitive spot even though the heels of my hands still rested on my mons, something different, something I had forgotten about, something that was closer to pain than to pleasure in the moment just because the nerves were so inflamed, but I recognized it anyway.

"Your poor pussy," said Kanae as though she were holding her breath. "She's been aching for this for so long."

So encouraged, I lowered an experimental finger and stroked gently, then paused waiting for the wave of nausea. It did not come. Relieved, I stroked again. Spasms of pleasure came rushing up through my belly via long-disused nerve branches, making a delighted report to my brain. I was weeping again, but this time I was mourning the long years I had left her, as Kanae called her, untouched.

Gingerly, I lowered my entire hand over my slit and stroked up, as if I were petting the roof of a cat's head. I heard Kanae make a noise like purring, and felt a sudden ecstatic thrill at having pleased her. Slowly, with a dim memory of the old teenaged technique that had left my panties a mess so long ago, the hand that had been stroking my pubes began to press down slightly and make little circles above my clit.

Kanae breathed out a satisfied sigh.

"It looks like I won't have to teach you everything from scratch, at least," she said. "Well done, Lexxxi. Do you want to continue?"

I looked up at her while I continued to rub, circles over the clitoral hood with my left, up and down the crease with my right. I nodded. It felt nice, little trickles of pleasure that were in no danger of turning into a flood. The something deep within me that was not nausea lurched, however; and I paused all of a sudden.

"No, I'm afraid," I reported to her.

She looked up to meet my eyes over my prone body.

"Afraid of what?"

"That it will be too much."

Her lips pushed up into a moué, or a sneer.

"That is not your decision to make," she said. I lowered my eyes.

"Say yes, Mistress, when I tell you something true," she coached.

"Yes, Mistress," I murmured.

She rose suddenly, onto her knees, and then slapped her thigh sharply.

"Sit up," she commanded, and knee-walked on the bed until she was next to me. As I pushed myself up on my elbows, she swung a long leg behind my back, scooting until she was sitting behind me, with her hands on my shoulders and her little nubbin breasts grazing against my back.

"I'm going to make you come now," she said.

Panic flooded my system. I waited until I could breathe again, and then,

"Yes, mistress," I said.

"Good girl."

I melted back into her ever so slightly at the words. Her right hand trailed down the length of my arm, then around the front of my torso, snaking across my belly, and then down further. Long, slender fingers made their way unerringly to the entrance of my cleft. They teased there for a bit, one finger working its way gently in and the back out again, coating the others with the moisture it had found. And then all at once her other arm encircled my torso and pulled me tight back and up against her so that my buttocks were resting on her open lap and her fingers had room to plunge deep and hard into me, as deep and hard as anything ever had.

I shrieked a sudden painful shriek, and writhed in her arms, attempting to get away. This was Jason all over again, I had been right all along, this possession, invasion, domination, laying claim was exactly the same, this splitting me open with no concern for my desires or mood, this rough treatment, her free hand clawing at my breasts and her lips sucking hungrily against my neck while her right hand hammered remorselessly in and out of me with all the tenderness and consideration of a piston.

But my lower half jerked spasmodically, and I realized that the immensity with me that I had feared was responding hungrily to her inexorable, machine-precise strokes, strokes that were faster, more direct, more consistent, and that set my entire body on fire more than Jason ever had been capable of. I felt myself growl hungrily in my throat as my hips bucked against her hand in a desperate attempt to be hammered deeper, harder, faster still.

And she met the challenge, and my hips stopped bucking and instead quivered, surrendering to her onslaught.

"You fucking hungry slut," she whispered into my ear, her voice thick with exertion and delight. "You'll take everything I can give you and more, won't you? There's nothing you won't receive into you, is there? You'd stick a flagpole up your pussy and bounce on it if I told you to, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," I sobbed in her arms, already overwhelmed by sensation but still being flooded to dizzyingness by the thrilling violence of her words. My nipples felt rock-hard and my clit diamond-stiff with blood, both incredibly painful thanks to how long it had been since I last allowed myself to feel arousal, as she continued:

"Your pussy belongs to me, slut, and I'm going to keep her stuffed from here on out. Six inches to start with, I think. You'll work your way up to twelve. You'll have to wear special panties so that you don't leave wet spots on the chairs at work."

I groaned. The degradation she was describing was even more painful because of how much it was turning me on -- or rather, how much it was increasing the wattage on my already turned-on state -- but there was enough sanity left in me to writhe at the piercing social discomfort of what she was suggesting too.

