My Secret Sorority:
A Novel of Erotic Instruction
By
Imelda Stark
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Imelda Stark
All Rights Reserved
ISBN-13: 978-0-9829073-1-3
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imelda Stark is the nom de plume of a teacher and practitioner of psychotherapy at a major East Coast medical school (hence the need for a pseudonym). She has been exploring the psychologically complex realm of BDSM for fifteen novels now. Imelda strives to combine the eroticism she feels around challenging things happening to willing bottoms with an exploration of how we aficionados of these painful pleasures got to be the way we are. She welcomes and will respond to email at otherself@sbcglobal.net. See the Afterword for a complete listing of her erotic works.
CHAPTER ONE: ABBY
Preface (written way after the fact):
So this is an experiment, and one that freaks me out quite a lot, if you want to know the truth. When Sir found out that I had been blogging since the beginning of my involvement with our Sorority, he was less than pleased with me. Let’s say I didn’t even think about sitting down for a few days after our ‘discussion’ of my presumption. But after he had cooled down (which seemed primarily to involve transferring a shocking amount of heat to my rear end, both inside and out), he made a confession. He also had been recording his thoughts about the goings-on in our secret little corner of campus life. In his case, semi-Luddite that he can be, the files were kept on his own laptop rather than being posted on the web under a pseudonym like my own memoir. But when we both read each other’s recollections, there was an effect aside from making us both very hot. It also seemed like other people who are inclined to enjoy inflicting or receiving painfully pleasurable attention to naked female bottoms might enjoy our parallel reflections on the start of our unusual relationship. So without further ado, we will present our two diaries, one for each of us in each chapter of this book. We hope you find the events we describe to be even a tiny fraction as erotically fulfilling as each of us did (and do!).
Blog 1: 14 January
Here is your intrepid heroine Abby (not my real name…no duh), narcissistically presuming that her mundane college life could possibly be of interest to a single other soul. It’s the first Monday back from break, and I just got done with my first day’s classes, which mainly sucked. The one possible exception is the Human Sexuality course required for all HumBio majors. That one looks to be pretty interesting judging by the first lecture. The Prof is a way-cute older guy who insisted we call him Rafe instead of Professor X. He is actually a specialist in sex therapy from the medical school who got roped into teaching a pack of pre-med undergrads. He assigned a textbook called Guide To Getting It On that looks pretty cool, and he seems to be cultivating a laid-back atmosphere in the classroom. The fact that he is extremely hot (especially for someone in his forties judging by the gray in his short-trimmed beard) does not hurt. He’s six feet tall, short curly dark hair, wicked blue eyes and a killer smile, and totally buff in the bod department. It was clear that a good fraction of the girls in the class would be glad to sign up for extensive private tutoring, including yours truly. But I’m sure he’s got some gorgeous girlfriend fucking his brains out every night (no wedding band). I suspect he will be in more than just my own beat-off fantasy tonight…;-).
Blog 2: 18 January
Well, we just had class #2 with Rafe, and I’m liking him more each time. He mainly just fielded questions from us based on the reading. His answers were funny, sarcastic but never mean, and self-deprecating. He walks a clever line. He seems open and available to talk matter-of-factly about the most intimate subjects in plain English, though he can lapse into medical jargon if someone insists. But he doesn’t reveal damned thing about his private life. I am so curious to know if he has a girlfriend or wife! Pretty sure he’s not gay: just doesn’t set off my gaydar, which is pretty infallible. I imagined him going down on me while I played with myself last night, and came like a freight train while mashing my nipples so hard they were bruised this morning. And my thong stays pretty moist during his entire lecture. This weekend should be interesting. Rafe will be moderating a marathon all-day class meeting in which outside experts are going to come in and talk to us about everything under the sexual sun. I wonder if they’re going to talk about my top-most secret hottest fantasy that I’m not even going to mention here unless they do…
Blog 3: 21 January
Well, the all-day-sex-marathon was today, and it was even hotter than I ever imagined. Rafe stayed in his role as a moderator, and didn’t actually lead any of the lectures. We started off with a really adorable gay guy for the first hour. He was drop-dead-funny in walking us ‘future-doctor-wannabes’ (as he so described us with his characteristic sarcasm) through everything we could possibly want or need to know about gay sex. Some of it turned me on quite a bit, which was a surprise to me. It probably shouldn’t be, given my thing about having stuff done to my bottom, which is a lot of what many gay guys like to have happen in bed. Next was a lesbian chick who I found totally hot, bisexual little cunt that I am. She described herself as a ‘lipstick lesbian’, meaning she was not at all dykish, I guess. She walked us through the psych of their world of relationships, quite different from the way the gay guy described for his cohort. As well, she likewise took us through the nuts and bolts of how they get it on. This time, I had done most of what she talked about with my girlfriends, so not too many surprises there. Once again, totally hot and creaming my jeans by the end of her hour. Then a very serene-looking older woman came on and talked to us about elective celibacy. This hadn’t even occurred to me as an option (big surprise there…NOT…;-). After that was a way-too-hip middle aged couple presenting the world of poly-amoury. This apparently comprises more permanent sexual arrangements in which multiple partners are possible in various conformations. Once again, very hot to think about, even though neither of them was particularly attractive to me. The final hour, though, was the kicker for me, as this rather mousy looking couple led a discussion of BDSM. They showed slides of the safe-sex-bondage club they own and operate in the nearby metropolis. Then they displayed a mind-boggling array of equipment for the practice of their kind of sex. I hope nobody was looking too hard at me during their presentation. Especially the part where they talked about how much they both enjoy it when her bottom is bared for him to spank it. Because I’m sure I turned bright red at hearing my own fantasy spoken out loud…more later…;-)
CHAPTER ONE: RAFE
Preface: Here I am again, the dom getting topped from below by a student half his age…sigh… But such is the story of a middle aged man swept up in the erotic energy of an enthusiastic undergrad whose eagerness to submit is almost as charming to this jaded old heart as her perfect rear end. So when I found out that she had been blogging our entire relationship, you can imagine that I was less than pleased. My ire was mitigated when I saw that she had actually changed the details of our odd little ‘romance’ enough that I am confident not to be recognized. Of course, my anger was eased even more by the administration of the most severe spanking yet to that aforementioned delectable bottom. But thereby hangs another tale, so to say. In an event, once I had cooled down, we both realized that our parallel accounts of our adventures together actually make pretty interesting reading. That is, at least if you share our mutual fascination with naked female buttocks trying their best to endure painful disciplinary attention. So I have permitted her to meld our two diaries, hers from online, and mine from my laptop. May you enjoy receiving our tales of these escapades as much as I delighted in dishing out and participating in the actual experiences themselves.
