Elliot Mabeuse (4 page)
Authors: A Good Student
It was way too late to ask me to stop—way too late—and I played with Emma's pussy like it was a handful of pearls, toying with her and strumming her like a harp. If I needed any more proof of her level of excitement, I only had to bring my mouth close to hers and feel her feverish kiss, a kiss that begged and pleaded with me one minute, then bit me in savage impatience the next. Her tongue fluttered in my mouth like a little
bird in a burning house trying to get free, and it drove me mad, because something was inside Emma trying to get out, and I wanted it. I wanted it with every fiber of my being. I wanted her to give it to me and me alone, and I wanted all of it.
And suddenly then she did give it to me. She tore her lips from mine and cried out, choking on her own breath and arching her body away from the wall, shoving her pussy out onto my hands. I saw a brief look of panic in her eyes, as if she couldn't believe this was happening to her, and I grabbed her panties tight and used them to press her body against mine with all my strength, as if she might fly apart. I shoved my finger into her deep, deep—deep—and held it there. Her thighs quivered and trembled and orgasmic spasms made her bear down on my finger in waves of peristaltic pleasure that made me absolutely dizzy with desire.
The sight of Emma coming was so intense I felt my own orgasm start and only stopped it by sheer force of will, pulling my cock away from her body and just holding her as her body snapped like a whip with each convulsive release. I was trying not to think, trying to keep my mind a blank.
I held her up, let go of her panties and just held her against me as she shook and trembled and her orgasm faded like distant thunder. She worked her hands out of the crumpled garment and held onto my shoulders, panting.
"You okay?" I asked.
"God!" she said. "I was just so turned on all day, thinking about it. That was intense."
"Can you walk?"
"Of course. Yes. Why? Where are we going?"
"My office," I said. "It's my turn."
Chapter Four
Emma put herself together and got her books and picked up her panties from the floor, and we didn't say much as we walked down the hall to my office. The corridor was deserted, and only every fourth light was left on, making the place look especially forlorn.
I'd originally thought about taking Emma to a motel, but that seemed wrong somehow, and my place in the city was too far. Besides, this was not a simple love affair or sexual tryst. There was a wrongness, a transgressiveness, that was a deep part of the very fabric of this relationship at this point. Maybe we could have done it in a car, or behind a dumpster, or in some basement boiler room, but that's the way it had to be—furtive, secretive, perverse and illicit. My office would do nicely.
As an adjunct instructor at Crane, I didn't have my own office. I had a desk in an office used by two other, full-time instructors, but that was all right. No one was around after three p.m. anyhow—ever—so the office might as well have been mine. The narrow window in the office door had been covered with construction paper by one of the full-timers so he could sleep unobserved, and although one wall was all window with a view of the parking lot, if the office lights were off you couldn't see in.
I'd already brought in what I needed before class in a box and left it under my desk, and now, as Emma stood uncertainly in the darkness, I set about my business.
"Take off your clothes." I spread a blanket over the top of the steel desk.
"What?"
"Come on. Take off your skirt and your top. No one's coming in."
Despite the darkness, I saw her uncertainty. Fear of the teacher's office dies hard, even in adults. Besides that, I realized I was being rude, ordering her around like a paid prostitute. It was my own arousal talking, but that wasn’t really my way and that wasn’t how I wanted her to feel.
“Come here,” I said gently, reaching into the box and pulling out a length of white nylon rope, finger-thick and soft as silk. I turned her around and began to wrap it around her wrists.
“I’m not going to tie you,” I said. “I’m going to lash you. There’s a difference.
Lashing doesn’t use any knots. You can always work your way free with enough effort. I don’t want you to panic.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said. “I’m not. I trust you.”
Somehow she knew just what to say to bring me to the boiling point. I quickly finished lashing her wrists with the thick white rope and spun her around. I took her in a bruising kiss, crushing her against me, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her ass. I was devastated by her trust and her willingness, by the gift of herself. I’d often heard other doms talking about the gift of trust but I’d never felt it like this, this intensely.
The other women I’d played with had to be coaxed and reassured, were nervous and skittish.
