Marissa walked down the hall to her professor’s new office, carrying the last box of office supplies. She walked carefully for several reasons. She didn’t want to drop anything. She wore only the slenderest fabric that barely passed for panties, but she did not have permission to wear a bra. The last thing she wanted was to walk quickly and put on a jiggling show for everyone around her. She already thought she had seen a couple men—students and professors—staring hard at her chest. She swallowed, felt her throat move against the collar that was concealed by the lacy high neckline of her blouse.
It was just so hard for her to control her body these days. It seemed she was always on the edge of dampening her panties, and her nipples pebbled at every stray thought. Like now, as she thought about the flouncy little girl socks she was wearing, with the frilly lace edge tops. The ruffle covered the leather cuffs around her ankles. Like her collar, they were locked onto her.
Once she entered his office, she placed the box on the chair and began putting things away. Stapler, legal pads and binders, binder clips, file folders, rubber bands, pens. When she heard the door close, she quickly turned around, adjusted her stance so her legs were spread shoulder-width apart, and grasped her elbows behind her back.
“A very pretty welcome, my good girl,” her professor smiled.
“Thank you, Sir. May I continue?”
“Let’s take a break instead, darling Missy. Get on the desk.”
Missy carefully got into position on the desk, taking care not to knock anything off it. She knelt with her legs loosely open, resting forward on her forearms to keep her head low. Her bent-over position instantly raised her skirt.
Her professor smoothed his hand down her bottom, bringing the scrap of panties down to around her knees.
“Kneel up, Missy,” he said, and she knelt back on her heels like an obedient puppy. Her hands lay palm up on her thighs, and he dropped two brand new rubber bands into them. “Put these on your nipples, Missy. Wind them around as if I were doing it, while I set something up for you.”
That meant she would have to wind the bands around tightly. Drawing in a breath, Missy used one hand to grip a nipple and the other to stretch the rubber band. She didn’t even need to play with them to get them hard. They were already beaded, so sensitive. Meanwhile, her professor was tapping away on his laptop. But he looked up to watch approvingly as her face twisted in breathless pain as she circled the rubber bands around and around….and then around one more time, just the way he would.
“You may stroke them,” the professor said.
Missy brushed her fingertips lightly over the straining tops and gasped. He smiled.
“Hands behind your head, Missy.” He was holding a handful of the new binder clips. “Now, I am going to play a little video for you.” The volume on his laptop was turned down low, so she was sure no one outside the closed door could hear it, but it seemed to fill the entire office.
Missy’s eyes darted between the professor and the laptop screen. Her eyes were on him as he set a binder clip on the underside of her breast.
“Oh, oh,” she groaned.
From the laptop, a voice moaned—in pain or pleasure Missy couldn’t tell, but she recognized it. It was her. her eyes darted back to the laptop. It was a video of a few days ago, when she lay upturned on coffee table, hogtied. Her panties, which had been soaked through, covered her face, and she was breathing loudly and sighing from it. Her breasts were splattered with white wax, and a plug was buried in her ass.
Missy’s attention jerked again as the professor added more binder clips to her breasts. Her face turned red with the effort not to cry out. On the screen, the filmed Missy had no compunction at all about making noise. That Missy was screaming and begging the professor “p-please Sir fuck me, any hole you want” and the professor obliged by pumping a dildo into her.
When the professor was done, Missy wore five clips each, clamped around each breast in a circle. Breathing made the clips wave in the air.
“Now,” said the professor, pulling Missy by the collar down to her forearms again. He unzipped his pants enough only to bring out his cock, letting it prod Missy’s face. “They come off only after you’ve made me cum. Twice.”
(I know I posted this before, but this fit so perfectly for the Missy storyline that I deleted the previous post and wrote this one instead.)
Great story to read on a Tuesday night ;)