A Professor's Unpredictable Seminar: Part One
By
Caterina Duvay
(catclitduvay@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: This following story is not for minors or anyone offended by depictions of lesbian sex. Please email me with any feedback or if you're a gurl interested in cyberfun!
My name is Kristina. I'm a 33 year old professor at a large respected university that must go nameless, my focus being on Women's Studies.I've been divorced for 10 years -- amicably. I hadn't realized my lack of affection for my former husband was owing to a simple dislike of the male physique and attitude and an unrealized lust and love for women. Nonetheless, my lesbian experiences have been few. On occasion when I travel out of town I'll drop by a bar and let myself get picked up, but I wouldn't recommend this to anyone: after the second bad experience I've stopped that; things got a little too rough, though on occasion I will find myself daydreaming about that time with a domme and her `helper.'
Because of my position at the university I have to be discreet and for this reason live off campus. My life has been full of research and reading and the occasional strong sexual yearning is satisfied mainly by renting all-girl DVDs and inventive masturbation. I'm surrounded by attractive girls on campus but our codes are rightfully strict and I've kept careful watch on my impulses. Most of my colleagues believe that I'm a lesbian mainly because I haven't dated any of the guys who've hit on me. Although I'm definitely not a knockout, I've been described as having a pretty and intelligent face. My legs are probably my best physical feature: they're long and lean and well-toned from regular jogging. My breasts are a pert 33B, waist 24; my hair is naturally blonde and falls rather elegantly in a neat curve just to my shoulders. I'm fairly tall I guess at 5'9", and I weigh about 125 lbs even though I eat like a horse. Maybe my being vegetarian has something to do with that...Oh -- I forgot to mention -- I'm very nearsighted and prefer glasses to contact lenses.
I've decided to write and share this story because of a recent troubling but extraordinary experience that has transformed me profoundly.
I teach a graduate seminar on women's literature and during the last semester I had 5 students: one very intelligent gay man, and 4 women, the youngest of whom was 23 and the oldest 40. All of the women were attractive, but two were extraordinarily so, the youngest and oldest in the class. As was my custom after the seminar was finished I invited all of the students to my home for a cozy brunch in celebration. Their grades were excellent and I was happy to write recommendations for each and all before they embarked either on vacation or summer studies. Much of the course work centered on the discussion of society's unspoken oppression of female sexuality and freedom of fantasy and thought.
We had a lazy light brunch on a cool Sunday afternoon. John was the first to exit, leaving me with the four women. We chatted for another hour or so before I began to give signs of needing to usher them out, gently. Joan and Lisa took the hint and left, but Monica, the 40 year old, and Sandra, who was 22 lingered. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable but then they brought out a large shopping bag of presents -- beautifully wrapped -- which they wanted to give to me privately so as not to embarrass the others. I was terribly grateful as they insisted on my opening them. It's rare these days that students appreciate their teachers, believe me!
But it seemed as if they had gone a bit overboard: I counted at least seven gifts, of various shapes. One looked to be a poster in a cylindrical container and the others appeared to be books and CDs and perhaps a trinket. I opened the smallest one first: it was a beautiful set of pearl earrings! They must have been expensive and I was speechless. Sandra offered to put them on for me and I must say they were exquisite. I was blushing as I looked in the mirror. Surely that was enough of a token of appreciation ... But no, there were other packages to unwrap. The second was a set of ... lesbian DVDs. I was shocked: was this some kind of cruel joke. Monica asserted herself by explaining that as I had taught them women were entitled to explore every avenue of pleasure if they wished. The third package was a silver-studded leather collar and a finely wrought silver lead.
I stood up and politely but firmly demanded that they leave, that I'd had enough of their cruel impositions. They both rose, and I was glad to see that they were blushing too, but Monica approached me and attempted an explanation. She was gorgeous, 5"7" with lustrous red hair that hung to her shoulder blades, tasteful heels, a great ass and ample breasts... it was obvious she kept herself in shape. A wedding ring was absent. However, instead of speaking, she merely shoved me back down onto the sofa. Sandra meanwhile unwrapped another package and brought forth a pair of handcuffs. As Monica held me down Sandra cuffed my hands behind my back. I was about to scream for help but the warmth of Monica's hands around my neck and face gave me pause. Sandra quickly retrieved yet another `present', a red ball-gag, which she held in her hand, waiting, but Monica now spoke:
"Now, dear Professor, do you promise to be quiet or do we have to resort to other measures?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing" I replied.
Within seconds the gag was in my mouth.
"Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?" said Monica, "and let's see just how much of a freethinker you really are."
