The Program Ch. 01-06


"Headmaster, I know that you like me, since you're always complimenting me, saying how hot and sexy I look. . . ." I said nothing. "And I know you get excited when I'm wearing a costume, or showing off half-dressed, because I see the. . . hardon in your pants."

"This kind of talk is inappropriate, Janice."

"I may not have a lot of experience," she continued, ignoring me, "but those two boys at the mall said I gave them the best hand job ever. And they couldn't wait for me go down on them with oral sex."

"Miss Slatter, please get to the point."

"I want to give you pleasure," she stubbornly insisted, and pushed away the coffee table, slid off the couch and knelt on the floor.

"I think you better stop right there, young lady," I said, softly but sternly. As if deaf, she moved between my legs and spread her knees as wide as she could.

"Headmaster, I'm begging you to let me show you. I'd like to give you a hand job. You'll see I'm not just good at studying and scholarships."

"What has gotten into you?" I asked—but made no move to stop her.

She began undoing her tight blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. The tops of her exquisite tits, heaving with arousal, were exposed above the skimpy half bra, framed by pale blue lace. "Maybe I can convince you by showing you some skin? Don't you like seeing my breasts? Don't all men like seeing this? I like showing you."

"Miss Slatter, what do you think you're doing?" I hissed. She didn't pause for a moment, just unzipped and removed her skirt, showing the sexy lace tops of her blue stay-ups and tiny bikini panties.

"Turning you on, Headaster. Look at your pants." My enormous hard-on was indeed tenting my slacks. "And I can touch myself." One hand caressed a breast while the other poked inside the tight small panties.

"I said that is enough!" I said, fiercely, but she leaned forward and brazenly began unbuckling my belt, her breasts brushing against my knees.

"If you don't stop, I'll be forced to punish you," I warned, but she tugged my pants down to my ankles.

"Look, I even have lubricant for your cock," she announced proudly and pulled a bottle of lube out of a skirt pocket.

"I'm warning you for the last time." She just laughed saucily and leaned forward to remove my boxers. I had strung out the scene as long as possible. Now she would receive her first major punishment, in tandem with agonizing pleasure, and understand who was the master and who the submissive.

A second before my raging cock sprang free, I grabbed the hair at the top of her head and jerked it up. "Owww!" she yelled, her momentum interrupted, squeezing those sexy lips together in a full-blown pout. I pushed her back till she was leaning on the coffee table and stood, kicking my pants from my feet and ankles. She must have thought I was going to make her suck me, because a flicker of fear passed across her face.

"Get up." Once she stood, I grabbed her bicep and led her to the closest dining room chairs. They had been designed to a perfect height, her groin, as was proved when I pushed the small of her back down over the leather chair top.

"Are you going to spank me?" I laughed, pulling four cuffs and a tawse from the dining room table drawer and fastening them to her wrists and ankles.

"Spanking is for children." I tied her wrists to rings at the bottom of each chair leg. "No, you were warned multiple times," I reminded her, tying off the ankle bindings. "You will be punished with a leather tawse."

"What's that?" she asked as I stripped off her blue panties, leaving her long legs framed in the frilly stockings.

"It's like a small paddle, but the thick leather is a bit flexible." I placed the tawse on the chair seat, inches from her face, and let her smell the pungent leather as I gazed at her pouting pussy lips, so thick and low-hanging, below a gorgeous dark rose ring of slightly puckered skin. Her slit was already damp. "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself by yelling, so put this in your mouth." She opened her meaty lips and I inserted the panty, wet with her juices. It hardly filled that wide slash of a mouth, but would muffle her cries.

I struck her back first. She moaned but never screamed. When finished, I returned the instrument of her punishment to the chair and massaged a soothing oil onto her back, explaining that I regretted the necessity for harsh punishment, but the crop or cane would have been far worse. She groaned as my strong fingers worked the oil into her inflamed skin, constantly moving her torso in excitement. I retrieved the tawse and laid into her thighs. She grew even more excited, hips and thighs twisting alluringly, cunt juices now glistening from her labia. I repeated the oil-based massage.

It was time to alter the technique. I beat her tight ass harder than her back and thighs, until it bloomed with red mottling. But after every hit, I massaged the spot with oil. So every moment of pain was contrasted with a moment of relief. She sniffled but never begged for mercy, her pelvis pumping back and forth against the leather chair.