Diary #1:
Here I am, starting another Human Sexuality seminar for the HumBio majors, trying to walk my usual tightrope. Only here, in this journal, can I be wholly who I really am. Everywhere else, I have to stop and think about how much of my truth I reveal—what part of me is relevant here, and what needs to be sequestered entirely or doled out in careful aliquots. I am a sex therapist because I love sex, of all kinds, between all sorts of people. Though I do have my favorites both of partners and activities, no question about that. And teaching the undergrad seminar is perhaps my most challenging balancing act: I must be accessible but not seductive, personal and open but not self-revealing, enabling students to write and talk about difficult and extremely private issues without letting on about my own sex life. And most of all, I cannot let a molecule leak of my current very particular private erotic world and the unusual role I take there.
So I use my sense of humor a lot, and refer self-deprecatingly to some of my own early struggles with sexuality. I especially make clear the absolute truth that when I was their age I didn’t know my own ass from a hole in the ground when it came to sex. The course starts by exposing the students to the whole gamut of sexual expression in the first weekend seminar after the two introductory lectures. Then I have the students work in smaller groups along with volunteer facilitators chosen from among my post-doctoral trainees in sex therapy. The BDSM section of that marathon day is always particularly delicate for me. That’s because the presenters are both dear friends and sometimes playmates of mine from that world. The woman in particular has been the star of several very hot scenes that I have been asked to conduct at a private club for connoisseurs of painful pleasures. I am exceedingly fond of her and look forward to the next time I have her trim and sweet naked ass bent over to be played with long and hard. She always texts me later to tell me how hard her husband spanks her already-way-sore bottom to punish her for so obviously enjoying being topped by me.
But I digress. In the small groups the students are encouraged to ask the questions or bring up the issues that felt too uncomfortable to raise in the larger classroom group. Because the topic is so sensitive, this happens even though I have questions submitted in writing (actually, by texting) so no one knows who asked them. Over the weeks, we work our way through the Guide in the lectures. Near the end of the course, students are encouraged in their final paper to take on erotic issues that trouble them in lieu of a more academic paper if they wish. I don’t think it’s fair to stir such difficult waters up without offering help to clarify the issues raised. So I advise authors to indicate at the end of their paper if they wish to make an appointment to discuss any concerns they would like my help with. And here is where things sometimes get a lot more interesting for yours truly.
Every once in awhile, I get a paper that tells me I’m dealing with someone special, in a way that has the potential to dovetail profoundly with some of my own erotic peculiarities. This was the case with Abby, who turned in a tightly well-written erotic fantasy describing…well, I think I’ll just paste it in here, and let it speak for itself:
“The girl knew she was bad, that there was something naughty about her in her core. She tried very hard to be good, and no one ever noticed it from the outside, but she could feel it inside her. It made her long for someone powerful and insightful to see her as she really was. He would take her under his wing and give her the strong guidance she needed to be truly better. That is probably why she ‘accidentally’ plagiarized her final paper for her cutest professor. He was the one she most wished would become the strict but fair Daddy she had always longed for. He had passed out materials at the beginning of the quarter promising that all student submissions would be run through the University’s anti-cheating software. So it’s not as though she wasn’t warned.
So when she received her paper back in the last class meeting before Spring Break, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see a note on a post-it saying: “Please see me after class.” She flushed crimson, her cheeks burning as she waited for the other students to happily file out until he and she were the only ones left in the cavernous room. She stood and walked down the amphitheater steps, her heart both racing and sinking as she prepared to face the consequences of her ‘slip’. The professor sat on the table next to the lectern, his expression calm but serious, his blue eyes piercing her core. She felt mortified as she noticed her panties were sopping with moisture as she dimly allowed herself to hope that finally someone would give her the disciplinary attention she knew she truly needed.
