A Professor's Unpredictable Seminar: Part 4
By
Caterina Duvay
(catclitduvay@yahoo.com mailto:catclitduvay@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: This story is not for minors or those offended by graphic descriptions of lesbian sexuality. The author does not intend to encourage or advocate the kinds of behavior described (but you're welcome to email to comment or share fantasies!)
Part 4
The warm Spring evening had begun to fall. I gazed at myself curiously, lasciviously in my bathroom mirror, a woman changed, maybe even transformed, by an unexpected turn of events. I looked and felt sexier than ever -- my slightly swollen and reddened lips gave me the appearance of a pouting coquette. The collar around my neck was like a cherished relic, its lead dangling between my delectably sore breasts.
I grew afraid again as I thought of the incriminating pictures, but somehow the unseen vista of novel sensual avenues far outweighed my apprehension. These few explosive hours were surely only a foretaste of perils I had long lusted after. Thankfully I was a decisive person, so I had no trouble in accepting this new twist -- not that I had much choice, mind you...
I relieved and washed up a bit and emerged from the bathroom to find that Sandra and Monica had dressed. They were stunning with or without clothes: Sandra's long smooth legs and superfirm youthful body, and Monica's beautiful red hair and full breasts made me smile with ardor. They had also laid out an outfit for me: a flimsy white halter top, my shortest skirt, black leather (I hadn't worn this in ages!), and my only pair of high heels, elegant and sexy and black, with a thin strap that buckled around the ankles.
I was tired but happy.
"Our slut looks quite fetching, doesn't she, Sandra?" purred Monica.
"Sure does," Sandra replied, "but I think I can make her even sexier."
She commanded me to raise my arms directly above my head, and as I did so the lower edge of my halter top rose nearly to my nipples. Sandra applied bright red lipstick to my mouth, to my nipples and aureoles, and then to my labia. Quickly and deftly she drew a pair of clothespins from her bag of tricks, exposed my breasts and clamped each of my already tender nipples. She shook and jiggled and slapped both breasts lightly as I to emphasize her control, and although I winced I made no sound. She then knelt and attached another pair to my labia and pulled on them sending a deep warmth coursing through me entire body. I couldn't believe how capable of arousal I still was after what had already occurred!
Monica moved into action by winding a red silk scarf around my ankles so that my feet were no more than 12 inches apart, which made walking in heels both slow and precarious. She bound my hands closely together with the same type of bright red silk and then grasped me by the hair and ordered me to open my mouth wide. I did so of course, and she inserted my creamy tattered thong, so redolent of cum, and tied yet another red scarf around my head and into my mouth as a gag. All this occurred as I stood motionlessly in the center of the room, hands held high and beginning to tire.
"That's much better," said Sandra, "our studious whore is even more alluring now."
Strangely she was right: I felt like a magnificently sexual degraded fucking whore-slut, with my heels and jutting ass and bright red lipstick and scarves, the short skirt and almost-nothing top, and the constant piercing sensation in my breasts and cunt which couldn't be ignored. I felt magnetically attractive to my beautiful tormentors too. I knew how much I was inspiring their lust and this made me perversely hotter. It was all so confusing and yet so simple...
Sandra continued: "Now, before we conduct our evening seminar, let's get something to eat. Come, Kristina, let's go down to the kitchen. I'd like you to prepare a nice little meal for us. Serve us like the slave you aspire to be." With my gag I could hardly reply, let alone object. She was a mischievous cunt. I too had begun to be famished and thirsty after our exertions and I welcome the chance for sustenance.
But because of my bonds I could take only very small steps, slowly and with great caution. I don't know how I managed to get down the stairs without toppling over -- it seemed like ages. In fact, the physical restraints on my mobility created an eerie psychological sense of time slowing down -- everything took at least 4 times as long to do as normal. I felt as if I were in a slow-motion delirium as I reached the landing, so aware of my delicious degradation, and peered into the living room where only a short while before I was hosting a pleasant uneventful intellectual get-together with students.
Students! Sandra and Monica, more seductively tempting than ever, sat themselves at my table and ordered me to make omelets and a small salad.
"Set the table first, sweetheart," said Monica, "and properly."
