I can do this one thing that no one else can, and it's a pretty cool superpower to have. That's right, I can spot an asshole a mile away. Everyone knows about the Chloe Pond asshole test because of me; none of my friends will date anyone who doesn't pass it.

So, I'm applying my asshole radar to Oren Bretton as I peruse the scrap of paper he left on his desk, on which he's written his address and phone number.

Shoot the -ball, Inwardly, I said, Do you think Oren Bretton is a jerk?

Everything points to yes, I said with a chuckl

It was already 8 o'clock and I still hadn't made up my mind.

Chloe would have been the type to toss the scrap of paper with his contact info, take a long shower to calm her racing hormones, and then head to bed. She would have masturbated while reading a racy book on her Kindle and then drifted off to sleep.

She certainly wouldn't have shaved her pussy just to appease a man who gave her the mocking eye treatment and then ordered her to get on her knees.

If she had been thinking about what he might do to her, she would not have rubbed lotion into her newly shaved mound.

She never would have put on the red lace bra and the red dress that hugged her every curve, nor would she have put on the red thong that barely covered her hips.

Without thinking, I finished all those tasks, called a cab, and rode to Oren's.

Exactly 9 o'clock p.m. I had no excuse for my tardiness in his eyes. I waited by the door after I rang the bell. Strangely, I felt no anxiety. I had no reason to put my faith in Oren Bretton, but I also had no reason to fear for my life, as I knew that Oren wouldn't risk his career and reputation by doing anything reckless.

If you were emotionally scarred, you wouldn't necessarily be physically scarred. Tonight, I would either prove that I was completely submissive and would do whatever the right man told me to do, or I would prove that I was not. And if I did, I'd have to face the possibility that I was just pretending to be submissive, as he'd suggested. Not only did I not know what I would learn about myself tonight, but I was also not sure if I wanted to.

He pushed the door open. He was now dressed in faded jeans and a simple black t-shirt. His eyes, which had previously been a deep, sea blue, were now a shocking electric blue thanks to the effect of the all-black outfit.

We exchanged glances. Evening plans, Chloe," he said to her in a calm tone. There won't be any cuts. The traces I may have left on you will disappear within a few days. And if it all gets to be too much, I'll provide you with a codeword to use to get yourself to a safe place.

He waited for a moment, and then continued in an unyielding tone. But if you use your secret word, that's it, you're out of here. This isn't for your amusement, by the way. It concerns me. If you stay, you must follow my rules.

As he spoke, I felt a tightening and pebbling in my nipples, and they rose up and out of my dress as a result. My mouth was dry, so I nodded my head in agreement. Exactly what I needed, right? It was a chance to test out my darker side and go places I hadn't dared go with the conventional men I dated.

He instructed us to "walk through the house." The back yard can be accessed through a screen door located in the kitchen. It's time to get some fresh air. Strip. Toss your garments onto the table in the patio. Await my arrival on bended knee.

Incredulous, I looked at him. Standing in his front doorway, I could see that he had neighbors and hear voices and the smell of barbecue. A full darkening of the sky would not occur for another half an hour, so although dusk had set in, there was still some light in the air.

He stared at me with a sly grin on his face. Ultimately, I decided to safeword and run because of his smug smile. Obviously, I couldn't let him win. Sorry, but not just yet.

I walked briskly through the living room, unlatched the screen door, and stepped outside. I let out a sigh of relief and paused for a moment there. Nobody would be able to see me in the secluded area of his backyard thanks to the fence. I would definitely be heard out here, if not seen, and his neighbors were in their backyard laughing and grilling.

Nothing could be done; I had orders.

I undressed, laying my garments orderly on the table. Daytime temperatures and humidity levels were high, but the nighttime air felt refreshingly cool. I got down on my haunches on the patio stones, with my knees slightly apart, my hands on my thighs with the palms facing up, and my head bowed. The more I followed his orders, the more aroused I became by my own submission.

Upon recognizing his voice, I did not raise my head but instead kept my gaze cast downward. Never before had I felt so vulnerable as when I felt his eyes on me as he walked around me and raked my naked body with them. His lack of communication was unsettling, and his refusal to touch me was frustrating.