After a half dozen blows, I struck the thickly hanging lips. This time she screamed, as much in shock as in pain. "Oh my God, please Headmaster, don't whip my pussy!" she desperately implored until I replaced the tawse with my oiled fingers, rubbing the outer lips. "Ohhh, oh yes, ummm" she moaned, for the pleasure/pain switch had been thrown.

The second hit was further down, but she didn't scream, hoping for relief, which I quickly applied. "Oh God," she uttered as I stroked the length of the engorged lips till the oil mixed with cunt juice dripped onto the floor.

I dropped the tawse down in front of her face so she would be forced to smell her cunt juice mixed with the oil. "Open your legs wider." Did she guess what was next? She moved her limber feet apart and I pushed a pillow from the couch under her belly, exposing more of her mons. Instead of striking the final spot, I soaked my fingers and gently stroked the hood of her fat, protruding clit. She screamed in unbridled joy, thrusting her groin back at me, hips swiveling with craving for release. "Yes!" she cried. "Please, please!" But I had stopped. In the stillness, she realized what was coming.

"Oh God, please, not that!" Frenziedly, she pulled at her wrist bonds, but the heavy chair barely moved. I pushed back the flaps of the hood and squeezed the engorged clit itself. The incredible sensation was now mixed with fear. I pumped her entire fat shaft harder and faster as she ascended toward a fearsome orgasm, mumbling, thrashing and gyrating in her bondage. On the brink, I savagely struck the defenseless, exposed clit a half dozen times.

Her entire body seemed to lift off the chair, muscles and tendons stretched tautly, as her head jerked back in an extreme climax that even impressed me, savagely jerking her pelvis up and down until, over the space of a minute, she slowed down and hung limply.

I pried the saturated panties out of her slack mouth, fixed myself a drink and admired the sweat-drenched and greasy body, spotted with the evidence of her discipline. I already knew she was a budding exhibitionist, so she didn't say a word when I spent several minutes photographing her prostrate form from a number of angles, including close-ups of her inflamed, swollen clit and raw red cunt lips.

Refreshed, I was ready for the final portion. I yanked up Janice's head and held a glass of sherry at her lips, which she downed. "Thank you Headmaster," she croaked hoarsely.

"Will you defy me ever again?"

"She shook her head. "No sir. Could you untie me now?"

"I can untie your hands." I undid her wrist straps, which she immediately rubbed. The skin was tender from when she strained against the ties during her orgasm. I moved the pillow from her belly to the edge of the table and lifted her head until her forehead rested on the pillow. She was confused.

"Sir, will you untie my legs now?"

"No Janice, because your lesson in obedience is not yet over."

"Wha?" she asked groggily.

"Since you insisted on playing with not only your pussy but also your tits, they will be thrashed as well." There was silence while she weighed the consequences of resistance, realizing that I might also give her a second orgasm.

"Yes, Master." it was the first time she had used the abbreviation of my complete title, Headmaster. We had entered a new chapter. I unclasped the pretty bra and drew it off her, enjoying the spectacle of her heavy tits hanging down between the table edge and chair back.

"Do I need to gag you again?"

"No sir." I went to her bedroom, opened the night table drawer, and removed her dildo. Back in the dining room, I inserted it between her raw and tender cunt lips. She sighed with pleasure and began humping her mons against the chair as I smacked her pendulous tits very hard, alternating each hit with a caress of or stroke of the heavy orbs. Almost immediately, she entered "sub space" and loved every moment.

Soon her oiled tits were so wet that the liquid ran down her long nipples and dripped onto the chair seat. I regretted that there was too little space between the sensitive bottom side of her tits and the chair surface with which to swing the tawse. Oh well, some other time. Moreover, I longed to clamp and weight her huge nipples, but I knew that the Program took time and could not be successfully rushed. It followed a gradual timetable and I especially would not risk anything, considering the spectacular specimen I was brutalizing and pleasuring.

But between each slam of the tawse into her tits, I did begin kneading, squeezing, bending and stroking her nipples, which immediately made her pre-orgasmic. When she was on the brink, grinding and twisting the dildo into the chair, I applied the tawse directly to her nipples, watching the tit globes ripple and shake with the agonizing impacts. Finally, she screamed, but it was brief, because she came in another imposing frenzy, her head whipping back and forth as drops of sweat flew off.

