Chapter 2 He Made Me Taste My Pûssy!

A Slút For My Professor (Part 2)

"I guess I just want to understand... what BD'SM really is. I mean, I know it has to do with submission and, um, dominance... and something about slaves?" My voice drops at the end.

He chuckles softly, and his lips curve into a knowing smile.

"Most people have a very limited idea of what BD'SM really is," he says. "They hear the word 'slave' and immediately think of control, pain, and abuse."

"Oh..."

"But that's not what it's about, at least, not when done properly. The truth is, it's built on trust. Real trust. And yes, there are people who enjoy playing those roles, but everything is agreed on beforehand."

I listen carefully, trying not to think about how inviting his lips are.

"As someone new to the scene," he continues, "you don't need to worry about anything intense. We'll start with the basics, take it slow. There's time for everything else later."

"The basics?" I repeat.

He nods. "In the community, there's a rule we always follow: everything must be safe, sane, and consensual. Those are the pillars."

I take that in, nodding slowly.

"There are a few ways we could move forward," he adds. "One option is for me to take you to the dungeon-"

"The what?" I cut in, my voice rising in panic. My eyes widen. "Wait... did you say dungeon?"

He bursts into a soft laugh, clearly amused by my reaction.

"It's not what you think," he says with a grin. "A 'dungeon' is just a term we use for any room or space where scenes happen. It's not an actual dungeon with chains and torches. It could be a studio, a large room in someone's house, or even a specially equipped club space."

"Oh. I... wow. Okay. I thought it was something way darker," I admit, embarrassed.

"It's a common misunderstanding," he says gently. "So, we can either visit the dungeon where a few other members can walk you through things, or..." He pauses, then looks at me more intently. "We can explore the basics in private. At my place. Just the two of us."

"I'm not really comfortable getting naked in front of a bunch of strangers," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "So... I guess I'll go with the second option."

I'm going to be at Professor Cassian's house getting fûckéd, I realise.

The thought of being alone with Professor Cassian sends a shiver down my spine. I've never felt this turned ón in my life. My body is already betraying me, aching in places I've barely explored.

"Well then," he says, "We can leave now, if that's what you want."

I squeeze my thighs together, trying to manage the heat pulsing through me.

"Yeah... yeah, let's go," I breathe out, trying not to sound too eager.

His lips twitch into a knowing smirk. "I like it when a woman's this enthusiastic."

Oh God. That wicked smile on his face is almost too much.

I am beyond excited. I want him and I want him to take me like I belong to him. My slave tendencies are surfacing. As I stand up, I feel the wetness in my panties.

We leave the restaurant and slip into his car. As he drives, his hand casually drifts over to my thigh, sending jolts of high electricity through me. I carefully pull my dress a little higher without getting his attention.

"Let me help you with that, Ms. Kristen," he murmurs, lifting the hem of my dress until the sheer fabric of my panties is completely exposed.

His eyes flick over them, and he chuckles low in his throat. "You're clearly... anticipating this."

His fingertips edge dangerously close to where I need him most, and I can barely breathe. My body arches toward him involuntarily, and I am desperate for more.

He pinches my thigh, just enough to make me gasp. The sensation shoots straight to my core, making me squirm. I can't even form words anymore, just tiny moans and shallow breaths as his hand slides higher, cupping me through my soaked panties.

My hips twitch at the contact, but I don't care. I want this. I want him. We're on an empty highway and I can only think of how he's torturing me, making this last and I love it.

"You're so responsive," he teases, rubbing slow circles over the wet fabric. "Does that feel good, Ms. Kristen?"

I can barely speak. "Yes... yes, it feels amazing, Cassian," I pant, grinding my hips toward his fingers, craving more friction.

His fingers press harder, teasing me through the thin barrier, and I find myself whimpering.

Without warning, he growls, "Take them off."

Somehow, I manage to slide them down, my hands trembling as I expose myself to him. He glances down with a quiet, appreciative hum.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, then lightly taps my bare pûssy, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through me. "So wet already."

I gasp as he traces along my folds with one expert finger, circling, teasing but never giving me what I need.

God, just put it in already.

We take a sharp turn onto a gravel road. The second we start heading downhill, he finally gives in, plunging a single finger deep inside me.

"F-fûck... yes!" I cry out, my body writhing against his touch.

"You like that?" he says as he slowly pulls his finger out again.

"No," I whimper. "Don't stop. Please, professor... I need it..."

"First lesson. Don't disobey me." He growls.

I have no damn idea what he's talking about, but all I want is the feel of his finger in my pûssy, again.

"What did you just call me?" He asks.

"P-professor" I moan.

"Don't you ever call me that, especially when I'm fûckíng the shit out of you."

He holds his glistening finger up to my face, and there's a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Have you ever tasted yourself, Ms. Kristen?" he asks.

My cheeks burn instantly. God, this is both humiliating and insanely hot. He wants me to taste my own juices.

I shake my head quickly, trying to stay calm. "No, Cassian. I haven't."

"Then do it," he growls, holding his finger just inches from my lips.

My heart pounds in my chest. I swallow hard, then slowly lean forward and give his finger a timid lick.

It tastes almost like nothing. Just a salty slime. But the act? Tasting my pûssy juices feels so intimate, and it sends another wave of heat crashing through me. Suddenly, he grabs my chin firmly, making me look him straight in the eye.

"When I tell you to taste yourself," he says sharply, "you don't just lick. You take my finger in your mouth. All of it. Do you understand me?"

I nod quickly, voice trembling. "Yes, sir..."