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.

I did a little swerve and gave him my whole attention. To each, an equal look.

If that's the case, I responded firmly to Professor Bretton, "I know what I want." I was laughing at myself on the inside for trying to elevate this night beyond its mundane nature. Giving it more significance.

His brow was lifted as he gave me a curious glance. I wasn't doing what was expected of me.

He questioned, "What do you want, pet?" There was no emotion in his voice.

I specifically said, "I don't want you to call me pet." You may address me as Chloe.

Clearly, I had surprised him. The first thing I saw was the astonishment in his eyes, followed by an expression I couldn't decipher for a split second, and then, eventually, that loathed amusement. His lips twitched as he stared at me, but there was no derision in his eyes this time.

As I waited for him to speak, my heart rate increased significantly.

'Chloe,' he said. As the saying goes, "I had a different prize in mind..."

He leaned up close to smack my pussy.

***

Oren

Okay, when she asked me to name her Chloe and I hesitated, I felt a tinge of remorse.

I didn't regret letting her con me or laughing at her or even suggesting we see how high we could leap. I didn't feel particularly bad about objectifying her on purpose, but I did feel bad about giving her such a mediocre introduction to BDSM.

Of course I recognized her; we'd shared a floor for the last five years. It was common for us to be the only two people on the floor in the early morning hours, when the building is quietest and no one is chatting or making noise. She was the one I'd seen in the break room microwaving water for tea and snacking on a candy bar from the vending machine.

On the other hand, I had never really given her much thought. During much of that period, I was in a committed relationship; yes, other women did exist, but they had no sexual allure for me. She was appealing in a soft, subdued manner, but I wasn't interested in her stammering.

My initial enjoyment at her genuinely enormous collection of bodice-rippers was soon replaced by anger; I was sick of the Fifty Shades of Grey poseurs who believed they understood what domination and submission was because they had a set of handcuffs and a blindfold. So I pushed, and she reacted in a manner I hadn't anticipated, and I was completely taken aback by my own excitement.

Worse worse, I was acting like a complete moron.

This was not meant to be the case; rather, the trust one partner offered to another during a session was supposed to be the deepest and most intimate of ties, much more so than that which can be achieved by physical contact. As an aphrodisiac, trust worked wonders.

I told myself, "Jenny would kill me right now for being such an asshole." Jennifer Stone is my three year girlfriend and submissive. It had been six months after the separation, and although though it had been the best decision for both of us, the wounds still seemed fresh. Whenever anything has been around for three years, it always left its mark.

I expected the customary jolt of agony that came with thinking about Jenny, and it was there, but Chloe's presence in my bed dulled the sting. This was a first; it was unique.

To myself I mumbled, "Ok, Bretton, ease off a wee bit, she's really meant to have enjoyment as well," as I lowered my lips from that lovely cunt.

***

Chloe:

I almost sprung off the bed, keeping myself in place only with a frantic grip on the headboard slats as his tongue kissed a slow line from the bottom of my pussy, all the way up to my clitoris, and he sucked it in.

He gave a scolding "tsk, tsk." Remember to remain still, Chloe.

I said, "I'm sorry, Professor Bretton." At that moment, I would have said anything to encourage his gradual probing of my pussy.

He coaxed me with, "Tell me what you like, Chloe," as his tongue slid in and out of my hot pussy. He grabbed my lips with his hands and pulled them apart, while his lips tugged at my inner lips. "I sighed.

Looking at her, he murmured, "Words, Chloe, use your words." "Tell me what you find to be effective."

Just good, I let out a sigh of relief. I moaned in pain as his tongue resumed its slow, full-slit licking. I pleaded for them to try harder.

That's a nice young lady, he remarked. He ramped up the intensity, pressing his tongue into my pussy and nibbling on my inner lips with his teeth.

Hissing, I hissed.

'Too much?' he questioned.

I pleaded, "Please," once again.

He laughed and did it again; I clinched in reaction, drawing my knees up to my chest automatically as the fire spread through my body.

Hardening his tone, he warned Chloe, "Keep your legs open, or I'll tie them down, and spank you hard for my trouble."

Fuck. In reaction to his tone, my pussy flooded, and he could tell since his lips was on me. I became a bright shade of scarlet so he'd see how much his roughness aroused in me.

As in, "You want to be spanked, Chloe?" inquiringly, he said. This night has just begun. His tongue kept attacking my pussy and clitoris, and then he slid a finger deep and hard into me.

When asked, "Please," I pleaded.

You can't come until I say so, Chloe. His tone was steady and calm.

