Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2004 15:41:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Caterina Duvay <catclitduvay@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Professor's Unpredictable Seminar: Part I (lesbian/authoritarin)

A Professor's Unpredictable Seminar: Part One


By


Caterina Duvay


(catclitduvay@yahoo.com)


Disclaimer: This following story is not for minors or anyone offended by
depictions of lesbian sex. Please email me with any feedback or if
you're a gurl interested in cyberfun!


My name is Kristina. I'm a 33 year old professor at a large respected
university that must go nameless, my focus being on Women's
Studies.I've been divorced for 10 years -- amicably. I hadn't realized
my lack of affection for my former husband was owing to a simple dislike
of the male physique and attitude and an unrealized lust and love for
women. Nonetheless, my lesbian experiences have been few. On occasion
when I travel out of town I'll drop by a bar and let myself get picked
up, but I wouldn't recommend this to anyone: after the second bad
experience I've stopped that; things got a little too rough, though on
occasion I will find myself daydreaming about that time with a domme and
her `helper.'

Because of my position at the university I have to be discreet and for
this reason live off campus. My life has been full of research and
reading and the occasional strong sexual yearning is satisfied mainly by
renting all-girl DVDs and inventive masturbation. I'm surrounded by
attractive girls on campus but our codes are rightfully strict and I've
kept careful watch on my impulses. Most of my colleagues believe that
I'm a lesbian mainly because I haven't dated any of the guys who've
hit on me. Although I'm definitely not a knockout, I've been described
as having a pretty and intelligent face. My legs are probably my best
physical feature: they're long and lean and well-toned from regular
jogging. My breasts are a pert 33B, waist 24; my hair is naturally blonde
and falls rather elegantly in a neat curve just to my shoulders. I'm
fairly tall I guess at 5'9", and I weigh about 125 lbs even though I
eat like a horse. Maybe my being vegetarian has something to do with
that...Oh -- I forgot to mention -- I'm very nearsighted and prefer
glasses to contact lenses.

I've decided to write and share this story because of a recent troubling
but extraordinary experience that has transformed me profoundly.

I teach a graduate seminar on women's literature and during the last
semester I had 5 students: one very intelligent gay man, and 4 women, the
youngest of whom was 23 and the oldest 40. All of the women were
attractive, but two were extraordinarily so, the youngest and oldest in
the class. As was my custom after the seminar was finished I invited all
of the students to my home for a cozy brunch in celebration. Their
grades were excellent and I was happy to write recommendations for each
and all before they embarked either on vacation or summer studies. Much
of the course work centered on the discussion of society's unspoken
oppression of female sexuality and freedom of fantasy and thought.

We had a lazy light brunch on a cool Sunday afternoon. John was the
first to exit, leaving me with the four women. We chatted for another
hour or so before I began to give signs of needing to usher them out,
gently. Joan and Lisa took the hint and left, but Monica, the 40 year
old, and Sandra, who was 22 lingered. I was beginning to feel a bit
uncomfortable but then they brought out a large shopping bag of presents
-- beautifully wrapped -- which they wanted to give to me privately so as
not to embarrass the others. I was terribly grateful as they insisted on
my opening them. It's rare these days that students appreciate their
teachers, believe me!

But it seemed as if they had gone a bit overboard: I counted at least
seven gifts, of various shapes. One looked to be a poster in a
cylindrical container and the others appeared to be books and CDs and
perhaps a trinket. I opened the smallest one first: it was a beautiful
set of pearl earrings! They must have been expensive and I was
speechless. Sandra offered to put them on for me and I must say they
were exquisite. I was blushing as I looked in the mirror. Surely that
was enough of a token of appreciation ... But no, there were other
packages to unwrap. The second was a set of ... lesbian DVDs. I was
shocked: was this some kind of cruel joke. Monica asserted herself by
explaining that as I had taught them women were entitled to explore every
avenue of pleasure if they wished. The third package was a
silver-studded leather collar and a finely wrought silver lead.

I stood up and politely but firmly demanded that they leave, that I'd
had enough of their cruel impositions. They both rose, and I was glad to
see that they were blushing too, but Monica approached me and attempted
an explanation. She was gorgeous, 5"7" with lustrous red hair that
hung to her shoulder blades, tasteful heels, a great ass and ample
breasts... it was obvious she kept herself in shape. A wedding ring was
absent. However, instead of speaking, she merely shoved me back down
onto the sofa. Sandra meanwhile unwrapped another package and brought
forth a pair of handcuffs. As Monica held me down Sandra cuffed my hands
behind my back. I was about to scream for help but the warmth of
Monica's hands around my neck and face gave me pause. Sandra quickly
retrieved yet another `present', a red ball-gag, which she held in her
hand, waiting, but Monica now spoke:

"Now, dear Professor, do you promise to be quiet or do we have to resort
to other measures?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing" I replied.