He flipped a switch, and suddenly the night was alive with music. It wouldn't be overpowering, but it would mask the sound of low moans. Do you feel better now? Honestly, I was in a state of cognitive dissonance. And there I was, kneeling, waiting for Oren to give me my next directive.

"Check me out." He spoke in a low, soothing tone.

And so I complied.

"What do you say when I tell you to jump?"

A question: "How high," I said softly.

Professor Bretton, you were wrong about how high it was.

Despite being drenched and still on my knees, I hated how he made me feel, like I was nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. My internal conflict was evident in my eyes, and he picked up on it. He mocked me with his laughter. "Are you satisfied with the way I care for you, chum?"

Nothing at all, Professor Bretton.

So why are you still hanging around here, pet?

I paused to draw a deep breath. Simply put, "Because my pussy is wet, Professor Bretton."

Laughter came from his lips. "That's some refreshing candor, kitty. Maybe there's more to you than meets the eye... Hmm, how about we find out? Do you want to use a passphrase?

I spoke in a low tone. Magic 8-ball.

He echoed, "Magic 8-ball," this time with a tone of amused inquiry. However, he then spoke with a more stern tone. "Unbutton my pants with your mouth. Get your dick out of here and give me a smack down.

Obviously, I went along with it. My pussy squirted with arousal at his every command, and my willingness to submit to his every whim was a potent aphrodisiac.

But that doesn't mean there wasn't some clumsy zipping up. Never having attempted to unzip anything with my mouth before, I was a bumbling mess, red in the face with embarrassment, and unable to get his zipper undone.

When I tried to help him, he took off his belt but then just stood there. To my relief, he didn't make fun of the situation, but he also didn't offer any assistance. I couldn't help but wonder if he was watching me with the same impatience he displayed earlier today when I fumbled for change in the Starbucks line.

My cheeks brushed past his hard erection, and I could feel it harden even further; jump at the contact, as I bobbed up and down with my mouth seeking the pull of the zipper. The only sign that this situation was turning him on was his hard dick, and it reassured me that I wasn't a bumbling idiot.

After witnessing me make dozens upon dozens of unsuccessful attempts to get a hold of the zipper pull with my teeth, he eventually felt sorry for me and gave in.

He growled, "Stay still," as he ordered. He grasped the pull for the zipper between his fingers as he reached for it. He mumbled, "Come here, pet, come put this in your mouth," as he called the animal over to him.

Pet. I detested being called that. More than the actual act of stripping down to my underwear at his command, the word itself was degrading; it reduced me to a fucktoy for his amusement. I couldn't believe I'd made the mistake of staying, of leaning forward and putting the zipper pull in my mouth. I hated myself.

And yet I did. While I was clenching my teeth and gripping the pull between them, his fingers lightly brushed against my lips. My mouth parted almost against my will as his fingers traced a gentle path between the seam of my lips for the first time that evening, and a shudder of arousal rippled through me as a result of his touch. This was the first time that he had touched me that evening.

That trembling took me by complete surprise. I had always assumed that it was my submissive nature that turned me on, and that Oren's orders were merely a way for me to show that I was willing to comply with whatever he asked of me. But it hadn't been a rough touch at all; rather, it had been a light, fleeting touch, and for some reason, that had a greater effect on me than it should have.

How is it possible, I asked the Magic 8 Ball inside my head, that despite everything, I am still attracted to Oren Bretton? With the teasing and the laughter and the sternly delivered orders?

After I had pulled down the zipper, he finally became impatient and pushed his pants down his hips, at which point he removed his stunningly beautiful and engorged cock from his briefs. Suddenly, all thought left my brain, and my mouth opened almost automatically as I prepared to take this flawless example of manhood into myself and worship it in the manner in which it was intended to be worshipped.

Please ask me again later, because the answer to your question about Oren has already been provided by my brain. After that, there was a complete and total shutdown as lust took control. My tongue reached out and tasted the bit of gooey goo that had formed, and for just a moment it swirled around his head, tasting him. It may sound like a cliche, but he had a flavor that was unmistakably and authoritatively masculine. Both salty and sweet, as well as the epitome of male perfection.

Then I put my palms still on my knees while I took him into my mouth and began giving him the most effective blowjob I knew how to give.

