Hey Professor! Ch. 08

Two days into it, at home with the ring in her mouth, she couldn't stop from drooling, her tongue trying to feel its way around the invader. He had her kneeling as he sat on the couch, and very carefully, scientifically, clinically she thought, took the dildo she'd been making friends with and threaded it through the outer ring, into her mouth, across her tongue until it reached the back of her throat. It felt like she was going to smother and she started panicking, shaking her head, bringing her arms up to push against him and choking out her safe word.

He pulled it back and waited. "You're going to get used to having this against your soft palate, against your uvula, until you are a pro at taking it down your throat. You will learn it, and you'll learn it faster if you remember one thing: you won't get sick if you just keep breathing. So, I'm going to start again. Keep breathing."

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe as she felt the intruder against the back of her tongue. She kept breathing, feeling her stomach clench as it rested, lightly, pushing against the back of her throat. She felt the urge to heave but focused on breathing, the dildo pushing down against her tongue, her lips held open by the o-ring.

"That's it. Good girl. We'll keep it there for tonight. Tomorrow we'll go deeper."

She moaned and shook her head, but that didn't help anything, so she focused instead on her hands, folding down onto all fours, watching the drool rope down to his carpet. Fuck his carpet, she thought, her rebel-self mentally smiling. But it was a tiny shadow of that former self: the leaning tower had crashed days ago. When she came home, rather than a mixture of rebelliousness and compliance, she was juicing up imagining how he might abuse her.

The shivering wrenched her back from her memories from a few days ago. When she got home from school this afternoon, she'd figured it was going deeper still. Yesterday he'd advanced it an inch, so he said. It felt like a mile. It was time to move it deeper if the schedule he'd been following was any guide.

But he'd told her to turn around and head back out. Settled in his car, she waited, thankful at least for the relief from the dog harness. At least she hoped it was a relief. "We're going to the club. You're going to be the star performer tonight."

She looked at him and could tell she wasn't supposed to say anything. Nothing new. They'd been going to the club all week, but this time she didn't have the harness. Her rebel self was gone; not even a whisper. She felt a warm glow at the idea she was now his plaything; that her holes were truly his to use however he wanted. Just like the declaration she made every day she entered his house. The shivering started then and hadn't stopped. It hadn't stopped when he had her strip in the in-between room. It didn't stop when he had her mounted on the stool, that wicked dildo-vibrator thing moving inside her. It didn't seem to be calmed when he put a straw in her mouth, the implication clear. She sucked at the alcohol, first one drink and then another, feeling it hit her before she'd finished the second. And it only got worse when suddenly he was in her head, calmly telling her what was going to happen next.

"I'll be walking you up to the stage. It's a pretty big crowd tonight. Usually is on Thursday, but some friends heard I was going to be introducing a new cunt and that sometimes ups the door. The other nights this week weren't advertised. Public service for the apprentices. You'll be up on stage tonight cunt," he continued, only now she felt the dildo being pulled out and her feet and hands released. He pulled on her chain and she held onto his shoulders as he walked her behind him, apparently to the stage.

"You'll be...restrained." He said the word a little more quietly and the shivering increased when she heard it, licking her lips. Things were always more intense when she was tied up. It freaked her out a little, mostly because she wasn't allowed to cum. Ever since Aidan had introduced her to bondage, she'd needed it, but she didn't want to ask for it. It was so intense. When the tower crashed, she'd moved to a new level of submission. He owned her. She'd let him. She was his pet, his toy. She moaned at how fucking excited it made her to give up her self to him. "You'll be restrained on an x-cross -- a variation of St. Andrew's cross, technically -- with a few enhancements." She didn't really know what he was talking about, but she figured she'd be exposed, spread-eagled, her holes available to whomever. She was vibrating so hard her teeth chattered.

They had reached the stairs and he slowed down to let her find her way behind him. She stumbled a little on the final step and he caught her.

"Here we go. Just step up here and lean back."

She felt support against her butt, but nothing else and she shook a little as he kept her from falling backwards. One hand up and into a cuff and then the other. She felt hands on her ankle pulling her leg to the side until it was in a cuff and then the other. She was leaning back slightly, spread eagled and unable to move, the shivering vibrating her from her neck to her thighs.