Yes, Professor Bretton, I moaned, unable to form meaningful words due to my need. There was just no way I could keep it in, no way I could hold back. As his finger slipped inside of me, I murmured, "Please."

"Excuse me, but..." He was muffling his words, and he kept his tongue in my clitoris the whole time.

Please, I moaned, stick another finger in my pussy.

His head jerked up, and he touched my pussy with his palm. Hard. When the tingling feelings of the swat spread throughout my body, I almost leaped out of bed. I snarled in desire and excitement.

He said, "Chloe, this is a cunt." Not a coward. Is that right?

There was a flush in my bathroom. I mumbled, "Yes, Professor Bretton." The term was at once obscene, scandalous, and thrilling.

He told me to "ask my inquiry again," his eyes twinkling with amusement at my fumbling.

I was embarrassed by how quickly the phrase "please, another finger in my cunt" slipped out of my mouth, and shocked by how readily I had agreed to his demand.

Smoothly he answered, "Of course," and twisted and inserted a second finger into my wetness. With a sigh, I tightened my hold on the slats. My thoughts was clouded by want, my body tingled with lust, and my whole universe shrank to the size of a tongue on my clitoris and two fingers in my pussy.

I was climbing the peak, hard and fast, and I'd forgotten his commands; I'd forgotten I required his approval to have an orgasmic experience. I held on to the slats, my thighs quivered as I battled to keep them apart, my hips pushed blindly upward in response to his probing fingers and flicking tongue, and suddenly I was at the top, freefalling down the other side in a magnificent freefall that made me feel like I was flying.

He could tell I was having an orgasmic experience because my muscles were clenching and pulsing under his fingers, but he still didn't pull his lips away from my clitoris. He licked it carefully, with light, delicate strokes that provided the warmest comfort. I was ready to go before I realized it, and I fell back into orgasm, this time with less pyrotechnics and more smouldering, like the dying embers of a yard fire.

He waited patiently for me to complete, his tongue and fingers encouraging me to make it through each and every one. At last, he withdrew his lips from mine, and he looked at me critically. He repositioned me as I still lay there, my legs spread wide and my hands grabbing the headboard above my head, my body drenched with sweat from the recent surge of heat and want.

He then said, "Two orgasms; neither with permission." A hint of humor could be seen in his eyes despite his serious tone. "Oh, no!"

It hurt, since I'd forgotten about that regulation. I remained silent, anticipating the next move.

"Chloe. You were sluggish to exit the shower, and when I instructed you to keep your thighs apart, you shifted them. I had two good ones! That's a serious desire for punishment on your part.

He drew himself up beside me, rested languidly against the headboard, and slowly nudged my fingers away from the slats. He motioned for her to come to him and patted his lap. "Face down on my lap; I'm going to give that precious little ass a good spanking."

***

I positioned myself on his lap and could feel his erection; he made no attempt to conceal his enjoyment of the scenario.

"Stop thrashing about; I don't want you hurting yourself, do you get it?" His tone was peaceful, but the relaxing strokes on my behind were everything but. My stomach was in knots and my palms were sweating as I prepared to be smacked by Oren Bretton.

I mused to myself, "I need a magic 8 ball." What kind of masochist am I to anticipate this spanking with relish?

The response came with a flutter of excitement and a flush of anticipation: "That is very certainly so."

I was completely insane, and not only because I was having inside conversations with a made-up Magic 8-ball.

***

When he told me to be quiet, I mumbled a "Yes, Professor Bretton." Then I went and messed up by asking a question.

Asking, "How many swats do I have to take until I learn my lesson?" I could sense the strain in her voice, but I could also detect the want.

Suddenly, he tensed. Pet, he drewled, his irritation evident in the stress on the term, "you don't get to ask questions. Are you getting it now? In this case, you get to do nothing.

I said, "I'm sorry."

Even now, his hands are the ones stroking my a$$, gentle strokes that make me melt into his body. As I laid my face down on the bed and closed my eyes, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. With one hand, he grabbed my wrists behind my back, further emphasizing his authority and domination over me. In spite of myself, I felt a flutter of anticipation rising within. It felt oddly liberating to get spanked by a guy who wouldn't allow me have any say in the situation.

Smack. I was given a sharp slap on the behind. The agony spread from my a$$ all the way up my body, and it was quickly followed by a wave of excitement. The spanked area was stroked in tiny circles by his hand.

He gently touched my a$$ and stated, "You've done this before, right?"

I said, "Kind of, not really." My previous lovers had refused to take charge when I requested them to punish me.

He said, "I won't stop spanking you till you safeword." Saying, "But you may let me know if it's too much, and I will slow down a little bit."

"Okay," I finally managed to mutter.