For a brief period of time, he was content to let me set the pace, and I took about half of his length in my mouth. With my tongue wrapped around his length, I kept my mouth slack as he slid in, and I sucked in my cheeks to increase the pressure on his way out. As I moved my head up and down his length, rubbing my tongue on the sensitive underside of his shaft, and sucking my mouth around his thick, smooth head, I could feel his cock becoming more robust and expanding in my mouth. This sensation continued even after I had finished sucking my mouth around his head.

After hearing him groan for the first time, I felt a surge of triumph go through my body. At long last, evidence that he, too, had been impacted by this.

He then looked at me while pulling his dick out of his pocket and saying, "Now, pet." I'm going to take your words, and I'm going to take them seriously. If you don't want my neighbors to be able to hear you groaning, I recommend that you keep the volume down.

I became flushed, but there was no more time for me to react; he wrapped his hands around my long hair, tightened them to the point where there was a hint of pain, and then drew me closer to him. My hair was still tangled in his hands as he continued to hold me around the neck, and he was pressing my mouth deeper onto his cock. I had to force myself to relax so that I could take the full length of him in my mouth. His hands slid slightly lower. He was holding me around the neck.

I tried my best to breathe through my nose despite the fact that his cock had hit the back of my throat. I concentrated on developing a rhythm in order to win his approval, and I knew I was making progress when I noticed that he was putting more pressure on my hair. Because of how rough he was, my pussy was leaking, and juice was dripping down my thighs and onto the stones of the patio; he had me completely horny.

I gave myself a moment to catch my breath and try to moderate the pace of the conversation, but he was having none of it.

He growled at me, "I'm going to set the pace now, pet," and while he was fucking me and using me for his pleasure, he moved his dick in and out of my mouth. He was using me for his pleasure. I was drooling, and I did my best not to gag; he gave me just enough time to breathe before he shoved his length down my throat. I was unable to stop the gag reflex.

Because of the way he was treating me and because of the way I was allowing him to treat me, every nerve in my body was tingling with excitement and arousal.

After he had his cock lodged in my throat for a few seconds, I opened my mouth and let him in. My chest hurt and my eyes were watering as I fought for air.

He let go for a second, and I sucked in a few breaths of air before he shoved back in my throat. Even as I fought against giving in to his authority, my hands left deep indentations on my thighs from gripping them so tightly.

I could have prevented his advances by stepping back, using a safe word, or even fleeing the situation altogether. But I yearned for this; I want to be treated as if I were nothing more than a means to his end. The more forcefully he dominated me, the less consideration he showed, and the more completely I submitted.

For a moment, nothing else mattered but his cock in my throat. The music was a gentle swell beneath me that I could feel but not hear, and the sounds of the neighbors' talk gradually receded into a background throb. For him, the only thing that mattered was whether I gave him access to my neck. Only taking breaths at his discretion. Having him f*ck me at his own speed.

My thighs were soaked with pussy fluids, and my saliva dripped from my lips. Even though I was a complete mess, I had never before felt more like a sexual being.

Above me, I heard him exclaim, "I'm going to come over your breasts, pet," and he quickly drew out, spraying come all over my clenched nipples and soft bosom. My body shivered as rivulets of water trickled down my legs, but I didn't move because I didn't know what to do.

He gave me a sarcastic grin. He put his fingers in my mouth after scooping some of his ejaculate off my breasts. Just lick this, he said.

The memory of all the wonderful males I'd dated whose come I'd refused to swallow stunned me into compliance. Like a cat, I licked the meat from his fingers as he gave it to me. When I was disgusting and sticky and unpleasant, I also felt strong and sexy.

My s*x organ was aching, full, and pulsating with want. I let out an inward sigh; I needed to feel his body next to mine so badly. But I didn't bother asking; I was just there to make him happy.

He distanced himself, his eyes dilating as he studied me. At last, his intention was crystal plain as he pointed toward the screen door. It was instructed that I enter the building.

***

He was leaning on a counter in the kitchen, observing me, when he said, "Shower?" I was surprised by his thoughtfulness; after receiving his come, I felt sticky and the thought of a shower seemed like heaven.

To this I said, "Yes, please, Professor Bretton," my gaze fixed on the ground. The moment I went inside, I lowered them.