When the girl reached the floor of the lecture hall and stood in front of her professor with her eyes downcast, she felt awash in shame at what she had done. He spoke: ‘So, Addy, it is clear to me that a girl as smart as you knows a lot better than to try a stunt like this. Especially since your work up to this paper had been consistently the best in the class. Why do you suppose you cheated so flagrantly when it was hardly necessary?’ I (okay, so she is me…;-) felt a tiny bit hopeful. He hadn’t simply threatened to report me to the Student Honor Committee and washed his hands of me. Instead, as I had wished, he wanted to get to the bottom, so to speak, of my issue. I decided to be totally honest and mumbled, unable to meet his eyes: ‘Nobody sees how bad a person I really am. I thought if anyone could do that and know how to help me, it would be you.’
I finally dared to look up, and was surprised to see warmth and even a hint of irony in his gaze. He calmly replied: ‘And what was it that you thought I could do to help you with this badness of yours?’ I blushed even more hotly and couldn’t look at him as I summoned the courage to mutter: ‘I think I need to be punished, corporally, if you know what I mean…’ I raised my gaze slightly and could see the crotch of his pants and realized that he had an enormous erection. My heart actually leapt as it dawned on me that my wish was perhaps about to come true. He made me say it outright, prompting me: ‘Addy, I’m not sure what you mean. You will need to say absolutely clearly what you want to have happen about this issue.’ Summoning more courage than I ever though I had, I raised my downcast shameful gaze. I looked him square in his gorgeous blue eyes, and said: ‘I need you to take me someplace private where no one can hear who might interrupt us. Then you should bare my bottom and bend me over and give me the spanking of my life to punish me for cheating.’
My dishy professor looked at me with a solemn expression on his handsome face but a glint of—could it be excitement, or maybe even humor?—in his eyes. Then he stood up, making no effort to conceal the intriguing hard-on tenting his khakis. He replied: ‘Then I suppose we should go to my office, which will be quite private at this hour of the night. Then we can see to giving you what you need and deserve.’ He then took me gently but firmly by the arm, like I was a loved child being escorted to someplace she needed to be but might have resisted going. He quietly led me to the elevators and up to his office on the darkened top floor of the building, letting the delicious tension build. My professor unlocked and relocked behind us a series of doors until we were in his cluttered corner office. Then he drew the blinds so no one could tell it was occupied.
Once we were safely inside his book-lined den, my professor stood me facing a corner. He said sternly: ‘You may contemplate your sins while I prepare for your spanking.’ I looked at the academic titles on the shelves in front of me, acutely aware of my bottom facing out toward his piercing blue eyes as he cleared the papers off his desk and stacked them on the floor beside it. He also removed an eighteen-inch long sturdy wooden ruler from his desk drawer and placed in crisply on the walnut surface of the cleared desk. Then he came over to take me by the arm once again and led me to stand with my thighs pressed against the front of the desk. Next he asked me a question: ‘Addy, since your offense is so serious I am going to be spanking your bare bottom very hard and for a very long time, first with my hand and then with this ruler. Have you ever received such punishment before?’
I blushed even more fiercely than before, more in excitement than shame. It had now become certain I was going to get what I had hoped for. I answered: ‘No, professor.’ He then went on: ‘Perhaps it would be best, then, if I was to restrain your hands and place a light gag in your mouth. That way you will not be tempted to resist your punishment either in words or actions. What do you think about that?’ I had been worried about whether I would freak out and not be cooperative. So it was with relief that I said: ‘I think that would be a good idea. It would let me focus on learning my lesson from my spanking instead of on trying to keep from interfering with it.’ He replied: ‘Very well, then,’ and reached into a desk drawer to remove two lengths of soft rope. Their presence made me realize I was probably not the first naughty girl to have misbehaved her way into this situation with him.
He spoke: ‘Addy, please bend over my desk and grasp the edges of my chair on the far side.’ Once I did this, he quickly secured each of my wrists firmly to the chair. Then I knew I wasn’t going to be going anywhere until he untied me. That thought was unbearably arousing to me, and I knew he could smell the scent of the liquid evidence of how turned on I was. It was pouring from my pussy, and I was mortified at how sopping it would be once he got around to taking down my panties. Then he crouched down so his handsome face was near mine. He gently stroked my cheek as he said: ‘Now I am going to tie this rope around your neck and between your teeth. It will be there both to prevent you from making too much noise and from saying anything you might later regret. Once this gag is in place, your spanking is to proceed until I decide your bottom is properly punished. So this is your last chance to change your mind.’ He waited for me to speak, and I replied: ‘You can go ahead and give me what we both know I need and deserve.’
And so my delicious, terrifying fate was sealed. I docilely opened my mouth to receive the rope, which tasted more pleasant than I would have imagined and didn’t make me in the least uncomfortable. In fact, being bound and gagged felt ungodly sexy. It was like I became a captive princess in one of the many fantasies I had mooned over since girlhood. And now my professor was about to find out just how perverted I was. He went back around the desk and placed a hand on the small of my back. I had worn my most school-girlish clothes for this event, much in contrast to my usual jeans and halter top. So I was dressed in a demure long-sleeved white cotton blouse, a pleated muted plaid skirt, clean (at least when I put them on before leaving for class…) white cotton bikini panties, and penny loafers. I had shaven carefully, and knew my tanned and trim runner’s legs would be prettier than any panty hose. In short, I was ready to be seen from my waist down. It looked like that wish was about to be granted, in spades.
