"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.

Then the serious spanking started.

At first, his blows felt more like smacks than actual pain. Even though the sound made me tense up, the sensation of warmth was pleasant. Then he started hitting me harder, slapping the same spot on my skin over and over again until I was writhing in his grip, wincing as the pain shot through my body.

Longing found me in the midst of it all.

What do I say? Suddenly, I found myself in Oz, just like Betty did. Before, the world was only visible in black and white; now, it's awash in dazzling, full-color technicolor. Extremely distressing coloration, which caused me to wriggle and moan and writhe on his lap, but also to keep my arms exactly where they were and raise my posterior to meet his palm halfway.

It wasn't just that this was the realization of an erotic fantasy I'd had since reading my first bodice-ripper as a teenager. It wasn't even that I found his body to be physically appealing. Something about the way he took control, making a decisive move to take away my freedom of choice, made this inevitable.

It hurt like hell, but it was extremely erotic. To put it bluntly, Oren made me feel subservient. That was the turning point; up until then, I had submitted to him, but it was my submission that counted. Now that I was sprawled out across his lap with his hands firmly grasping my wrists, he had complete power over me and I was at his mercy to be punished or pleased in any way he saw fit. As a result, I felt more independent than ever before.

My reddening bottom felt every swat. My skin felt warm, tender, and flushed. He scratched me playfully with his fingernails, and it hurt. The flip side was pleasure, which I was happy to experience.

Slowly but surely, his palm began to feel different. Now the blows were gentler and slower in coming, with tender ass rubs bookending each smack. As if on autopilot, I spread my legs wide and curved my behind towards him. Then he smacked my pussy after gently touching it for a while. He smacked me again, this time with a quick, firm thumb on my clitoris. A finger was jabbed into my dripping wetness, and my cheeks were smacked twice. My moans of pain gave way to something more guttural and primal as he seduced me with his touch, and I heard myself do it. I was making the sounds of a woman who longed to be claimed by her man.

When I realized what those sounds meant, I felt my face heat up. I cringed at the thought of the message I was sending him: that I was there for his pleasure and his pleasure alone.

Juice dripping from my pussy, his finger found another opening. In turn, my body tensed.

A soothing stroke across my arse was followed by a hard spanking along the crease. All he said was, "Relax." As I tried to calm down, he ran his finger in circles around my puckered asshole before gently inserting it, but only to the first knuckle.

It was out-of-place, against the rules, but ultimately essential. My body betrayed me and I felt myself pressing my arse into his finger, grimacing as I pleaded with him to go further.

His question was, "Cunt or ass?" In which sock did you want to f**k me? When I was naked and kneeling on the patio stones in his backyard, he fucked my mouth deeply and hard for his pleasure, his blunt words made me blush with shame.

I muttered, "Ass." I shut my eyes tightly, unable to recognize myself in the being that lay on Oren's lap and used my voice to speak passionately about wanting to engage in forbidden acts.

His fingers returned to my pussy, transferring the moisture there to my arse, and he added a second finger, which went only to the level of the first knuckle. With his fingers he twisted and turned me until I felt safe enough to lean into him and let him into my most intimate spaces.

Has this been your first time? he questioned. While sitting up in bed, I shook my head. Up until I felt his finger there, I had never given it much thought, but now I wanted much more.

A single "hmm" escaped his lips. When he was done, he picked me up, flipped me over, and tucked me into the crook of his shoulder. He had not yet removed his clothes, while I was exposed. As I hid my face in his chest, I felt weak and exposed.

Are you sure you want me to fuck your ass?" he asked. I sensed his gaze on me, but I averted it by keeping my head down. His fingers wandered down to my pussy and he began to stroke me while surveying the gushing moisture there.

"Yes. No. I said softly, "I don't know." I could almost touch his grin.

