Private Lessons Ch. 01-04

As if I were no longer my own person, I walked over to his desk and leaned over.

Mr C stood up from his chair and circled around me. And then I sensed him standing behind me, his breath very close to my ear. His large hands reached for my diaphragm. But they were underneath my shirt and on the bare flesh of my midriff.

"I don't like this shirt, Miss Spencer. You have a beautiful body and should not cover it up in such an ugly way."

My anger dissolved into a state of hot wet desire. Mr. C. thought I had a beautiful body! Me...with my too-full curves and poochy stomach.

"Inhale..."

I inhaled, breathing through my diaphragm although I knew that this wasn't what this particular exercise was about.

His hands moved slowly up from my ribs on to my breasts. The world seemed to stand still.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a creamy pair of tits, Miss Spencer?"

"No, sir." I could honestly say no one had ever said that to me before.

"Well, you do. A nice handful and very fuckable. From that first day I saw you in class, I couldn't get my eyes off of them."

Oh, no man had ever affected me like this. He was being so coarse and yet saying and doing all of the right things.He massaged my breasts with a sureness that was unsettling. As he pinched my nipples through the silk cloth of my bra, I ached sharply between my legs.

"Take off that ugly shirt, Miss Spencer."

I felt confused, halfway desirous and halfway humilated. While I had dreamed of being intimate with Mr. C for most of my adult life, I wasn't sure I wanted it this way. It felt so dirty, this kinky domination game, this forced striptease. But I was too far gone to turn back. Part of it was pure sexual arousal, part of it a sick curiosity of what he was going to do to me next.

I unbuttoned and lowered the shirt, shivering as the cold air of the basement caused goose bumps on my bare arms. There was a soft whooshing sound as it hit the floor.

"Hands back on the desk," he ordered.

I obeyed him. I was free to leave, free to run right out of this room. And yet I might as well have been chained to the desk. And he knew that. Somehow he knew it.

"Good little girl..." he crooned as he lowered the cups of my bra so that my bare breasts were resting on top of them. Again, he played with my nipples, pinching and flicking at them with his fingertips. I squirmed and moaned softly, shifting my body weight from one foot to the other. The pressure in my pussy was intense. I needed to have him inside of me so much.

God, I never wanted to get fucked so badly! Not ever!

I'd had boyfriends in my time. Three of them, in fact. I'd had sex with all of them but never really saw the big deal about it. They always seemed to enjoy it more than I did. And it was usually over fairly fast.

But this older man, this idol who I worshipped, made me feel like someone else entirely. I thought of how I must have looked wearing only my jeans and bra. Normally, I would have been embarrassed and repulsed. But I felt horribly sexy. Not sexy in a sweet cute sort of way, but in a hot pornographic sort of way. It was completely foreign and scary...and exhilarating...

"You also have beautiful legs," he whispered. I tried to listen to him, but it was difficult since his hands were driving me crazy. "I want you to wear skirts in my class from now on, Miss Spencer. And no underwear, understand?"

"Yes..." I moaned, pushing my hips back against him. I needed contact. I needed more skin. More and more and more...

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," I gasped softly. I was rewarded with a squeeze to both breasts.

"You like my hands on your breasts, don't you?"

God, wasn't it obvious?! I was melting like butter.

"Yes, sir. Very much, sir. Very very much..."

"Remove your jeans, Miss Spencer."

I blindly obeyed, no longer caring about what was right and wrong. I just wanted him to touch me.

"And the panties."

The panties joined my jeans down at a heap at my feet.

"What a sweet ass you have, Miss Spencer."

"Mmm..." I moaned when his hands reached down to massage my buttocks.

"How many times are you supposed to repeat the breathing exercise in one session, Miss Spencer?"

"What?"

How could he be talking about singing at a time like this?

"How many sets of diaphragmatic breathing are you supposed to do every day?"

"T-t-ten..."

"For each time that you did not do it, I am going to spank you, Miss Spencer. That will be your punishment. Then you'll remember to do them from now on, won't you?"

Oh, man, this was just too perverse! I only heard about this sort of stuff in the movies and in some of the erotica novels I kept stashed underneath my bed. While I found it wild and sexy in my fantasies, I wasn't sure the reality was for me. I didn't really like pain.

"I like you very much, Miss Spencer. I think you have so much potential in so many areas. But you must take risks as I told you before. You want to stay in my class, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I said honestly.