My professor raised my skirt and laid it carefully across my back and onto the desk-top, and sighed appreciatively at his view. He murmured: ‘Such a perfect rear end...And now it must suffer terribly for the naughtiness of its owner…’ Then I felt his hand gently stroking my bottom through my panties, and he tut-tutted: ‘And what have we here! A girl whose crotch is drenched with excitement at the thought of having her panties lowered and her bare bottom spanked long and hard. My goodness, we have a really bad girl on our hands here, don’t we!’ I felt a rush of shame at his matter-of-fact naming of the aroused state of my pussy. The embarrassment was accompanied by an even more powerful surge of erotic excitement. I wondered if I would come right there on the spot just from the sheer sexiness of it all.
Then he slipped a finger under the waistband of my panties on either side, saying: ‘But we are going to be punishing her, not her underclothes. So I’m afraid these will have to come down…’ I moaned in embarrassment and arousal as I raised my hips slightly to allow him to slip them down to rest around my knees. They were trembling in excitement and fear as he got his first glimpse of my naked bottom. My professor sighed again, and murmured: ‘Even lovelier than I imagined! Indeed, I have fantasized seeing this perfect rear end bent naked over my desk more than once before tonight. And look, she is just as blonde down here as she is on her head! Such a tempting little morsel, I’m afraid I must have a snack to fortify myself before getting on with the disciplinary business at hand, so to speak…’
I was unimaginably thrilled to know that he had been thinking of me in this way even before I had engineered this spanking, and both titillated and mortified to have him comment so openly about my pubes. Then I was even more surprised when he knelt and leaned in to engulf my pussy in his skilful mouth. His tongue only had time for a couple of slow circuits from my vagina up to and around my clitoris before I exploded into orgasm. My hips bounced against his desk in my excitement as I came hard for over a miraculous minute. Muffled versions of my usual embarrassing orgasmic grunts and groans of pleasure escaped my teeth clenched around his gag until my spasms of ecstasy subsided.
My professor stood up with a satisfied sigh and remarked: ‘Wasn’t that delicious, and doesn’t our naughty girl come prettily! But enough of pleasures, now it’s time for the infliction and reception of soul-cleansing pain.’ With that said, he placed his left hand on the small of my back to hold me down and keep my skirt in place should I wiggle too frantically. My naked bent buttocks felt a premonitory caress as his large, powerful right hand reconnoitered the territory it was soon to visit far more violently. I loved the feel of his hand on my bottom flesh, especially in my post-orgasmic haze of pleasure. Then everything changed forever, as the first real spank of my life fell like a thunderbolt on my left bottom cheek with a loud smack and a shocking jolt of pain.
My professor then delivered a similarly hard swat to my right buttock, and then stopped and mused as his fingers gently traced the marks he must have left on my previously unpunished nether moons: ‘Such vivid handprints on such a pristine alabaster canvas. I think I must have a sense of how primitive cave-painters must have felt when they left similar marks on their own virgin surfaces. But now I must erase my work, just as time obscures even the greatest of art…’ His ironic philosophical musings complete, he proceeded to deliver a hundred hearty spanks to each of my bottom cheeks without pausing. I squirmed and wept and cried out into my gag with each crashing blow to my poor rear end, as the pain and heat built steadily right along with my arousal. For indeed, the spanking felt even sexier than I had imagined. By its end I could feel my pussy literally oozing down my inner thighs.
Of course he noticed this. Once the hand-spanking was complete my professor once again knelt between my legs and applied his talented mouth to my crotch. This time he slipped a pair of fingers inside my vagina as well. I had never before experienced the combination of being eaten out and finger-fucked at the same time. This wonderful new twist coupled with how turned on I was from the amazing spanking to drive me wild. I came just as fast and a whole lot harder than the first time he ate me. His desk actually shifted underneath me from the intensity of my orgasmic total-body spasms. They lasted even longer than the first time and left me totally limp and panting and buzzing with the combined sensations of my spanking and the subsequent killer sex.
But things were about to get even hotter, as my professor stood back up. He said: ‘Addy, I’m afraid based on how much you wiggled during your hand spanking that there is no way you will be able to be still enough during your rulering for it to be safe. After all, I will be spanking around some very sensitive and delicate areas, and I wouldn’t want to risk injuring your pussy with a mis-hit. As well, I like to spread my penitents’ legs when I chastise their bottoms, especially for such severe infractions as yours. Very bad girls feel additionally punished by the embarrassment of being so exposed combined with my ability to reach the more tender areas that are revealed. So I’m afraid these panties will have to come off and your ankles will have to be tied wide apart.’
This pronouncement both terrified and thrilled me. I deeply wanted to be totally vulnerable to this wonderful, masterful man who seemed so perfectly to understand what I needed. I felt my panties slipped to the floor and I was totally naked from the waist down. Then he procured two more small lengths of rope from his desk drawer. Soon my left ankle was gently but firmly guided into a wide split. He then held it in place as he looped the rope three times around it to secure it without cutting off the circulation. After which he tied the rope off to an eye-bolt hidden around the corner of the desk. It occurred to me in that moment that I was not the first naughty girl to be secured in this way to receive what she had coming to her. This thought actually comforted me. The same process was then repeated with my right ankle. My bottom was suddenly splayed and vulnerable far beyond anything I had ever imagined to that moment.
