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From: Arnold Sloan <Nowhere@at.all>
Date: Sat, 02 Aug 2008 15:43:53 -0400
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories.erotic,alt.sex.bondage.stories
Subject: STORY - The Professor's Punishment - F/f, BDSM
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===================
Hannah Quinn is a lovely young girl entering university. Little does
she know that one of her professors had once had her own mother in a
dark sexual relationship, that her mother had once knelt in bondage
before the arrogant Erika Wolf. Flattered by the professor's
attention,
wide eyed at the feelings the beautiful woman rouses in her, she soon
finds herself helplessly ensnared in a web of blackmail and
submission.
Yet much darker things are to come as she becomes a pawn between Wolf
and and a ruthless treasure hunter. Transported to the Peruvian
jungles
as they search for the lost Tomb of the Amazon warriors she finds
herself battered by the lusts of cruel men and women. And then, a
helpless prisoner, she is used as bait, forced to endure pain and
torments as the clever, sadistic traps of the sullen tomb are sprung
on
her vulnerable body.
Jessica stood up at last, far from confident she had what Wolf would
consider an appropriate summation. Time was gone, however, for any
alterations. Wolf had only grudgingly permitted her this attempt to
make up for a poor exam grade, and it must be handed in early, before
Wolf's first class.
She gazed down at her dress, then chewed unknowingly on her lip once
more. This would certainly not do. It was, according to her clock,
quarter to seven. However, she had set it forward a good quarter hour
two months before to prevent herself being late for classes. So she
had
the time to clean up a bit.
She reached behind her and quickly unfastened her dress. It was a
simple garment, for, when away from her parents, she was not much
given
to fripperies. She stripped it off and stepped out of it, moving
quickly to her wardrobe.
She took down her green dress, for it set off her soft, wavy chestnut
hair so nicely, and slipped into it. She decided it was too formal.
She
removed it and drew on a white one, pretty, and somewhat short (for
her), and quickly buttoned it up before turning to the mirror.
"Damn," she said deliberately.
She removed the elastic which had bound her shoulder length hair back
in a loose tail and brushed at it furiously, working at the bangs to
get just the right look, brushing it out so it tumbled glossily over
her shoulders.
Finally, glancing at the clock, she sighed and grabbed her papers.
Ms.
Wolf was a fanatic about punctuality, and she couldn't risk being a
single minute late.
She cut across the south common, and in her haste failed to notice
the
hose snaking its way along the grass to the sprinkler sweeping water
back and forth. Her ankle caught on the hose at the top of a low
hillock and she went flying forward, the report spilling from her
hands. She wound up on her stomach in the wet grass and dirt, her
skirt
up around her waist.
She lay stunned a moment, water raining down on her, then scrambled
to
her knees with a cry of dismay, shoving her skirt back down. She
stared
around wildly, then snatched at the nearest paper, already somewhat
damp. She twisted and snatched at another, then crawled to a third,
hurriedly lifting them and holding them protectively beneath her
chest
as the water continued to patter down onto her back and head.
With the last of them in hand she scrambled out of range of the
sprinkler, and stood still, panting for breath and staring down at
the
wet papers, the ink already running in numerous places. Water was
trickling down her cheeks as well, and in a moment, she knew, her
tears
would join it.
There was no time to return and change, not without further provoking
Ms. Wolf by being late. She hurried on, hoping her explanation would
do, and the woman would be a little sympathetic to her bedraggled
appearance.
The building which housed the comfortable flats provided to unmarried
professors who chose to stay on campus was only a few hundred feet
along, and she was soon tugging the heavy door aside and trotting up
the stairs. She was breathless as she reached the door to Ms. Wolf's
apartment but she was on time -she thought, though she had cut it
quite
close despite her best intentions.
There was no answer to her knock, and, chewing lightly on her lip,
she
knocked again, louder. She was about to knock for a third time when
Ms.
Wolf opened the door.
"McMann," she said, her voice cold.
Jessie was caught by her own surprise at sight of the woman. She wore
a
long robe, and her heart beat faster at the thought of what lay
beneath.