He chuckled and told me, "You can make eye contact, you know." I like seeing the animosity in your expression when I force you to perform something that is difficult for you. Then your passion takes control, and you have no choice but to comply.

I looked at him, and just as he had said, anger welled up in my eyes. I took offense to his mockery, and it was obvious that he was trying to provoke me on purpose. If I hadn't mentally counted to 10, I may have thrown a mug at the arrogant jerk.

As he watched me try to contain my anger, a flutter of emotion crossed his lips.

"Well done, dear, I applaud your restraint. Let's take a look at your shower situation, shall we?

I followed him upstairs, making an effort to conceal my admiration for his abode as I did so. A lot of literature, art, and vibrant colors made it seem like home. The rooms were bathed in a pleasant glow from the many lamps that decorated the interiors. Oren's University office was fully functioning; it was a jumble of papers, takeout containers, and stale coffee. The difference between his house and the rest of the neighborhood was striking.

He showed me the restroom and offered me a towel. If you aren't out in ten minutes, I'm coming to get you, and you will receive a spanking you'll regret, he added calmly. After agreeing, I accepted the towel and set it on the sink. I left the door wide open since I was nude and he was certain to see all there was to see of me before the night was out. I've just walked into the shower, switched on the water, and sigh with pleasure as the hot, wonderful water pours over me.

I was reluctant to leave his shower since the water pressure was so good. The water pressure in the shower at my student accommodation was so low that I made a practice of taking a short detour to the facilities at the gym every day. This shower, however, completely trumped the ones at the gym in terms of pressure and water temperature. At first, I was nervous of the glass shower door, but then it fogged up and I simply closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

What am I doing, ask the magic 8-ball? Inwardly, I made a mouthing sound. Oren was correct in his assessment of my behavior; I had engaged in submissive games with prior girlfriends, but I always got my way in the end. But things were different with Oren tonight. What he said to do, I did. In addition, I found it to be quite enjoyable. Nothing about the situation made me uneasy or on edge. It was a peaceful and steady moment for me.

My mental Magic 8-ball gave me a vague response, so I tried again. The joke was on me. To this point, I'd gone so far as to consult my own personal Magic 8-ball whenever I needed some direction. Definitely off their rocker.

Shit. My eyelids shot open. How long had I been in the shower, basking in the hot water's euphoria? I checked, and the restroom did not have a clock. I used soap, water, and a towel as rapidly as I could to get clean and dry. I emerged from the restroom, crossing my fingers that I had made it in time.

***

There was a solitary door I could see that was unlocked, and I went through it. Oren was there, laying on his side with his back to the door and looking more alluring than any man had any right to. Though he had removed his footwear, he was still fully dressed but for the fact that the zipper on his pants was still fastened after he had come all over my breasts.

I'm sorry, but I'd want to know, "How long did I take?" This is what I probed him with.

Without saying a word, he stared at me.

Crap. Professor Bretton: "How long did it take me?" I promptly rephrased my inquiry.

He mocked me with his laughter. The sarcastic laughter returned. "What is it that you want to know, sweetie? Is it okay if I tell you that you completed it in under 10 minutes? Is it the spanking you really want, from a guy who won't let up no matter how much you beg?

Curse him. I loathed the fact that he understood me so well. I was curious as to how it would feel to be helpless beneath his arms and get a spanking, knowing that he'd stop whenever he felt like it.

I avoided looking at him, and his chuckle echoed throughout the room once again.

To the pet: "Please come here." There was an air of mild indulgence in his tone. "Lay down on the bed and make room for me."

He tapped the headboard of the bed next to him.

I strolled in, put down the towel, and went onto the bed next to him, spreading my legs. He stood there, staring at me with unfathomable eyes.

When he eventually stated, "Lift your hands," it was to signal a gesture. I extended my hands, and he took them, bringing them together and then up and over my head. The headboard was constructed from slats of wood. Don't let go of the slats; keep your grip.

That's right, I nodded my head in agreement. Still delighted, he gave me a reassuring grin and kneeled between my legs.

Spread 'em out, baby. I complied, despite the protests of my thigh muscles as I spread them as much as I could. I tried to ignore her use of the term "pet." I just couldn't warm to it.

A husky voice said, "Now, darling, I believe you deserve a treat." His fingers reached out to touch my crotch.