Within seconds the gag was in my mouth.

"Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?" said Monica, "and let's
see just how much of a freethinker you really are."

I began to feel a strange trembling in my innards, a mixture of fear and
also excitement. I couldn't help but notice how lovely Sandra looked:
she was very tall, very slim, with long dark hair, olive skin,
beautifully shaped breasts which could be seen beneath her beige cotton
dress, braless. She approached me and kissed me on the neck, sending
shivers through me, before attaching the collar and lead.

They led me upstairs to my bedroom, Sandra preceding me with the
remainder of gifts while Monica followed close behind me, her hands on my
hips. My bedroom was spacious and the bed itself large and comfortable,
if old-fashioned. There was also room for a small sofa where I generally
read before going to sleep. Sandra hastily unwrapped the remainder of
the gifts and laid them out on the bed: a vibrator, a large double-headed
dildo, various lengths of rope, small pincers and a riding crop.

I nearly fainted and began to whimper, not knowing what was in store.
How could these intelligent and engaging and "nice" students of mine be
doing this to me?

Monica wasted no time in admonishing me: she slapped my face hard and
forced me on my knees. Sandra tied coils of rope around each ankle and
secured them to my handcuffs. I could barely move. Then she swiftly
undressed and laid herself across the bed, spreading her legs and showing
a smoothly-shaven pristine pussy. She was young enough to be Monica's
daughter.

"Do you like what you see, Professor?" asked Monica, roughly pulling my
head back by the hair.

I didn't respond. She slapped me and my own pussy began to grow wet.
She asked me again and I nodded.

"This is our little experiment in free thought, Professor, only now I
guess we'll be your instructors and you'll be our student."

I began to feel mesmerized by Monica's sultry voice and alluring body,
by Sandra's incredibly beautiful gaping cunt.

"Sandra is waiting to be kissed by her new student."

Monica tugged on the gossamer chain attached to my collar and I slowly
made my way on my knees to where Sandra was lewdly exposing herself. I
could smell her and felt intoxicated by her cunt's sweet perfume. She
lifted her legs backwards and high and spread them further apart. Her
puckered nether-hole beckoned.

"Now bitch, I'm going to remove the gag... Don't try anything funny.
You'll do nothing without our permission, understand?"

I nodded. The gag came out, my face was inches away from lovely
Sandra's cunt and ass and I could barely restrain myself from sinking
into them. But yet another surprise was in the offing: Monica to my
bewilderment was snapping pictures with a camera from several angles. I
grew terrified as I realized that my entire career could be demolished at
the whim of these ... these ... demonic bitches. And I found myself
falling deeper and deeper into a unpredictable depravity: but there was
something about this whole thing I liked -- their assertiveness and the
relief of recognizing my own wishes to submit to their perversities. I
was discovering freedom in obedience.

"The Dean might like to see these someday," she chuckled, "if you
refuse to obey your new teachers."

"Now open your lips, slut, and stick your lovely little tongue out just
a little," commanded Monica. I complied.

Very very slowly she guided my tongue to Sandra's tantalizing ass-rim.

"Lick her, bitch."

I gingerly moved my tongue into Sandra's ass a few millimeters, then
delicately guided it around its edge. Sandra shuddered.



"That's right, take your time," added Monica, "but make sure to fit
all of it in when she's ready. And don't be afraid to spit on it."

I did as ordered, lashing Sandra's sensitive skin with my spittle,
feeling her quiver helplessly, and very gradually using my stiffened
tongue to probe her rosebud. I had lost all sense of time, spitting and
licking and penetrating her ass until I finally found that my entire
tongue was thrusting inside her, harder and harder, Monica's hand
pushing my head into her more and more forcefully until suddenly she
pulled me away and placed a warm long lingering kiss full on my lips. I
was swooning in a sort of depraved ecstasy.

"You taste divine, my dear," Monica said dreamily. "I've wanted to
kiss you since our very first class."

Sandra was panting and writhing, yearning for my mouth and tongue on her
cunt as well. I was dripping with desire and as Monica pressed my lips
against Sandra's quivering pussy I moaned like an animal in heat,
conscious of nothing else but this precious pussy and the pent-up
yearnings of years. Sandra began to coo and buck and I then felt naked
soft feminine flesh behind me and Monica's mouth alongside mine as we
both brought this beautiful young cunt to a tremendous orgasm.

Monica stood up finally, in all her naked glory. She had a magnificent
body; her pussy was also smooth-shaven and she straddled my head. I was
eager to minister to her cunt as lavishly as Sandra's but as I lifted
my mouth Monica slapped it, twice, forehand and backhand.

"What did I tell you? Did you ask permission?" she hissed.

I sank backwards. Sandra pulled me up a bit and gave me a peck on the
cheek, then she too slapped my mouth, stinging and hard..