"Ms. Wolf," Jessie whispered, clutching the papers to her chest.
"What time did I set for the delivery of your report?" she demanded,
ignoring the water dripping from her hair.
Jessie blinked in surprise. "Seven, Miss."
Seven. Not quarter past seven.
"But... but I'm quite certain I'm on time!" Jessie exclaimed
desperately.
"You're quite certainly wrong then," the woman said with a scowl.
But I...
Then she remembered how Anne Baxter had been toying with the clock
the
other day, and her heart sank as she realized the girl might well
have
reset it to its proper time, all unknowing why it was fast. She
hurriedly attempted to explain, but Wolf appeared less than
impressed.
"If you can't manage punctuality here in the school, McMann, how do
you
intend to do so in a future career?"
Please, Ms. Wolf I -
Pleas are for beggars and children. Which are you?
Ms. Wolf -
"What have you done to yourself?" Wolf looked at her dirty dress in
disgust and Jessie felt on the verge of tears.
"Oh, never mind. Get inside, girl," she said crossly.
Jessie bit her lip and stepped inside, her eyes quickly darting
around,
thrilled, despite the situation, at being in Ms. Wolf's very own
rooms.
There was a comfortable looking sofa facing a small fireplace, and
lovely curtains over the window. She wondered if Ms. Wolf had made
them
herself, for they did not look store bought. To one side was a narrow
table of some dark, polished wood, with a sculpture of some sort atop
it. Past the living room was an open door she thought must surely
lead
into the bedroom, and her heart beat quicker at the sight.
"How, McMann, do you expect to make your way about the world if you
cannot get across the campus?"
Jessie tried to explain about the clock, and the sprinkler, her words
tumbling over themselves before Wolf silenced her with two fingers
against her lips.
I don't want to hear it. You're babbling like a child, McMann.
She gazed at Jessie for a long moment without speaking.
"Take off those wet clothes and I will see if there's anything I can
do
for them. We can't have you wandering around the campus looking like
a
disreputable beggar girl."
Jessie could hardly breath for a moment. She had judged every nuance
of
Ms. Wolf's words since her fantasies had appeared, desperately trying
to determine if there might be the slightest interest in the kind of
liaison tormenting her own imaginings. For every hint Ms. Wolf
fancied
women there was another which spoke to the contrary.
Yet here she was asking Jessie to remove her dress!
Of course, that could be entirely innocent. She might just mean to
clean the thing a little for her, perhaps toss it into the washer.
She
might -
Hurry up, child! You're dripping on my rug!
Jessie shakily set down the report and reached behind her. Under
Wolf's
calm gaze she tried and failed to undo the buttons behind her neck.
The
woman finally shook her head with a tortured expression, gripped her
shoulders, spun her about, and began to undo them herself.
Jessie felt miserable at being seen as such a feeble, helpless child
to
Wolf. Yet at the same time a flood of embarrassment mixed with a
strange excitement filled her as the woman's long fingers undid her
dress and pushed it forward over her shoulders.
She shrugged it down, bending to push it past her hips, then stepped
out and turned, face scarlet.
Wolf examined the dress for a moment, then looked at Jessie with a
knowing smile.
Are you embarrassed to be seen in just your underthings, McMann?
"N-No, Ms. Wolf," Jessie breathed.
She could feel the tight constriction of her bra against her swelling
breasts.
No? Why don't you remove your underthings then?
"M-Miss?" she squeaked.
"They seem to be somewhat damp as well," Wolf said with a raised
eyebrow.
Breathless, her heart pounding, Jessie reached behind her back and
somehow, perhaps luck helped, undid her bra, then slipped it forward
and off.
Her breasts dropped a little without the support, but still thrust
out
quite firmly for their large size. She was both mortified and
desperately proud at the obvious look of respect on Ms. Wolf's face
as
she examined her breasts.
They were not enormous, but they were quite large for her slim frame,
and almost perfectly shaped: round and firm, the nipples large and
pink, inflating to embarrassing size when aroused or chilled.
She stood there for an eternity, almost entranced, and it was not
until
Wolf pointed toward her bikini briefs that she abruptly slipped her
thumbs into the sides, slipped them down and off, and stood upright
once more.
