She asked him to dominate her

I was a sophomore in college when this happened. I had an English lit class that was required for graduation and it was horrible in every way. I hated everything we had to read, but I was still doing ok, in my opinion. Unfortunately, the professor didn’t much agree and kept giving me much lower grades on my papers than I thought I had earned. I waited until after class to speak to him, and once everyone was gone, he caught my eye from the front of the room and beckoned me forward. I felt a frisson of alarm streak through me, but ignored it. There was no reason to be nervous- he was just another professor, right.

This particular professor was in his late 40’s, powerful and muscular. He must have worked out a lot, or been in to some kind of sport. I wasn’t sure, but whatever he did, he looked too strong, too vital to be teaching a wimpy class like English lit. His eyes were unnervingly intense as I approached him, and I had to swallow before speaking. I told him I needed to raise my grade, asked for tutoring, extra credit. Those unnerving eyes drifted slowly, insolently down my body.

“You’re going to have to do quite a lot to raise your grade. Quite a lot, indeed.” He smiled slowly, looking me in the eye. I gulped again, suddenly sure I knew exactly what he meant.

“If you are…willing to do what it takes, come to my house Saturday morning.” I knew what he was implying, and never in a million years would I have done that for a grade. But I found myself agreeing, taking his address.

Saturday morning, I was on his doorstep, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. He opened the door and smiled at me, holding me with his gaze. He said nothing, but led me inside and gestured for me to sit on the couch. He sat on the other end of the couch, clearly very comfortable, and watched me in silence.

“So, what is it I’m- we’re going to do?” I asked, embarrassingly breathless, hoping he’d pull out the study manuals, that I’d been completely mistaken.
“I don’t think that’s really the question here.” His voice was so much deeper, more compelling than it was in class. “The question is, why did you come?”
“Er, my grade?” He waited, obviously unsatisfied.
“I see that you aren’t comfortable telling me the truth yet. I shall make our roles a little clearer. Take off your blouse.” Despite my expectations, I just gaped at him. He slapped me across the face, shocking me further.

“Take off your blouse. I won’t repeat myself.” I was suddenly afraid, and I hastened to do what he told me, pulling off my shirt to reveal a lacy black bra.
“Now put your hands behind your back.” I did so, and he pulled a length of rope from his pocket and tied them together. I struggled when I saw what he meant to do, but he subdued me easily, surprising me with his strength. When he was finished, he sat and enjoyed the sight of me, topless and bound, chest heaving breathlessly as I sat on the couch, watching him warily. Being tied…excited me. I was still afraid, but I was suddenly reminded of all my fantasies of being tied, spanked, whipped. Unfulfilled fantasies…

“Now perhaps you can tell me the truth. Why did you come here?” I looked down, and wanted to lie, but I heard myself say,
“To be dominated.” I hadn’t even admitted it to myself, but I had to tell him.
“Is that what you want from me?” I nodded. I could hear his triumph and his smile in his voice.

“I think you’ll find that I am willing to give you everything you want. But you must ask. And you must be obedient. This is your first test.” He handed me a bundle of clothes and reached around to untie my hands.

“Put these on. It is your choice. If you put them on, you will then agree to submit to everything I do to you, everything I ask of you. After this, you will have no chance to refuse.”

I couldn’t look at him, but I took the clothes and went to the other room, hardly believing what I was doing. Being tied, admitting what I wanted had made me so excited, I barely thought of the choice as I put on the clothes. A red lacy corset that pushed my large breasts up, a pair of matching panties, garters, stockings, a short, pleated skirt and a surprisingly modest, button-front blouse. I stepped back out of the room, shy again.

My professor grabbed my arms and roughly tied them behind my back again.

He pushed me down on the couch, face up. I noticed with alarm the implements spread across the coffee table. Whips, a leather strap, belts, rope, a ruler, gags, blindfolds, and other things I didn’t recognize. I was lying uncomfortably on my tied wrists, and he tied them to my feet, lashing my ankles together. In this position, my knees were bent and I had to make an effort to press my legs together, for they wanted to fall open, revealing myself to him. He unbuttoned my blouse and unlaced my corset, letting my breasts tumble out.

“Would you like me to whip your breasts?” He asked me. I moaned, afraid and yet so excited. He took a leather strap and began to whip them, lightly at first, across the nipples, making me moan in pleasure. He then began to whip harder, catching the undersides of my breasts, crisscrossing my stomach. He alternated hard, burning strokes with softer, more arousing ones and I found myself moaning constantly, twisting and my knees falling open. All too soon, he ceased and slipped a hand between my legs. Under my panties, his finger circled my damp clit and I bucked under his hands, excited by the touch of this stranger who was taking control of my body.
“What do you want? This is going to be a long party, and I will allow you to choose what comes next.” My mind was full of every dirty fantasy I’ve ever been too ashamed to ask for. I chose the simplest.