Then he said, "Tell you what, Chloe," as his finger followed the contour of my jaw. If you insist on this, I'll take it easy. I'll try to be as gentle as possible. If you don't find it entertaining within the next ten minutes, we'll stop. It was the first time he'd kissed me that night, and he only kissed my lips briefly. His fingers cupped my breast, pinched, and gently yanked my nipple away from my body.

Nonetheless, there's no reason for us to resort to such measures. There is no need to continually increase the stakes here. I'm here to ensure your safety, and the fun we're having is mutual.

My eyes landed on him. There was no mocking amusement in his eyes for the first time that night. Simple honesty. This eased some of the tension I was feeling.

Indecisively but firmly, I said, "I want this." But, Professor Bretton, please be gentle.

As he lifted me off his lap and stood up, his gaze never left me. Simply, "Come here," he commanded. I need your assistance in disrobing.

I loosened the buttons and slid the shirt down off his shoulders. Grasping the buckle of his belt, he slid it off, undid the fly, and stepped out of his underwear. He thrust his cock forward, all firm and fine and prepared.

I had to have it again in my mouth; I couldn't help myself. He laughed, and I found myself involuntary licking my lips. Asserting, "Nope," he corrected himself. Respect the rules. Put your hands back on the slats of the bed, and get back on it.

I took my place, glaring angrily at the situation. I longed to run my hands over his physique, to feel the firmness of his muscles and bones. He grinned and winked at my expression of anger, clearly enjoying himself. "The belt isn't far away, Chloe," he warned with a chuckle in his voice. That was a light smack in my book. I think you'll agree that severe punishment isn't what you're after.

Was I wrong to assume that? Perhaps. Maybe not. Yes, I was determined to take advantage of anything and everything he could show me; I was going to put myself entirely in his care and go wherever he led me. I held onto the slats, and he climbed down onto me.

I could hear him muttering, "Such temper, Chloe," as his mouth came down to mine. The pressure of his body on mine caused me to moan, and I opened my mouth wide to receive his marauding tongue. When I leaned over him like a brooding god, his erection bumped against my lower stomach, and I pushed my hips upward into his body, he took everything I had to give.

He stopped kissing me and moved his mouth lower, propping himself up with one hand while cupping a breast with the other. His lips and teeth descended on my nipple, sucking and biting in a way that made me delirious with desire. Moaning, I tried to stuff more of my breast into his mouth.

He growled, "Stay still," and then nipped my nipple to emphasize his point. A mild ache turned into a rush of pleasure, and I hissed in gratified lust as water rushed over my pussy.

Softly, "please," I pleaded.

Chloe, what are you looking for? He turned his head toward me and stared intently, holding me to an absolute truth with his eyes.

I turned red and begged him to mark my body, saying, "Bite it again." He gave me a reawakening jolt of lust as he smiled and complied. His mouth shifted to my other nipple and began nibbling, biting, and expertly bringing me to the brink of pleasure and holding me there.

The name "Professor Bretton" brought a groan from me. I wanted to feel him inside of me, wherever that might be: pussy, ass, or wherever. You're really putting the hurt on me.

He released his grip on my breast and moved his hand to the nightstand. A tube was being squeezed, and I could hear the drawer open and close. Hopefully, lube.

As he straightened, his hands moved down to my thighs and began to part my legs. He brushed past my pussy, went down, and found my puckered hole. His finger traced a tight circle around my bud, then pushed the lube into me as he stretched me out, added another finger, and wriggled them both into me.

For some reason, I let out a groan. Deeper inside of me, I needed him. For more depth, I pleaded. To quote Professor Bretton: "Please..."

The man slapped my thigh. He commanded, "Get on your hands and knees, Chloe." I immediately complied, releasing my grip on the slats and turning around so that my posterior was staring directly at Oren. He sat back and stared at me.

He told me to lay my head and shoulders down on the pillow. I buried my posterior in the pillow and raised my rear even further off the ground.