Her fingers were unending in their churn; strong veins popped on her forearm as she maintained a rigorous plunging rhythm in and out of me, the heel of her hand slamming into my clit with every stroke as three fingers sank into me and her thumb and pinky squeezed my outer lips in unvaried repetition. Something that felt bigger than me was rising in me, a force more powerful than I could cope with, a ravenousness that was only just beginning to be slaked.

"Oh Christ," I shrieked all at once, "it's coming," and my legs bunched up underneath me and kicked out in a vain effort to ward it off.

"That's right, slut, come for me," she snarled into my ear, her left hand clawing into my right breast like a fork into a loaf, her right hand a pistoning blur in my loins. "Come for your mistress, come for Lexxxi, come for the miserable girl you've been for so long, come your brains out right -- fucking -- NOW!"

She drove herself into me with herculean force, and the force within me that responded at last was volcanic. I felt indeed as though my lower half had erupted, as a hot spray jetted out of me and cascaded down my legs; I had my eyes squeezed tight, seeing nothing but bursting colors and spiraling stars, but I would not have been surprised, when I opened them, to see myself split in two up to my navel, and blood and entrails gushing out.

But then her fingers popped out of me with a satisfying squelch, and I knew I was whole. My head was thrown back over her shoulder, my breasts pointing up to the ceiling as they heaved in the effort to recover my breath. My lower half still felt like jelly, but slowly I returned to my body, feeling oddly shy, as though I was a new tenant in it just getting the keys from a landlady who looked difficult to please.

"Good girl, Lexxxi," said Kanae, settling me once more in her lap and hugging me to her, trailing her fingers gently up and down my torso.

"Thank you, Mistress," I panted. We sat there for a while, she recovering from her efforts almost as much as me.

"I am going to give you five minutes now," she said presently. "Go pee, get water, whatever you need. But be back here on time ready to receive me on your tongue, or you will be punished."

I stirred in surprise, and then looked at her doubtfully.

"Receive you?"

"You heard me." She swatted my ass. "The clock has begun. Get a move on, slave."

I scrambled out of bed. Within a step, my body informed me that indeed, I did desperately need to pee, and also that I could drink a gallon of iced water without pausing. But I didn't have time for a gallon.

"Three minutes," she called, having not moved from the bed, when I emerged from the bathroom, the flush still gurgling behind me, and I scampered, naked to the kitchen. I was halfway through my glass when I remembered, of all irrelevancies, the phone I had dropped in the bushes hours ago -- a glance at the microwave clock informed me it must have been three hours ago now, both an eternity and far too short a span to have held all that had happened in it -- and I ran to the door and was digging in the bushes in the dark before I remembered that I was entirely naked. A light came on in a house across the street, and I froze in sudden terror.

Just then the tips of my fingers caught on the cracks in the screen of my phone, and I snatched it up and flung myself back into the safety of my home, slamming the door shut behind me. Kanae had already emerged from the hallway to investigate the sound of the door, a terrifying scowl on her face, but it softened when she saw me.

"I had to get my phone," I said, holding it up as evidence, but then I blinked in puzzlement, because faced with her, I couldn't really remember why it had seemed so important.

"Fifty seconds," was all she said, and turned back to the master bedroom. Hastily, I tossed my phone onto a side table -- I would worry about it later -- and returned to the kitchen. My hands and knees had gotten dirty rooting around for the stupid hunk of electronics, and I wiped myself down with a wet dishrag as best I could before sprinting to the bedroom, I passed through the doorway just as Kanae began to count "ten, nine, eight----"

She paused when she saw me, and smiled.

"You're adorable when you're flustered," she said. "I think I'm going to keep you in a permanent state of flusteredness."

"You already do," I found myself saying, surprising myself by the boldness of the overture. She smiled wider.

"All right, slut," she said. "Time to put that tongue to something better than flattery. Kneel down."

It was only once I did, sinking automatically to the carpet, that I realized that the overhead light was back on, and the bedside lamps too; the room was now filled with light. As she approached me, her hips moving gently with each pace, I realized why. She hadn't needed to see what she was doing; I, with my miserable lack of experience, would.

She towered over me, and I was startled to find that my body, having so recently been pushed to such an extreme of arousal that it might be expected to go dormant for months to come, was already engorging again at the sight of her. My pussy, which I had meticulously wiped dry after relieving myself, was moistening, my nipples crinkling into hard tips, as she approached me and stood over me, her lithe hips swaying just at the level of my face.