My professor next pulled up a chair and took several minutes to stroke and fondle what he had so totally revealed. He caressed my burning ass cheeks, still-dripping pussy, and to-that-point untouched thighs, especially focusing on their most-tender inner aspects. He sighed and remarked: ‘Dear naughty Addy, you could not be more lovely down here! You perhaps didn’t realize that for my purposes your bottom doesn’t stop with that wonderful crease separating your perfect buttocks from your equally exquisite thighs. I will be spanking them as well with my unforgiving ruler. So you can brace yourself for an even more challenging target for a much more severe implement. I am confident that another hundred spanks to each side should adequately mend your naughty ways. Then I will leave you bound while I take my compensation for my disciplinary efforts by fucking where I have just punished.’
Predictably, I was both frightened and overjoyed by this pronouncement. It seemed my submissiveness knew no bounds so far. The thought of being spanked on my inner thighs was as exciting as terrifying to me. As well, I had fantasized about being ass-fucked for years. The thought that this perfect masterful man was going to take my virginity in that orifice made me swoon with arousal. Of course, the size of the bulge I had glimpsed in his khakis earlier daunted me. I had never taken anything larger than a medium-sized candle I had used while masturbating after hearing about anal intercourse in his class earlier that quarter. That was an experiment I quite enjoyed, I might add. But the ruler soon hijacked every bit of my awareness away from anything but the point of impact between it and my poor splayed rear end. As he had warned me, it was more than twice as painful as his hard hand had been. Soon I was issuing inarticulate muffled screams through my gag as I squirmed frantically to try to mitigate the fires being lit in my totally vulnerable bottom. I wondered how I could possibly take two hundred spanks with such a fearsome weapon. But take them I did, becoming more frenzied with each passing blow to my burning ass and thighs until at last my ordeal was over.
At that point my professor came back around to my side of the desk and replaced the ruler in the drawer, from which he removed a tube of Vaseline. He gently stroked away my tears and held a tissue up for me to blow my nose. His soothing voice murmured: “Such a good girl, to take her punishment so bravely. And now all is forgiven and she is back in good graces until she errs again. Now all that remains is for her sweet little bottom to grant me my reward for all of my efforts on behalf of its chastisement. Is that acceptable to you, Addy?’ I nodded emphatically, communicating my avid wish for him to make good on his threat to sodomize me. He grinned at my enthusiasm, stroking my face and telling me what a wonderful good girl I was. He then unzipped his pants and took out the biggest cock I had seen outside of a porno movie. It was pushing eight inches in length and massive in girth. I moaned at the thought that this monster, which was far bigger than anything I had ever taken in my cunt, was going up my unexplored bottom hole.
My professor squirted some lube onto his palms and thoroughly greased up his enormous veiny erection. Then he kissed me once tenderly on the lips through my gag before disappearing behind me. Soon I felt his Vaseline-coated finger encircling my bottom hole, and then I moaned as it entered me for the first time. It felt both weird and sexy. But as he worked it into me and twirled it around to distribute the lube so he wouldn’t hurt me with his monstrous cock, the weirdness diminished and the sexiness grew. Nonetheless, I was scared when his finger suddenly withdrew and I knew I was about to receive his phallus. My virginal bottom hole flinched at the prospect of its impending invasion by something so impossibly large.
Soon I felt his prepuce nosing against my anal ring. Soon thereafter he began to press against me in an insistent nonverbal demand that I open to him. I groaned at first at the pressure, as my bottom hole yielded grudgingly. But as he barged further inside the stretch became more frightening. I found myself grunting rhythmically like a little pig. After a pause, he pushed further in, and my grunts became little gasping muffled shouts from between my clenched teeth as I honestly feared he might tear me down there. My professor paused again and waited patiently while my poor stretched anus spasmed around his dick-head. Judging by his moans of pleasure this must have felt pretty good to him.
An apparent eternity passed before my bottom hole decided to relax. I’m guessing he could tell both by the subsidence of both my spasms and my teeth-gritted shouts of distress. Once I quieted, he slowly, methodically drove his entire gigantic cock into me. Again I found myself shouting through my gag. This time it was at the novel sense of being filled in an unprecedented place. When my professor finally fucked my ass to the hilt, I felt the delicious coolness of his thighs against my burning, throbbing ass cheeks. He murmured: “Addy, you are so unimaginably hot and tight back there, and your inflamed buttocks feel lovely. And now I’m going to butt fuck you without stopping until I collect my payment in full for your educational services!”
And he proceeded to do exactly as he promised. He gripped my poor spanked ass cheeks with his large powerful hands and groaned like an animal as he drove in and out of me. I’m sure I howled like a beast myself at the intensity and sheer sexiness of it all. What surprised us both was that having my asshole played with in that way seemed to hit an erotic chord in me that I never knew existed. Within minutes of the onset of my sodomy, I started having a different sort of orgasm than I had ever experienced. It was like a series of long, slow, rolling erotic tsunamis that would peak every few minutes and then subside into smaller wonderful wavelets before rising up again. I have no idea how long he fucked my ass, but I was essentially coming the whole time, howling through my gag like a little banshee. After a delirious infinity of sexual pleasure, I heard his own moans turn to roars. My professor pulled himself fiercely against my ass and spewed his semen deep inside my back passage for a long, wonderful time. Our cries of ecstasy mingled until he at last collapsed onto my sweat-soaked blouse as our pounding hearts and rapid respirations gradually stilled.
