The Professor's Sex Slave

Breeding Tales – Boss, Professor, and
Billionaire

Colleen Anderson

Published by eBook Publishing World at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Colleen Anderson

This is a work of fiction. All characters,
organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to real world events, people, actions, and
organizations, are purely coincidental and unintended.

Smashword Edition, License Notes

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Adults Only

*****

The Professor's Sex Slave

by

Colleen Anderson

Other books by the author:

On Her Professor's Couch

Come Back to Me

Oil Pump: The Dirty South

*****

Chapter 1

Sophomore year of college, to save some
money, I rented a house just off campus in Collegetown. The price
was cheap for how close it was to everything and since it was in
the suburbs, there was plenty of room for everything. For just
about four hundred bucks a month, I managed to live with a large
living room, a study, a kitchen, and a full bathroom. The best part
was the basement that was included. It had been renovated before I
moved in and was spotless.

I moved in Friday before semester started
and the first thing I did was take a look at the basement and make
the proper arrangements down there. I put two beds there—one for
sleeping, and the other one for disciplining. The second 'bed' was
more of a recliner than a full bed. It was very narrow and had a
hole on the seat to accommodate a massive dildo. On the seat was my
prized possession: a string of anal beads featuring twenty steel
beads, with a large bead for every four small ones.

I've only managed to fit about sixteen of
the beads inside of me before. Every time I tried to push the final
four inside of me, the pain would stop me. I desperately wanted to
see just how far my limits truly were, but I couldn't push myself
past that sixteenth bead. I swore that one day, I would fit the
entire length inside of me.

The beads had a beautiful rose at the end.
It was about the size of my palm, pink, and adorned with three
green leaves around its rose petals. When the entire length is
pushed in, it would put a beautiful flower on my asshole.

I've always wanted to see that image.

I glanced over at my computer and thought
about Professor Wright. He had greeted me outside of the classroom
on the first day of his Sex and Medieval Literature class. I almost
mistook him for a student at first glance with his dark skinny
jeans, plain white T-shirt, and tweed sportcoat. His messy yet
neatly trimmed hairline blended perfectly with his elegantly square
jaw. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses cemented his sophisticated
look.

I must've been very tired that day because
he immediately asked me why I looked so down. Granted, it was
January and my university was known for having miserable winter
conditions that could potentially last all the way into May.

I told him that it was because I had gotten
up late for class and that the roads were icy—they were. He smiled
and said not to worry. The professor for the class was pretty
lenient.

Imagine my surprise when he was the one that
took up the podium. The other girls were fawning over him. I looked
to my left and was pretty sure that one of the girls was secretly
playing with herself as he lectured.

I'll admit, I thought about doing the same,
but Professor Wright was actually a great lecturer. I had picked
the class for academic breadth requirements—a stupid policy for the
College of Arts and Sciences—but by the end of the lecture, I
actually wanted to know more about the sexual practices of the
Medieval Ages as well as the literature that rose up around them.
It was weird...

I caught up with Professor Wright after
lecture—along with several other girls—and told him just how much I
enjoyed the first class—again, along with several other girls. But
for some reason or another, Professor Wright blew right past all of
them and focused his attention on me and me alone.

He suggested that I show up to his office
hours if I wanted to find out more about the subject and I was more
than happy to oblige.

When I got to his office, the room was
already packed full of other girls from class. But Professor Wright
greeted me personally and asked me to sit down.

At the end of office hours, he told me to
stay behind, saying that he wanted to speak to me alone.

We talked well into the night, touching on
every subject possible. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked me if I
had a cruel streak in me. Confused, I asked him what he meant and
he asked with a devious glint in his eyes if I had a fondness for
pleasure from pain.

I was absolutely floored by his frankness.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. He
was
the professor on Sex and Medieval
Literature for chrissake. After a few awkward moments of silence, I
started opening up to him.

We were shockingly similar in our tastes. We
both hated the sight of blood and injury but loved it when the pain
was enough to elicit the most foul kinds of pleasure from our
bodies. The only difference was that he preferred to dominate while
I sought out submission. In a way, it was perfect.

I told him that he has inspired me to dive
more into the subject. He offered me private, one-on-one office
hour sessions. In those sessions, we discussed at length about the
different sexual deviancies of the Medieval Ages, including their
shocking foray into domination and submission. We even adopted
names for ourselves: he was Master and I was Slave. During every
one of those meetings, I secretly wished that he would suddenly
grab me and force me onto his desk. But Professor Wright was
strictly professional.

Each session ended on a handshake, and
nothing more. The week before our final exam, he asked me for a
non-university affiliated email to be contacted at. Embarrassed
that my non-university email was a stupid one I made back in middle
school, I reluctantly gave it to him. He smirked when he saw the
name but said nothing more.

I sat down by my computer and saw that I had
one unread email.

