Sarah's Tutorial: Corbin's Bend, Book 2 (7 page)

Chapter 10

When Dunn saw that she had seen him, he moved, as confidently and gracefully as he could, to the DVD player and turned it, and the TV off.

“Why don’t you get on the bed, Sarah? On your hands and knees, if you please.” His voice sounded rather labored, he realized, but at least he maintained its even tone. That seemed to him rather an accomplishment given how rapidly his head had spun watching Sarah Harshaw watch the hardcore anal video as he had instructed, watching her play with herself in her panties, as he had instructed, seeing that her pussy was as smooth and as pink and as little as he could ever have imagined it might be, waxed and ready for him.

She could not meet his eyes, it seemed, but she closed her knees, rose from the chair, and moved to the bed. Slowly, but without apparent hesitation, like someone in a dream, she climbed onto his bed, dressed only in her thong, on her knees facing the headboard, and then lowered her torso to assume the position requested, on hands and knees.

It was the way a girl got onto a bed when she was going to get it in her bottom–when her husband planned to give it to her there, on her wedding night–when her master planned to fuck her...

Dunn moved towards the bed himself. He saw her head jerk slightly and a shudder run through her, at the sound of his footfalls on the carpet.

Almost forgetting to breathe, he watched himself lay his hand gently on Sarah Harshaw's beautiful bottom, gently stroking, holding it all, both cheeks, upon his palm, weighing it. She made the Sarah-noise, and Dunn was again torn between hugging her close and violating her savagely. Now his fingers delicately sought out the place where the lace of her thong began, and arrogantly tugged the thong aside, out of the way, and across her right bottom cheek. Sarah gasped.

"Good girl, my good girl, my little Sarah," he said, very softly. She made a new noise, one he hadn't heard before: a sort of cooing that sounded equally as wonderful as the Sarah-noise of shameful arousal. "Such a bad girl to watch that bad video, though. And you liked it, didn't you, you bad girl?"

"Yes, sir," came her response. "It was–I've never seen anything..."

"Shh. I know. You're a good girl. Good girls don't watch porn." Without warning, he began to spank her with his right hand, his left resting on her waist. He spanked her right cheek, then her left, then the best place of all, right in the middle and down low, where his fingers came away wet, and he kept doing it.

"Oh, God... oh, God... John, oh, please."

Oh God, he wanted to fuck Sarah Harshaw more than anything he had ever wanted in his forty-seven years on the planet.

But why didn't he mind her calling him John? Why had that been so hot, when a girl calling him by his Christian name during a spanking had always been so scene breaking before? He fell into a momentary bout of confusion before he could dismiss the problem from his thoughts, and the spanking slowed, but Sarah seemed to take it as a build to something, and her noises didn't flag. Her bottom was bright pink now, and he had to resist the temptation to see how far he could take her, to get the paddle, or even the flogger. They didn't even have a safe word yet.

He returned his hand to her bottom, then gradually moved it further down.

"Shh, Sarah. Spread your knees for me now, young lady."

She did, and gratified him with the glorious sight of her bare pussy, exposed, with the lace thong pulled across her right bottom-cheek. The pussy's little lips were just as pink as her bottom was now, peeping out from between bigger ones that were themselves rather rosy.

He didn't have a choice: he kissed it.

Sarah screamed in surprise, in shame, in delight. "Oh God..." He kissed again. "Oh..." He licked. "Oh, no..." Her “no” was drawn out into a long, long moan.

Even the way she tasted seemed new, young, and enchanting. He actually did think then to wonder whether he was losing his mind, the feeling felt so overwhelming and so different from any other erotic experience he had ever had.

He had no intention of stopping, but he didn't quite know how he would proceed from this point. He contemplated something since the night before, something so wrong-right, so taboo, so... perfect for this thing they had embarked on... Whenever he had thought of it, he had said to himself, "No, no. It just wouldn't be right."

But it was. It was right because it was so terribly wrong. Dunn swallowed hard. Then he stood up, took his hands off her, and said, in a tone that he meant to break the scene for the moment, "Listen to me closely, Sarah. Are you listening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Call me John for right now, OK?"

"OK..., John" He heard uncertainty in her voice, and he (oh, damn it) loved her for it. Fuck. Yes, he loved her.

"We're going to do some real BDSM now. Do you know what that is?"

"I... um... yes." She hung her head a bit as she admitted it, and he loved her.

When something makes you feel like you might not want to do it, say 'Yellow', OK?"

"Um, OK."

"When you don't want to do something, say 'Red', OK?"

"OK." More confidence, and he loved her for that, too.

He was going to do it. He could and couldn't believe it. Or at least he was going to try.

He put his right hand back on her ass, possessively, easing the tip of his middle-finger inside the wonderful valley of it, resting it against her anus.

“You’re ready for it, aren’t you, young lady?”

“N—no!”

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s time. You’re going to take it in the ass now.”

"What? No! Not my... not my..."

He waited. Twisted and kinky and monstrous as it was, John Dunn and Sarah Harshaw were about to find out whether they were both so damned kinky they might never be happy with anyone else. If Sarah said "Red" now–if she even said "Yellow"–then, well, it might not mean it was over, but it would mean that the stars hadn't aligned the way he thought they had.

"Please, sir—don’t make me—I don’t want it—please let me—let me kiss it—let me kiss it instead...”

She hadn't said "Red," or even "Yellow."

Mustering his most dominant tone, Dunn continued, “No, Sarah. I want ass tonight. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be, so don’t make it harder on yourself by resisting. I know you’re scared–every girl is when she has to take it in the ass the first time–but you’ll get used to it after I’ve fucked you there regularly for a week or so.”

She made the Sarah-noise. What he was about to do to this girl he had just realized he loved was monstrous. He was going to take her anal virginity first, to make her his ass-girl now and... yes, always.