Once all was quiet, my professor’s shrinking cock slipped from within my ass. I felt a sudden aching emptiness in a place that had never before known filling. Then he untied my ankles, gag, and hands, and took me into his wonderful muscular arms and hugged me as he tenderly kissed my lips. I could taste my pussy in his mouth. It was earthy and good, just like my girlfriends have always told me I tasted. After a wonderful long slow kiss, I pulled away from him and said: ‘Thank you so much for giving this bad girl what she needed. I feel much better, but I have a confession to make.’ He looked at me with quizzical humor in his eyes, and in response to his unspoken query I sighed. Then I said: ‘I know myself too well to believe that I am permanently cured of my naughtiness even by so thorough a punishment. Would it be possible to arrange to be disciplined by you on a regular basis, perhaps even every day?’
My professor laughed heartily and replied: ‘If you insist, my naughty Addy. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it, and it might as well be me! I’ll text you with the address of my condo and directions to walk there. You can plan on meeting me there tomorrow night at eight and we can continue our efforts to address your naughtiness.’ I felt totally glad that someone so wonderful had seen and understood me so well. This very bad girl sighed in contentment at the thought that her bottom was finally going to get just what it needed as often as necessary. And who knows, maybe in time my professor will come to love me as much as I know I love him. He can finally be the strict but fair Daddy to this naughty girl for ever and ever after.”
So basically, what I had just read was a very thinly disguised fantasy about me and Abby, and what I surmised she wished I would do with her. I have to say that her little piece of erotica was extremely hot for me, leaving me with a serious hard-on throughout reading it. I had noticed Abby in class, a gorgeous blonde junior with cornflower blue eyes and a delightful little small-breasted figure. Her perfect little ass was undoubtedly the crowning feature of a delectable package. To find that she had a detailed scenario in mind of what she wanted me to do to and with that delectable derriere was incredibly titillating. But I knew I had to proceed with extreme caution here. What amazed me the most was that she had unerringly intuited my I-thought-well-concealed secret sexual predilection toward dominating willing young females. As is the case for every other member of my wonderful Secret Sorority, doms and submissives just have a way of sniffing each other out, sometimes quite literally.
Yes, I have every man’s wet dream. They are a Secret Sorority of younger women who have been drawn to me over the past ten years. They often start out as students whom I meet through my various courses. I am careful to be totally correct with them until they are no longer my students. But this tricky devil goes out of his way to leave open a standing promise to students to be available for consultation in my area of expertise should they need it. The seduction usually begins with an email or text from them asking to get together to discuss concerns bought up for them by my course material. None have been as blatant as Abby (who is unique for me in many wonderful ways). But a hefty majority of the total members did write about erotic spanking in their final papers for my course.
Here is how the mutual seduction goes. We meet at my office, or perhaps at the student union coffee house if they prefer (I offer both). Then I listen patiently and encouragingly while they find a way to say what they need to say. In Abby’s case, I decided to copy her own fantasy and put a yellow post-it on her paper when I returned it. In this case I said: “Feel free to contact me if you need to discuss this fascinating paper further.” Following which I left my email and cell phone numbers. She texted me within a day, asking to meet at the coffee house that evening at eight (of course…). I felt my usual nervous excitement as I dressed to meet a potential new sub. Though because of her attractiveness and the boldness of her approach my anticipatory energy was probably a little more intense than before. But I’ll let her tell you the story of that meeting.
CHAPTER TWO: ABBY
Blog 4: 28 January
So I can’t believe I had the ovaries to write that paper about Rafe and me and actually turn it in to him! It has to be the boldest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I have decided to really go for it with this guy. There is just something about him that hits all the right buttons in me. If he offers to exactly duplicate what I imagined him doing in my fantasy, I will pull my pants down and bend over for him in a heartbeat. Which is pretty weird coming from a girl who has never actually been spanked in her life. I only know about that world from reading everything I can get my hands on from the internet about erotic spanking. But I just seem to know that this is the guy I want to have introduce me to that world of BDSM that has so fascinated my imagination for the past few years. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had lots of fun sex with both boy and girlfriends since I was a sophomore in high school. I like going down on both men and women, and love them eating my pussy just as much. Fucking has been great fun too, both from guys and from butchy girls who like to strap on. But no one so far has asked me about playing with my ass, and I’ve been too embarrassed to bring it up. So Rafe is my choice as the guy I hope will teach me about that whole intriguing realm of erotic fun and games.