As the soft white fabric dropped to her ankles she looked down at
herself, then stepped out of them, raising her eyes once more as Wolf
snatched her things up and stepped back.
"Don't move from that spot. You're still wet, and everything in here
is
an antique."
She walked down a small side hall, leaving Jessie standing nude but
for
her shoes. She quickly removed them, examining the bottoms for dirt,
then bent to place them next to the door.
Her skin tingled from top to bottom at being nude in so public a
fashion, for she was a naturally shy girl with few friends. There had
been no girlish sleepovers with others, nor public showering among
school teammates (Her Catholic school would certainly not endure such
immorality).
In truth, not a single person had seen her entirely nude since her
childhood. Even Thomas Cox, the boy who had drunkenly used her
several
years earlier, as she had sought to escape her virginity, had done so
in the darkness and cramped confines of the back seat of his car,
with
half her clothing still on. And there had been nothing since but
occasional fumbles and gropings.
So despite her play of indifference her nudity before Wolf was the
most
sexually exciting thing Jessie could ever remember experiencing, and
she had to fight to keep from shaking at the excitement within her.
As she straightened and turned she found with alarm that her nipples
were swollen like raspberries. This was invariably embarrassing for
her
when she was in public, for their size meant, whether from cold
(usually) or other reasons her nipples, when hard, became quite
easily
visible through almost any clothing. Now, of course, she could only
hope Ms. Wolf would assume it was the chill of the water which had
her
in such a state.
The woman returned, and Jessie bashfully covered her breasts with her
arm, cupping her sex with one hand.
She could feel the warmth of her groin through her hand, and watched
Wolf with wide eyes.
Wolf's own eyes flicked over her, and she blushed once again,
trembling
under that remorseless gaze.
"Now then, McMann,' the woman said, picking up a half emptied cup of
tea, "You have a report for me?"
Jessie blinked in surprise, then looked around and spotted it on the
floor. She bent and picked it up, still trying to awkwardly cover her
nudity, and too daunted to ask for a towel or a robe.
She held it out hopefully but Wolf simply sat on the sofa, crossing
her
legs.
I don't think I want ink on my hands, thank you. You read it.
Jessie blinked. "H-Here? I mean, now, Miss?"
Ms. Wolf nodded absently.
Standing naked by the door, then, her skin still moist, her hair
frazzled and tangled from the sprinkler's unwanted attentions, Jessie
held up the paper, and in a shaky voice, began to read.
As she did so her embarrassment began to fade, to the point where she
stopped attempting to hide herself. She was only serving to make
herself look immature and stupid anyway, she thought. And her
certainty
that Ms. Wolf must have more than simple academics in mind had begun
to
rise, allowing her nudity to excite rather than shame her.
She read for some minutes, her voice alternately breathless and
steady.
It helped if she didn't look up, for finding Wolf's eyes on her
invariably caused her to falter.
She found herself unconsciously clenching the muscles in her groin
repeatedly, feeling a deep sense of anticipation and sexual need in
the
presence of the beautiful and impressive Ms. Wolf.
Her nipples remained almost painfully, and obviously erect. Jessie
knew
that Wolf could not have missed them, and was unlikely to still
consider them the product of her brief dousing. Every slight breeze
wafting through the nearby open window set them tingling and
sparkling
as they seemed to become more and more sensitive the longer her own
inner arousal remained high.
She tried to ignore that arousal, however, and everything else of a
sexual nature, as she did her best to impress Wolf with her
intellectual capabilities.
She spoke of the thefts which had taken place from the tombs of the
ancient Egyptian kings, and the artifacts ruined by careless, often
amateur archaeologists and greedy exploitation, then summed up what
they had learned about the style of ancient Egypt from the Valley of
Kings digs.
When she was finished she let her arm drop, almost hissing aloud as
her
forearm brushed gently along her right breast and set it jiggling
slightly. She held the papers clutched in her hand as she looked to
Wolf, anxiously waiting her judgement.
