tagNonConsent/ReluctanceConsent Theory

Consent Theory


Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.

It had all begun six months before, when the young college junior had enrolled in an social sciences course at the state university he attended. It was not his usual topic of study and he had found himself quickly drowning in the foreign material and studies. He found it difficult to read and comprehend the philosophical analysis of men three hundred years since gone. How he had longed for the safety of his engineering courses and the scientific step processes which allowed him to logically come to the same conclusions as the pioneers of the field.

The only solution for the newlywed was to sign up for every available office hour. Every day after class he would head to his professor's office to cover the lecture material and reading in a more comfortable environment where he could raise questions on simple things without looking like a fool in front of his classmates. The teacher of the class didn't mind, and she seemed to readily accept and encourage his eagerness to keep up. He had mistakenly interpreted that as devotion to her job.

The professor was actually an associate who did not have tenure and had only recently arrived at the school, from a smaller private institution where some whispers of wrongdoing had led to her dismissal. She was in her tenth year of teaching out of graduate school and had found that college was the perfect place to sate her vast palate of needs and desires. Michael was not her first victim, and he would not be her last.

On the last Friday before the final, Michael had reserved his typical time of office hours and had hurried down the basement stairs to her small sanctuary to try and understand a particularly difficult topic. His professor, Amy Tetrell had greeted him with an open door, a small smile playing across her lips.

She had turned as soon as he had entered the room and walked to her desk where she leaned, her hand extended outward, indicating a seat for him to take. Michael took his seat and began to unpack his notebooks in his lap. His attention momentarily lapsed as he looked to the space in front of him and realized just how short the tweed skirt his professor was wearing was. He glanced immediately back down at his notes, trying to cover up a slight blush on his face. He was happily married, and knew that even thinking about another woman lustfully was considered adulterous. He loved his wife and wanted to maintain a pure relationship in her eyes and in God's. The professor was attractive to be sure, and he did not blame her for having a body that was a temptation for him. She was a person valuable to the Creator and it was his own fault for slipping.

Gulping, he flipped a few more sheets and found the section he was looking for.

"I'm having trouble understanding the notion of implicit and explicit consent. I don't get exactly where we draw the distinction at... It seems like inaction is implicit and any type of action is explicit, but some of the other authors seem to think that action isn't explicit in and of itself. How do I tell which is which?" Michael looked up again, his eyes trying to slip over his teacher's body without stopping to appreciate its features.

She was playing with the top button of her blue blouse, another hand resting on the corner of her desk.

"That's exactly it. Some of the people we are studying disagree on consent theory. There isn't really a one hundred percent right answer. Say for instance, I propositioned you right now. If you said yes, I would have your explicit consent according to Rousseau. If you didn't say anything, I would have your implicit consent."

It had taken Michael a moment to register the word propositioned. At first he had just skipped over the hypothetical to the content, but had done a double take when he realized what she had said.

"Excuse me?"

"There's no need to be coy Michael. I know why you come down here every week. I was just getting to the point. Now where would you like to do it?"


"Michael, we're both adults and can make decisions for ourselves. I've seen you eyeing me. And I must admit, I find you quite handsome myself."

"I'm sorry. There must be some mistake," Michael stuttered. "I'm married. I don't want anything from you. Honestly."

"Right. I'm to believe you really need all this extra help. Get your clothes off and fuck me. I'm not in the mood to play around," came her instructive reply.

"I do need the help. I really did. I think maybe I should go," Michael managed. He folded up his notebooks in a rush and accidentally dropped a few sheets of paper to the floor. When he looked back up after collecting them, there was a sinister smile on his professor's otherwise elegant face.

He cocked his head to the side as her hand emerged from behind her, a matte black shape clutched in her palm. He would not register that it was a Taser until she had applied it to his arm, blue sparks arcing onto his skin. His body erupted into uncontrollable shudders as the high voltage coursed into him. One more application of the self defense device, and Michael was unconscious, helpless before his trusted professor.

