Professor's Little Pet

In return, I groaned and writhed and pushed back into him, eager and ready to be dominated by him in a way that defied explanation. His rhythm quickened, he slammed into me, and I slammed back against him; his fingers stroked quicker and harder on my clitoris; and I came, long and hard, nearly blacking out from the overwhelming ecstasy. I was so tired that I slouched over, but he would have none of it. I received a swift slap on the rear that served as a timely reminder to elevate my ass once again. Intentionally pleasing him was high on my list of priorities. The words, "I'm not going to live much longer, Chloe," were hammered into my skull. He moved with slow, deliberate strokes, driving intently into me; he grooaned as I felt his spasms, and we both fell exhausted into the bed. Amazing, I thought to myself. As he chastised me, I could detect a note of amusement in his voice. That's amazing, Professor Bretton, Chloe," he drewled. Just do it. I burst out laughing; it was contagious, really. *** I turned over on his bed to check the time after he got up to throw away the condom, and it was already rather late. 3 am. After all that had transpired that day, I couldn't believe I had to defend my thesis that morning. Weeping on the floor of his office. Naked as a baby as I sucked him off on his terrace. I gave him a good ol' fashioned pussy slap in the face as he was licking me to ecstasy. getting a spanking from him. Finally, I pleaded with him to take my anal virginity, and my joy knew no bounds when he did. There was a brief moment of pain. The sex high had worn off, and I was left wondering what had possessed me. I avoided risky behavior like this by sticking to the rules and storing any errant inclinations in my Kindle. He had returned from the washroom with my belongings. Apparently he went out and got them off the terrace. As of this writing, he was still undressed. I felt his gaze upon me. Do you regret this?" he enquired. A silly expression formed on my face. I said, "I feel like a bit of a slut." Honestly, I didn't know why I was telling him that. When he looked at me, he shook his head, but his countenance had softened. Don't, he urged me. We are mature adults, and we both enjoyed ourselves. We may avoid unnecessary categorization by saying, "No labels, please." I said, "I guess." It would take some reflection on my part to assimilate the new information about myself today and come to terms with the implications it had on my sense of identity. I'd always knew I like receiving a spanking, but today was different. Today, I felt an overwhelming desire to bring him joy; I yearned for him to have power over me. Even though I found reading about dominant and submissive relationships fascinating, I never imagined that I would feel such intense desire at the mere act of surrendering power in real life. I said, "I need to get going." He looked at me questioningly, but didn't voice his thoughts on my answer. As he entered the room to get his belongings, he said, "I'll take you home." I objected, saying, "That isn't required." It's true; yes. His tone was harsh. "Clean up and I'll see you in the lobby." *** When I got back to my apartment and was snug beneath my covers, I said, "Magic 8-ball." When was the last time I did anything crazy like that? The response was crystal obvious, but my thoughts were still a mess. In my opinion, that's the case. Time, as they say, made all the difference in the world. What they all stated, and there was some truth behind it. Months passed, and the constant flurry of teaching, grading, and research helped dull the sting of my broken heart over Jenny. In the beginning of November, my phone rang, and I glanced at the display. Jenny. And I was the one to grab it. I said with a drawl, "Jenny Stone." My tone was kind and playful. "How are things in the concrete jungle?" Hearing from her made me pleased; I felt no sadness. She then named Oren Bretton. It's not as huge or as horrible as you may assume. How are you doing? A good child. There's nothing I can say in the way of complaint. You?" There was a little pause while she thought. I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but we just began going out. It's not something I wanted you to find out about on Facebook or any other social media platform. I braced myself for the ache, but it never came. The months had done their job, and the rip in my heart was now completely repaired. Really, I was happy for her. "How does he treat you, kiddo?" This is what I probed her with. A lot of jerks who confused dominance with control gravitated toward our way of life. She said, "So far." For example: "I keep threatening him that if he doesn't, my ex would come beat him up." To be honest, it made me chuckle. If she had been my submissive and had spoken to me in such a manner, I would have laughed hysterically, then thrown her over my knee and spanked her until she was speechless. Oren, how are you doing? "Who are you seeing?" When Chloe Pond had requested me to stop calling her pet, a mental picture of her cunt stretched out in front of me and the fire in her eyes sprung into my thoughts. However, Chloe had already submitted her dissertation and relocated to the other side of the nation. There was no hope for anything more than a one-night stand. To put it another way: I said, "not really." The two of us went silent, into the same awkward pause that had been the last straw in our relationship's demise. Jenny and I had fantastic sex, but we never developed the kind of emotional connection that would have made our relationship last. We were almost in sync with one another, but ultimately fell just a hair short. It was a little chasm, but it had been significant. Jennifer, after a long pause, was the first to speak. "If you're ever in New York, Oren, look me up," she pleaded. Will do, Jenny was my instant response. We parted ways, and I found myself gazing at a blank screen.