When she had stopped, I dropped my shorts, twisted her lax head to face me, and shoved my cock into her limp mouth, fucking her face for only a minute or two before I spurted a long-waiting flood of jism into her. When the tenth spurt had shot into her, I released her head, which flopped down. My cum had accumulated in a pool on the roof of her mouth. Since her head and torso were upside down, the roof was the lowest portion. I watched as her tongue extended down into the hot cum and swirled around in it, savoring the taste, the only movement her exhausted cum slut of a body could muster. After photographing her again, with special attention to the pendulous tits and dripping nipples, I staggered down to my apartment, leaving her hanging over the chair.

Chapter 3: Hardcore erotica, accoutrements, daily restraints, a plea for punishment

After that dining room scene, everything changed. Janice showed me complete respect and adoration, mixed with a tinge of apprehension about my disciplinary potential. I tested her servitude in various ways. For example, I would arbitrarily ask her to change an outfit, or to switch midday into a revealing baby doll, or to remove her bra and panties as we were driving to an expensive restaurant in a neighboring town. Sometimes I ordered her to masturbate in front of me, using a combination of fingers, a dildo and a vibe.

If she needed shoes, knowing that part of her sluttishness was an exhibitionistic streak, I accompanied her, making sure she wore her shortest skirt without panties. Sitting in front of a young male salesman, teasing him with split-second flashes, she was the perfect mix of humiliation and excitement.

When I presented her with a new six-inch dildo and larger anal plug, I ordered her to break her hymen, which she did later the same night. By this time she was watching "The Story of O" in tandem with reading the novel. I assured her, that, even though Corinne Clery (the actress who played O), was hot, gorgeous and sexy, Janice, with her far bigger mouth, lips, tits and nipples, plus her longer legs and more enticing rump, was far more alluring. Besides, in the period when O was filmed, women didn't shave their mons, whereas Janice's dutiful daily shaving kept her thick, long labia prominently visible when naked.

She loved jewelry, so she started wearing bondage accoutrements. Her breasts and pussy lips were frequently roped. She wore different sorts of nipple clamps, mostly butterfly, although all were heavy duty to accommodate her massive nipples. Weights were added, then a chain connecting the nipple clamps. Or her nipples were cinched with leather shoelaces, also tied to weights. Her breasts were bound with wide rubber bands, rope, leather and Velcro strips. I lined some new full cup bras and several panties with the coarsest sandpaper, abrading her mercilessly as she wore them to classes.

In the dormer, she grew accustomed to ball and penis gags. At night, her neck collar was usually tied to the headboard. One of her favorite tortures was the breast press, since the metal rods and horizontal wood boards made her big tits bulge obscenely. Everything was carefully photographed in different positions and styles of lighting.

The next step was to force her to wear items to morning classes. On a Monday, I began with straps tightened at the base of her breasts, bulging her tit flesh and keeping her nipples semi-tumescent in class. Once she'd accepted that humiliation, on Tuesday I had her wear a small dildo. For Wednesday, she took a small anal plug, and on Thursday, mild pussy clamps. For Friday? She wore all four items and didn't get to concentrate much on her lectures.

One day, Janice brazenly asked if I would please flog her, since the multiple movie scenes of O being beaten excited her deeply. She recounted the scenes in detail: O with her hands tied above, whipped shortly after her arrival at Roissy; O's savage beating and fucking by the young man Sir Stephen gave her to; O's flogging at the women's retreat, strung between two pillars. Janice wanted to know how it felt, and whether it might be exciting. And she relived the two massive orgasms when she'd been tawsed at the dining room table. "Why should I?" I asked.

"Because I know it would please and excite you," she said. And when you were done, with me still tied, you might want to fuck me."

Chapter 4: first cropping, breast bondage, double blowjob

It was a few months later, and Janice's training was proceeding spectacularly. When I thought she was ready, I said that the Vice Chancellor was looking forward to meeting her and that he had suggested dinner at the dormer on Saturday night. The food would all be provided from the executive dining room. All she had to do was look great, set the table and be a cooperative host. Janice was excited to entertain and immediately asked what to wear. I responded that her white blouse and black skirt with heels would be fine.