When he awoke again, his plight had grown distinctly more desperate. His senses first became aware of the room he was in, and his mind finally managed to catch up. As it did, he tried to bolt from the chair he found himself in, but quickly discovered he was tied skillfully across its heavy metal frame. The chair did not budge, apparently chained to the desk, which in turn was bolted to the floor. His breathing grew in rapidity, as he found his captor standing across from him, leaning on one hip as she studied her handiwork.

One bang had fallen across her forehead and her glasses were pushed a little farther down her nose than was normal, but her smile was genuine. Michael glanced down and around him, and quickly discovered that his pants had been undone and that his naked penis had been fished from its underpants. It lay, in its own silent surrender off to the side of one thigh. He tried to cry out but found his tongue and voice muffled by some piece of material. As he tried to spit it out, he became aware that it was duct taped in. He tried pushing his tongue through the barrier, but was instead rewarded with a flavorful sampling of a salty taste that filled the material. His penis twitched as it recognized a taste not dissimilar from his own wife's pussy.

All the while his professor just stood across from him, one hand lightly grazing across her collar bone while the other sat on her hip. The darkly vibrant eyes scanned his bound form, pausing each time they passed his groin and only to make eye contact with him. Michael, finally exasperated by the futility of his efforts, surrendered and sat still, allowing his mind to be lulled by the ticking of the clock.

Amy would wait a little longer, watching the gorgeous naked boy bound before her, savoring the details of the way in which she would take him. But first a little teasing.

Breaking from her stance, she moved towards him, her eyes carefully tracking his, looking for any male signs of intoxication with the female sex. She was a bit disappointed that her approach do little reaction from him. That would not last long.

Once she was by his side, she knelt on the cold surface of the floor and gazed up at him. He simply stared defiantly back.

The young man watched her as she slowly raised one hand, and placed two fingertips on his khaki covered knee cap. He focused on her face, instead of on her hand, trying to dismiss it. But slowly, the fingertips began to walk up his knee, to his thigh, and farther up, until they were stopped a mere inch or two away from the still form of his flaccid cock. Michael's eyes stayed on Amy's, not letting his mind wander to the proximity of her to his penis. But her eyes kept looking down and back again, breaking eye contact and guiding his sight down to his lap.

Each time he followed her vision, he would find his mind starting to wander and each time he had to arrest it by returning to thoughts of the heartbreak that his wife would experience by such a betrayal. But as Amy's breathing increased with the torturous refusal she commanded of herself and her tongue darted out to wet her lips, Michael began to realize just how futile a battle it was.

When his eyes finally moved to his cock of their own volition and without prompting of any sort, Amy gave him a reward of sorts.

Her hand quickly withdrew to her mouth where one finger tip was delicately moistened by her tongue. Then that digit was returned to his crotch and it slowly found its place at the base of his cock, where it met with its heavy testes. The first touch caused his hips to twitch in involuntary excitement. It was so subtle a touch that later he would wonder if it had ever actually happened. The edge of the nail would slide from the crevice between his bent penis and sack and trail a small bit of moisture upwards, over his shaft.

Michael had to look away, his mind was having a difficult time looking beyond Amy's beautiful face and sexy form, and all the possibilities that surrender offered. But they were quickly, magnetically, drawn back to his dick as her finger gently slid back down his member. When it reached the base again, her thumb joined the pointer finger in embracing the heated piece of flesh. Together, with just the tips of each in contact, they slipped back upwards.

Chagrined, the young man recognized that his penis was beginning to respond to the gentle touch of the gorgeous woman whom he desperately wished to be free of. Its growth was slow but steady, and with each increase in its length and firmness, her fingers would move a little faster up and down his shaft. By the time it had reached its full eight inches, Amy's two fingers were doing as close to a hand job as they could with just their tips.

