On My Knees, Daddy: A Steamy Compilation of Erotic Stories

A Slút For My Professor (Part 1)

SUMMARY: A young lady gets initiated into the world of BD'SM and meets her college professor who is more than ready to make her beg for more.

•KRISTEN•

I was twenty-two when I first had séx, barely three months ago. I thought I was waiting for the right person, someone who'd make my first time matter, but it didn't. It meant nothing to Edward, my ex-boyfriend.

To him, my virginity was a prize. A fúcking milestone.

When he finally got me in bed, there was no tenderness, no slow build, no care. Just rough, clumsy thrusting that barely lasted thirty seconds. The pain came fast before I even had a chance to feel the pleasure. Afterwards, he didn't ask if I was okay. Hell, he didn't even look me in the eye.

Days passed, and I sent text after text, yet he never replied to any. It felt like he had cut me off completely, and that's when it hit me: none of it mattered to him.

I was a name, more like a box checked off on his list of girls he'd fúcked, nothing more.

But here's the truth: I didn't want sweet romance, neither did I want gentle.

I craved more. I fantasized about surrender. I secretly desired to be broken open and owned. I dreamed of being collared, silenced, bent over and fúcked until I forgot who I was. I wanted to be devoured, and taken like an animal in heat. I wanted to surrender and go on my knees to please a man who could make me beg for more.

A few weeks after my ex-boyfriend dumped me, I decided to explore an anonymous online BD'SM community. The moderator of the website reached out to me shortly after I had filed out the application form.

The next day, I received an invitation to meet him in person at a local restaurant in the middle of the city. He refused to tell me his name or give me any information about himself. Instead, he told me he'd be in a white suit that had a pink square pocket.

---

NOW.

It's 6 p.m., and I'm standing at the entrance of The Velvet Fork, the restaurant, as my heart pounds in my chest.

"Phew. Are you ready for this, Kristen?" I mutter to myself, smoothing the front of my dress. I scan the restaurant, discreetly trying to identify my "initiation guide."

My gaze lands on a man in a white suit leaning against the wall in the corner. There's no pink square pocket on his jacket, but the face?

Oh fúck. I gasp.

I know exactly who he is. Cassian.

Professor Cassian Ashbourne, my psychology professor. He's staring at me too, but quickly looks away.

I freeze. This is seriously messed up.

I'm rooted to the spot just by the entrance, torn between turning around and walking out. I watch as Professor Cassian pulls out his phone and scrolls for a second before lifting it to his ear.

Is he about to call me? Before I can think too hard, my feet move on their own. I walk toward him, eyes locked on his face, silently convincing myself this is just a coincidence.

But as I get closer, my denial starts to crack. His jawline is clean, sharp, and ridiculously sexy. What the actual fúck? He still avoids my gaze, looking straight ahead.

When I finally reach him, I do the only thing that makes sense in the moment..I walk right past him and into the restroom behind him.

I slam the door shut and lock it, gripping the edge of the sink. My reflection stares back at me, eyes wide with panic. And something else.

A thrill.

He's not just any professor. He's the sinfully hot Professor Cassian Ashbourne and I've nursed a stupid little crush on him for months, fantasized about what he'd look like shirtless, what his voice would sound like against my neck.

And now he's supposed to be my Initiation Guide? Into BD'SM?

What the hell do I do?

"Leave," I mumble to myself. "Run. Pretend this never happened."

But my body betrays me, and as I watch my reflection in the stained bathroom mirror, my nípplés are hard, aching against the soft fabric of my dress. I went braless tonight because I wanted to feel séxy. And now... I'm wet.

Shit. I shouldn't be turned on by this, but I am.

I have two options here. I could walk out of the restaurant and forget about this or I could walk up to my hot professor and submit to him. For almost two years, he had been the subject of my dark séxual fantasies, and right now, he is only a short distance away from me, probably waiting for me. I am his student and if I follow through with this, he's probably going to fúck me before midnight.

I draw in a deep breath. My panties are soaked now as I rub my thighs against each other.