I began to feel a strange trembling in my innards, a mixture of fear and also excitement. I couldn't help but notice how lovely Sandra looked: she was very tall, very slim, with long dark hair, olive skin, beautifully shaped breasts which could be seen beneath her beige cotton dress, braless. She approached me and kissed me on the neck, sending shivers through me, before attaching the collar and lead.
They led me upstairs to my bedroom, Sandra preceding me with the remainder of gifts while Monica followed close behind me, her hands on my hips. My bedroom was spacious and the bed itself large and comfortable, if old-fashioned. There was also room for a small sofa where I generally read before going to sleep. Sandra hastily unwrapped the remainder of the gifts and laid them out on the bed: a vibrator, a large double-headed dildo, various lengths of rope, small pincers and a riding crop.
I nearly fainted and began to whimper, not knowing what was in store. How could these intelligent and engaging and "nice" students of mine be doing this to me?
Monica wasted no time in admonishing me: she slapped my face hard and forced me on my knees. Sandra tied coils of rope around each ankle and secured them to my handcuffs. I could barely move. Then she swiftly undressed and laid herself across the bed, spreading her legs and showing a smoothly-shaven pristine pussy. She was young enough to be Monica's daughter.
"Do you like what you see, Professor?" asked Monica, roughly pulling my head back by the hair.
I didn't respond. She slapped me and my own pussy began to grow wet. She asked me again and I nodded.
"This is our little experiment in free thought, Professor, only now I guess we'll be your instructors and you'll be our student."
I began to feel mesmerized by Monica's sultry voice and alluring body, by Sandra's incredibly beautiful gaping cunt.
"Sandra is waiting to be kissed by her new student."
Monica tugged on the gossamer chain attached to my collar and I slowly made my way on my knees to where Sandra was lewdly exposing herself. I could smell her and felt intoxicated by her cunt's sweet perfume. She lifted her legs backwards and high and spread them further apart. Her puckered nether-hole beckoned.
"Now bitch, I'm going to remove the gag... Don't try anything funny. You'll do nothing without our permission, understand?"
I nodded. The gag came out, my face was inches away from lovely Sandra's cunt and ass and I could barely restrain myself from sinking into them. But yet another surprise was in the offing: Monica to my bewilderment was snapping pictures with a camera from several angles. I grew terrified as I realized that my entire career could be demolished at the whim of these ... these ... demonic bitches. And I found myself falling deeper and deeper into a unpredictable depravity: but there was something about this whole thing I liked -- their assertiveness and the relief of recognizing my own wishes to submit to their perversities. I was discovering freedom in obedience.
"The Dean might like to see these someday," she chuckled, "if you refuse to obey your new teachers."
"Now open your lips, slut, and stick your lovely little tongue out just a little," commanded Monica. I complied.
Very very slowly she guided my tongue to Sandra's tantalizing ass-rim.
"Lick her, bitch."
I gingerly moved my tongue into Sandra's ass a few millimeters, then delicately guided it around its edge. Sandra shuddered.
"That's right, take your time," added Monica, "but make sure to fit all of it in when she's ready. And don't be afraid to spit on it."
I did as ordered, lashing Sandra's sensitive skin with my spittle, feeling her quiver helplessly, and very gradually using my stiffened tongue to probe her rosebud. I had lost all sense of time, spitting and licking and penetrating her ass until I finally found that my entire tongue was thrusting inside her, harder and harder, Monica's hand pushing my head into her more and more forcefully until suddenly she pulled me away and placed a warm long lingering kiss full on my lips. I was swooning in a sort of depraved ecstasy.
"You taste divine, my dear," Monica said dreamily. "I've wanted to kiss you since our very first class."
Sandra was panting and writhing, yearning for my mouth and tongue on her cunt as well. I was dripping with desire and as Monica pressed my lips against Sandra's quivering pussy I moaned like an animal in heat, conscious of nothing else but this precious pussy and the pent-up yearnings of years. Sandra began to coo and buck and I then felt naked soft feminine flesh behind me and Monica's mouth alongside mine as we both brought this beautiful young cunt to a tremendous orgasm.
Monica stood up finally, in all her naked glory. She had a magnificent body; her pussy was also smooth-shaven and she straddled my head. I was eager to minister to her cunt as lavishly as Sandra's but as I lifted my mouth Monica slapped it, twice, forehand and backhand.
"What did I tell you? Did you ask permission?" she hissed.
I sank backwards. Sandra pulled me up a bit and gave me a peck on the cheek, then she too slapped my mouth, stinging and hard..
"You're a slut, Kristina, a pure slut. You like being treated like this, don't you?"