"Just breathe, cunt. You trust me. Nod that you trust me."

She swallowed, feeling her pulse throbbing in her neck and at the top of her slit, her clit swelling at the thought she was completely exposed to the audience; an audience she couldn't hear or see but that she absolutely knew was watching her.

"OUCH! FUCK!" She screamed from surprise as white hot pain shot up from her open pussy.

"No. You will stay quiet unless it's to tell me you're done. Now nod that you trust me."

She squeezed her lids tight against the pain and nodded, swearing inside at how much a freak she was. The outward waves of pain had reached her elbows leaving behind a warm glow that only made her clit harder. She could feel the liquid begin to flow down the inside of her thigh.

"Now for a little variation from the routine," his voice calm in her earphones. She felt the supports vibrate a little and the cross shifted slightly as something was being lowered down in front of her. "I think the crowd will want you to witness what's about to happen to you." She felt the eyemask being lifted even as the light streamed in from around its edge. It hurt, forcing her to shut her lids tight, the pink glow through her skin telegraphing just how bright it was. She flicked them open at the touch of his fingers against her breast.

"We're shifting the training to a much more sensitive area of your body tonight." She blinked her eyes to remove the tears and focus. He was standing in front of her, the lights so bright she could barely see the crowd off the stage. In his hands she could see two strands of glinting wire. "How you doing, cunt?"

She licked her lips. She was shaking uncontrollably, her ass throbbing, her pussy still pulsing from the slaps. "I'm doing fine, Professor." She flinched when she heard her voice amplified in the room. Only she could hear his voice, but the crowd would hear her responses. It was a training. Like a seal at the circus. Like any good training: she was to focus only on him -- his voice, his face, his hands. The crowd would be focused on her. She looked back at his hands and the wires. She knew better than to say anything, but those couldn't be good. He brought a bottle of water to her lips and she swallowed as much as she could, but he poured it faster than she could drink. She felt it dribble out of her mouth down her breasts to drip onto her belly and down her legs.

"Your tits. Specifically your nipples. They will be the focus of your training tonight, cunt." She moaned, closing her eyes and almost losing it. ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod. She gasped as another slap on her spread open vag sent a spike of pain up her spine. "No. You will not say anything unless I ask you a question. Is that clear cunt?!"

"Yes, Professor," she gasped through the echoes of his slap, "I will stay quiet unless asked a question, Professor." She could hear cat calls and words of encouragement from the audience and shivered even more.

"Car let me know how sensitive they are," he continued. "Open your eyes and watch my every move."

She swallowed and blinked her eyes open again, staring at the wires in his hand. Fucking Car! She felt her nipples begin to enlarge at the memory of what Car had done to them before, at how Angel had twisted them that night.

"Invite me to train you, cunt."

"I am here to be trained, Professor. Please train me however you see fit, Professor."

The crowd murmured, but he wasn't pleased, shaking his head. "Again, cunt. Not right."

She licked her lips, looked at the wires in his hand and then back at his face. "Please train me with the wires on my nipples, Professor." She looked wildly around, not sure what he had in mind. She couldn't bear the thought of him whipping her with them, but her pussy clenched, pushing more liquid down her leg. You're such a fucking freak! She screamed at herself in her head, her panic beginning to rise.

"Like all of our training," his voice came through the earphones calm and gentle, "you'll get through it by remembering to breathe. You trust me. You know what to do if I'm going too far." She looked up at his face and saw his concern for her, his coaching face. She licked her lips and nodded slightly, her glance shifting back to his hands, and then remembered before he slapped her again.

"I am to use my safe word if you are going too far, Professor." Her voice sounded like a squeak.

"You have probably never seen anything like these," holding the wires closer so she could see the ends. "Surgical steel. Sterilized, so that should they draw blood you'll have little risk of infection." If that was meant to calm her, it certainly didn't. She looked up at him, begging with her eyes to get on with it. She hoped her imagination was worse than whatever he had planned. It usually was. The wires were like piano strings: small diameter with additional wire cleverly wrapped to create loops. The inside edges of each loop was serrated. She stifled a moan, looking back at his face.

