Paula & Her Professor (2 page)

It seemed OK and she took the pen he offered, signing and dating the form before handing it back to him and trying to hide the thrilling anticipation that made her hand tremble slightly as she committed herself to becoming his helpless prisoner.

He nodded, “Excellent, my dear. Thank you. Now, I have taken the liberty of providing a change of clothing for you. Something rather more suitable than your current apparel and much more practical for the sort of tests we will be performing. You’ll find it in the bedroom down the hall, so if you would care to change, I will prepare everything here. Just leave all of your own clothes on the bed and come back when you’re finished.”

The gleaming black, skin-tight rubber suit was a real surprise to Paula and for a moment her resolve weakened as she realized that the stretchy material would hug every curve and hollow of her body.

Wearing it, she would be displayed almost as if she were stark naked and she felt her face burn with a mixture of guilty shame, undeniable arousal and intense curiosity as she imagined how she would look to his eyes with her breasts and buttocks and thighs molded by the polished rubber.

Perhaps she should have asked exactly what sort of “tests” he had in mind before agreeing, but if she started raising objections now, it would look as though she had lost her nerve and was having doubts about the validity of her arguments.

Her pride would not let him have such an easy victory and even though she couldn’t help but wonder what she was letting herself in for, she was stubbornly determined to go through with it.

She was going to prove to him that she was just as academically rigorous as he was and if that meant wearing the strange suit, then wear it she would.

After all, he was a senior and highly-esteemed Professor with an unblemished reputation and impeccable credentials in his field of expertise. Someone who would surely never use his respected status to perpetrate anything underhand?

Reassured by her own reasoning, Paula stripped off her clothing and underwear and laid them on the bed, then, naked, inspected the suit more thoroughly prior to putting it on.

The first things she noticed were the astonishing built-in boots that formed the lower section of each leg and terminated in blunt-toed, ballet-style boots with impossibly high arches and heels a good seven inches in height.

The instant she saw them, Paula knew that walking in them would be a difficult, precarious and uncomfortable activity.

Running or any sort of quick movement would be completely impossible and as she realized that they were a highly-effective form of bondage in themselves, she gulped in nervous fascination, understanding that Professor Goss was leaving nothing to chance.

As his volunteer “hostage” she was to be given no easy way of making a successful escape and if she was to free herself before he brought the experiment to an end, she was going to have to work hard for it.

His reputation for thoroughness and attention to detail was clearly no accident and Paula felt her belly swirl with unexpected warmth as she tried to envisage what other preparations he might have made to achieve the “realism” he demanded in his work and that of his students.

Surprise number two came when she lifted the rubber flaps that were the only flaws marring the polished sheen of the suit and found three nylon zips.

One at the tip of each molded breast-cup and a much longer double-ended one running from the rear of the stiffened collar down the spine and between the legs to a point three inches below where her navel would be.

Her face reddened to the thought that her nipples and sex could be made available at any time, even if she was to be tightly bound and as she imagined the zips being slid open to provide unhindered access to her most-private and sensitive areas, the wet heat between her thighs grew hotter still.

The rational part of her brain tried to convince her that Professor Goss was not the sort of man who would ever do such a thing to her against her will…but the emotional, primitive part that lurks in the dark recesses of every human mind, responded to the possibility with immediate sexual excitement, stiffening her nipples and releasing a slick of juices to coat her sex in preparation for love-making.

Ashamed of her instinctive arousal, Paula struggled to regain control of her traitorous body, crushing back thoughts of sexual pleasure with Professor Goss until she was able to re-establish some semblance of normality and make herself believe that she was once again the sensible, logical, level-headed woman she had always thought herself to be.

“I am not a real prisoner,” she told herself aloud, “and he is not my real captor. I can handle this and I will handle this without letting these crazy feelings get the better of me. Get a grip, girl. It’s not real. It’s only an experiment and we both know that.”

Then she began to put on the suit, doing her best to ignore the sensual pleasure that set every nerve-ending in her skin tingling with delicious pleasure as the supple rubber enveloped her in a tight, warm cocoon, holding every inch of her body in a firm grip as it molded itself to her smooth curves.

Just as she had feared, the ballet-boots did indeed force her feet onto the tips of her toes and triggered an immediate sharp ache in her calves as her legs became an almost straight line from toes to groin…but as she saw herself in the mirror and marveled at the gleaming picture of displayed femininity she had become, Paula knew that she had never looked better or more desirable.

When she eventually returned to the sitting-room, Professor Goss’s reaction was everything she could have hoped.

For almost a minute, he stared at her in speechless appreciation.

“You look…incredible…beautiful…superb…” he breathed at last, then chuckled. “If I really had kidnapped you, I would forego the ransom and keep you for myself, my dear.”

Paula smiled in embarrassed pleasure, “Well... Thank you, Professor. It’s... really nice of you to say so.”

“Oh, I meant it, Paula,” he told her. “You would make any man want you, looking as you do now. Surely you know that?”

Paula flushed, but before she could think of an answer, he hurried on, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, true though it is. Tell me, how do you like the suit?”

“It’s wonderful,” she replied eagerly, her eyes sparkling, “I love how it holds me and makes me look and feel. But…well…the boots are a bit much.”

“Mmm, yes. They are rather high, aren’t they?” he agreed cheerfully. “Still, you seem to be managing and I’m sure you’ll get used to them after a while.”

Paula was by no means so sure, but any doubts she might have expressed were lost as he turned to pick up a long tube of glistening black leather with a double row of lacing eyes spaced all along it. “Turn around, please and place the palms of your hands together behind your back as if you were praying.”

She hesitated, realizing at once what the leather tube was for, then took a deep breath and complied.