I carried over the plates and utensils with my bound hands -- slowly, of course -- and began to lay 3 settings when Sandra yanked my wrist away, saying "Two will do just fine for now. Get a bowl and place it on the floor near us -- and hurry a bit, please, because we're famished."
I was absolutely mortified. The roots of my hair burned with shame at the humiliation I knew they were planning. Yet I went about my duties and as the aroma of the omelets wafted to my nostrils my hunger grew keen. I was starving. And strangely enough so did my sexual desire: my nipples and cunt lips were burning and I was aching to be filled, engulfed, handled again.
After I had served my mistresses I was commanded to procure wine. It took quite a while and a good deal of trouble to work the corkscrew with my bound hands, but I managed finally to open the bottle and pour out two glasses for them. Sandra then commanded me to kneel close by and watch them eat. For nourishment I could only suck on my shredded thong, the remnants of my own cunt juice. They devoured every morsel, the bitches. Then Monica poured some of the wine into the bowl on the floor.
"If you promise to be a good girl, professor, I'll remove your gag and let you partake of our repast." How condescending was her language!
I nodded meekly and she kept her word but slapped my mouth gratuitously.
"That's just to remind you who's in charge," she added. "Now you may drink, slut."
I bend down thirstily over the bowl and lapped up what must have been about two glasses' worth of wine in a matter of moments.
"Gosh, she's really an animal at heart, isn't she?" remarked Sandra insouciantly.
Needless to say because of my thirst the wine almost immediately went to my head. The world had changed even more for me. There I was, in an incredibly bizarre situation scarcely to be believed: kneeling on my own kitchen floor, ankles and wrists bound, breasts and pussy clamped, in tarty high heels, a whorish leather skirt, flimsy top, bright red lips to match my silken bonds, at the beck and call of two seemingly decent women who had been compliant pupils of mine just a short time before. It was so unnerving yet so exhilarating: my innards were quivering with anticipation.
"Let's take dessert upstairs, shall we?" declared Monica, her lustrous red hair framing her fine intelligent if wicked face. She had such inviting lips...
Before I had realized anything Sandra had pulled me to my feet by my hair and I began an even more precarious journey, now that I was definitely tipsy, up the stairs and back to the scene of capitulation and release. I frankly loved this marvelous dream-like state of total submission. The wine had reinvigorated my desire and fueled my sexual hunger to be fucked, filled and possessed.
Back in the bedroom -- my bedroom -- Sandra directed me to a spot near the center of the room, now growing dark with the failing light from outside, and pushed me rather roughly to my knees.
"Don't move, Kristina," she directed, but before she herself turned around she knelt before me to give me a delicious taste of her tongue, which I greedily sucked upon. She smiled and then playfully slapped my breasts, sending jolts to my pussy, before rising to approach Monica who had now undressed to nakedness except for her heels. She looked indeed like a goddess, with a full figure to die for.
Sandra bent low to the ground and prostrated herself at Monica's feet. She began to lick her heels, to take each in her mouth to suck, to kiss the tips of her shoes. Monica's eyes gleamed as she fixed her gaze upon me, and I grew envious.
"Strip for me, Sandra, show me your young little cunt." Sandra smiled and slowly and casually removed her clothing: she too was gorgeous, superfirm, so very sweet...How long had they been lovers? How had I been able to restrain myself for so many weeks in class, while discussing Virginia Woolf or Germaine Greer, to keep from throwing myself at these two fascinating temptresses? They now began to lose themselves in each other, passionately kissing... Monica pulled Sandra to her by her nipples and engaged her in an endless kiss while I kept still and silent, beginning to smolder... Would they forget me? Had I already become an afterthought?
But Monica's eyes found mine and pierced me with a sort of excited apprehension.
"Sandra, get me my instrument please." Sandra hurriedly looked over her shoulder at me and went over to their bag of tricks. She returned with something I think I had only seen in a porn movie: a double-headed strap-on. My heart raced.
Sandra then tended to Monica with exquisite delicacy. She knelt before her pussy and gently licked it... Then by degrees she grew wilder, spitting on it, licking it, spitting, while Monica imperceptibly quivered as she gazed at me. Sandra became more devilish and began to slap Monica's moistening cunt in between bouts of licking.
"Oh, yeah," exclaimed Monica, "I love the way you kiss me, honey." But Monica continued to fix me with her glowing green eyes.