"Well, it wasn't bad on short notice," Wolf said with a shrug in her
voice, "but it's hardly impressive enough for me to overlook you
showing up looking like the little lost match girl, to say nothing of
being late. Serious study requires discipline, McMann."
"I-I have discipline, Miss," Jessie said.
Not the discipline I require, girl.
She sipped the last of her tea, then looked doubtfully at the empty
cup
before raising her eyes to Jessie once again. "Go and make me another
cup, dear," she said, holding it up.
Jessie hesitated, then swallowed nervously and stepped forward,
intensely aware of her own nudity as she bent forward to accept the
cup. Ms. Wolf made little effort to stretch out her arm, and Jessie
had
to bend quite far, her breasts hanging obviously and heavily a spare
foot or so from the woman's face.
One sugar, dear.
"Yes, miss," she gulped.
And take your things out of the washer and put them in the dryer.
Yes, miss.
She walked through the living room, surrounded by a curtain of sexual
heat, her eyes moving towards the small hallway. She turned to look
towards Ms. Wolf, but the woman only smiled and waved her on.
Just down the hall was the little kitchen. The tiles were cool to her
bare feet as she walked to the stove and set the pot to boil, then
rinsed out the cup.
She looked behind her, then reached up and squeezed one breast. She
drew in her breath sharply at the gush of pleasure and heat that
oozed
out of the soft, heavy orb into her chest. She could not remember her
breasts ever feeling quite so sensitive, to say nothing of her aching
nipples.
The small washer and dryer were just across the little hall, and she
quickly transferred her clothing, setting the dryer.
Her every movement reminded her of her nudity, and despite her
relative
innocence she was quite certain Wolf was keeping her nude for a
reason,
and that something deliciously wicked would eventually transpire
between them. Wolf had neglected to offer her any tea either, an
inexcusable breech of etiquette normally. Since she was certain the
woman would not be so crude she guessed she was merely being put in
her
place.
That, of course, was not really necessary. She was well aware of how
inferior she was to the beautiful, brilliant, worldly Ms. Wolf.
She moved to the doorframe, peering down the hall towards the living
room, then eased a hand down between her legs, her index finger
pressing against her clitoris. It was hot and swollen and intensely
sensitive.
She clamped her lips together, pressing her cheek against the wood as
she began to stroke her finger lightly across her clitoris. Being in
Ms. Wolf's flat like this, naked, with Wolf just up the hall, made
the
act shockingly outrageous, and she was literally trembling with
arousal
as her hips began to roll in unconscious heat, her legs spreading as
her breathing grew more and more ragged.
She climaxed in seconds, barely able to keep from making a sound,
jerking violently against the corner of the door frame as she jammed
her pussy against her fingers.
Then she staggered back, almost falling across the small table,
standing there gulping in air as she tried to recover some measure of
composure. She rested, getting her breathing back under control,
waiting for her heart to stop pounding.
Yet even as her breathing eased and her heart slowed she knew the
climax had done little to suppress the heat within her mind and body.
Instead she felt cocky and daring as she stepped to the counter. She
let her body arch like a cat as she prepared the tea, and considered
how she could let Ms. Wolf know what she wanted.
She returned with the tea, her breasts jiggling slightly, the nipples
still quite hard, and presented it to the woman, who took it
negligently.
Thank you, my dear.
You're welcome, miss.
Wolf sipped it, made a slightly disapproving face, then turned her
eyes
towards Jessie once more.
So, McMann, you were telling me about your discipline and fortitude.
"Well, once I put my mind to something, miss, I'll put forth quite a
deal of work to bring it about."
Will you now?
Yes, miss.
She shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, quite
unsure what to do with her hands.
And do you take... orders well?
"Oh yes, miss,' she said, bobbing her head with certainty.
Taking orders was something she was, indeed, quite practised at. Her
parents had seen to that.
And yet, you were not, as I ordered, here at Seven.
"I'm sorry, miss," she said anxiously.
You went to public school, of course, McMann.
Yes, miss. McDonald Academy.
And were you... disciplined there?
"Well, yes, miss," she said uncertainly.
"Do your British schools still use canes for discipline?
I, er, not usually, miss.
"No? Pity. You've suffered for the lack, I think. Turn around a bit,
dear."
