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Teaching Shannon - Part 3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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The following story is purely fictional. It is copyright © 1993 by its
author, Honi Soitqui Malypense, who grants to the public the right of free
replication for non-commercial purposes only, provided that no changes are
made and that this notice is retained. All other rights are reserved.
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WARNING
This story contains profanity, sex (m/f), domination of a girl by a man, and
violence. If you do not enjoy such things, please do not read it. If you
do, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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TEACHING SHANNON
Chapter Three
My feeling of self-satisfaction and power lasted through the next day and
on into the evening. I was, as I have said, pretty sure that I would never see
Shannon again; but I was quite high on my feeling of accomplishment. I was
sure that all who saw me could see the difference in me, that I carried myself
with a masculine grace and assurance that I had never had before.
My suspicion that I wouldn't see Shannon again was confirmed when she did
not show up for class. Her absence made no difference to my mood; I taught my
classes in high spirits, held my office hour (to which she also did not come),
and went home.
I did not hear from her for three days. On the evening of the third day,
as I was preparing to leave for the night, she suddenly appeared at my office
door. I didn't notice her right away, as I was gathering some papers together,
so she made a little throat-clearing noise to get my attention. When I saw
her I sat down without saying anything, and stared at her. She began to get
nervous, and finally said, meekly, "Can I come in?"
"Yes."
She closed the door and sat down. She clearly had something to say, but
did not know how to begin. "Um---Mr. Reynolds---" She paused, then started
again. "Ahhh---" She flushed, and looked down, still unable to start.
I decided to take the initiative. "Did you come here to say something?"
Shannon looked up. "Yes, but...umm...well...well...Oh, damn! I can't
say it!" She flushed and looked down again.
I said, "Did you come to apologize?"
Her head came up sharply, an angry look on her face. Her intention was
clearly to rebuke me, but she stopped short when she saw my expression. She
became uncertain, and paused before beginning, "Well, no. I mean, I didn't
think I did anything to apologize for."
"You said I was crazy, and that you were sorry that you had even thought
of having sex with me."
"Oh, that. Well, umm, I guess I'm sorry about that. Okay?" She looked
into my eyes to see whether she was forgiven. I decided that her apology was
enough, so I softened my look; there did not seem to be any advantage to be
gotten by continuing to seem offended.
"Okay. Now, if you didn't come here to apologize, why did you come?"
She looked confused and shy again, and again had trouble starting, so I
said, more gently, "Have you decided to take me up on my offer?"
For a moment she couldn't answer; then she said, "Can you really get me
those grades?"
I thought a minute before answering, "Yes. At least, I think I still can.
I can certainly get the ones for my class and the summer, and at least one of
the grades for this semester. But why do you care now if you didn't care before?"
She looked worried and said, "I got a letter from the college. They said
that if my final grades were as bad as my midterm grades, I'd be out on academic
suspension."
I got up and went over to her, my breathing already rapid. I ran my hand
through her hair as I said, "So you're ready be my slave?" My cock was so hard
that the restraint of my pants was causing me pain.
"I guess so," she whispered, "I need to get through." She wouldn't look at
me, though I put my hand under her chin and tried to pry her head up. I knelt
down so that we were eye to eye. Still she tried to look away, as though
ashamed.
"No, Shannon, that won't do. You have to look me in the eye." She did so,
slowly.
"Now. I want you to say 'I know you're going to whip me and fuck me and
humiliate me, and I want to be your slave'."
She said it, albeit haltingly. I responded, also in a near-whisper, "Good
girl. Now, down on your knees." She got down on her knees and waited. I said,
"Take my pants off, Shannon." She reached up and unbuckled my belt, then opened
my pants and pulled down my zipper. I was so desperate for her to touch my cock
that I almost danced, but I restrained myself; I wanted to seem always in perfect
control. She pulled my pants down to my shoes, then reached for my underpants.
"No," I said hoarsely, "Take off my shoes." She took them off, which took
an excruciatingly long time, and then slid my pants off. When she slid my
underpants down, my cock sprang gratefully free. She reached up and took it
in her hand, then in her mouth. I let her suck it for a few delicious moments,
and then pulled it out of her mouth.
"Not yet," I said. "Take off your shirt." She pulled her shirt over her
head, and then unhooked her bra. Her tits were as magnificent as I had always
thought they would be, creamy white and topped with rosy areolae and hard,
dark-pink nipples. I reached down and caressed them, squeezing and pressing
them, and she returned her mouth to my cock. I let her have it for a moment,
then pulled it out again, saying, "I didn't tell you to do that."
She looked up mournfully at me, as though saying "I'm trying to be a good
girl, I just don't know the rules". She looked so young and vulnerable that I
almost didn't have the heart to do what I had planned next. Lust and pity
fought for a moment inside me, but in the end lust, and my need to establish
complete control of this girl, won out. I turned slowly around so that my ass
was in her face, and bent over. I took her tits firmly in my hands, and said,
"Lick my asshole."