"The loops are sharp; sharp enough to grab, not long enough to draw blood; that is unless you move too much. But that's not likely in your current situation, right?"

"I won't be moving, Professor." Her voice echoed back to her.

He reached above her right shoulder and hung one of the wires so that it draped across her collarbone to rest on her breast. He took that hand and reached between her legs moistening his fingertips by sliding them into her slit and across her clit. She clamped her mouth shut to stifle the moan his caress provoked. She watched his fingers reach up to gently rub her juices on her nipples. He tipped his head and blew gently on them, stiffening them further, deepening their color. She still expected him to strike her with the wires, and only after he slipped the loop over her left nipple, tugging it gently to pull it tight against the base where it met her breast did she understand what he had planned for her.

It was all she could do to not beg him to stop, not that it would have done any good. The only choice she had was to pull the rip cord, so to speak, a turn of phrase that made her pause mentally, to say her safe word and put a stop to the scene. But her hesitation was all the time it took for him to pull the loop tight against her now erect nubbin and it took all her energy to control herself; she gasped quietly. With a slight twist to his fingers, he locked the loop against her crinkled skin. He let the wire drop against her naked belly, and turned to repeat the process on her right nipple.

She was in full panic now, not knowing what to expect. She took his advice and focused on her breathing. She could hear the rhythm of her breath through the speakers in the room, and though she had no way of knowing it, her breath began to synchronize her audience. Apprentices, doms, dommes, and their trainees all began to subtly breathe with her, in, out, the beating of her heart became the cadence of their own arousal.

"Ask me to pull on the wires, cunt." His voice cut through her thoughts, her breath catching in her throat.

"Please pull on the wires, Professor." She didn't know what else to say.

Gently he gathered a wire in each hand and slowly backed away from her, the slack tightening until he had stepped an arm's length away. It was only then that she noticed a metal armature behind his head. She turned her head, first to the side and then overhead to see how it was connected to the cross. As she turned back to look at him, he slipped the ends of the wires into some kind of clip.

"Again, cunt. Help your audience understand how much you want me to do this."

She swallowed, not at all convinced she wanted him to do anything having to do with whatever he had arranged, but given her alternatives, knew what she would have to do. "Please, Professor, tighten the wires to stretch my nipples and breasts." She thought she heard a sigh from the audience, or maybe she was hallucinating it, her breath had become ragged, hyperventilating. She felt lightheaded.

As he turned a small handle she watched the wires grow taught, the steel glinting on the lights, and then felt the loops grab on her swollen nipples. For a moment the sensation was pleasant, and then not so much as her breasts were pulled away from her chest into tight cones, her nipples purple and taught captured by the wires. She gasped as the needle point pain, sharp and concentrated from the loops, joined with a more diffuse bruising feeling as her breast tissue was extended away from her chest. The world closed in around her, her vision narrowing. She'd never fainted before, so didn't know what was happening. His voice soft and gentle came as if far away.

"Breathe, cunt. You have to remember to breathe."

The pain had left her, or somehow it had become a blanket over the front of her body, and then she realized she had fallen asleep, or fainted or whatever, and that in that brief moment had dreamed. She felt a warm blanket covering her, but she was naked, floating above the earth, facing a loving audience below her, her breasts pointing down, her nipples the size of boulders.

His voice coaxed her back, and opening her eyes, she looked down to see her breasts unfamiliar to her in their new shape: extended cones, their usual light brown color now washed out. The skin was stretched, her nipples, large, swollen and a purplish-red, pointing to the wires that, laser-like led onto the rod he had been turning. She was sobbing, as quietly as she could, the pain mounting again, the blanket dissolving. The pain reached a threshold she could just bear, sharp jolts of intense arousal pulsing to her core with every heartbeat.

"Breathe, cunt. It's the only way."

She looked at him, standing off to the side, the lights blinding her to the audience, knowing she was pulled, spread and exposed for the perverts in the crowd. She felt the tears rolling down her face and turned her gaze inward, finding a rhythm to her breathing to dissipate her panic.