Blinking in confusion, Jessie slowly turned, then when Wolf circled
her
finger, turned more, until her back was to the woman.
"Yes, I can well imagine a flighty girl like yourself learning
considerable discipline by the touch of the cane across your
backside,' she said. "You've never been so punished?"
Jessie swallowed, her insides thrumming more powerfully now as she
began to grasp the direction the inquiry was going.
"N-Not since I was much younger, miss," she whispered.
And were you ever caned?
"No, miss, b-but I was strapped a few times," she said tautly.
"A few times too few, I think. Perhaps you'd have learned more
discipline.
"Yes, miss," she said.
"Do you think you could use more discipline, McMann?
"Yes, miss," she breathed.
"I think so too." She paused for a long moment. "Do you see that
planter over there above the table, McMann?"
There was a narrow French provincial table set against the wall
nearby,
and a heavy planter hung from a chain fixed to the ceiling above it.
Yes, miss.
Go over there and take it down.
Surprised, but obedient, Jessie padded across the rug to the table,
then, blushing as she felt Wolf's eyes upon her backside, reached up
and forward. She had to bend deeply, legs together, and rise onto her
toes to lift the pot up sufficiently, and was well aware of how
neatly
presented her bottom was.
She turned with the pot in her hands.
"Set it down on the floor to one side," Wolf said.
Jessie did so, then again turned, mutely requesting orders.
"Open the little drawer in the table, McMann, and take out what you
find."
Jessie looked down and slid open the little drawer she found, her
eyes
widening and breath catching at what she saw.
There appeared to be only one object in the drawer, a pair of
glistening metal handcuffs.
She removed them slowly, again turning her head to look at the woman.
Put them on.
She stared down at the handcuffs, the first she'd seen outside of a
television show.
Her pulse was racing faster and faster, yet her lower belly was
becoming as moist and heavy as it had been before she had masturbated
in he kitchen. Her excitement was mounting to the point she was
having
difficulty not trembling visibly.
She carefully placed one of the open cuffs around her left wrist,
then
closed it until it clicked locked. She blinked her eyes as she tugged
at it, then put the other around her right wrist, awkwardly closing
it
as well. Her breasts seemed to grow harder and heavier now as she
looked up at Ms. Wolf.
"Turn around, dear," Wolf said.
Jessie obeyed, the little metal making a soft clinking sound.
"Do you see the hook which held the pot? I want you to reach up and
slip the handcuffs across it," Ms. Wolf said.
She was going to cane her! It could only be something like that.
Jessie
had, of course, heard of such kinky games, but never had she imagined
she would willingly take part in them. Now she readily, almost
eagerly
reached up for the hook. She had to rise onto her toes once again,
her
hips and lower belly pushing in hard against the side of the table as
she strained herarms forward and up.
The hook was near the wall, and she could not quite reach it well
enough to slip the little links between her handcuffs over it. She
had
to half crawl onto the table, throwing one knee over the top before
the
link slipped over.
Then she eased back, gasping at the firm pull of the cold, hard metal
against the soft flesh of her wrists. The span was barely long enough
for her to stay on her toes, and she was forced to bend forward quite
lewdly at the waist.
"That's a good girl," Wolf said.
She continued to sip her tea and Jessica continued to stand still,
bent
forward, wrists aching slightly, body stretched out, toes quivering
and
trembling. Her insides were a riotous maelstrom of shame, shock,
elation, fear, lust and confusion.
After several long moments Wolf set down her cup and rose, walking
slowly across tostand just to one side.
Jessie looked down, panting lightly, noting her breasts hanging
heavily, then looked up tosee her wrists tightly shackled before
turning her face to Ms. Wolf. She felt deliciously stretched out and
vulnerable, her behind pushed out in what she knew was a quite
attractive manner.
"I think this position displays your bottom to maximum effect,
McMann," the woman said."The aesthetic value alone is worthwhile,
even
without the helpful exposure for discipline."
"I-I - thank you, miss," Jessie said helplessly, flushed and excited.
Ms. Wolf smiled, then walked past, going to a nearby chest. She
opened
it and drew out along, slim wooden rod, then turned, face stern.