Emma wanted it. She wanted to be helpless for me, and the realization just destroyed me. I could have fallen to my knees at her feet at that moment, conquered by her submission.
I held her face in my hands and kissed her feverishly, her mouth, her cheeks and eyes. It was so incongruous yet so beautiful, standing in that dark and ugly office with this woman tied up for me, letting these waves of carnal excitement wash over me in this place of intellectual dedication.
My hand went to the waist of her skirt and I fumbled about, looking for the zipper.
It was in the back, and I opened it and unbuttoned the button and tugged the skirt down her thighs. It puddled around her ankles like a shadow and she was naked from the waist down. At that point I was overcome and I pushed her back until her ass hit the edge of the desk. I got on my knees and held her ass and began to lick and kiss her hips and thighs and belly, tasting the salt of her sweat and her female musk.
Emma gasped. “Mr. Devlin! Oh, Mr. Devlin!”
“Conner,” I said. “Conner.” Though this was no time to exchange names, and I didn’t care what she called me.
“Please! What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do?” I dragged my tongue up her thigh. “I’m going to eat you, my dear. I’m going to suck that pussy ‘til you come in my mouth, ‘til you turn into a pile of quivering female jelly, and when you do—when you simply can’t stand it any more, when you can’t live another instant without my cock inside you—then I’m going to fuck you, Emma. I’m going to fuck you hard and deep like you’ve never been fucked before.
Do you understand?”
“Oh God!” she moaned
I stood up and lifted her onto the narrow side of the desk and Emma leaned back on her bound hands. I lifted up her tank top and pulled it over her head, but because her hands were lashed together, I had to leave it hanging from her wrists. Her bra opened in front—clever girl!—and that met the same fate, hanging from her bound wrists as I began to suck and kiss her tits while I opened my own shirt. We were both in a fever of excitement and Emma’s head fell back in pleasure as I sucked her nipples into aching hardness, lashing them with my tongue, then peeled my shirt off and threw it aside.
I got to my knees and took her ankles in my hands. She still wore her shoes, smart little sandals, and I left them on. As I lifted her ankles, she started to fall back on the desk and I stopped and helped her lie down.
“Put your hands under the small of your back,” I said. “That’ll help raise your hips.”
Emma twisted around on the blanket until she was reasonably comfortable and I got back down on my knees and took her ankles again. I love holding a woman’s ankles. It feels so possessive and powerful, not to mention absolutely sexy, and you can squeeze hard without hurting them. Emma had beautiful ankles and I held them tight, bending her knees up. She raised her head to look down at me with a deliciously fearful look on her face.
I must have been formidable to behold. I was aflame with lust, absolutely afire, and I hovered above her pussy like a lion above his kill. The mere proximity to her sex had the hormones gushing in my body and the muscles in my arms and shoulders were swollen and tight as I lowered my face and licked the insides of her thighs, all the way
up to her pussy. Emma whimpered and twisted her hips and her scent drove me mad. I stuck out my tongue and dragged it up her slit. Her juice was like honey on my tongue.
“Ahhhhh!” She arched her back and I felt her toes curl as I circled her clit with my tongue and began to suck. I already knew her most sensitive spot and I threw her legs over my shoulders and began to suck her clit in and out as I finger-fucked her. She squeezed my head with her strong thighs and began to pump, hungry for another come, and I let her use me, reveling in her female lust. She rose to it quickly, and suddenly her hips were shaking against me, vibrating against my face as her clit twitched and her pussy squeezed my fingers. She choked and gasped, writhing on the desk.
I slowed and stopped, giving her time to come down, not yet knowing how much she could take or how much recovery time she needed, but she’d barely caught her breath when her hips began moving again, twisting and rocking, shyly asking for more, more.
“Hot bitch!” I snarled. “You got more for me?”
“Oh yes, baby. Please! Please, it’s so good!”
I smiled as I reached over her thigh and spread her cunt apart, exposing her hot swollen clit in its little nest. I fluttered my tongue against it and sucked the sweet inner tissues of her pussy, tongue fucking her, then spitting on her clit and licking it off.