What is the worst that could happen if I went on my knees and let Prof. Cassian do anything he desires with me?

I do not wait to think of an answer. Instead, I push open the door and step out of the restroom.

He's right there, waiting for me. A faint smile plays on his lips as he watches me, his suit jacket now draped over the back of a chair. He's left in a crisp white shirt that hugs his broad shoulders in a way that should be illegal. He gives me a small nod, gesturing for me to follow him.

He walks over to a quiet corner and takes a seat at a table. I hesitate for a second before sitting across from him.

"Good evening, Ms. Thorne," he says smoothly.

I swallow hard. "Good morning, I mean, evening... Professor Ashbourne." My words come out a little rushed. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Especially not as the BD'SM moderator."

A wave of nervous heat floods my body. My palms are damp, and I can barely control my breathing. What is he thinking? Is he judging me? Is he going to shut this down completely?

When I meet his eyes again, he smiles and leans in slightly, "No... not here. Outside school, I'm not your professor. Just call me Cassian."

I nod. His gaze searches mine. "If having me as your guide makes you uncomfortable, I can ask someone else to step in."

God, no. Please don't. My heart jumps, and I force a tight smile.

"I...um... no, profe-" I catch myself.

"Cassian," he gently corrects.

"Right. Cassian," I murmur, placing a hand over my chest to steady the anxious fluttering. "Will this... affect anything back at college?"

He raises a brow. "No, Kristen. It won't. And is it alright if I call you by your first name?"

I give a small nod.

"Kristen," he says again, his voice lowering just a bit. "Everything that happens here stays here. It's completely confidential. You have nothing to worry about. Do you have any questions for me?"

I nod again, this time more slowly. "Yes... I do."

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. "Then go ahead. Ask."

That look he gives me...it's intense and focused, like I'm already stripped bare beneath it. The way he stares at me makes my mouth dry. And then a filthy thought hits me: I was just about to discuss BD'SM with my college professor, and all I could think about was dropping to my knees under this damn restaurant table... and tasting him..

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..."

A Slut For My Professor (3)

"Good girl" he teases.

For the first time, a rush of fear sweeps through me and I stiffen. The ache between my legs intensifies and I whimper.

"We'll do this again. I'll fûck you with my fingers, and I want you to lick off everything. Do you understand?"

Something about the way he dominates me only makes the ache worse.

"Y-yes" I nod, slighting parting my legs, and exposing my glistening, wet pûssy lips to him.

He smirks. I don't know what's wrong with me. I should feel ashamed but I'm not. Instead, I throb with need. My body shakes as I crave his cóck.

Without another word, he slides two fingers into my soaked cûnt, twisting expertly and I can't help the loud gasp that escapes my lips.

"Oh...fûckkk" I moan.

"You're such a slût." He smiles.

I nod, "I am."

"Now, it's time to taste your juices. Ready?"

I nod again as he drags his fingers back up to my lips.

This time, I don't hesitate. I grab his wrist and suck, tongue sliding between his fingers. I see the corner of his mouth twitch with approval as I coat them with my saliva. I hear him chuckle low in his throat, satisfied.

Then, without warning, he yanks his hand away and dives back between my legs with skilled fingers. I glance around and I noticed we're still alone. There are no cars, no people. Nothing but open road and my desire to feel his cóck in me.

Screw it!

I slip the sleeves of my dress off and let the fabric fall down my chest, freeing my breàsts. My hands move to them and I squeeze and stroke my nîpples. Soon, I'm lost in the heat of the moment. I moan helplessly as he leans close to my clît and begins to flick it...faster. His expert strokes feel like he's playing an instrument only he knows how to master.

Out of all my craziest fantasies, I had no damn idea that I'd ever end up being fingered by my professor on a lonely street. His fingers still flick in and out of my pûssy. Soon, I'm grinding hard against them.

And then it hits me. My entire body tenses and explodes in the most intense orgasm I've ever felt. I cry out and arch my back. My thighs clench and I begin to see stars. It's overwhelming, so much that I nearly black out.