He turned away, and she felt her heart lurch at the thought he would leave her on stage, alone, exposed and so vulnerable. But it was only to get another bottle of water which he offered her and then forced her to drink. "That's a good girl," he whispered, "drink as much as you can. The lights are hot and I don't want you dehydrated."

She wasn't thirsty in the least. Quite the contrary, she began to feel the pressure building in her bladder and a need to pee. She moaned at the idea he would make her pee in front of the audience, but she knew it was inevitable if she even had the courage to ask him to let her.

He set the empty bottle down and came to her side, positioned so that he could stroke her breast, her nipple and brush his hand down her naked belly. As he drifted down to her clit, he pushed gently against her bladder, increasing her need.

"You are in a singularly difficult position, aren't you cunt?" His hand pressed softly along her waist and down to the top of her slit, pushing in and down, in and down. If she could have, she would have crossed her legs to keep her bladder from emptying.

She felt the air before she felt his palm slap her open cunt and she yelped as the pain coursed through her groin. She could feel moisture seeping from her, but she didn't know if it was from her bladder or her pussy. She groaned. "Yes, Professor," she whispered, gasping for air, "I am in a very difficult position."

"Well, stay right there." His joke provoked a flurry of laughter from the audience. "I have a surprise for you." He walked away out of her line of sight, leaving her stretched in three directions.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she closed her eyes and focused on her breath. In, out. In, out. She could hear it whoosh across the room. The pain from the wires was...exquisite. That the word popped into her head surprised her. She could feel the teeth of the loops tearing into her swollen nipples and she looked down expecting to see blood, but there wasn't any. Instead, she saw her usually tiny breasts pulled out in front of her, the skin stretched and translucent, veins she wouldn't have noticed now snaking blue through the light tan. She knew the level of pain she was feeling had moved her past a threshold. She'd never felt anything like it before. Something clicked, like a ratchet had been advanced, and she shook her head at the thought she would need this level of intensity going forward. A bit of her saddened momentarily as well, that she would need to find a partner willing to go this far with her. Where would she find her (or him)?

Moments later a movement on stage brought her back to her situation. She watched the Professor walking toward her, pulling something behind him.

He stopped next to her, his body blocking whatever he had been pulling. A small rope was coiled around his hand. "Do you need to urinate, cunt?"

She nodded, but knew he expected a verbal answer. "Yes, Professor, I need to urinate, badly."

He stepped aside, and pulled the rope to let whatever he had been pulling roll close to her. Looking down she let out a small cry: she had expected to see a bucket or toilet or some demeaning container for her to pee into. What she saw instead was Angel. She was strapped to a wooden pallet, face up naked, her legs spread wide, knees bent, her arms at her sides. Tee was reminded of how beautiful her breasts were, her eyes drifting down to see her curly blond triangle wet and matted. Her skin was red and blotchy, and Tee realized she had been whipped or struck with something all over her breasts and belly and thighs. She realized the shivering had stopped at some point, but only because now it had returned.

"Hello Car-toy," Angel's eyes looked unfazed by her situation. She barely lurched from her platform when the Professor whipped the rope between her legs.

"You remember Angel, yes cunt?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The last time you were with her, you let her bring you to a climax, and as I understand it, you did a fine job eating her cunt. Isn't that right?"

Tee's eyes blurred from tears and nodded her head. "Yes, Professor. I," she choked and then recovered. "I...Angel forced me to eat her out and then she brought me to an orgasm against my will and against your instructions."

The audience sighed and hooted.

"Well, cunt, tonight you get to exact your revenge. Angel is going to eat your hot little pussy, but you mustn't cum. No. Instead, though, I will let you pee. Do you understand, cunt?"

Tee's shivering nearly became convulsions, the vibrations pulling on the wires, sending tiny burning jolts into her chest. "Yes, Professor. I can't cum, but I can pee into this bitch's mouth." She felt her anger blossoming, looking down at her tormentor's face. She smiled slightly at Angel's sour expression, but her annoyance only increased when she realized that was the only reaction she'd likely see.