Looking up at her, I could see those gorgeous tits rising like islands in the moonlight, crowned with stiff rosy nipples pointing at the ceiling. They trembled with each shuddering breath.
I was like a satyr, a devil, sucking her between her legs, feeding on her cunt like a hummingbird at a pool of nectar, and Emma came and came, one orgasm blending into another in an endless stream until finally she was gasping and moaning.
“Oh God, no! No more! Fuck me! Please. Just fuck me!”
I got up and stood over her, my eyes burning, my face smeared with her pussy juice. I must have looked like a madman.
“You want to get fucked, Emma? Then you’re going to have to agree to my terms. I want you, Emma. I want you to be mine. I want to train you and have you and use you and fuck you. I want you to be my slave and my lover. I want to teach you to do all the things I’ve always dreamed of doing. Do you agree?”
She looked at me fearfully, alarm breaking through the spell of lust. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re something very rare, Emma. Something rare and precious, something I’ve been looking for for years now and I don’t want you to get away.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Listen. I don’t care about your life outside, about who you see and what you do, if you have a boyfriend and all that crap. But I want you—two nights a week at least. I want to show you what you have inside, what you’re capable of feeling. I’ve never seen anyone as sexual as you, Emma. I don’t want you to just think this is a couple nights of fun and that’s it, understand? There’s something here. Something deeper than just sex.”
She looked at me as if no one had ever said these things to her before, as if she really believed the desires she had were sick and perverse and something to be ashamed of. Like she had no idea of what they would do to a man—or to the right man.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You don’t have to do anything now," I replied. "I’m not a stalker and I’m not going to chain you to the radiator. This is something you have to enter into of your own free will. But I need for you to know that this is more than just some quickie student-teacher affair, Emma. This goes deeper than that.”
She didn’t know what to say so I saved her the trouble. I leaned over and kissed her. I dropped my tongue into her mouth and fucked her with it until she began to suck on it and caress it with her own, responding instinctively to having her body penetrated.
Everything she did was so maddeningly female, so giving and accepting. Her nipples pressed against my bare chest and her legs closed reflexively around my ass, pulling me against her. She was still horny. She was still ready for more.
I broke the kiss and smiled down at her, knowing we had an agreement.
“Back to business,” I said. “Now let me show you something.”
I went to the box and got more rope, then tied several turns around each ankle as she watched me from the desk, her breasts heaving with excitement as I bound her. I turned her on her side and unlashed her wrists. Then I pulled off the tangle of her tank top and bra and tossed them on a chair, tying cuffs of rope around each wrist. I strung lengths of rope through each cuff and down to the corresponding ankle and pulled them snug so Emma’s arms were drawn down and her ankles pulled up against her ass, her
knees forced open in an , froglike position, totally exposing her sex, leaving her open and helpless.
“Ever heard of hog-tying?” I tied the ropes tight. “Well this is called frog-tying and it’s one of those things I talked about wanting to show you.”
Emma whimpered. She tried to close her knees but the ropes were too tight and the strain too much. Her legs trembled and then fell helplessly open again as she panted from the effort. I reached out and caressed her breast, running my hand down her body and roughly massaging her pussy. I began to finger fuck her and there was nothing she could do. It was like I owned her totally now—my own private little cum-slut, unable to do anything but lie there in the ropes and take it. She began to pant, excited by her own helplessness, and her pussy sucked greedily at my finger.
At the heart of the BDSM experience there is always a moment like this, at least for me. There's a moment when woman as icon—all the attraction and longing and desire she inspires—has been stripped away, and the man feels, however rightly or wrongly, that he's reduced her to his level, to the class of sexual beast, a creature of pure sensuality. That's something he understands. That's something he feels he can master. He'll never conquer his longing for her or the weakness she makes him feel when he looks at her, but in conquering her body and in taking charge of her sensations, he at least feels he's gained some control of his heart. He feels like a man again.
Or at least that's the way I felt with Emma tied and exposed on that desk—
something primal and primitive and more basic than even love or affection, a kind of deep sexual polarity of male and female, blind and biological.