From:
Master

To:
'Slave'

Subject:

Slave,

Have you forgotten your Master? Now is the
time to begin your sessions in earnest. You said you wanted to
learn more and that is precisely what I will deliver you. You will
experience pain and pleasure in a way that you've never thought was
possible. Are you ready?

Send me your phone number and answer 'Slave'
when you are called. But remember this: the longer you delay, the
more severe your punishment will be.

In cruciato sit ecstasia

Master

That Latin phrase was without a doubt him.
And he even signed it Master! I was shaking from excitement and
immediately sent my number to him. Not five minutes later, my phone
buzzed. I looked down at the string of unknown digits and hesitated
a moment before I answered it.

“
This is
Ksenia.”

“
Wrong answer, Slave.”
Professor Wright's voice grated through my phone. “But we will fix
that in due time. Tell me your address. I will meet you there in
precisely three hours after this conversation. Use this time to
prepare yourself. Do not disappoint me for our first
meeting.”

That voice! The authority!
I felt like he was already in the room with me. Stammering, I told
him my address and the line went dead immediately. I closed my
phone and regret started flashing through my head. Now that
Professor Wright was becoming a reality, I suddenly wanted to run
away.
What if I'm not ready? What if
he's rougher than I could handle?
What if I'm making a mistake?
A
million similar thoughts ran through my head as I stared at the
phone.

I looked at the time and suddenly realized
that I had spent the past half-hour going back and forth in my
head. I spent no time for preparation and He was coming soon!

I immediately took a
shower and cleaned myself thoroughly—inside and out. I didn't know
if He preferred me naked or clothed and decided that a little bit
of clothing would probably work best. I walked downstairs into my
basement and approached my disciplining chair. I thought about what
He planned to do with me.
Maybe some
heavy spanking...

And that was when my eyes rested on the
string of beads. I figured that He would love punishing my asshole.
After all, it was something that came up a lot in lecture. With
that, I settled on that as the best way to prepare myself. I
grabbed the bottle of KY jello and smeared it all along the beads
as well as the insides of my asshole. The slipperiness felt
wonderful and I shuddered at the thought of the full length inside
of me.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the first
bead into my asshole. The sensation of penetration was always
slightly more painful than I'd like, but I had put on a good amount
of KY to make sure of my comfort. I closed my eyes and imagined
that it was Professor Wright who was pushing the baton deeper
inside of me. I trembled at the thought and my asshole relaxed
slightly as it dipped ever lower.

One by one, the beads entered me, each one
sending shivers down my spine. I knelt forward and rested my right
leg on a nearby chair. One hand clung to the armrest while the
other continued pushing the beads deeper inside. I chanced a look
at the mirror across from me and saw my naked reflection biting her
lips as beads of sweat broke out across her forehead.

Heat rose in my face and my reflection
blushed. The pink mouth was pursed in a line as pain mixed with
pleasure. Another bead entered my ass and I whimpered. My body
squirmed, trying to escape but I clenched my jaw and told myself to
endure.

The sixteenth bead was almost completely
inside of me now. I felt like I was at my limit and started
screaming as I tried to force another one inside.

“
No! Stop! Oh God I
can't!” I was screaming at myself but my own trembling hand ignored
me. Instead of stopping, it pushed with extra force. A sensation of
fullness that I never experienced before pulsed through my body. My
voice dimmed to a hoarse whisper as the seventeenth bead entered me
for the first time.

Slowly but surely, I forced the beads inside
of me one by one. My legs shook as the twentieth and final bead—the
largest of the group—was inserted halfway in my ass. Sweat dripped
from my body and I panted loudly as I—screaming—gave one final
push.

The bead plopped inside as a wave of heat
washed over my body and I fell forward. Catching myself on my
limbs, I looked forward at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was
disheveled and covered my face. The sweat made my body glisten with
a golden sheen from the soft basement light. I stood up in the
silence. The beads shifted slightly inside of me and another
shudder ran through my spine. I turned myself around and admired
the rose on my ass.

I was almost ready to receive him.

I needed to hurry. No
telling how much time I had already wasted just getting myself
ready.
If He's mad on our first
meeting...
I trembled at the thought
and my asshole clenched tightly. I looked back at my reflection
again. The flower was like a key. Whoever can take it off was truly
my master. I trudged my way over to the small drawer nearby. The
beads shifted again inside of me. A burst of pain and pleasure
ripped through my body and I nearly collapsed. Gasping, I grabbed
hold of the dresser and pulled myself back up. My pussy was
starting to get wet and I gave it a quick rub, moaning as the
pleasure ebbed through me.

There was a studded collar in the dresser. I
cuffed myself and ran my hand over my smooth body. As my hand
rubbed past my breasts and down to my lower abdomen, I felt a
slight bump that hinted at the twenty beads inside of me. What else
do I need?