Amy was enthralled by the vulnerability of the man she hardened with her fingertips. Despite his best efforts, his penis was rock hard and standing at full flagstaff. Even she was having a difficulty attempting to restrain herself. But she wanted him to suffer and to give in entirely to her desires, so she forced a new group of willpower to the forefront of her mind and avoided skipping any steps to the glorious finale.

She rose on her knees, pushing her tight ass off its resting place on her heels, until she was between his thighs. Her remaining fingers joined the two already on his penis and they surrounded it in a tight, warm grip. Her mouth rose up over his erect cock and her lips slowly parted, her breathing pushing warm air out over the purple head of his member.

Michael's heart raced as he resisted the urge to thrust upwards, to close the final gap between his penis and her mouth. That was what she wanted, his mind screamed, don't surrender! Thoughts of his wife and his vows to her helped to overcome the near insatiable urge.

Seeing that the young man was not ready to give in, Amy pushed some of her saliva forward in her mouth with her tongue. As it pooled and slowly spilled over her lips, dripping in a steady stream over the rod beneath her, Amy began to move her hand.

Up and down the now well lubricated appendage moved, smearing the junior's cock with warm liquid. The dick throbbed beneath the intensity of its new sensations, denying Michael's mind's attempts to still it. Small pearlescent droplets of pre-cum began to form at the split in its tip. But the swiftly moving hand smeared them into the mixture of saliva and used them to further lubricate their joining.

"Good isn't it, Michael?"

Amy was teasing him gently, her words carried on the same hot breath which caressed his tool.

"You seem to like this. For a married man you sure got hard quickly, didn't you? I wonder what your wife would say if she saw you like this. She probably strokes you like this, doesn't she. Such a beautiful cock, she properly likes to lick it," his professor whispered just before her tongue darted out, its tip running from just beneath the head of his cock, up over its tip, where it carried away some of his fluid.

"Mmmm... Salty. It tastes so good. And look, there's more already there."

Again her tongue slowly ran from the bottom of his shaft and up over the head of his penis where more of his fluid was whisked away to her mouth. Over and over her tongue danced across the head of his penis as her hand beat him off.

Michael was having a hard time focusing through the intensity of the stimulation that she was delivering to him. His eyes had become locked on his penis by now and there was no denying his arousal. In the depths of his mind he still heard his conscience's demands to resist and to fight back, but Amy was proving too damned good at the blow job to deny the acceptance of this pleasure.

His mind began to buzz as her tongue began to swirl around his phallus, never taking it into her mouth, just adding moisture and a different sensation to the regular pace of her furiously stroking palm. Around the edges of his vision details began to fade and he knew that soon he would be coming.

In a last act of defiance he tried twisting his hips suddenly away from her, but her grip was to firm and his cock remained in her possession.

She broke away from the torture only to taunt him more.

"Ooh, are you close, Mikey? Are you going to come soon? That's a good boy. Let it out," she breathily moaned. Her head lifted a little further from his penis as her hand grew more urgent in its stimulation. Suddenly she felt the pulse of eruption in its base and a second later the first spurting glob of his semen launched from its tip and landed on the front of his shirt. Inspired by the first shot her hand doubled its efforts and soon more catapulting spots of fluid joined the first.

"Oh, God, oh god," Michael cried as he came. His voice disappeared into a mumbling groan in her panty gag and he could merely thrust upwards in reaction to his orgasm. Amy seized on this new found submission and her hungry wanton mouth descended onto his still spurting member. She sucked him deep into her oral orifice and bobbed her head up and down on his length, all the while maintaining a tight grip at the base of his cock in an effort to prolong his erection.

The fury of her mouth's attack kept him cumming for a minute longer, and she was given a plentiful taste of his salty snack. But from the bestial look in her eyes, he could tell that she loved it.