So anyhow, when I went to meet him at the coffeehouse I went braless and wore a halter that emphasized how firm my boobs are (even if they’re barely b-cup-sized). I also wore my tightest jeans, since I have what has been called an ass to die for by both boy and girlfriends. I decided I needed to show it off if I was to most seductively bait the hook. I don’t bother much with makeup, especially after my Mom sprang for tattooed eyeliners that match my eyes. But I did put a light coating of coral lipstick on, to make my mouth look as kissable as possible. My heart was beating like mad in spite of my runner’s conditioning as I walked into the U. It was just from the sheer sexy excitement of knowing that Rafe had read my fantasy about him and me. He is way smart, and a trained shrink to boot. So there is no fucking way he didn’t get that message. Especially since I named my heroine ‘Addy’ (a dyslexic version of me, I guess…;-). The question was, did he swing that way? My intuition told me so when I saw the smoldering look in his eyes as he greeted the mousy-looking submissive lady. She was the one who came to talk to our class about loving to have her ass spanked and fucked by her equally average-looking husband. I was about to find out, and the suspense was driving me wild.
Rafe looked even more gorgeous than usual when I saw him walk into the U a few minutes after me. In class he always wore the usual guy faculty uniform of khakis, a blue long-sleeved shirt, and a blazer. I always thought he was taunting the girls (and maybe boys) who found him attractive by taking off his jacket. He would drape it over his chair and roll up his sleeves to show off his yummy muscled and hairy forearms set off by a fancy gold wristwatch on his left arm. But on this warm night he wore a tight fitting black tee shirt that showed off his way-fit upper body. It was tucked into Levis that displayed his equally cute ass. I was creaming my own jeans at the sight of him, especially given what we were likely to be talking about. He picked me out in the booth I had staked out in a quiet corner of the U. Rafe walked over with a friendly but guarded smile and an inquisitive look in his own gray-blue eyes. I stood up to greet him, and he asked what I was drinking and offered to bring over a couple of lattes to keep us company while we discussed my paper. I loved it that he so casually named what we had come to talk about. As well, I enjoyed the view of his ass and muscular back as he walked over to get our coffees and carried them back and sat down.
My totally hot former human sexuality prof then proceeded to fix me with that all-seeing gaze of his. He asked: “So, Abby, it seems you have given me a fantasy that may be more than just an exploration of a corner of your inner sexuality. I’m here to talk about what it means to you and how I might be of help to you regarding the issues it raises for you.” The ball was served squarely into my court. It was time for me to see if I had the cojones to hit it back just as cleanly. I did my best to match the directness of his approach and replied: “Well, Rafe, I got a feeling that the sort of sex I described in my fantasy might be interesting to you too. And I can’t think of anyone I would rather have introduce me to that world than you.” He flushed slightly, laughed a bit nervously, and passed a hand over his eyes. I had succeeded in putting him right back on the hot seat as he took a deep breath and looked to be gathering his composure. He grinned a bit ruefully at me and said: “You don’t exactly beat around the bush, do you? And I realize given the topic of your essay that was a rather complicated choice of words, wasn’t it?”
This time we both laughed at his unintentional (I guess…) pun. Then he queried: “I wonder what made you think that I would be interested in spanking you?” Talk about not beating around the bush! I’m sure I blushed a good deal more fiercely myself and decided to play it straight and replied: “The way that you looked at the mousy BDSM lady made me think that her cute little ass may have received some of that painful attention she claimed to like so much from our very own Human Sexuality professor. Am I right?” He chuckled again, a look of grudging admiration on his face. He retorted: “My goodness, I’m supposed to be the in-control older guy here. You are doing very well at keeping me off balance by making me choose between honesty and self-protection. Yes, Amanda and I have played those kind of games with each other. It was in a special private setting and with her husband (and other aficionados) looking on and approving all of what happened to her. Though he did get jealous later on, which played right into her hand by earning her bottom even more deliciously painful attention.”
I could see that a tone had been set and that Rafe and I were going to be frank with each other. So I decided to put my cards on the table. I reached over to place a very intentionally seductive hand on his yummy forearm and gave him my most sincere gaze. Then I said: “Rafe, now you are not my teacher and will never be again. Since I am twenty one for over a month and therefore am regarded as a consenting adult, I want to make you a proposition. I would gladly submit to every single thing my ‘Addy’ experienced with her professor. But I suspect that you have a lot more than that to teach and demonstrate to me about this kind of sex. I want to be your submissive and let you tell me what to do sexually, no matter how painful or scary for me. I promise to do my best to obey you. I know you might have a hard time believing given how assertive I have been about setting this whole thing up. But that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!”
Rafe sighed and looked at me with an odd mixture of desire and restraint. This began to give me a glimpse into the inner workings of the mind of a dom. Clearly, he had more considerations to take into account than just his immediate sexual pleasure. I could see his sharp brain working as he sat calmly breathing and apparently enjoying looking at me. Finally, he spoke: “You are right about me and BDSM, but perhaps even more complexly than you could realize. As you must also have intuited, since you are sharp enough to have picked up on my vibe with Amanda, I find you to be smoking hot as well. I would like nothing more than to investigate how you might fit into my love life. With a complicated guy like me, though, that needs to be a stepwise process. It probably should start with us finding a way to check each other out in bed to see if we are compatible having, shall we say, non-specialized sex. I know you seem to have your heart set on something more along the lines of your fantasy. That could certainly be arranged as we get to know each other better. So please feel free to say ‘no thanks’ to my offer of something a bit less outré, if you take my meaning.”