Even as she did as he asked, she was tempted to ask if it was really necessary to tie her up, but before she could, a broad strap tightened around her wrists and she knew it was already too late.

With her wrists buckled together, she no longer had any option but to accept his wishes.

Eye by eye, he pulled the laces tight, working upwards from the tips of her fingers, the leather clamping her hands into the prayer position until she couldn’t move her fingers a fraction, then rising to her wrists and forearms and higher still, all the way to a point well above her elbows.

It was uncomfortable, stressful…and frighteningly efficient, for as the leather tightened, her arms were welded into a single, totally immobilized column that left her not the smallest hope of escape or relief from the relentless pressure that pulled her shoulders back.

She tried to complain that it was too much, first asking and then demanding that he loosen the device, but he only responded that he wasn’t finished yet and it was only when her elbows were touching that he had knotted the laces and looped the leather strap over her shoulders to hold it in place and prevent it from slipping down and loosening, that he gave her an explanation.

Holding her wrists in one hand, he told her that the device was called a single-glove, that it was completely inescapable when fitted properly as he had fitted it…and that she was going to be wearing it for the entire duration of the experiment.

Paula twisted her head around to argue with him, her eyes wide with shock and horror, “You can’t do that,” she protested, “not the whole summer. It’s inhuman. I won’t be able to stand it. Please, you must let me go.”

“Let you go?” he said calmly, “Why would I let you go? The ransom hasn’t been paid and you surely don’t expect a kidnapper like me to set you free until I’ve got the money, do you?”

She tried to pull her arms free of his grasp, but when he casually levered her wrists upwards so that she was forced to bend forward from the waist, she realized just how helpless she was and just how easily he could control her with almost no effort on his part.

“But… But you aren’t a real kidnapper,” she moaned. “This is only an experiment.”

His chuckle sent a tremor of icy dread up her spine when he replied softly, “Is it, Paula? Are you quite certain of that? And as to whether I’m a real kidnapper, well; let’s examine the facts, shall we? Number one; you’re tied up and helpless, while I’m free. Number two; you’re my prisoner, while I can go where I please. Three; I can do anything I want to you, while you cannot resist me. And four, I know from the records that you were planning a solo trip to Mexico and were going to be out of contact for the summer, so nobody is expecting to hear from you for some time. Therefore, you will not be missed and nobody but me even knows where you will be. I think that’s a fair summary of your position, wouldn’t you say?”

Paula had never considered the situation from that viewpoint and as she realized that he was right, her lips parted in what was intended to be a cry for help.

It never emerged, for as her mouth opened, his free hand snaked around her face and wedged a huge, bright red rubber ball against her lips.

“Open up, Paula,” he demanded sternly, increasing the pressure of his hand and when she was forced to obey, he wedged the gag deep into her mouth and fastened the buckled strap behind her neck, pulling it so tight that she could not eject the ball.

She tried to scream and was shocked to hear the low, muffled whine that was all she could produce and when he chuckled again, Paula whimpered in anguish, realizing that she could no longer even protest or argue with him.

“That’s better,” he told her cheerfully, “can’t have my hostage calling for help, now can I?”

Pushing her bound arms upwards, he brought her to her knees, then eased her down onto her belly and quickly straddled her, facing backwards, his thighs on either side of her buttocks and his weight pinning her wriggling body.

Her long legs kicked and flailed as she fought to escape, but it was to no avail and when he seized one and then the other and she felt a thick leather strap encircle her ankles and draw tight, she knew she was lost.

Demoralized, she put up only half-hearted resistance when he bent her legs up towards her bottom and when a second strap linked her wrists to her ankles, immobilizing her and hollowing her spine into a deep curve, Paula trembled helplessly to the knowledge that she could never get free without assistance.

Bound as she was, she couldn’t even turn over when he removed his weight to stand up and as she heard him say, “Stage one completed,” in a tone of complete satisfaction and then walk out of the room, she could only stare numbly at the carpet in front of her and try to imagine just what “Stage two,” might entail…and how many other “Stages” lay ahead of her before Professor Goss was satisfied that their joint “experiment” had run its full course.

Chapter Three

In the weeks leading up to the summer break, Professor Goss had made all the necessary arrangements to procure sole use of the research facility he had discussed with Paula.

With his reputation and high standing in academic circles, it had not been difficult to persuade the owners of the laboratory that he was engaged in a project that required absolute privacy and total discretion and he was certain that they would cooperate fully.

There would be no distractions or unwelcome intrusions to interrupt the progress of his experiment with Paula and though she might find herself wishing it to be otherwise, he would be in sole control of everything that would happen to her while she was held in the secure surroundings of the remote country site.

As a scientist, he was genuinely interested in proving to his own satisfaction, the accuracy of the “Stockholm Syndrome” theory and had every intention of keeping detailed and scrupulous records of Paula’s responses to her captivity and subjugation…even though he was well aware that those records would never be published in any scientific journal or, for that matter, ever see the light of day.

To allow them to do so would be professional suicide and he had no intention of seeing his career destroyed by scandal-mongering journalists eager for a sensational headline.

They would remain securely locked in his private safe where only he would ever peruse and analyze their evidence.

However, he was not just a scientist…he was a man, too. A man with the same urges and desires as any other. One who now had an extremely attractive young woman bound and gagged on his sitting-room floor and a signed piece of paper in his pocket giving him a free hand to do much as he pleased with and to her, without fearing the consequences that would usually follow.

Science, he decided with a grin, was such a rewarding career.

Especially when a pretty, argumentative and somewhat naïve young woman like Paula was prepared to go to such lengths in the pursuit of knowledge.

He had no doubt that by the time summer break was over, she would have no trouble at all in getting an “A” grade on what would by then have become her specialist subject…the “Stockholm Syndrome” and its effects on a kidnapped hostage.