He couldn't. Unless… "Sarah," he said in the other tone. "Say 'Green' if this is something you want."

"Green, sir," she said, with only the tiniest hesitation. Then, to his surprise, she continued, "I... I think I've always wanted this. My bottom... my ass–it's very, um, important to me."

Again, he felt the urge to throw the scene away, and just hold her, and stroke that important, wonderful bottom, and tell her everything was fine, and it was fine to do what they were doing, fine to want to be deflowered in back before you were deflowered in front.

"And," she continued in the silence left by his reflection, "I want to give it to you, John."

Spontaneously, she moved to assume what John called "Submissive Position Number One," which he hadn't even told her about: cheek to the bedspread, back arched, hands, palms-up, next to spread knees.

Freely offered. Surely it would be wrong not to take her bottom's maidenhead, now?

"Open yourself for me now, Sarah. Spread those lovely little cheeks you just gave me," he murmured, and she moved her hands to her own bottom. She shuddered when she touched herself there, and made the Sarah-noise, and pulled her little peaches apart to reveal a tiny flower, shining with the lube she had applied earlier.

He dropped his trousers. Sarah made a little noise when she heard the belt buckle hit the floor. He skinned down his boxers with all the speed of which he was capable. After a moment's hesitation, he began slowly to unbutton his Oxford shirt. Curse East Coast tradition! It felt like torture to have his hands not touching her even for this long.

Sarah remained completely quiet, with her eyes sweetly closed as her face lay against the bed. She bit her lower lip, he noticed, with a rush of tenderness, either in fear or in fantasy. And as ever a rush of arousal accompanied the tenderness. He was, he thought, about to give her a real reason to bite her lip that way.

The shirt was off at last, and Dunn climbed onto the bed, naked, thinking ahead already to the moment Sarah would finally see the cock Dunn now held in his hand as he put lube on it, then brought it to bear on his college girl, wondering how she would feel about it, whether she would be kind to it, kiss it, love it. It was not very large, to be sure, but it was his.

He stood astride her on the bed, now, like a cavalier. He brought the muzzle of his cock against her, against the little flower.

“No! Please, sir! Please, not like this–not my first time...”

That was when he realized that whatever else they were, Sarah Harshaw and John Dunn were perfect play partners. They were both hyper-verbal, and loved using words to turn themselves–and, now, each other--on.

“Oh, yes, Sarah... like this. This is how you get it–up the butt.”

He pushed. She cried out.

"Push down, sweetheart," he said. "Don't worry; it's going to take a while for me to get in there."

"Sir... Sir..." The word seemed like it was becoming some sort of talisman to her.

She gave a sweet little sob and a Sarah-whimper, and he watched her cute sphincter relax, and felt her start to enclose him. He let out his own moan at the sheer intensity of the sensation of having his cock in Sarah Harshaw's anus. He had to fight the urge to sheathe himself violently and brutally, so desperately did he want to see her bottom full of him. Sometime soon, he knew, he would be brutal, and he thought he knew that she wouldn't want it any other way, but now, for her first time, the dominance was all in the humiliation of losing her bottom's virginity first, and of having her professor's cock inside her at all, and in the discomfort of first anal.

He was in her now, pushing still. She was full in her bottom, in her little bottom. She was deflowered—ruined—a man was fucking her in her ass like a little whore. It was monstrous—he was monstrous, and so was his new ass-bride.

She made long Sarah-noises that rose to cries of pain and fell away again into whimpers of shame.

“Nice. Very nice,” Dunn said. He was halfway in, progressing millimeter by millimeter, wanting to shame her to the utmost, to excite that part of her erotic self, and make her realize how kinkily wonderful she was. Hardly even thinking about his words, he continued, “You tart, Sarah—you’ve got a bottom made for a man to keep his cock in. Mmmm... You did a good job getting ready, girl.” The word “tart” really worked for her, it appeared, for at the sound of it he felt her buck back against him, and take a full inch of his cock into her bottom.

* * * * *

John held her hips firmly, and pushed in further. She moaned at the discomfort of the sensation, which was somehow not as she had imagined it, and somehow exactly what she had fantasized about ever since she had known what sex was. The pain was there, but, like the pain of the spanking, the pleasure had a strange effect on it, made the pain itself a form of submissive pleasure. And then there were the fantasy images that never seemed to cease, though she now had a real cock, John's real cock, in her ass. She imagined him doing this to other students, countless others–he was their master–he was her master who liked to fuck girls... fuck girls... fuck ass-girls and give them what they had coming.

At last, she felt his hips come up against her bottom. She had done it; he had done it to her. They existed somehow outside the laws of the world. Her professor had just deflowered her ass, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

It didn't take him long to come inside her after that. A few gentle strokes and he cried out like Zeus struck by his own lightning, as he crouched over her like some devil from primal memory, driving his hips diabolically into her ass. The pulsing of his cock inside her bottom then did something she didn’t expect, although her own arousal grew as the fucking continued. She gave a strangled cry, and had an utterly different kind of orgasm from any she'd ever managed while playing with herself, and certainly from that one her second boyfriend had given her.

Also, she seemed to be... her face grew hot... was she peeing? No... it was different, but it was definitely liquid, coming from there.

"Oh sweetheart," said John, with audible delight in his voice. "Are you a squirter?"

"Um," she said, turning her face away. "I never was before–I don't even know what that was... I'm sorry about your bed!"

He pulled gently out of her anus, and lay down on her left side, facing her, and said, "Come here, little Sarah." She straightened out, grunting a bit at the stiffness from having held her position so long, and lay down, looking into his eyes, suddenly realizing that this was the first time she had ever been naked with a naked man, not counting the thong, still mostly in place.