Until then, Amy had been denying her own needs in an effort to pinpoint all of her attentions on her captive. But now that she had tasted his semen her own burning desire came to the forefront of her mind. Her free hand moved behind her and found the zipper at the back of her skirt. Awkwardly she tugged the little metal pulley downwards until the formerly encasing material slipped away from her hips. It would pool at her bent knees but she did not mind. There was something intensely erotic about being partially undressed on her knees before a bound man, with her finger digging beneath her panties and into her pussy.

Already her twat was well lubricated from the progress she had made in fulfilling this fantasy of hers. As her head bobbed continuously on Michael's erect member, her fingers spread her pussy lips wide and allowed her to insert her middle finger into her moist depths. A groan of her own pleasure rumbled through Michael's cock as she pushed it as deep as her position would allow.

The smell of her spread sex began to fill the air, extending outward from her invaded channel and into the enclosed room. Quickly her finger fucked in and out, trying to match the pace of her mouth on the captive's cock. The notion of being able to take whatever she wanted from this man added to the thrill. All of the taboos and rules she was violating just increased the pleasure she reveled in exponentially.

When her finger could not give enough pleasure by fucking into her depths, it began to slide swiftly over her clitoris. The small little nub had emerged from its hood and its naked tip recorded and magnified every bit of contact she had with it. Her well practiced masturbation continued with her energetic blowjob and soon she had created her first orgasm of the experience. More juices flood her still present panties and coated the fingers that occupied the space between them.

Michael's penis had resisted all efforts to return to flaccid state and was still angrily erect. As Michael tried to take in the woman he had once regarded with such intellectual respect slurping on the head of his penis as she got herself off, it began to ache, informing its owner that it would soon erupt once more.

Amy sensed the increased tightness in the sack just beneath her hand and understood its meaning. Her tongue's rough surface slapped across the bottom of his cock as her mouth withdrew and plunged downward. She desperately wanted to feel his seed upon her.

With a few more gulps on his cock the familiar pulse of orgasm spasmed through his member. Amy withdrew her mouth's hold on the member and leaned back, pulling her shirt apart and exposing her naked chest. Entranced, Michael would watch as her wanking hand guided his cock tip towards her and his white fluid spilled out onto her naked tits. It fell like opulent jewels across her collar bone and dripped downward leaving a hot trail of glistening moisture as it coated her. The hand that had occupied her pussy so recently withdrew to smear some of the fluid over more of her breasts.

He had never been witness to such pornographic displays, and stared detached and in disbelief as she massaged his jism into his skin.

"It's so hot Michael. It feels so wonderful against my skin. Keep coming, I need more," she groaned through pursed lips.

As the last of his fluid spilled onto her chest as she rubbed her tits against his cock in an effort to cover herself with more of it, she gathered some of the semen and plunged it back into her panties.

Michael was incapable of resisting the enchantment of seeing a beautiful older woman masturbating with his juices as added lubricant.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the energy and excitement of the moment began to fade and Michael began to remember his moral objection to the situation. He began to remember his wife, his church, and his upbringing and the ebbing erection seemed to lose its hold.

As Amy pushed herself up from her knees, her full tits resting free of the confines of her blouse, Michael closed his eyes and felt his face begin to burn with shame. How could he have allowed his body to respond like that? How could he have given in so readily to her touch? A grief deeply seated within his heart overwhelmed him.

His professor, on the other hand seemed glibly satisfied with her work. She was leaning on her desk before him, freed entirely of her skirt and her blouse now an afterthought where it hung from her shoulders. Across her rosy pink nipples and creamy skin, light patches of his fluid were drying. He didn't dare look at her. Her brazen sexuality posed a threat to the feelings he was clinging to as a way of punishing himself for his lack of will power. If he had, he would have seen a beautiful older woman in her under garments, studying him as if he were a piece of meat. A grayish hue occupied her black panties, marking her center and the place where so much of her juices and his own had been supplanted.

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byAthena_e19© 10 comments/ 130338 views/ 64 favorites

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