“This is the way I keep a bad girl exposed,” I said in a hoarse whisper as I caressed her pussy and studied her face. “This way I can fuck her or play with her or eat her or do almost anything to her. Like spank her when she needs spanking. When she's a greedy little cum-whore and needs spanking.”
I slapped her lightly on the clit and Emma jumped. I spanked her again with the same result, and now she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“Ever come from having your clit spanked?” I asked. “Too bad I didn't bring a whip. I could make you come like that. Emma. Sounds pretty nasty, doesn’t it?”
I stood up and at last I began to take off my pants, opening my belt and pulling down my zipper. I kicked off my shoes and socks, then stripped off my pants and threw them on a chair. My shorts were soaked with pre-cum, a wet spot the size of a dollar bill covering the fly where I'd been leaking during our play. From her awkward position, Emma raised her head to watch me undress and see what was in store for her. I didn't care. It just felt so fucking good to let him loose at last.
I won’t lie. I’m not hugely hung or massively endowed—nothing to stare at—but I was harder then hell. Those veins were pumping, and he was red and drooling like a rabid cobra, straining to get inside her like a mastiff on a leash. He looked like I felt—
mad, evil, and swollen to bursting with power and lust.
“You ready, Emma?" I growled. "You ready to get fucked?” I pulled her ass to the edge of the desk and pushed her knees apart. My cock arced like a missile over the open trench of her cunt.
She didn’t say anything, just tugged at the ropes and mewled, so I stuck my thumb in her pussy and started fucking her with it as I thrummed her clit, giving her one last tease.
“Come on, baby. Are you ready? Do you want it? Or do you need to come some more?”
“Oh please,” she said. “Just do it! Fuck me!”
“No. I think you’ve got more. I think you’ve got more for me, don’t you? You’re holding out, Emma. You’re holding out.”
I pulled my thumb from her cunt and spanked her clit with the back of my hand, just flicking my fingers against it. Emma groaned and tried to close her legs, but I had one hand on her knee and there was nothing she could do. I did it again, then again and again, setting up a regular rhythm, my fingers splashing down in the wet trough of her pussy, rudely spanking that turgid little nub. She was hypersensitive by now, and every spank made her jerk and twitch, her cunt thrusting up, her asshole contracting. The muscles on the insides of her thighs trembled and she moaned feebly, too ashamed to admit that even this crude punishment felt good.
“Come on, baby,” I hissed at her. “Give me that come, Emma! Give me that one last come. I want to shove my dick into you while you’re spitting out that hot juice. Look at you all tied up like a fucking slave! You can’t even move, can you? I’m going to stand here and slap that hot little cunt ‘til you give me that come, bitch, ‘til I see the juice running down your ass. So come on. Give it to me! Give it to me, Emma!”
“Oh! God! No! No!” she grunted as I spanked her pussy. Her hands twisted desperately in the bonds, her stomach tightening convulsively and her tits quaking on her chest as spasms of painful pleasure wracked her body.
I grabbed my cock in one hand and opened her cunt with the other, beginning to slap the head against her clit. My dick felt like it weighed a ton and the sound it made as it splashed into her wet trough was like a log splattering into a muddy swamp. I beat her cunt with my prick and each blow was a jolt of pleasure for us both.
Splatt! Whapp! Smackk! Splapp!
I bent over and grabbed her hair as if I could pull the come out of her, pulling her head to the side ‘til she opened her teeth in a grimace of pain.
"Give it to me, bitch! Give it to me, you hot cunt!"
Slapp! Whackk! Whapp! Plapp!
Faster and faster, I beat her with my cock, and Emma wailed and screamed so loud I was afraid they'd hear her at the other end of the hallway, so I quickly grabbed her rumpled panties from the chair and stuffed them into her open mouth. That seemed to be the last straw, the final indignity she needed. She wailed behind the black gag of her panties and arched her back and started to come again—the big one this time, the soul-killer—and at that moment, I stopped slapping her with my dick, pushing the head down with my thumb so it found her hole, and shoving the whole length into her with one thrust of my hips, right at the height of her climax.