I did nothing. She offered her hand and I kissed it. Then she slapped me again.
"Let's get these fucking clothes off you and see what you've got."
Monica detached the coils of rope from my handcuffs and pulled me to me feet by my hair. Sandra retrieved a pair of scissors from the bathroom and proceeded to cut my light cotton dress along its front between my breasts. She snipped my bra and carefully cut a slit in my thong to expose my throbbing pussy lips and lubricious cunt. Except for my pumps, the collar and leash, the rope around my ankles, my cuffs and my mutilated thong, I was naked, exposed, vulnerable ... and amazingly, incredibly alive, aching to be touched, fucked, slapped, spanked, whipped or used in whatever way my mistresses desired. I wanted to shout out in a perverse sort of joy.
"You're much more beautiful without clothes," whispered Sandra, "Isn't she, Monica?"
Monica smiled her assent, then added, "But she has so much to learn!"
"Uncuff the bitch," she continued, "I have a new lesson plan."
Sandra removed the cuffs and she and Monica laid me out on the floor. Monica positioned Sandra at my head, standing slightly behind me, and tied each of my wrists to Sandra's ankles. Then she attached my own ankles to Sandra's wrists, and Sandra lifted my elegant legs up and apart: she could control just how much my ass and cunt could be lifted, spread, distended and exposed.
"Now, Sandra dear, I'm going to make this even more interesting for all of us."
"Anything you wish, Monica."
Monica left briefly and returned with two sets of pincers and fine chains. I could see her take Sandra's lovely little nipples in her mouth, kissing and licking them, then stretching each to affix a clamp. Sandra cried out and began to breathe heavily. Dangling from each clamp was a chain and a clamp at its other end. I knew what was coming and bit my lip as Monica clamped my own engorged nipples and adjusted the lengths of chain so that the least movement on my part would pull viciously on Sandra's breasts.
"Keep the bitch's legs spread, Sandra. And you, slut, are not to make a move or a sound, do you understand?"
I moved my head ever so slightly.
"I thought I told you not to move?" said Monica.
"You too, Sandra. I know how much you want to eat that lovely cunt, but you are not to do a thing unless I permit you."
"Yes, Monica," Sandra replied meekly while tugging on my legs and hefting and spreading them even more, making my aching cunt gasp and drip.
I could see Sandra's marvelous breasts and lithe flat stomach, her magnificent delectable thighs, and so enraptured was I by the sight that the hiss and crack of Monica's crop upon my ass caught me by surprise and I yelped and jerked involuntarily.
Sandra caught her breath as her nipples were stretched so suddenly by my movement, but I saw that her cunt was moistening nonetheless.
"We have a naughty disobedient slut on our hands. Kristina needs to be instructed in the arts of submission."
So saying this she brought the tip of the crop to my mouth for me to suck and moisten and then kiss. Then she sharply smacked Sandra's left breast, which caused her to yank my legs wider apart and send a sharp current of pleasurable piercing pain through my distended nipples.
"Thank you, Mistress, may I have another?" answered Sandra.
And another and another and another she received. I grew deliriously wet with each searing twitch through my nipples, and was on the verge of simply begging to be fucked, begging for my ass and cunt to be filled by the dildo and vibrator I knew lay in wait... But I held back.
"You're a good little slave, Sandra," said Monica, "and if Kristina complies I'll give you a taste of her cunt."
"Kristina, dear, if you really want to come -- and you look as if you do -- you are not to move or make a sound. You have ten strokes. If you disobey, I will start over and Sandra, whose mouth is watering for your pussy, will have to wait even longer to pleasure you. And one other thing: you are only allowed to come when Sandra is given permission to lick your pussy."
I was dizzy with these puzzling didactics. The lashes of the crop started again and I held out until the seventh stroke before I screamed. My ass and the undersides of my thighs were burning. Sandra screamed too as I jerked her breasts involuntarily. So Monica started again with Sandra, ten strokes on Sandra's breasts and thighs and stomach and ass, each stroke making her quiver and jerk my nipples with searing lovely pain. Then my turn... the tenth stroke landed squarely on my pussy, protected just enough by the fabric of my thong to prevent my from coming then and there.
I lay panting and heaving deliciously as Sandra fell to her knees at Monica's signal and buried her mouth in my cunt and ravenously ate my pussy and ass until I came as never before, as I licked and lapped her sweetness again, all the while wondering when Monica would get her due. I felt like such a wonderful, liberated woman, coming finally into my own as the submissive slutful creature I had unknowlingly dreamed of being....
(To be continued ... feedback and cybermistresses much appreciated)