Sandra desisted and gently guided one end of the strap-on into Monica's gaping pussy, strapped and buckled the harness under her ass and around her waist so it fit snugly and could give maximum pleasure.
Monica was, simply, an amazing and thrilling sight to behold. The cream-colored cock now protruding from her granted an incredible aura of power. The strap-on was large, at least one and a half inches thick and seven in length. My knees began to buckle as Sandra took it into her luscious mouth, engulfing and moistening its shaft which was stippled with small bristling bumps -- I'd never seen anything quite like it.
Then Sandra abruptly rose, exclaiming, "I forgot something!" She raced downstairs and returned with a quarter-pound stick of butter. My heart pounded harder and my breath quickened.
Monica approached me and addressed me with severity.
"Get naked, you fucking bitch, and get that lovely fucking whore body on its back, immediately!"
I lowered myself first to one side on my thankfully carpeted floor and struggled to undo and slip my skirt off with my bound hands. It brushed against the clothespins on my labia as I eventually kicked it away, sending jolts of pleasure-pain. Then I lifted my halter top and nearly pulled my nipples off as it caught in their clothespins. I cried out and took a deep breath and rolled onto my back.
Sandra stretched my bound arms behind me above my head, lifting my breasts. I instinctively raised my legs, but because my ankles were tied together I needed to cross my feet. Monica knelt in front of my gaping cunt and ass and pushed my legs back further and thighs wider apart.
I was so totally exposed, so totally helpless, so defenceless, so totally in thrall... and do damned alive!!! Sandra dropped the stick of butter onto my tummy: its chill made me shudder. Monica, her menacing cock dangling before me, moved closer into me, its tip resting on my open cunt. But she moved it aside to insert the cold stick of butter, still in its wrapping, into my cunt. I yelped with pleasure at the shock, and my heat began to melt it. Monica opened one end and as it melted the warm butter began to drip and spread down my pussy and into the crack of my ass.
I knew, with trepidation, that my ass was Monica's object, but I couldn't believe I could take her cock inside my tight canal.
I was wrong. Monica smeared it with butter and coated my nether-hole as well and pushed into my ass. I screamed while Sandra held my arms down forcefully as my back arched into the air. Monica only smiled and continued inserting her instrument and I simply gave up, gave in, relaxed into a mesmerized state of acceptance until I had taken it all into me. The pressure of penetrating me to the hilt stimulated Monica: by fucking me she was being fucked too.
My how I loved it! Her strokes were long and hard and deep, deep into my ass that until today had been pristine.
"Oh, I love you, Monica," I involuntarily cried.
She smiled, and then I heard Sandra say, "What about me?"
Before I could reply she had leapt away and returned with one of my `gifts': the large black dildo.
"You are a gorgeous ... fucking ... beautiful ... professor ... slut," she uttered, as she gradually slipped the dildo into my craving yearning insatiable cunt.
"I love you too, I love the two of you, fuck me, keep fucking me," I cried wildly, as Sandra thrust the dildo into my pussy with greater force and frequency, and as Monica rammed my ass hard, oh so hard and wonderfully.
Sandra muffled my cries by lowering her own sweet cunt onto my mouth and I lapped it ferociously as wave upon wave of orgasmic pleasure rippled through me from my toes to my head, my ass and cunt filled to their limit.
Incredibly enough we three came together, all crying out wildly, and when the frenzy had finished I noticed that the clothespins had been stripped from their moorings. I was sore but satisfied in a way I had never imagined I could be, utterly immersed in submission, in giving myself up to that peculiarly powerful sensation of pain-pleasure.
I thanked my Mistresses...
After we awoke from a brief slumber, just moments really, Sandra and Monica gathered their things, dressed, gave me a few more pinches and pecks and ... rules. They would let me rest tomorrow, but under no condition was I to masturbate. On Tuesday they planned to call with further plans for the interim period before summer sessions began at our college. And oh yes, they reminded me, any infraction on my part would result in exposure to the university administration.
I knew they meant it, but I also knew I would never pass up this unbelievable chance to explore the hidden and unknown and most wonderful aspects of female sexual response.
I wanted more.
(to be continued, I hope. Email feedback welcome!)