"You're a slut, Kristina, a pure slut. You like being treated like
this, don't you?"

I did nothing. She offered her hand and I kissed it. Then she slapped
me again.

"Let's get these fucking clothes off you and see what you've got."

Monica detached the coils of rope from my handcuffs and pulled me to me
feet by my hair. Sandra retrieved a pair of scissors from the bathroom
and proceeded to cut my light cotton dress along its front between my
breasts. She snipped my bra and carefully cut a slit in my thong to
expose my throbbing pussy lips and lubricious cunt. Except for my
pumps, the collar and leash, the rope around my ankles, my cuffs and my
mutilated thong, I was naked, exposed, vulnerable ... and amazingly,
incredibly alive, aching to be touched, fucked, slapped, spanked, whipped
or used in whatever way my mistresses desired. I wanted to shout out in
a perverse sort of joy.

"You're much more beautiful without clothes," whispered Sandra,
"Isn't she, Monica?"

Monica smiled her assent, then added, "But she has so much to learn!"

"Uncuff the bitch," she continued, "I have a new lesson plan."

Sandra removed the cuffs and she and Monica laid me out on the floor.
Monica positioned Sandra at my head, standing slightly behind me, and
tied each of my wrists to Sandra's ankles. Then she attached my own
ankles to Sandra's wrists, and Sandra lifted my elegant legs up and
apart: she could control just how much my ass and cunt could be lifted,
spread, distended and exposed.

"Now, Sandra dear, I'm going to make this even more interesting for all
of us."

"Anything you wish, Monica."

Monica left briefly and returned with two sets of pincers and fine
chains. I could see her take Sandra's lovely little nipples in her
mouth, kissing and licking them, then stretching each to affix a clamp.
Sandra cried out and began to breathe heavily. Dangling from each clamp
was a chain and a clamp at its other end. I knew what was coming and bit
my lip as Monica clamped my own engorged nipples and adjusted the lengths
of chain so that the least movement on my part would pull viciously on
Sandra's breasts.

"Keep the bitch's legs spread, Sandra. And you, slut, are not to make a
move or a sound, do you understand?"

I moved my head ever so slightly.

"I thought I told you not to move?" said Monica.

"You too, Sandra. I know how much you want to eat that lovely cunt, but
you are not to do a thing unless I permit you."

"Yes, Monica," Sandra replied meekly while tugging on my legs and
hefting and spreading them even more, making my aching cunt gasp and
drip.

I could see Sandra's marvelous breasts and lithe flat stomach, her
magnificent delectable thighs, and so enraptured was I by the sight that
the hiss and crack of Monica's crop upon my ass caught me by surprise
and I yelped and jerked involuntarily.

Sandra caught her breath as her nipples were stretched so suddenly by my
movement, but I saw that her cunt was moistening nonetheless.

"We have a naughty disobedient slut on our hands. Kristina needs to be
instructed in the arts of submission."

So saying this she brought the tip of the crop to my mouth for me to suck
and moisten and then kiss. Then she sharply smacked Sandra's left
breast, which caused her to yank my legs wider apart and send a sharp
current of pleasurable piercing pain through my distended nipples.

"Thank you, Mistress, may I have another?" answered Sandra.

And another and another and another she received. I grew deliriously wet
with each searing twitch through my nipples, and was on the verge of
simply begging to be fucked, begging for my ass and cunt to be filled by
the dildo and vibrator I knew lay in wait... But I held back.

"You're a good little slave, Sandra," said Monica, "and if Kristina
complies I'll give you a taste of her cunt."

"Kristina, dear, if you really want to come -- and you look as if you do
-- you are not to move or make a sound. You have ten strokes. If you
disobey, I will start over and Sandra, whose mouth is watering for your
pussy, will have to wait even longer to pleasure you. And one other
thing: you are only allowed to come when Sandra is given permission to
lick your pussy."

I was dizzy with these puzzling didactics. The lashes of the crop
started again and I held out until the seventh stroke before I screamed.
My ass and the undersides of my thighs were burning. Sandra screamed too
as I jerked her breasts involuntarily. So Monica started again with
Sandra, ten strokes on Sandra's breasts and thighs and stomach and ass,
each stroke making her quiver and jerk my nipples with searing lovely
pain. Then my turn... the tenth stroke landed squarely on my pussy,
protected just enough by the fabric of my thong to prevent my from coming
then and there.

I lay panting and heaving deliciously as Sandra fell to her knees at
Monica's signal and buried her mouth in my cunt and ravenously ate my
pussy and ass until I came as never before, as I licked and lapped her
sweetness again, all the while wondering when Monica would get her due.
I felt like such a wonderful, liberated woman, coming finally into my own
as the submissive slutful creature I had unknowlingly dreamed of being....


(To be continued ... feedback and cybermistresses much appreciated)