"You shall. But first you have to pay the price for your lack of artistic discipline. Will you take your punishment, Miss Spencer?"

I had to make a choice. It was one of those moments where I was at the fork in the road, the edge of the precipice, whatever cliché you prefer...

He was giving me an 'out clause', so to speak. I could leave his class and never come back but keep my dignity intact, what little of it was left anyway in this ignominious position.

"Yes, sir."

I thought I heard a moan of satisfaction from behind me.

"Spread your legs widely apart, Miss Spencer."

I swallowed dryly, widening my stance.

"Wider. I want to see all of that pretty pussy, all wet and pink and open."

His dirty talk freaked me out and yet made me feel even more randy...if that was possible.

"You will keep your eyes looking down upon that waiting list on top of the desk, Miss Spencer, reminding you why you are being punished. You shall count with every spank, Miss Spencer. Starting now."

THWACK! His bare hand slapped against my right buttock hard.

Try as I might, I could not hold back my scream after receiving the stinging slap. Obviously he had done this sort of thing before. Indeed, this was no dirty short story being read before masturbating. No, this was the real thing...and it hurt like a motherfucker!

"What was that?" he teased. "Did you say 'one'?"

I felt his fingertips brush along the underside of my buttock.

"ONE!!...one...one..."

THWACK! Then his hand gave a stinging blow to my left buttock.

"OW...oooohh....TWO!"

THWACK! A sting to the underside of my right buttock.

I was out of breath already, practically clinging to the edge of the desk with my tense hands as if I were hanging off a cliff.

"THREE!"

THWACK! A sting to the underside of my left buttock.

"Four..."

Even though the sensitive skin of my backside was burning up with his slaps, I had somehow managed to regain control at least to the point where I was not shrieking. I could handle this. I could live through it. It was okay. He could get his jollies off by spanking me and then it would be all over with.

Then I heard the rustling sound of clothing.

Whoosh...THWACK!

This one had been different, much sharper and biting than the others.

"FU-UCK!!!" I screamed, unable to help myself, tears stinging at my eyes from the blinding pain.

This was no longer just a spanking but an out-and-out whipping! I dreaded the next lashing he would give me with his belt.

"I thought raising the stakes would make things a bit more interesting, don't you agree?"

Whoosh...THWACK!

"Don't forget to count, Miss Spencer."

"F-f-five," I sobbed, sniffling through the tears that I could not stop.

"Actually, it's six."

He stopped for a moment, rubbing and massaging my buttocks. God, his hands felt so good. I moved my hips, thrusting my pussy against the edge of the desk.

"None of that now, Miss Spencer."

I almost moaned when his soothing hands left my flesh.

Whoosh...THWACK!

"AAAIIIYYYY!"

The bastard had whipped me right between the legs! I gripped onto the desk for dear life, certain I was going to faint at any second.

"What number?"

"SEVEN! You fucker..."

"That's not very nice, Miss Spencer..."

Whoosh...THWACK! Belt on right buttock.

"EIGHT!"

Whoosh...THWACK! This time, he was cute, taking my pussy by surprise again.

"NNIIIYYY....NINE!" God, I burned and hurt all over!

Whoosh....THWACK!

"TEN!" He cruelly had aimed right at my exposed clit this time. The stimulation was too much. I was shaking with pure fuck-need.

"Please..." I begged, completely broken.

"Please what, Miss Spencer?"

I felt his long elegant fingers slide up into my pussy hole. Oh, God, he knew just how to do it! The friction of his fingers against me felt so good. He slid another finger into me, increasing the heavenly pressure.

"Would you like me to fuck you with my fingers, Miss Spencer?"

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please fuck me," I pleaded. "Anyway you want. Anything. Just fuck me...fuck me..."

With his fingers still inside of me, he reached around with his other hand and played with my clit, circling it and rubbing it and pinching it. He thrust his hand in me with a vigorous rhythm, making my hips bounce about as he did so. It was hard and brutal and just what I needed.

I felt a monster orgasm coming as sure as Christmas. And I knew I was going to come so hard that it was scary. I screamed and thrashed, flexing and tensing and opening my thighs as his relentless hands kept fucking away at me.

"See you next week, Miss Spencer."

For some time, I remained there alone, my jeans and panties still on the floor and my boobs still hanging out from my bra, paralyzed with shock and afterglow. I had been through the most intense sexual experience ever...and Mr. C had never even taken his pants off!