When I finally come back to myself, the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a large house. It's not quite a mansion, but it is easily ten times the size of my little apartment. The automatic gates close behind us with a quiet hum.

I blink, still catching my breath, and look around. We're surrounded by acres of farmland and there's not a soul in sight.

He turns off the engine and looks over at me. "Stay still. Don't even think about fixing your dress."

I glance down to see that my breàsts are still exposed, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He gets out of the car, the bulge in his pants impossibly obvious now.

He walks around and opens the door on my side. "Come on out, Ms. Kristen. No one's going to see you out here," he says, holding out his hand.

I take it and step out, still breathless. As soon as I'm on my feet, his lips crash into mine without any warning. There's no gentleness.

Rather, he devours me. Our mouths clash, and our tongues tangle in a wild, desperate kiss. He wraps his arms around me and spins me, pressing me flat against the hood of the car. The evening breeze grazes my bare skin, making my nîpples tighten. I should feel exposed, vulnerable even but I don't. Not with him.

Somehow, despite how out of control everything is, I feel... safe. Professor Cassian's touch is confident, like he knows exactly how to make my body respond.

His hand moves from the small of my back to the curve of my neck. He pulls me to him, his breath brushing over my lips. I'm pinned against the hood of a car, half-naked, completely under his control and yet I've never felt more relaxed. Or more wanted.

He finally pulls back, leaving me breathless. I pant, staring at his tan skin, the slight stubble along his jaw, and the way his dark hair falls effortlessly into place. He runs a hand through it before speaking.

"First rule, Kristen," he says firmly. "When you're in my house... you wear nothing unless I tell you otherwise."

A chill of fear passes through me and my breath catches. "You mean... even outside?" I ask, "Like... in the garden?"

He gives me a look that makes my stomach twist in the best way.

"Yes. The garden, fountain, anywhere within the walls of this premises. Is that a problem?"

"No, professor..." I say.

He frowns. "Cassian," he corrects with a low and commanding tone. "Don't make me repeat this instruction again. You must never address me as a professor outside the lecture hall. Not here."

I swallow. "Yes, Cassian."

"Good. Now undress."

"Yes, sir," I whisper.

I peel off what's left of my clothes. My heart races as I stand there, completely bare under the open sky.

Professor Cassian doesn't rush. He runs his fingers from my forehead, down my nose, tracing a line to my throat. When he reaches my chest, he grabs my left bóob and rolls my nîpple between his fingers, sending jolts of sensation through me.

I gasp. "Oh... God."

He doesn't stop. His hand trails lower, past my navel, down to my center. Without warning, he slides a finger deep inside me. I tremble as he growls against my ear.

"This," he says, moving his finger slowly inside me, "belongs to me. No one else. Understand?"

He pulls his finger out and brings it to his mouth, licking it clean. I look down, embarrassed by how turned on I am. But he grips my chin and forces me to meet his eyes.

"Don't look away," he says, "There's no room for shame here. You give yourself to me without hesitation. Do you understand that, Kristen?"

"Yes, sir..." I answer, though a part of me still isn't sure I can.

"We're not doing this here," he says as he takes my hand. "Not tonight. Let's go inside. To the dungeon.

Before I can fully grasp what he's said, he's already leading me into the house, as his hand cups my ass.

We walk into a wide hall filled with elegant wooden furniture. The far wall is made entirely of stone, giving the room a vintage, almost medieval feel. A staircase winds down to the right, and I shiver, guessing it must lead to the dungeon he mentioned.

"We won't go there yet," Cassian murmurs, tapping my ass lightly.

Then he lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. I rest my head against his chest, feeling safe even though I know what's coming is anything but gentle. He turns down a hallway, then into a dimly lit room with a single bed at its center. He places me on the bed and starts undressing.

He undresses, peeling off his shirt to reveal a sculpted chest. I can't help but stare as he strips away the rest, joining me under the sheets.

"Tell me, Kristen. Has anyone fûcked you before?" He asks, and my blood runs cold instantly!