“Spank me.” I breathed. He seemed to know what I meant, though the variations all played through my head. He untied me again, and sat down.

“Take off your shirt and lay yourself across my lap.” I took off my shirt, my breasts spilling over the top of my unlaced corset and lay down across his strong legs, feeling a thrill at the submission implicit in the action. I winced slightly as the burning flesh on my breasts came into contact with his knees. He folded up my skirt and began to slowly pull my panties off. I imagined him looking at my bare bottom for the first time and ached for him to spank me, to sting my aching flesh. He left my panties just below my bottom, making me feel even more exposed. He stopped and tied my hands together as they hung down in front of me.
“Don’t try to get up before I tell you, or I will punish you,” he promised.
He pulled apart my buttocks and looked at me, running a finger down my crack until it touched my soaking wet pussy. I gasped at the intrusion.

“I can look at you this way any time I want now.” He told me. “Not just today.” I gasped. I hadn’t been thinking about anything past today, but I was so turned on, I didn’t think to protest.

He pulled my panties off, leaving my naked butt framed by my garters and stockings. He began the spanking abruptly, spanking me hard and fast and then slowing, alternating cheeks. I never quite caught my breath at first- he was spanking all over, not missing anything.

Then he stopped, waiting for the pain to subside. It hurt, but after a moment, I wanted more, I didn’t want him to stop. His hand raised and I waited, tensed for the blow. He waited forever, then it landed with a loud crack that made my back arch. He kept spanking me, right over my anus, where it made me shiver, and right over my pussy, which made me hotter. He yanked my legs apart and began spanking my pussy. I shrieked, even though he was using lighter strokes. The pain and pleasure went through me like lightning.

He stopped again and picked up the riding crop from the coffee table.
“Wait, I don’t-,” I began, rearing up. He shoved me back down, holding me with an iron forearm across my back.

“I was going to just give you 5 strokes, bu
t for that protest, I’ll give you 10.” He warned me. The first two strokes hurt like hell, and I began
to kick, not enjoying it anymore. He clamped my legs between his and struck me three more hard, burning strokes, holding me hard in place. Then he stopped for a second. I was crying now and it took me a second to recover from the initial sting.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered. I flinched, hesitating.
“You’ll get ten hard strokes if you disobey me,” he warned in an iron voice. “I’m only giving you a second chance because you are just beginning training.
I spread my legs with trepidation, every muscle tight.
“Wider.” I had to obey. What else could I do?
Then he began stroking my bottom with light strokes, stinging my anus, then the edge of my pussy with his whip. It felt amazing, like nothing I’d ever imagined. I think he gave me more than 10, but I didn’t care- I orgasmed hard under his whip. The last stroke, he held the whip high and brought it down very hard, making my tears start again.
I laid there over his lap, utterly spent. He rubbed my back, releasing my legs and laid a hand over my very hot bottom. He turned me over and began playing with my breasts and my clit as I recovered. I was embarrassed now, and I couldn’t look at him.

“I’d say you needed that quite a bit, young lady.” He said to me. I reached for my clothes and he slapped my hand.

“Oh, we’re not even close to finished.” He warned. “Get down on your knees in front of me.” I knew what he wanted, and my head was clearing after my orgasm. I didn’t want to do it.

He grabbed me by the hair and forced me down in front of him. Frightened, I undid his pants awkwardly, my wrists still tied together. He was hard, and I took him in my mouth, his large penis straining my small mouth. He shoved his dick hard into my mouth and I nearly choked, rubbing him with my tongue. It took me a minute to fall into a rhythm, but once I had, I felt him bend over me, picking something up. I rubbed his balls, really getting into it. Then I felt him strike me lightly on the back and I jerked, pulling back in surprise. He was holding a small black whip with a wooden handle and many strands of leather hanging off of it, perhaps a foot long with little knots in each one. He reached over and struck my buttocks hard with it.
“Did I tell you to stop?” I took him back in my mouth, distracted by fear and renewed pain. His hips arched, pressing his dick far into my throat. He whipped my back as I played with him, lightly, throwing in harder slashes occasionally. This rhythm got me excited again, the domination of his dick in my mouth as he whipped me. I moaned deep in my throat, feeling myself get wet again. He pinched my nipples, whipping me harder as he began to come.

He arched, shoving his dick all the way into my mouth with his orgasm. He held my head, blocking all my air for a second as he held my head against him. Then he let go and relaxed. I sat back on my heels, breasts spilling out of my corset and my eyes turned submissively downward as I waited to see what he would do to me next.