My own reaction to this thoughtful response was as complex as his answer to my proposition had been. He was clearly saying a provisional ‘yes’ to having more garden-variety sex with me. This was way cool and my tell-tale drooling pussy was hoping it could happen that very night. Actually, right there that minute on the table at the U seemed to be what it would have preferred, as far as I could tell…;-). But clearly there was to be some sort of vetting process before he would be willing to try playing with my bottom the way I was hoping. So I figured I might as well check this out. I grinned in relief at the prospect of getting naked with this gorgeous man. So I replied: “No way in hell would I turn down a chance to fuck you in any way and on any terms, Rafe. I’ve been beating off to just that series of images for the whole fucking quarter. The chance to realize those fantasies in any form is one I’m totally on board for. I gather than you need to make sure it is okay in some way to proceed past what that mousy couple called ‘vanilla’ sex with you. Which I am totally cool with. Especially if you can tell me what tests I need to pass so I can feel like I have my best chance at fulfilling my fantasy.”
Rafe grinned back at me, both of us clearly excited at the growing certainty that we were going to be making love that night. He thought a moment before deciding to reveal a rather amazing secret. He looked me quite sincerely in the eyes and said: “Very well, Abby, if we’re going to be getting naked with each other, I guess I’m going to have to trust my instincts about your discretion and maturity. They tell me that you are well ahead of most of your classmates in both of those arenas. As you have correctly surmised, I am a dom, and regarded to be an unusually skilled one. What you would have no way of knowing if you didn’t play in the BDSM world is that good doms are considered to be quite rare by most players, who tend to be submissives. The world of consensual BDSM is quirky in all sorts of ways. But one of the oddest of them is that subs actually run the show since it is their profound consent that makes possible the interplay of power that we all get so turned on by. I am coveted as a dom for more than my dashing good looks and large reliable cock. My training as a shrink and my genuine compassion for others give me an advantage. They enable me to construct scenes in which my subs feel like the line between ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ is walked more skillfully than other doms seem able to. As a result, I have a group of women who have formed what they call their Secret Sorority. I play regularly singly and in various combinations with them depending on mutual availability and inclination. My deal with them, since even as randy a guy as myself has limits on his energy, is that I restrict my playing in the scene to them. The exception is if we all agree to admit someone new. This can either be on a one-time basis (like my scene with Amanda), or more permanently (like my instincts say I would love to suggest to you).”
Now this was all quite a revelation to me. Though I had been reading as much as I could find on line so it wasn’t entirely news to me. The idea of joining a Secret Sorority was intriguing as hell. Having sisters who all delighted in submitting our bodies to Rafe’s attentions seemed way cool to me. Especially if we got to play with each other as well, given my well-established bisexuality. I started by asking about this: “So do members of your sorority have relationships with each other?” He smiled and replied: “Heavens yes! They all care very deeply about each other, and socialize more regularly between them than most of them see me. Two of them even live together and are lovers. The rest enjoy sex in various combinations to tide them over between scenes with me. In fact, the two who have been with me the longest seem to be making that common transition in the BDSM world from sub to domme. They get my permission quite often to do scenes on their own with their sisters.” I was absolutely intrigued by all of this, and quizzed him further: “Wow! This sounds way cool to me! How do I qualify for admission?”
Rafe smiled warmly and replied: “Well, you have already aced the first test. That is being incredibly attractive as well as wicked smart enough to have figured out way too much on your own. The second level we will be investigating tonight, if I read the tea leaves correctly. That would be by us going back to my place and trying out the sexual chemistry between us. If that goes well, I will contact the sorority and let them know we have a new applicant for membership. They have evolved their own initiation ritual that they perform with potential new inductees, which is incredibly hot for me to watch on video though I am not involved. If that goes well for everyone involved, then we do a formal scene involving all of us. Then you will get your heart’s content of challenging attention from yours truly to your bound naked body. As well, you will be officially inducted to my very exclusive club.”
I grinned back at him like someone who had just won the lottery, which is exactly how I felt at that moment. I said: “Well, Rafe, I don’t know about you. But to my mind sitting here drinking coffee when we could be back at your place tearing each other’s clothes off and exploring fascinating new territory seems kind of pointless. That is, unless you are into tantalizing your supplicant submissives. I’m ready to leave whenever you are!” He smiled back and retorted: “For a sub wannabe, you certainly seem to be trying awfully hard to run the show, my high spirited young friend. My father always said that hunger made the best sauce. So I suggest we finish our lattes with some decorum here and get to know each other a little better. After which I promise to take you back to my place and ravish your extremely promising little body to both of our hearts’ content. For starters, I’d like to know about your sexual history—likes, dislikes, must-haves, can’t stands, et cetera.”
So I clicked out of assertive young vixen and into obedient good girl. I answered: “I’ve been sexually active since I was thirteen, starting with girls. It seems that parents who would never in a million years allow a girl and boy to have a sleep-over together think nothing about two chicks of any age sharing a bed. So I started enjoying playing with my friends’ pussies at that age. That was basically as soon as we all started growing tits and pubes and having our hormones kick in. None of us thought of each other as lesbians, just friends making each other feel good. Finger-fucking entered the picture before I turned fifteen, the same year as we all discovered the sixty-nine position. From then on, sleepovers tended to consist of long bouts of mutual cunnilingus accompanied by simultaneous diddling of each other’s G spots. Though we did not know it by name then, just that it made our orgasms a lot more powerful and plentiful.”