Nice, he remarked in a positive tone. Huskily he asked, "Do you know how wet you are, Chloe?" Your clothes are drenched. Can I get a reaction from you by putting my fingers in your a-ss? Is it exciting for you that I'm going to take you there? Drive my s*it up your a** and make you beg for more.

His words caused a tightening of every muscle in my body and a tingling of every nerve ending. I said, "Yes, Professor Bretton," with a red face and the relief that came from knowing my head was buried in a pillow.

He commanded, "Put your hands behind your back." Cut your cheeks open. Put your cute little a** in the spotlight.

For some reason, I let out a groan. Lust and shame swirled together as I obeyed, and my pussy gushed at the thought of what he was making me do.

"Such a good girl, Chloe," he said as I parted my ass cheeks; exposed myself to his gaze. "Here's what you are going to do next," he ordered. "Put both your thumbs in your ass."

I stiffened. Surely he wasn't going to make me do this.

"Do it now, Chloe." His voice had hardened. I whimpered, but complied.

I felt opened, exposed, completely without defences as I hooked my thumbs in my asshole, and opened myself before his gaze. As I opened myself, I could feel his fingers dance with mine; he added some more lube to my anal passage as I held myself open for him. I groaned in sheer lust; the illicit shame of what I was doing forgotten in the wake of overwhelming arousal and fevered need. Then I felt his hands clamp on my thighs, and his mouth was tracing a circle over my asshole, lavishing both the asshole and the thumbs holding it open with attention, flicking in me in a way that had me creaming and moaning and thrusting into him.

Again and again his tongue stroked my bud, and it felt like sin. The sweetest kind of sin.

I could hear a condom wrapper tear, and then he moved close to me. His hands touched my ass, stroked my cheeks and spanked them; his lips reached forward and kissed me where his hands had struck. Aching pleasure bloomed all over me. He moved his hands, hooked his fingers over my thumbs, eased them out of my ass. He held my hands in the shelter of his palms as he moved forward into me, positioned the head of his cock at my clenching opening. I stiffened up involuntarily.

Smack. A firm stroke on my backside. "Relax, Chloe," was his swift rebuke. Then his voice gentled. "I'm just going to stay here, Chloe. You decide when you are ready to push back into me, okay?" He freed one hand from mine, wrapped it around my hip and touched my clitoris with the softest of touches; the gentlest of rubs.

I groaned, as a haze filled my mind. His touch was feather-light, he was refusing to stroke me hard, set up any kind of rhythm. For that, I would have to push back into his body, let his cock plunder my ass.

I wanted this. I knew I did, and he knew it too; my pussy had never been wetter. Perhaps it was the prospect of pain; perhaps it was because him taking me this way, with me on my knees, face buried in the bed was the most dominant of positions; but I was dangerously ready to push back into him.

His fingers stroked my clitoris slightly harder, and that was all it took. I pushed back, wincing at the sudden pain as my ass yielded to the head of his cock, and it was stretching me; stretching me painfully, and then his head was inside me.

"Good girl," he said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. This had to be difficult for him, but he didn't push the rest of his length into me, he waited till I was ready; till I pushed back again into him, and with a feeling of complete fullness, he was buried all the way in my behind.

His fingers set a rhythm now on my clitoris, my reward for taking his length in me. "Do you want to come?" he asked me.

"Yes, Professor Bretton," I begged. I needed his fingers to take me to orgasm.

"Start moving against me when you are ready," he ordered, but despite the order, he was being kind, waiting for me to be comfortable before he started thrusting in me.

My hand gripped his as I rocked my hips, caused his cock to move in me. Heat was trickling through my body, and not just because of his fingers on my clitoris. No, the widening of my anal passage, the yielding of my muscles to his cock, these were all sending tremors of lust through my body. I could feel him slide in me, thick and hard; I could feel him leave my ass entirely, only to thrust back inside, imposing his will on my tight asshole, and finally, he took control and set the pace.