Professor's Little Pet

I can do this one thing that no one else can, and it's a pretty cool superpower to have. That's right, I can spot an asshole a mile away. Everyone knows about the Chloe Pond asshole test because of me; none of my friends will date anyone who doesn't pass it.

So, I'm applying my asshole radar to Oren Bretton as I peruse the scrap of paper he left on his desk, on which he's written his address and phone number.

Shoot the -ball, Inwardly, I said, Do you think Oren Bretton is a jerk?

Everything points to yes, I said with a chuckl

It was already 8 o'clock and I still hadn't made up my mind.

Chloe would have been the type to toss the scrap of paper with his contact info, take a long shower to calm her racing hormones, and then head to bed. She would have masturbated while reading a racy book on her Kindle and then drifted off to sleep.

She certainly wouldn't have shaved her pussy just to appease a man who gave her the mocking eye treatment and then ordered her to get on her knees.

If she had been thinking about what he might do to her, she would not have rubbed lotion into her newly shaved mound.

She never would have put on the red lace bra and the red dress that hugged her every curve, nor would she have put on the red thong that barely covered her hips.

Without thinking, I finished all those tasks, called a cab, and rode to Oren's.

Exactly 9 o'clock p.m. I had no excuse for my tardiness in his eyes. I waited by the door after I rang the bell. Strangely, I felt no anxiety. I had no reason to put my faith in Oren Bretton, but I also had no reason to fear for my life, as I knew that Oren wouldn't risk his career and reputation by doing anything reckless.

If you were emotionally scarred, you wouldn't necessarily be physically scarred. Tonight, I would either prove that I was completely submissive and would do whatever the right man told me to do, or I would prove that I was not. And if I did, I'd have to face the possibility that I was just pretending to be submissive, as he'd suggested. Not only did I not know what I would learn about myself tonight, but I was also not sure if I wanted to.

He pushed the door open. He was now dressed in faded jeans and a simple black t-shirt. His eyes, which had previously been a deep, sea blue, were now a shocking electric blue thanks to the effect of the all-black outfit.

We exchanged glances. Evening plans, Chloe," he said to her in a calm tone. There won't be any cuts. The traces I may have left on you will disappear within a few days. And if it all gets to be too much, I'll provide you with a codeword to use to get yourself to a safe place.

He waited for a moment, and then continued in an unyielding tone. But if you use your secret word, that's it, you're out of here. This isn't for your amusement, by the way. It concerns me. If you stay, you must follow my rules.

As he spoke, I felt a tightening and pebbling in my nipples, and they rose up and out of my dress as a result. My mouth was dry, so I nodded my head in agreement. Exactly what I needed, right? It was a chance to test out my darker side and go places I hadn't dared go with the conventional men I dated.

He instructed us to "walk through the house." The back yard can be accessed through a screen door located in the kitchen. It's time to get some fresh air. Strip. Toss your garments onto the table in the patio. Await my arrival on bended knee.

Incredulous, I looked at him. Standing in his front doorway, I could see that he had neighbors and hear voices and the smell of barbecue. A full darkening of the sky would not occur for another half an hour, so although dusk had set in, there was still some light in the air.

He stared at me with a sly grin on his face. Ultimately, I decided to safeword and run because of his smug smile. Obviously, I couldn't let him win. Sorry, but not just yet.

I walked briskly through the living room, unlatched the screen door, and stepped outside. I let out a sigh of relief and paused for a moment there. Nobody would be able to see me in the secluded area of his backyard thanks to the fence. I would definitely be heard out here, if not seen, and his neighbors were in their backyard laughing and grilling.

Nothing could be done; I had orders.

I undressed, laying my garments orderly on the table. Daytime temperatures and humidity levels were high, but the nighttime air felt refreshingly cool. I got down on my haunches on the patio stones, with my knees slightly apart, my hands on my thighs with the palms facing up, and my head bowed. The more I followed his orders, the more aroused I became by my own submission.

Upon recognizing his voice, I did not raise my head but instead kept my gaze cast downward. Never before had I felt so vulnerable as when I felt his eyes on me as he walked around me and raked my naked body with them. His lack of communication was unsettling, and his refusal to touch me was frustrating.

He flipped a switch, and suddenly the night was alive with music. It wouldn't be overpowering, but it would mask the sound of low moans. Do you feel better now? Honestly, I was in a state of cognitive dissonance. And there I was, kneeling, waiting for Oren to give me my next directive.

"Check me out." He spoke in a low, soothing tone.

And so I complied.

"What do you say when I tell you to jump?"

A question: "How high," I said softly.

Professor Bretton, you were wrong about how high it was.

Despite being drenched and still on my knees, I hated how he made me feel, like I was nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. My internal conflict was evident in my eyes, and he picked up on it. He mocked me with his laughter. "Are you satisfied with the way I care for you, chum?"

Nothing at all, Professor Bretton.

So why are you still hanging around here, pet?

I paused to draw a deep breath. Simply put, "Because my pussy is wet, Professor Bretton."

Laughter came from his lips. "That's some refreshing candor, kitty. Maybe there's more to you than meets the eye... Hmm, how about we find out? Do you want to use a passphrase?

I spoke in a low tone. Magic 8-ball.

He echoed, "Magic 8-ball," this time with a tone of amused inquiry. However, he then spoke with a more stern tone. "Unbutton my pants with your mouth. Get your dick out of here and give me a smack down.

Obviously, I went along with it. My pussy squirted with arousal at his every command, and my willingness to submit to his every whim was a potent aphrodisiac.

But that doesn't mean there wasn't some clumsy zipping up. Never having attempted to unzip anything with my mouth before, I was a bumbling mess, red in the face with embarrassment, and unable to get his zipper undone.

When I tried to help him, he took off his belt but then just stood there. To my relief, he didn't make fun of the situation, but he also didn't offer any assistance. I couldn't help but wonder if he was watching me with the same impatience he displayed earlier today when I fumbled for change in the Starbucks line.

My cheeks brushed past his hard erection, and I could feel it harden even further; jump at the contact, as I bobbed up and down with my mouth seeking the pull of the zipper. The only sign that this situation was turning him on was his hard dick, and it reassured me that I wasn't a bumbling idiot.