On Saturday morning, I instructed the housekeeper to clean while Janice was at the gym, and to include all of her bras and panties in the weekly laundering. At 4:00 pm, I walked into her apartment—I had stopped knocking a few weeks before, in hopes of finding her undressed and embarrassed. She was in a panic, freshly showered and wrapped in a bath towel, and rummaging through her dresser. "Hello?" I ventured.

"Oh, Headmaster!" she exclaimed, whirling to face me, unconscious of her wet hair, shoulders and towel. "I'm so glad to see you. I can't find any underwear!"

"I suppose the housekeeper took it for washing and it will be back tomorrow. But no worries, I've been holding a treat for you, on the occasion of your first dinner party." I showed her the beautiful gift box I'd been holding behind my back.

She recognized the name of the French lingerie designer on the box. "You're a lifesaver!" she said, impetuously holding her damp body against mine and hugging me.

"See you at 7:00," I said and left. When Janice opened the box, it contained two sets of stunning bra, panties and garter belt, one in black and the other in white. She felt like a young woman, receiving her first garter belts with matching stockings. But she took too long on her hair and makeup, so it wasn't until 6:45 that she tried on the black panties and saw they were much briefer in front and rear than her pastel sets, exposing much of her ass cheeks.

She was even more taken aback when she put on the black bra. Unlike her half-cup pastels that revealed so much of her breasts, this was only a quarter cup. The tag said it was also called a shelf bra. Staring into the mirror, she felt ashamed that her nipples were left totally bare, but she also felt daring and racy. Besides, it was late and there was nothing to be done about it. And she had to spend time arranging her stockings and black garter belt for the first time.

I arrived at 7:15 with fresh flowers. She had lit a number of candles and the dormer looked good. Saying I'd never seen her look so grown up, beautiful and sexy, I bowed, clasped her hand high above her head, and invited her to take a twirl. Gracefully, she whirled around, the light short skirt rising up to reveal the stocking tops and bottom of the garter straps. I grew a little hard. She saw me staring at her legs. "Do you like your new gifts?" I asked innocently.

"Yes sir, I do, even though they're very grown up." She twirled back under my arm, faster, so the skirt exposed the tops of her legs and a bit of her panties.

"Lovely," I said, realizing she had done it intentionally. So my submissive student was also an exhibitionist.

This impression was confirmed when the Vice Chancellor arrived. Janice seemed a bit put off by his hard eyes and steely good looks. But she relaxed a bit as he and I sat on the leather living room couch while she served us vodka martinis. She had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her tight blouse, exposing cleavage as she leaned far over to set down our drinks. As he and I were about to toast the evening, Janice stood in front of us, looking forlorn. "What is it?"

"Couldn't I please please have a small drink, Headmaster?" The Vice Chancellor and I exchanged looks and he nodded.

"Alright, but just one, and it will be small," I warned, getting up to make pour a double amount of vodka into a highball, covering the alcohol by making a White Russian. The three of us toasted and Janice sat in the chair facing us, automatically spreading her legs and showing her sexy, lacy new stockings.

"Mmmm, delicious!" she said, sipping the sweet concoction.

We chatted generally for a few minutes until Janice had quickly consumed all of her drink. I asked her to move closer, from her chair to the coffee table. She stood quickly, swaying from the quick intake of her cocktail. I grabbed a wrist to steady her and led the girl to our side of the coffee table, where she sat on the edge, feeling a bit dizzy and forgetting the standard sitting position.

Gently, I placed a hand on the inside of a thigh and pushed outward. Reflexively, she spread both legs as wide as possible, the short skirt rising to reveal the elegant stocking tops and rested her hands on the table surface behind her. The Vice Chancellor looked at the big tits above the shelf bra and the dark nipples thrusting against the taut, thin white silk.

When he complimented her that she looked lovely and was becoming a young woman, Janice blushed proudly. I mentioned that she was wearing brand new lingerie, including, for the first time, a garter belt. "Really?" the Vice Chancellor asked. "I'd love to see it." Janice frowned, her thick lips—coated creamily from the White Russian— compressing in the cutest pout.

"Janice?" I prompted her. She bit her lower lip, so much like a girl. I reached out and gently slapped her cheek. "A host is supposed to take care of her guests." I slapped the other cheek. "The Vice Chancellor just wants a peek."

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