She put one hand on my head and pressed down. I lowered obediently, until my mouth was just slightly under the level of her hairless brown pudenda.

"Tongue out," she said. I opened my mouth and put out my tongue like I was expecting a throat examination at the doctor's. She stepped forward, so that the purplish lips of her slit hovered just above my tongue. I breathed in shallowly, the blood pounding once more in my head.

I could not believe I was about to do what I knew I was about to do, and there was a slight war going on in my mind as to how I felt about it: one part of me, the part that had been resisting Kanae all along but had recently lost when I agreed to be her slave, was still agonizingly whispering that this was insane, that I was straight, that I was twice her age, that sex disgusted me, that there was no possible way I could stand doing it, that I should be horrified and nauseated at the thought of it, that it was humiliating and perverse and what would anyone think if they knew what I was doing? But the part of me that had rebelled for good against this voice, that was still glowing from the recent orgasm, my first in almost two decades, that had said yes to being her slave, and called her Mistress as soon as she insisted, was twitching with eagerness. I had no idea whether I could please her; but the thought that I was being allowed to try was making me brim over with happiness. The conversion was so complete that it was making my head spin. How could I possibly be salivating over this college student's pussy when only a few short hours ago I hadn't been able to look directly at it when she masturbated?

And then she lowered herself onto me, and all thoughts departed, and I was only in a world of sensation once more.

The initial taste was purely salty, but as I stroked my tongue up and down across the folds, I was surprised to find sweetness coating my tongue. Experimentally I tried to work my tongue between the folds, and found more sweetness there, pooling on my tongue and sliding down my throat. Her inner wetness tasted like the juice of a fruit; not overly sweet, and cut with some acidic aftertaste, but delicious, and I was eager to taste as much of it as I could.

"Very good, Lexxxi," she said, cradling the top of my head in her hands and brushing her thumb across my forehead to move the hair out of my face. "Follow your desire. Feast on me. I will satisfy your hunger and slake your thirst."

These words made me even more eager, and I began using my lips, pressed against hers, to suck in addition to my lapping, questing tongue.

"Oh, good girl Lexxxi," she murmured, and rubbed herself very gently across my mouth. "You're a natural pussy-eater. Your true place is on your knees pleasing a woman, isn't it?"

I only responded by continuing my assault, gurgling as I drank in more of her juice.

She pulled away from me suddenly, and looked down at me sharply. Her hands wrapped tight around my hair, letting me know she could pull it if she needed to.

"I asked you a question, slave," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I panted. "Yes, this is my place." A little smile stole across my face at the acknowledgement. It made me deliriously happy, I had no idea why, to say those words. But my eyes flickered from her face back to the pussy, held tantalizing inches away, that was now dripping, and my lips trembled at the thought that any her fluids were escaping my tongue.

"Good girl," she said, and shoved herself back onto me. I gurgled happily in the back of my throat as I resumed lapping and suckling. I even scraped my teeth lightly up and down her labia, and had the honor of feeling her shudder at the sensation.

"Fuck, you're such a good slut," she said, pressing me hard into her. "I knew you would be. You couldn't be built like that, with such a fuckable face, and not crave pussy. You all do, at bottom. And I'm so glad I'm able to give you what you need."

This was driving me wild. I felt like I was trying to crawl into her through my mouth. I wrapped my arms around her legs in order to stabilize me against her so that I could focus my entire body on pleasing her. Her juices flowed freely now, and I was rooting around so sloppily in her pussy that sometimes they escaped my lips and dribbled down my chin or trickled up against my nose and streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't stop to lick up the lost juice; more was following it, and I had to capture it.

She began bucking hard against me, breathing hard.

"Fuck -- yes -- you -- fucking -- fuck -- doll----" she gasped, choking out her words between bucks. "You're -- the -- best -- slut -- I've -- had -- in -- years----"

Her praise glowed in my ears, inspiring me to attack her even more hungrily. I had discovered that when my nose rubbed against her clit, I was rewarded with a thicker flow of juice, so I launched a daring raid on the nub at the top of her slit, waiting until my mouth was in position as she drew back for another sharp buck, and then clasped my lips around it and rubbed up and down it with my tongue. She shuddered immensely, and I felt her knees briefly buckle against my shoulders, but she used her grip on my head to steady herself and regain control.