Chapter 3

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."