She moved her face toward my ass, but stopped well short and whimpered,
"No, please no." I squeezed her tits fairly hard, and said gutturally, "Oh
yes. Oh, yes, Shannon. Lick it. Lick it, slave." Another whimper escaped
her as she moved her head closer to my ass. She licked my cheek, not very
close to my asshole. This time I squeezed her tits much harder, and she
cried out. I rasped, "I'm going to tear these off if you don't get busy. And
then later when we get home I'm going to whip them till they bleed." She began
to cry, and I felt her tongue low in the crack of my ass. "I'm not kidding,
bitch!" I said, and squeezed her tits repeatedly. I could hear her moaning and
sniffling, but she began to lick upward. I was in ecstasy from the dual
sensations, physical and psychical. I squeezed her nipples very hard,
eliciting a cry from her, and then a tearful "You're hurting me!" "Yes," I
replied, my voice full of the relish I felt, "Oh, yes." I pinched her again
and ordered, "Lick it!" She started in again, but when she got to my asshole,
she stopped, and would not go further. When I ordered her to, she said, her
voice thick with crying, "It's dirty!" and would go no further.
I pulled and squeezed at her tits some more, but she just cried harder and
would not continue, so I turned around. "Suck my cock then, bitch." She sucked
me, tears running down her cheeks. My head reeled with lust as I pumped away at
her face. I said, "Oh, but you will. Oh, yes, you will. You'll beg to lick my
asshole, bitch, you'll beg for it. Oh god, suck me. Oh, shit, I'm gonna come.
I'm gonna whip your ass 'til Wednesday, you disobedient cunt, and then I'm gonna
start on your tits. Oh god, oh god, ohh... " Like a shot from a pistol I felt
the hot semen searing my cock, pouring into her throat, spraying her face like
sticky milk.
Shannon looked down at the drops of cum that had landed on the floor and
then up at me with a frightened expression. I knew what she was asking; I simply
nodded my head and pointed down with my index finger. Sniffling, she slowly bent
down and started to lick up the cum. While she was at it I noticed, to my
amazement, that I was still hard. (Usually I need at least twenty minutes between
hard-ons, and often more.) Shannon rose up and looked at me, and I could tell that
she was waiting for my approval. I took her head in my hand, and pressed her to me.
"Good girl," I murmured, "good girl." She pressed against me, still on
her knees, rocking slightly. After a few seconds I realized that she was
rubbing against me not just for comfort, but demandingly, as a cat who wants to
be fed. She looked up at me, and I could see the heat in her eyes. I stood up
and moved to the other chair, which had no arms. "Come here," I told her.
She stood and walked over to me. "Kick off your shoes," I said. I put my
fingers inside her skirt, pantyhose, and panties, and pulled them down and off.
I put my hands on her ankles and ran them slowly up her legs and sides, then back
down her midsection. Her abdomen contracted involuntarily as my fingers passed
over it, and I heard a gasp as I brushed her beautiful triangle. Reaching around
to grasp her ass cheeks, I pushed my tongue into her and slowly licked up toward
her clitoris.
"Oh, yes," she said, "ohh ohh oh god yes." She grabbed the back of my head
and pulled me hard into her cunt. I licked her clit a few times, but I was not
about to let her come yet, not this way. I pulled away and sat down on the chair.
"Sit down," I whispered. She straddled my legs and sat slowly down, my cock
sinking into her cunt. We both moaned with pleasure as I went all the way in, but
it was she who kept up the noise.
"Oh, yes. OH! Oh, yes. Oh, oh, oh god, oh god." She began to fuck me,
moving rhythmically up and down and talking. "Oh, god. Oh, fuck me. Oh, please,
I wanna come, I wanna come. Unhh...Unhh..." She began to move more quickly
as her orgasm built. I was enjoying watching her face, not to mention the feeling
of her ass pounding against my legs, but I wanted her to come as violently as
possible, so I fucked her just a little out of synch to slow her orgasm down.
This elicited a series of little cries, and I knew I couldn't keep her from coming
much longer, so I stood up, knees bent in the horseriding stance. She wrapped her
arms and legs around me and began fucking like a frenzied animal. This time I
went with her, matching her stroke for stroke, encouraging her to come as quickly
as possible.
Thank god it was late at night, and we were the only people in the building.
Shannon came like a storm, scratching and screaming and crying out, "OH! OH! OH!"
I made no attempt to quiet her; I needed her to have this orgasm, and besides I
was now coming again myself. This orgasm was less intense for me than the last
one, but it was still very fine; I felt completely drained, and I was sure that
I would not be getting hard again immediately afterward.
When we were both finished I sat down with Shannon on my lap, and she put
her head on my shoulder. I stroked her hair in silence, until I noticed that
she was crying. Miraculously, I understood it. I pushed her far enough away to
be able to look at her and said, "You never came like that before, did you." A
new flow of tears welled up as she shook her head, and she looked down. I put my
hand under her chin and moved her to face me. Her expression managed to mingle
shame, satisfaction, and fear all at once but, unlike before, the fear was not
of me. She was, I could see, afraid of whatever it was inside her that made her
have the best orgasm of her life with a man who had intentionally hurt and
humiliated her, and promised more of the same.
"Don't worry," I said, as authoritatively as possible, "it's normal. They
just don't tell you about it in Feminism 101." Actually, of course, I had no idea
whether it was normal or not, as I had never been in this position before; I just
knew what I had read in books. She looked up at me, not sure whether to trust me.
I held her glance for a moment, but it never resolved; and when we parted for the
night, I was still not sure exactly what she was feeling. However, she had agreed
to bring some things the next day in preparation for moving in with me, so it seemed
I was going to have plenty of opportunity to find out.
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