Jessie gulped, fighting nervousness and fear, feeling the tightness
in
her groin as she imagined the cane striking her. She watched Wolf
move
back, turning her head in an attempt to look behind her.
"I'm sure this will help your studies, McMann," Wolf said.
She swung the thin crop through the air a few times, producing a
hissing sound as it cut through the air. Then she drew it back and
brought it down hard against Jessie's backside.
At first she felt only the light impact, and almost allowed relief to
form. Then, a spare instant later, the hot fire of pain lanced
through
her buttocks and she cried out.
"Quietly, McMann," Ms. Wolf said in annoyance.
"I-I'm sorry, miss," she moaned.
Another blow struck her, and she gasped, her body jerking, her
breasts
jiggling.
The pain cut into her sharply, then faded to a hot burning. Again the
crop sliced through the air, then met her perfectly positioned
buttocks
with a soft crack. Jessie's eyes watered, and she groaned at the
pain,
twisting weakly in her helpless position. The handcuffs cut into her
wrists, and her hips were already sore as they ground against the
edge
of the table.
Yet there was something else entirely. This was not, as she knew full
well, any kind of real discipline. She knew this was a sexual game to
Wolf, and found the notion astonishingly delicious. She gasped again
as
the crop came down on her now flaming bottom, moaning helplessly.
The sexual heat which had been building within her from the moment
she
removed her clothing built rapidly higher. She remembered Wolf's talk
of Egyptian harem girls and imagined herself one, imagined herself
Ms.
Wolf's helpless sexual plaything, her very own harem girl, gasping at
another blow, then another.
She felt herself pulling against the handcuffs, trying to lift
herself
higher, to grind her sex against the edge of the table. Another blow
laced into her bottom, then another, and still another, each drawing
a
soft cry and whimper as her hips rolled and jerked in response.
She had had few orgasms in her life, until recently, when her
masturbation had become far and away more frequent, but knew herself
close to one now.
The sharpness of each new blow was somewhat faded now, unable to
force
its way through the fire engulfing her buttocks: Yet the impacts were
echoing deep in her lower belly, echoing inside her empty vaginal
sheath, the muscles clenching again and again.
"Oh!" she cried as a particularly hard blow threw her head back.
"You must be strong of will to succeed in life, McMann," Ms. Wolf
said.
The weak give way to the strong.
Another blow cracked down across her behind, and a sob escaped her.
"I think that's enough for now," she heard, the sound coming as if
from
a distance.
But I'm quite certain more will be required in future.
With that Jessie felt the tip of the cane slide down her spine
between
her sweating buttocks, brush lightly across her puckered anal
opening,
then dart in beneath her moist sex. Suddenly it jammed up between the
warm lips to saw briefly against her clitoris.
It was enough.
Her head was flung back again, and her hips rocked as the orgasm
swept
through her. Her thighs were tightly clenched together, and her
muscles
spasmed furiously as the hard, thin wood, sawed back and forth with
painfully delicious strokes. Her breasts jiggled up and down achingly
and her mind flared with impossible pleasure.
Then it faded, and she slumped breathlessly, gulping in air, all but
hanging by the wrists now. Her head fell forward, hair spilling
around
her face to blind her as she fought for breath.
"I think your things should be ready now," Wolf said. "You can get
yourself down, I'm sure, while I fetch them."
She walked away, leaving Jessie limp and groaning. After a moment her
legs grew strong enough to half climb up on the table and slip the
handcuffs over the hook, but that left her wrists still locked
together.
Wolf returned and laid out her clothes, then smiled at her, shaking
her
head briefly and reaching deeper into the drawer to remove the key.
She
unlocked the cuffs, replacing them in the drawer, then motioning her
to
get dressed. It was only after she had left, half dazed, her behind
still burning hot, that Jessie realized that at no point had she
actually touched Ms Wolf, or Wolf her
---------------------------------------------------------------------
--
From the ebook: The Tomb of Pain, by Argus. Argus books have been
published in paper form by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star, Olympia,
Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available for download at
http://www.ebookblue.com
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